#and the pieces we need to properly fix it we do not have and can't get them til later

[knifegremliin]

sometimes there are gonna be moments in your life where you fuck up and the solution you need to fix it is just a little out of reach.

so instead you tape cardboard to your windows.

[phoenixcatch7]

Honestly I'd really like to see a mxtx3 story where wwx and xl work with Sqq to reveal sqq's true backstory and the system to lbh.

I mean, think about it!! One of the biggest problems with scum villain is how even though they get together, unlike the other couples bingqiu is still left with all these huge secrets that massively affect them both. Lbh is left believing he married his mercurial abuser, that his suffering passed some sort of indefinable test that proved him worthy of basic rights. That Sqq threw him in the abyss of his own volition. That Sqq was really sacrificing his life and not faking his death with intent to survive.

Sqq is left knowing all these things but unable to act on them, unable to tell his husband about his own past, unable to explain his actions, never able to fully let his guard down because he's supposed to be shen qingqiu. He can't even tell his own husband his original name!! If he could have, he would have, even if only in the extras!

But can you imagine???

A meeting of bingqiu, wangxian, Hualian, for whatever reason, and as the three (actual) protagonists chat and gossip and get to know each other, as they talk, Sqq is at ease enough to slip up and finds out he can talk about the system to anyone from outside pidw! Not just sqh!! Maybe not completely, but he can mention some, and the other two, concerned for their new friend, are clever enough to tease the rest out. They're horrified. Sqq is resigned but freshly hopeful.

And so begins Mission: Save Sqq's Marriage!

(Sqq would very much like to contend the title but he is out voted.)

I'd just love to see the three of them (with unquestioning aid from their husbands) get up to hijinks and face existential horrors on a quest to help bingqiu get the closure they need. And moshang too, I guess XD.

It'd also be very, very funny to have them all in the middle of the latest traumatic and/or mortifying scene look around at the other two like 'hey, aren't you supposed to be freaking out now? This is normally the part people start screaming' and the other two are like 'I mean I guess?? We've got things to do though' like kings of unflappable repression right there.

(and lbh and lwj having vinegar-offs while hc is sighing dreamily watching his husband make semi decent friends for once)

Like there's a bunch of crossovers but none really scratch that itch, you know? The main characters of all 3 mxtx?? There's so much potential for Truly Unhinged Shenanigans!! Wangxian visiting pidws wife plot filled world and disappearing into the wilderness for a full week, coming back with every single piece of clothing they brought ruined. Hualian go visit mdzs and and no one believes xl is a diety and hc chomping at the bit to kill them for the injustice. Bingqiu going to tgcf and lbh getting mistaken for a calamity, or Sqq falling into the one wife plot kidnapping or something intended for a diety.

But seriously imagine Sqq complaining about something and wwx and xl immediately going 'that's not right! You deserve better!!' and Sqq is like 'no it's fine I'm used to it' and the other two slam their fists on the table like 'no!!! If [husband] was forced to keep that kind of secret I'd hate it!! You two deserve to be properly happy!! Let us help! We can fix this!' and start working with zeal and vigor while Sqq trails along embarrassed half heartedly muttering 'it's not that bad >:/'.

And when it works (presumably some clever loophole they stumbled on) and bingqiu are tearfully kissing they share a low five without looking. Or that one meme where the person getting kissed holds their hand back and their wingman enthusiastically high fives it but there's two wingmen XD!

I don't knowww but it'd be such a good premise! Ripe for character interactions!! Fluff! Crack! Angst! Daytrips and pouring their hearts out to people who'd really understand! Xl wwx and Sqq bestie team up! Meeting moshang! Wwx info dumping about his monster index categorisation to an enthralled Sqq! Xl and Sqq bemoaning etiquette while wwx laughs at them! Xl and wwx having intense discussions about morality and righteousness! All three of them laughing at how oblivious they were about their husbands, each trying to one the other two for Dumb Moments They Should Have Realised (Sqq wins by horrifying the other two)!

Forget cross country kidnappings and being locked in a room! Where is my protagonist trio getting into trouble on a self imposed mission to help their friend! Let their magnetism for insanity shine!!

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FOR YEARNING, LOTS OF YEARNING... *  assorted dialogue, adjust as necessary

i had a dream about you last night.

i remember every single kiss you took from me.

you are my everything.

i feel the same way about you.

where you go, i follow.

you're mine. you've always been mine.

i'm in love with you to the point of breathlessness.

after all this time, you still give me butterflies.

you make it hard to breathe, you know.

you fixed me. you fixed my broken heart.

i will not go another breath without you.

i crave you.

i need to be close to you.

i think i've loved you since the day we met.

i'm with you.

you touched me, and i came alive.

the universe isn't big enough to hold the depths of how i feel for you.

are you sure we're not dreaming?

kiss me again, and don't stop this time.

i can't bear the thought of living without you.

you complete me.

i want all of you. every piece of you.

i won't lose you again.

you're the most important person i have ever known.

the universe gave you to me.

you're the answer to every question i've ever had.

i want you close. i want to feel you sigh.

how am i supposed to do this without you? i can't.

all i love i knew before... it's nothing like the love i have with you.

you changed everything. everything looks different now that you're here.

i'm not ready to let go of you.

i want you safe. i want you close to me.

you fixed all of my broken pieces. you stitched me back together.

nothing will take you away from me.

i love you in every language and in every song.

i need you.

i'd rather die than let you go.

i need a whole day with you, spent in bed, just the two of us.

all that i am and everything i'll ever be belongs to you.

do you have any idea what you do to me?

stop looking at me like that. i can't focus.

you can't expect me to just... wait like this.

don't go. do that again, please.

you are everything i could ever want.

i was an empty shell until we met. i was a haunted house, darkened with pain, and you turned my lights on.

you are the most beautiful person i have ever seen.

i'm always going to be madly in love with you.

if you don't kiss me again, i'll die.

i crave the taste of your kiss.

i can't believe you're real.

if you only knew what you did to me...

there aren't enough words to explain how much i love you.

i love you more than anything.

a life without you isn't a life worth living.

don't let go of me.

you're the only one that matters.

you don't know what you do to me.

pretty sure i've fallen in love with you four times today.

you're my love.

lay with me. be with me.

they don't know you the way i do.

don't give up on me. don't give up on us.

you know what that does to me.

not even the poets could properly describe what you mean to me.

i miss the way it felt to be touched by you.

you are the sun and the stars and every other golden thing in the universe.

am i dreaming? is this real life?

i was living life half-alive until i met you.

i've never needed anyone like i need you.

please take my hand. hold it and never let go.

i love when the sun hits your eyes. you're glowing.

be with me tonight.

i've only ever wanted you. just you.

[huhmiya]

MULLET | nick sturniolo

pairing: bsf!nick x f!reader

summary: nick needed a haircut but he was impatient and decided to cut it himself, though when you noticed, you offered to help, even though you weren't a professional hairdresser.

warning: fluff (??), stress, use of y/n

a/n: not my photos, on pinterest. no joke but this happened to me before, my friend cut his hair so I had to give him a buzz cut because there was no saving it

WORDS: 1.0k

huhmiya on wattpad

you - pink | nick- purple

-

Not long ago, Nick called you in a panic, his voice filled with distress. He said he looked like a failed science experiment, making it difficult for you to understand what he was saying.

Despite thinking he might be overreacting, you agreed to help to whatever he was asking. However, upon arriving, you were still confused about what was going on.

Nick greeted you at the door with his hood up, avoiding eye contact. His demeanour only added to your bewilderment.

As you followed him upstairs to the lounge, he finally confided in you. "Y/n, I've made a massive mistake," Nick admitted as you took off your shoes.

"What have you done?" you asked, meeting his troubled gaze.

With his brothers in their room, unaware of your presence, Nick led you to the bathroom and locked the door so they couldn't come in.

Upon seeing hair scattered around the sink, you raised an eyebrow, studying the mess before turning your attention to Nick.

He pulled back his hood, revealing the haircut he had given himself, which was absolutely terrible. "Oh, shit," you whispered to yourself.

He shot you a glare and ran his hand through his hair, but some pieces of hair he had cut were still stuck in his hair and ended up on his hand.

"Nick... how did this even happen?" you whispered as he let out a frustrated sigh and replied, not too loudly.

"The hairstylist wasn't available for two weeks. I couldn't walk around looking like I had a bird's nest on my head for that long," he said, his eyes on you as he wiped away a tear of frustration.

You gazed at his hair, fighting the urge to laugh. It wasn't the right moment for that.

"Why don't you wash your hair to get rid of the cut pieces and then I can help you fix it properly?" you suggested quietly, making sure he could hear you.

He glares at you for a moment before grabbing the shower head, as you both stand in the bathroom.

You were cleaning hair from the sink, flushing it down the toilet, while Nick leaned over the bathtub to wash his hair.

"You know, you look like such an idiot with your haircutting skills," you tease, a slight smirk playing on your lips. In response, he sprays water at you, then back at his own hair.

Your eyes widen as the lukewarm water soaks into your clothes, feeling colder than expected. He chuckles slightly at his own antics before continuing to wash his hair.

There is a moment of silence as you sit on the counter, and he stands, annoyed at the sight of his hair falling out with the water.

After he finishes, he dries his hair with a towel, clearly frustrated with himself.

He looks at you and says, "I might as well shave my fucking head like I used to, I don't think we can fix this shit haircut." He gestures towards his hair in exasperation.

Even though his hair was wet, you were contemplating how to fix it, but he had already trimmed the sides and snipped randomly around the top of his head.

"Let me give it a shot first, maybe you can pull off a mullet?" you suggest, not fully confident in your skills as a hairstylist, but willing to give it a go.

"You can't even cut a straight line on paper, let alone my hair," he quips, causing you to roll your eyes. "I bet I can do a better job than you," you counter.

He gives you a defiant look and gestures with his hand before handing you the scissors.

You sit on the counter while he stands next to you, leaning in slightly so you can reach his hair more easily.

As you examine his hair, you try to stifle a laugh at how messy it is, especially with it being wet, which only seems to make it worse.

You begin cutting his hair, unsure of where to start, but determined to make some progress despite the initial mess.

"I'm going to record a YouTube video with a bald look. What should I say about it? Oh, I'm back as Eleven?" he says with attitude as you continue cutting his hair into a mullet.

"Nick, maybe trust me on this?" you say, making him stay silent, still annoyed by his actions.

You stay quiet while drying his hair, then grab the shaver and continue working on the sides, piquing his curiosity and prompting him to ask what you're trying to achieve.

"The only real option is a mullet," you say, causing him to raise an eyebrow. "Are you kidding me?" he mutters.

You hum in agreement and turn him around so he's facing you as you continue. "I don't know if I should thank you or not," he says quietly.

You just smile at him before resuming the cutting. Eventually, you finish his hair, and he looks in the mirror.

It definitely looks better than before, but you're not a professional hairstylist, so while your cutting skills are good, you're just unsure about styling it.

He simply smiled and gave you a small hug before tousling your hair a bit to style it into a mullet.

"You did resemble a failed science experiment earlier," you jest, causing him to glance at you in the mirror before playfully tapping the back of your head, though not forcefully.

"I might just trim your hair while you're sleeping and see who ends up looking like the failed science experiment with my haircutting skills," he teases with a smirk.

masterlist! guidelines & information! wattpad! socials!

[witheredtoashes]

birds and their wings

Okay, okay, everyone.

Here's my piece, aka predictions, for the Phil and his wings lore.

He's not getting them back. Or at least, he'll be the last one.

Why?

Because he wants them.

As far as I know, phil is the only one to be actively asking the federation, admins, and Cucurucho for the restoration of his wings. Not only that, I think while it's a very common headcanon or belief that Jaiden, baghera, and quackity have wings and are avians, and this is accepted by the creators themselves, they've never wanted wings. They've never asked for them. Correct me if I'm wrong, since I don't watch them often, but the other avians on qsmp are birdlike and like to be considered birds, but.. it's not ingrained. And I say these things in comparison to Phil.

Day one, barely into the stream when he was on the train, Phil talked about his wings and them being clipped. IMMEDIATELY addressed why he couldn't fly, because flying is utterly ingrained into his movements, his thinking, and everything he does. If he's not flying, there has to be a reason.

Fast forward, Phil's getting more into lore. All of his lore is about the eggs and the federation, or his wings. Being a bird. It's starting to show in everything he does, and it's purposeful.

He's perching more, when he's idle. He's always perched high in his hardcore world or even in qsmp, wanting to get the best viewpoint to see what's around him, what dangers there are, and get a look of the land. But, he's perching in places where he doesn't need to do all that.

In forever's office. On the wall, which he knows is safe and knows the surroundings of. Whenever he's idle, he will parkour and climb to the highest spot he can reach every single time, out of boredom. But it's an instinct, and it's one he's PURPOSELY tying into being a bird.

Another reason- he's more birdlike than all the other avians. It shows in his movements, his words, even his morals. He thinks like a bird. It shows in every part of his character, not just design.

Phil treasures nature and natural things over everything. He likes large open spaces. He perched and builds on the wall, and then he COVERS it in grass and transforms it into a place bustling with life and nature. Natural, wild, a place where animals can thrive and live, like a forest. Somewhere where a bird would flourish.

Not only this, it's in his hardcore world. Which we KNOW is canon. Everything he builds is connected to nature and wildlife, or at least large open spaces he can soar around. Endlantis? The sea and life taking over the barren end, and it's BRIMMING with plants and animals and growth. The ocean monument? Come on, self explanatory. Nethervoid? It's a void, barren of life, but he has pockets of life and animals within it. It's wide open, letting him soar through and admire it and fly without fear. The spawn islands? Literally pockets of floating life. The wall around his spawn? A artificial stone structure, cold and unforgiving, being taken over again by nature, weathered away, and covered in vines, trees, and moss. Life is everywhere.

Now, qsmp.

Jaiden shows Phil his wings, right? She says she just "busts them out", like she's had them, fully functional the entire time.

One of Phil's first questions is "can you fly yet?" Because that's the first thing he'd do if his wings were whole. Hearing Jaiden is too shy, he groans like he's disappointed before saying it's alright. He asks if she's always had wings. He says he's glad she's got her wings and that SHE CAN FLY AGAIN. After complaining of his own fucked up wings, and how he can no longer fly.

Phil adds more lore to his wings, and connects back to them again. He says that with the damage and the amount of feathers clipped, he has to wear the heavy backpack to balance himself, because he's so used to their weight. Now that it's off, he can't walk or move properly without that weight being fixed. It's such a natural part of him that he adjusted to, he can't live without them.

When Jaiden spoke of caging the birds she's found, Phil paused, and he got that hesitant joking along but please don't be serious voice he often uses, saying "You let them out of the cages though, right?"

He's concerned of the detriments of being caged, and how birds need to be free and fly. Exactly what he can't do. He calls the island a cage.

Now, all this MIGHT be because of the cage for a cage punishment, right? But I don't think it is. I think this instinct was already there, and that lore built onto it and got him to show it more.

He's mindful not of being trapped in a cage again, but the harm of being trapped and confined and not able to fly. We all saw how he went a little insane in that birdcage, right? Dreaming of hardcore, thinking he was in there for weeks, and how it left him shattered and unable to trust himself and his reality without outside assurance. Aka, the pheonix. He didn't call cucurucho out for fucking with him, he questioned whether.. it really was real, and maybe thats why he couldnt lasso it. He relaxed when cucurucho said it saw the bird in the picture, and still hung onto that moment and HOUR LATER, saying it was still fucking with him.

And in the birdcage. He saw all his fellow birds, imprisoned, and the next time we see him? They're all free. They're flying around in the little space they can, while he's grounded.

Outside of that, he croons over every bird and keeps it safe. But when it comes to running out of cages, he lets the birds fly freely again in the SAME stream he found them, instead of making new cages. He looks after them. He knows the importance of freedom, and that's why he's an anarchist, that's why he hated the elections and the federation, that's why he plans and avoids shit not only to keep his little fledglings, his eggs, safe, but to also save himself from being forced to make a decision via blackmail or threats. That's why he didn't enter the election in the first place. He's spiteful and treasures his freedom over everything.

What I'm saying is, his instincts, choices, and nature is tied to being a bird, and being part bird is tied to every part of him. Moreso than the other avians.

So what does this mean for him getting back his wings?

Well, he wont.

It's power over him, now that the eggs are gone. Not a threat, because those make him spiteful and prone to lashing out- uncontrollable.

It's a promise of what he could have, given he behaves. If he listens to the federation.

The minute he has his wings, he's free, there's no more power. He's too buffed as a player to have them taken away again, he's too interconnected with everyone, and everyone will rush to his aid if he says he needs help. They'll never be able to harm his wings, and now, he's too anxious and cautious to fall into a trap. He doesn't trust the federation in the first place, immediately assuming their goal is to kidnap people, and he DEFINITELY doesn't trust messages from the eggs/about the eggs because of the birdhouse. We see this with fit, because when fit tells Phil he got a message from his eggs, Phil IMMEDIATELY asks him if he's sure it was real. Light and cautious, he won't step on the trap again, and he won't let anyone else either.

So, they keep his wings away from him. Taunt him with them, with the idea of getting them, in order to keep them in line. Why do I know this?

Well, they've already started.

Again, Jaiden has her wings. Early on, she goes to Phil's house with them, and he sees them and REALIZES the federation is restoring wings, or at least allowing people to use them. Getting his wings back becomes a possibility, while they use Jaiden to parade that fact around.

Quickly after this, Phil starts to ask the federation to restore his wings. Immediately when he sees them come to his house (coincidentally, some time after Jaiden comes and with Jaiden there.) he asks for his wings. They laugh at him.

Phil gets a quest from cucurucho, the being he constantly curses out and hates on, and he TAKES THE QUEST. Because he sees he can get a reward- something that isn't set in stone or written down. Something he can bargain.

So he does the quest, and then when cucurucho comes to reward him, he starts to bargain.

"YOU WILL RECEIVE A REWARD."

"is it my wings back? JK you wouldn't do that"

"def worth it for the god apple. still no wings though, y'know. Still no healed wings.."

"BY THE WAY, DID YOU CATCH THAT SUNBIRD?"

"Yes, yes I did, thank you."

"GOOD JOB."

"Maybe repair my wings? Maybe repair my wings a little?" AND HE TURNS HIS BACK TOWARDS CUCURUCHO AND SH OWS HIM HIS CLIPPED WINGS,, "I can take off my backpack- oh, no, he's gone."

He turns his back to someone he knows has a gun, considers his enemy, and doesn't trust in the slightest. HE TURNS HIS BACK. In order to extend his wings and show them to cucurucho, show it the clipped ends, the most important part of him, as if to gain sympathy or further plead his case as "this is something that is broken, please fix it." To set things to right.

Cucurucho laughs, and leaves. No wings.

This leads me to believe that the federation will continue to ask tasks of Phil, because he is strong and smart and will get them done, and he will use it as a leverage tool of "hey, I'm helping you, why don't you help me?" And continuously ask them to restore his wings.

But they know that. And they'll say no. He'll do more and more.

Eventually, hell realize they're not going to give them to him. He's smart. Hell catch on. So what do the federation do to give him hope?

They give others their wings. They show him that there's a chance, because OTHERS are getting their wings, so why not him? He must not have done enough, it has to be a possibility. He can still work, and he can get them. He just has to do more.

Hell continue to work, because he sees it as a possibility. Subtly, they'll play him to be their strongest pawn.

And when he doesn't get his wings, even after all his work, I think he'll start to resent those with their wings. Jealousy turning into a little bit of hate, a little bit of bitterness at something so important to him being treated so lightly, not as priceless as he would see them. Not as treasured or appreciated. Hell be taunted with their freedom and how little value they give to it.

Everything recently has been trying to divide the islanders. Taking away their uniting goal, protecting the eggs. The create nerf scuffles. People working with cucurucho, their enemy, and foolish ratting everyone out. There's tension, and secrets are being kept, unlike before. But who's been allied with everyone, and who everyone trusts, despite it all?

Philza, with his honesty, plain to see goals, and lack of a motive or physical thing he cherishes over his friendships. There's nothing to use against him.

Until now. His wings. A way to create tension in Phil's life, a way to make him bitter, a way to control him.

By offering him his freedom, they'll be pressing him into a cage even smaller than before.

A cage made of glass, impossible for him to see.

[notmorbid]

little rot, pt. 1.

dialogue prompts from little rot by akwaeke emezi.

don't be indecent.

you don't have to go.

stay here? and do what?

i don't have energy for this. not again.

this doesn't feel like love anymore.

love isn't enough, and you know it.

is it alright if i come and stay with you, just for a little bit?

my house is your house. you don't even have to ask.

i'm not happy like this.

you act like i've asked you to kill your own mother.

i prayed for a love that would never leave me lonely.

i'm glad you stayed. i was already missing you.

running away never fixes anything.

don't start repressing your feelings. these emotions are necessary. they're part of healing.

we need to distract you.

we can't go back to that club for a while.

please don't ask me to kill my aesthetic in the name of practicality.

it's so easy to scandalize you.

if everything is broken, then something must be broken open.

you're with me. you'll be safe.

i would have known. i would have noticed something.

this is what you do in a godless space.

let me know if you need to run off.

do you want to help me feel better?

don't start something you can't finish.

don't you wish you'd never come back, sometimes?

you think you'll never be a part of things you hate.

someone might see us.

just make sure it's a door you want to open.

i didn't bend, even when it meant losing you. i had to stand for something.

what kind of person do you think i am?

you're not a savior.

i started from the gutter. there was nowhere left for me to sink to.

you don't want a real person. you want someone pretending to be a real person.

you know pieces of me that no one else does.

don't lie to me. something is wrong.

what a convincing liar you are.

you don't know what you're asking for.

i remember when we all used to go to sunday school together.

you don't lie. you can't even swear properly.

this isn't me. this isn't who i want to be.

it's not your job to save anyone other than yourself.

the whole place feels wrong without you.

you see me too easily.

i'll make some food. will you eat?

it's impossible to forget anything about you.

it took me forever to stop thinking about you.

people don't always know how to look at me.

one day i'll stop running and live.

maybe i'm just not in the mood to play that character today.

who ever bothered to try to protect us?

you and your useless soft heart.

you know what it's like here. you have to be ready.

your voice is exactly like i remember it.

one of us has to be cautious.

[howi99]

Project ARC remake 9

I choose to skip the fight against the Deathstalker/Nevermore combo since y'all already saw it. We all did, we know how they do it.

Ozpin: Jaune Arc, Weiss Schnee, Pyrrha Niko and Lie Ren. The four of you brought back the white knight piece and this day forward you will work together as team JSPR(Jasper)

Weiss: I like the name

Ozpin: Led by Jaune Arc.

Weiss: WHAT!?

Jaune: I have to agree with miss Schnee, i am not apt for a leading position.

Ozpin: Nobody is at first, but your quick wit and your determination was a key factor in winning your fight against the Deathstalker.

Jaune: ... Then i will do as you want, headmaster.

Weiss: B-but!-

Ren: *puts a hand on Weiss shoulder*

Weiss: *sigh* Fine. But if you slip up, i'm taking your place, Arc.

Jaune: I understand.

_________

Pyrrha: *entering the dorm* Whoa, the dormitory is so...

Weiss/Ren: *at the same time* Small/Big.

Jaune: It's a place to sleep, though for the foreseeable future, i won't be able to sleep with you all.

Pyrrha: Oh? Why not?

Jaune: *begin to remove his shirt*

Weiss: W-whoa! Hey! Don't get naked in front of u- Holy! What happened to you!?

Jaune: *Burning scars on his torso, with multiple lacerations* I don't know, but i was already like that when the headmaster found me. So i need to visit the infirmary daily... Though nightly might be a better adjective.

Ren: *looking at his back* They don't look like a grimm's work... Beside, wouldn't your aura repair your tissues?

Jaune: My aura... Doesn't work the same as yours. I can't be healed by the conventional huntsman way.

Weiss: meaning?

Jaune: *deapan* I can't shrug off my wounds. At least, not until i get fixed.

Pyrrha: Get fixed?

Jaune: Do not worry about it miss Niko-

Pyrrha: You can call me Pyrrha. Just Pyrrha.

Jaune: As you wish. To answer your question, i don't know why my Aura doesn't work properly. So until i can fix it, i won't be able to heal correctly. But if what i heard is true, i should be able to live with all of you in 3 weeks. *Looking at his scroll* speaking of, it is time for me to leave you for the night. *Get his shirt back*

Pyrrha: *wave as he leave* Goodnight!

Jaune: Goodnight to you too, Pyrrha. And to you both as well.

[songfell-ut]

Okay ONE more genderbend

No, I have not embarked upon assembling gay Songfell piece by piece instead of writing Songfell, I just had another brain rot that's actually been incredibly helpful: in addition to moving and my arm possibly needing surgical intervention (ortho is not being super helpful), I've been focused so much on Songfell's plot that what I've got just doesn't look right.

Well, making my teeny AU made me realize that I've been so busy plotting, I forgot the luv. This has reminded me of why I wrote the dang story in the first place: we all want to see a giant monster simping over a determined, musically inclined human. I will be fixing up chapter 35 and hopefully getting 'er up this month.

...but yes with the help of @skyartworkzzz I did dictate and sort of type this huge drabble, almost a one-shot, and you can't stop me it's too late ah ha ha ha

“Yer doin’ it again.”

Frisk was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realize Sans had said something, and another to properly hear it. “Doing what again?” the priest inquired, sitting up from his half-slouch over the table.

The giant skeleton sauntered over and tapped the wood surface. Frisk thought at first that he meant the plates from dinner they hadn’t cleaned up yet, but no: Sans was looking at Frisk’s hands. “That thing with yer fingers. Ya wiggle ‘em sometimes when you’re really out of it.” Sans demonstrated with a waggle of his own phalanges, seating himself not far away. “Are ya mad about somethin’? If you wanna wring somebody’s neck, I can do it for ya,” he added generously.

Frisk snorted, scratching his ribs through the shirt he wore under his robe, noticing how Sans’ gaze instantly followed the motion. Better stay on topic; he wasn’t eager for more questions about why human males only sort of had boobs or whether there was as much hair on his chest as his head. “I think I’ve made my stance on murder clear, Sans,” said the High Priest, trying very hard to sound stern.

“Nope, doesn’t wring a bell,” the skeleton said cheerfully, and was rewarded with a snrrk that made him grin about a mile wide. “Ha! I win. Now ya hafta tell me what you’re doin’.”

“That was a good one,” Frisk admitted, rubbing his nose. “All right, then.” He looked at his hand, sobering a little, tapping the thumb and forefinger together. “Here.” With no further warning, he snapped his fingers so hard that Sans flinched. “Sorry,” said the priest, offering a rueful smile that made Sans scowl back. “I just took the barrier off the closet in the corner of my office. Would you please go and open it for me, and bring me what’s inside?”

Nonplussed, the boss monster obediently vanished. A few long moments later, he reappeared with something that looked like a toy in his massive hands. “Ta-da,” he said gravely, trying to hold it properly.

Frisk laughed and took the guitar from the skeleton’s loose grasp. “Thank you,” he said, tilting it onto its side. Something rattled, and he turned the instrument over to shake out a small tortoiseshell pick. “This, sir, is the answer you seek. Sometimes when I’m tired, I’ll think about playing it.” He slid off the chair to retrieve the pick and find a patch of floor to sit cross-legged. “I haven’t touched this in months,” he murmured, stroking the long neck.

He missed Sans’ swift glance at his lap, and how the skeleton’s cheekbones flickered with a few shades of red before he said, “Weird. I get bein’ too busy, but why’s it locked up? Habit?”

“Sort of. When I first moved up here, I thought the servants might take it.” Sans made a disbelieving sound, and Frisk clarified, “I don’t mean they’d steal it. I was afraid that if His Holiness knew it was here, he’d have them remove it.”

The skeleton disbelieved louder. “The hell? Does the Church think they’re evil or somethin’?” He settled on the floor a few feet away.

“Not evil, no,” said Frisk, still examining the guitar, “just…frivolous. If I had a piano or a cello up here, that would be one thing, but this is considered uncouth.” The young man plucked gingerly at the top string, and winced. “Now that’s bad. Positively E-vil.” He plucked again, then fiddled with a knob.

Sans had a good chuckle at that, and didn’t hide his further amusement at how the sound wobbled up and down, but he stayed quiet while Frisk hummed under his breath and turned another knob, wibb-wobbling the string’s pitch till it was as accurate as the young man could get by ear. Then Frisk tried the next string, humming, adjusting till it was in tune with the E; when the next string proved accurate almost immediately, though, he caught Sans’ disappointment and very, very gently turned the knob the wrong way to make it go wooooaaaaooo.

The boss monster cackled in appreciation. “Do it again,” he urged Frisk, reclining on his side and scooting closer for a better look.

“I can’t do it too much,” Frisk replied. Far from minding an audience literally looming over him, he found himself rather pleased to show Sans how the knobs worked. “This works by tightening or loosening the strings, see?” He demonstrated again, letting the skeleton lean in close enough to almost bump heads. “I haven’t replaced these in a while, but I don’t have any spares. I should probably take care of that before I play anything.”

Sans cocked his enormous head. There was a long moment of Frisk conspicuously not stopping and in fact continuing to tune the thing, and the boss monster nodded in understanding that guitar strings were probably not okay, either; however, the truth was that he was watching with such interest that Frisk was too flattered to stop. It was stupid to toodle around with a poorly maintained instrument just to show off, but all.he could think was that he should’ve known Sans wouldn’t care whether this was a waste of time or not, or that he could barely play anything.

The skeleton was evidently thinking the same thing. “So your boss wouldn’t want you doin’ this?” he asked. “The hell does he care as long as yer work’s gettin’ done? He’s not your friggin’ dad. …Is he?”

Frisk played a few mildly amused notes. “No. But I was only nineteen when they made me High Priest, and he thought I was going to be easy to manipulate.” Sans snorted in such derision that Frisk felt a little tingle of pride. “It was exactly the sort of thing he would have done to keep me in my place,” the latter continued. “He’d also tattle to my actual father, and he would have said something. But I’m of age now, so…” He tried another chord, and let it trail off.

“Why’d they teach you ta play it if it’s that bad?” the boss monster persisted. “Ya know all yer music stuff from school, right?”

Frisk tapped the pick absently on the guitar’s belly. “Yes, but not from the monks. I learned it when we were all working in the kitchen.”

Sans lifted a browbone. “Was that a normal thing? Learnin’ discipline or humility or somethin’?”

“Well, yes, and no.” The young man tried a short scale, correcting the last note. “Everyone in our dormitory was being punished. We had to go down after dinner and clean up after the entire monastery.” He couldn’t help wincing. “I hadn’t done anything wrong, so they let me sit with a lay worker who played guitar to entertain everyone. I sang with him and watched how it was done, and nobody told on me for a few months.”

“‘Lay’ worker?” Sans’ tone was much too innocent, and he answered Frisk’s don’t you dare squint with a cheerful “I didn’t know gettin’ laid was a church job.”

The High Priest snorted so hard that he almost dropped the pick. “That’s not what that means,” he informed his apprentice, barely fighting down his amusement before he resumed, “It just means someone employed by the church who hasn’t taken any vows.” But his smile faded to a grimace. “You’re actually not far off. That’s…” Frisk played a few more notes at random. “I think I was seventeen. There was a bad cold going around the monastery. Most of the acolytes got over it in a few days, but everyone in charge – the abbot, the higher deacons, et cetera – all caught it at once.” He strummed an overly dramatic chord. “I’m still impressed how bad things got. It was chaos for a solid month. Anyone who wanted to really misbehave had a good time.”

“Yeah?” To Frisk’s disappointment, the skeleton moved away and turned to lie flat on his spine, stretching his huge limbs across the workroom floor. “So who got laid? Thought humans don’t count it if you’re both guys.”

Frisk was now glad that Sans wasn’t watching: his entire head felt beet-red. “No, it was women working in the outbuildings,” he said with decent composure, trying another chord. “They were supposed to stay out of the monastery, but someone bribed the guards into letting them ‘visit’ back and forth. When the abbot found out, he sent off every female in a five-mile radius and had us take over their work. But then they started writing letters claiming paternity—I think there were over thirty acknowledged pregnancies after the dust settled.”

It was Sans’ turn to snort. “Holy shit. That fast?”

“That fast,” Frisk said shortly.

The boss monster scrunched up his nasal bone, obviously remembering what Frisk had told him about humans’ treatment of unwed mothers. “Well, that was a shitty thing to do. Not like any of those guys could marry ‘em, right?”

Frisk hesitated. How to put this? “Yes, but the ladies knew that. For a lot of them, it was a…we’ll call it a different opportunity,” he said, much more rueful than judgmental. “Noble families want their sons educated at the monastery, but it’s also to keep them from having their own children.” He flipped the pick over the backs of his fingers, a trick he was inordinately pleased to still do. “I will say this. If someone does leave a girl in difficulty, he’s expected to provide at least something for her and the child. Their families had a lot of questions.” He sighed in exasperation. “Word got all the way back to His Majesty. It was a huge mess. You could say the ‘lay’ worker was the only one who shouldn’t be called that.”

He expected Sans to laugh, but when Frisk peeked at him, the boss monster seemed more pensive than amused; his sockets were fixed on the basket of letters. It took Frisk a second to guess what he might be thinking, and when Sans finally shifted back onto his side to look at him, he found the priest glaring at him, daring him to even ask about his own participation. “Glad nobody was a hardass about you gettin’ blamed,” the skeleton said amiably, and Frisk relaxed a little. “Ya know what? Never mind all that crap.” Sans shifted and settled onto his side again. “Knock yerself out on that thing, I don’t care. I’m not gonna tell on ya.”

The young man sat for a moment, tapping the pick against the strings one after another. Sans was right: no need to get into how he had had to literally hide from his peers trying to drag him along to meet some of their new “friends,” or how his father – a prolific creator of children – had publicly commended Frisk for behaving like a true man of the Church, but hinted privately that he would understand if his son started sowing some oats in the very near future. It wasn’t just normal for a gentleman of his rank, but more or less expected to prove his manhood and create more magically gifted progeny of his own, whether or not he was married. Being a busy clergyman had saved Frisk from direct pressure thus far, but— “Here’s a good one,” he said to the skeleton, who obligingly scooted closer. “Don’t laugh, if you please.”

“Not unless it’s funny,” Sans said lazily.

Fair enough. Frisk shut his eyes for a moment, letting his fingers arrange themselves the way they had whenever he could sneak in some practice back when he was just a priest, a former student who could have a damn second to himself that he didn’t have to account for. People had popped their heads in to check if he really was just playing a borrowed guitar, but he was regarded as such a goody-goody that nobody gave him a hard time. He had stumbled across a few young men taking private moments for themselves or with each other, but he never told…

Well, no point getting angry now. It was too nice to sit near-ish the fire and do nothing useful, just empty his mind of everything but what to do to make the sounds he wanted to play. He wasn’t alone, either; the massive skeleton looming over his shoulder was a warm, solid presence that made the High Priest feel less like he was being monitored and more protected, accepted for whatever he wanted to do—just the pleasure of his company. That was what he’d told Sans back when he gave him his new clothes, wasn’t it?

Now there was an idea, so interesting that Frisk barely noticed himself picking out the bare bones – ha – of a favorite old song. He should really get Sans another set of clothing, something he could change into that wasn’t ragged canvas or just nothing at all. Not that Sans was particularly modest: he hadn’t been bothered by the notion of Frisk forcibly removing him from the bathroom, reminding the human that they were both male and he didn’t have anything private to see. Was that why he kept asking Frisk questions about humans that he could find in any of his textbooks? The notion of fleshy bits that changed consistency and produced weird fluids at inconsistent intervals couldn’t be an appealing one, not to a being made of solid bone.

…

Why did that thought suddenly bother him?

…Dirt, he’d just played a very bad note. The priest mumbled an apology and adjusted his grip, chagrined at ruining a peaceful moment with more of that nonsense. Not for the first time, he reminded himself that it was not all right to let his imagination charge off after someone who was not just under his care, but in his power; it was immoral at best to use Sans to investigate whether his libido – always plenty strong, simply refusing to attach itself to anyone, no matter how attractive they were – might just be resistant to humans. He’d keep relaxing and enjoying his apprentice’s literal support—Sans was close enough that Frisk caught himself about to lean back against his gigantic lower ribs. That was what most top scholars called a “no-no.”

…Was it, though? When Frisk glanced up, he saw Sans closing his sockets, and the skeleton’s expression and body language were so peaceful that Frisk had to smile again. Never mind thoughts of fleshy bits and bones, just enjoy having him here. No more recurring thoughts of how monsters didn’t care about gender or how fond of him Sans might be. No wondering what bone felt like on fleshy bi���on totally normal skin, or whether Sans would let him poke the gaps in his metacarpals…or what bone might feel like on his hands, maybe running along his—

And something happened that Frisk had never experienced before, at least contextually. He was a healthy young man, and he had had his body act out at complete random just as often as anyone else; what had not happened was specifically thinking of one person who was right here and then having a specific reaction to that specific person. And it wasn’t—stopping at all, it was getting worse and he had to focus harder (ha!) on distracting himself. Maybe if he played louder?

There was a sharp sound and a burst of pain, and Frisk dropped the guitar, Sans jerking upright as the priest clutched his hand. “Frisk! What happened?! You okay?”

“I’m fine. The string snapped,” Frisk said tersely, holding it up for the skeleton to see the near-bleeding welt on the back of his hand. At least it was the ideal excuse to rise to his knees and lean forward enough for his nightshirt to hang forward, because the burst of adrenaline had not quieted anything down. “It’s my fault, I even said I shouldn’t play the damn thing—”

And of course, that was Sans’ cue to scowl and give Frisk another jolt by seizing his wrist between his thumb and forefinger, holding him utterly still in a huge, inescapable, but gentle grasp. It was for the best that Frisk froze in place, heat flooding his senses as the boss monster summoned a wisp of green magic. “There we go,” he said after a moment. “All better?” And it might have been okay if he hadn’t absently rubbed Frisk’s forearm with his thumb.

Neither of them would ever be sure exactly how Frisk did it, but the next second, he was somehow on his feet and turning away in a blur of “Thankyouvermch”; before Sans could get a solid look at him, the human was already disappearing into the bathroom and slamming the door.

~

Sans knelt in silence long enough for the blankness to recede and confusion to step into its place. What the fuck was that? Was Frisk really that upset over one crappy judgment call?

…Or…Sans had been watching very close – almost got caught that one time – and he wasn’t sure that he hadn’t seen something. He had read that human males just kind of did that sometimes without meaning to and it was considered hugely embarrassing, which would explain why Frisk had run off like that. Funny, he had never had that problem before in all the time Sans had spent around him, though the boss monster had admittedly tried to avoid looking.

Humans were weird. Sans picked up the guitar very delicately, examining the broken string. Stupid damn thing, he had half a mind to throw it in the fireplace—but that would probably not help. Besides, Frisk had been really happy whenever he wasn’t talking about other humans being stupid. Sans had never seen him so relaxed; it was almost a given that the only people who could boss Frisk around didn’t want him to.

At least Frisk had felt comfortable enough to play with it in front of him. …The guitar. Comfortable enough to play the guitar. Yep. It kind of suck—it was kind of shitty that the dumb thing was unusable now, and fucking stupid that someone this rich and powerful couldn’t get something so simple without…hmmm. Sans daintily retrieved the pick, and got up.

~

Frisk was debating how to leave the bathroom in the most face-saving way when a sound made him nearly fall over: the workroom’s double doors were open and Sans was talking, presumably to the guards. What the—the priest grabbed a towel, speed-dabbed the rest of the cold water away, adjusted his garments, and…hesitated, milliseconds before striding into view wearing his nightclothes. Instead he listened, and thus heard a guard saying, “…you mean…er…sir?”

“Is there some other meanin’ of ‘Gimme some new strings for this thing’?” Sans’ voice was so exaggeratedly polite that Frisk didn’t know whether to laugh or bang his head on the doorframe. “His Eminence has graciously allowed me t’learn about human stuff, and all I can learn from this thing is that guitars need all the strings or they sound like crap. So the next time somebody delivers stuff up here, they can bring ‘em. Right?”

Frisk could almost hear the guards giving each other uncertain looks. “Er…”

“Right. Thank you!” With obscene cheer, the giant skeleton slammed the doors shut. Then he opened them again. “Oh. Wait. Here.” The dirty dishes flew from the table to the trolley, which was shoved out, and the doors slammed again. “There we go, boss,” Sans said over his shoulder. “You good now?”

“…I am. Thank you.” The human took a deep breath, and let it out. “I’m going to take a bath. Read the chapter on topical analgesics, please, and we’ll discuss it before bed. …Sleep. Before we sleep.” And he shut the door again before Sans could respond. He had a lot to think about.

[ryuusei-niu]

BoO spoilers ‼️

Excuse me, ladies, gentlemen and monarchs, I'm going to ramble (angst) about Leo

I can't stop thinking about the days before Leo did you know what in BoO. I JUST CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT HOW HE COULD FEEL

Like, dude, he was about to go and maybe DIE. TO SAVE THE WHOLE FRICKIN WORLD.

Until then everything is fine (no, it is not). Because "between fire and storm, the world must fall." He was the fire. It was him or Jason and he didn't plan to die, he had a plan. Of course.

Only maybe that plan wouldn't work.

And I can't stop thinking about it. Like, c'mon! We all know Leo, we know that he is not a coward but he is not very attracted to the idea of ​​putting himself in danger. He is a person, he can't help but not want to die. On few occasions he wanted or avoided putting himself in danger, knowing that someone else was going to be in danger.

So why did he sacrifice himself for everyone? Why did he do it when there was a strong possibility of not coming back from the explosion?

I can't help but think that there was a part of him that didn't really care about not coming back.

Did he have future plans? Yes. Did he have people he cared about and wanted to be with? Double yes. He could have avoided the drama, fixed Festus correctly and with the help of the others, go and save Calypso and end of the history, everyone happy.

Then, why?

It's simple math. Cruel and horrible simple math.

He would always be the seventh wheel.

'But Ryuu, he had friends and his friends cared about him and-'

I don't care, Martha, just hear me out and shut up (with love).

He had no place as such among the seven. It was him. And the metallic dragon, let's not forget Festus. But it was him at the end of the day.

They needed someone who would sacrifice themselves for the group, with the risk of not returning.

I feel like Leo didn't even need to think about it.

Because the loneliness he felt in those few days was enough to make him realize it. The loneliness of his entire life was enough to realize it.

Although he was an important member, he ended up being left over. He was a piece that others could do without, find a replacement. Move on.

(And it makes me angry to know that it was part of Hera's plan, because if he hadn't been rejected his whole life he wouldn't have sacrificed himself.)

I feel that in part, it was easier for Leo to sacrifice himself, maybe come back, and be a hero, or maybe not come back, than stay there. Just like the clown he was. The seventh wheel.

Because maybe, if he didn't come back, they were finally going to miss him a little.

Maybe, if he didn't come back, they were going to feel more than just pity, or anger at him.

Maybe, if he died, he would have a little more presence than if he stayed.

He already saw it once. Two, to be specific. In both of them he came back and in both of them his friends forgot about him not long after.

That also helped him decide that he should be the one to sacrifice himself.

He couldn't leave Piper without Jason.

I feel like Leo thought maybe he was easier to forget. And at the same time he hated that.

At the same time he didn't want to die. But he didn't mind.

And I can't help but imagine what the last days, the last hours, must have been like for him, knowing that maybe he was going to die and none of his friends knew. He wasn't going to get to say goodbye properly. And he felt bad for wanting, deep down, to see them cry over the idea of ​​him not coming back. Because he wanted to feel important and worthy of being missed at least once.

[whumpshaped]

this has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for ages... it was supposed to be the first of my robot drabbles to go up but here we are. i hope i'll have spoons to write more for these guys... i'll post some picrews sometime for the cast and also make a masterlist and give the story a title

masterlist

content: robot whumperee (literally whumpee and whumper in one i don't know how to describe it any other way), sci-fi setting, implied systemic whump, morally dubious caretaker, living weapon

Szoren grabbed the closest rag and did a cursory wipe-off on his tools before turning towards his robot: the Self-Sufficient Riot Control Unit, the very first one they'd ever created. SSRCU-01. Zaps, as they'd affectionately nicknamed it. An absolutely magnificent piece of machinery, something Szoren and his colleagues had been working on for years before they managed to get it to function properly.

Well, as properly as they could at the time. If he didn't count the unfortunate shocking incident from the first week, and the even more unfortunate airlock incident from the second week, he could say Zaps was doing a fine job of only hurting those it was meant to be hurting.

Which, of course... Szoren didn't like that his poor baby was made for such a brutal purpose... But he couldn't change the reality of it, and he was just glad to see his creation performing well.

"So, what seems to be the problem?" he asked cheerily, adjusting his glasses as he looked over the custom murderbot.

"The central processing unit seems to be malfunctioning, sir," it said, monotone as ever. Szoren didn't mind. He wasn't good with emotions anyway.

"Malfunctioning? How? I'll run diagnostics, but you can talk to me in the meantime." He hooked up Zaps to the computer, hoping the 'malfunction' would be easy to spot and solve. At least it wasn't the motor functions this time — he really didn't need another injury.

"The reactions are delayed, sir. I hear the orders and I see the mistakes I'm meant to be fixing, but the body locks up before I can carry out the task. It almost allowed one of the workers to run away."

Szoren frowned. Zaps was entirely okay from the looks of it, or at least the computer didn't find anything wrong with it.

"I'll take a look myself. Maybe it's something to do with the joints and not the CPU."

"The joints are fine, sir," it said firmly.

"It can't hurt to check—"

"The joints are fine, sir."

Szoren felt a chill run down his spine. There was no discernible emotion in Zaps' voice; it wasn't capable of conveying human emotion. There shouldn't have been an intensity to its stare either... But for some reason Szoren felt like he couldn't push it. That wasn't a nice feeling when it came to something he himself had helped design and create.

"Zaps... I'm going to take a look at your joints now." He didn't want to do something without the robot's consent; but to be entirely fair, the robot not consenting wasn't something that had ever even crossed his mind. It was equipment. A tool. It didn't consent to being worked on any more than the screwdriver consented to being worked with.

For a long moment, Zaps didn't react. Then the light behind its visual sensors seemed to dim as it obediently popped open all cosmetic panels that were hiding major joint connections. "Yes, sir."

"Good robot," Szoren murmured, relieved. "You said they'd 'lock up'?"

"Yes, sir."

"It sounds like something that some oil should fix, but... Evidently, it's not. All of these joints are perfectly oiled."

"Yes, sir."

"And it only happens when carrying out orders? What if it's something like... Bad wiring, something triggered by the electrical impulse..."

"There are other malfunctions, sir," it interrupted, and Szoren looked up. "I'm unsure how to describe those. It is akin to a virus. Someone might have tampered with the programming."

"What's the malfunction?"

"Sometimes I get false orders to hurt my superiors, sir. While carrying out my regular tasks is difficult, these false orders are at times incredibly difficult to resist."

"What?" Szoren turned back towards the computer, frantically trying to find something in the code that could explain this. This was alarming. This was dangerous! Possibly lethal! If Zaps ended up hurting someone important, the whole tech department would be on trial; and not a favourable one. "What are these orders like? Are they like your regular orders? Maybe it's something about the target list, maybe... Maybe someone tampered with that."

"Sir?"

He barely glanced at the robot. "Yes?"

"What is the purpose I have been created to fulfil?"

Szoren stopped. "You know your purpose."

"To punish workers who fail to comply with the rules set out for them by the Seventh Earth Council." At least it remembered that line. Szoren had drilled it into its head before anything else. "But is that..." It... trailed off? It had never done that before. Robots didn't trail off.

"Is that?" he prompted, more and more concerned.

"Is that all I've been created for?"

Szoren inhaled sharply. That was a loaded question, and one he didn't really want to answer yes to. It was the truth, though; Zaps had been created to punish and execute.

"Yes," he breathed, acutely aware that if the robot disliked his answer, it could very well turn its weaponry against him. It shouldn't be able to, but clearly, it was doing a lot of things and having a lot of thoughts it shouldn't have been able to.

It stared at him for a long, tense moment. "Understood, sir," it said eventually. Szoren exhaled.

"I'm going to switch you off and ask Kiki for some help in fixing you. How's that?" He tried to go back to his cheery attitude from before, but his voice came out strained and a little scared. Zaps didn't seem to mind.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

~

tags: @whumpsday

[slocumjoe]

Concept for if Bethesda loved the other Companions same as old tricky dick

Gage; a dlc that doesn't kinda suck actually, but also properly explores what being a raider entails, and what kind of people end up as one. I don't think you could actually redeem him, but I'd like that idea to be directly confronted, as least. I've talked about this before but it's wasted potential that you can't make the Nuka Gang confront the fact that Oh Shit The Farmers Are Now Dangerous

Deacon: I don't think he needs his own side quest or even DLC, but I'd like him to have side quests attached to him, a la Nick's detective cases sidequests. He's a spy. Pls let us do spy shit

Piper: Same as Deacon, but I think she actively needs a sidequest. Her character gimmick, her plot purpose, and her actual affinity talks are so unrelated it's painful. Let her journalism actually be content, not just a bit of trivia about her. A set of side quests + a personal quest that addresses Diamond City's Problems with a capital P. Lots of societal issues in that little space and we do nothing with any of it.

Preston: just fix the Minutemen and give this man a goddamn break. The Minutemen just need a rehaul, so as to not have him be the quest giver. And give him other stuff to do! I wanna actually fight the Gunners! Bring up and address the failures of the old Minutemen!!! Please!!!

X6-88: give the bitch something oh my God. Much like Gage, I don't think you can convince him to let go of the Institute, but give us a CHANCE. Emil just seems so scared to ask hard questions and use interesting concepts.

Danse; finish his arc you thots (also I think Fallout 4 really lacks some humanizing/soft moments in the world and I think Danse would be a good. Subject? For them. Like a shelter dog getting to play with ducklings. Idk but I have a vision)

MacCready: they forgot that his whole point was having a whole ass baby. Give him his child wtf.

Strong; delete

Codsworth; stronger plot presence. This robot raised that old bitch let him throw hands. Also, if you wanted to put quests in Sanctuary that spawn up as the town develops, Codsworth would be a great quest giver and tagalong as you try and keep the piece and set up some kind of society.

Curie; I've said it before. I'm saying again. Curies whole deal should have been a major plot point. She's a robot that becomes human and develops human feelings with human biology. This is not important to any faction leader. What on earth.

Cait; yall fuckin know how I feel about Cait but honestly, her personal quest sucks so much I'd rather they didn't. Just give her more and better affinity talks. She needs more time to open up and develop, and 4 conversations is not enough.

Hancock; I have quite a few nitpicks about Hancock but the fact that Micky D getting ganked and being revealed to be a synth DOESNT MATTER is insane. Macdonough's last interaction with Hancock was crucial to his character arc and not letting that circle around is so, so miserable. Also, I want politically-charged quests. Campaigning! Discussions on economy! He's a mayor of this weird little anarchy town, let us play in that space.

[sinfulslytherin]

Eat pt.1

Summary: Your Boyfriend doesn't let you eat properly in order to punish you. Draco tries to get your attention...

WARNING: Mature content, Eating disorder trigger

___________________________________________

I feel my head spinning on my way to my class but decide to ignore it. Grahams punishment can't last forever. At least I hope so.

I enter my classroom happily as I see that nobody is there yet and I can sit wherever I want.

I choose a spot in the very back of the classroom in order to dodge the akward questions from people I barely know. Questions such as:

"Did you get enough sleep?"

"Are you sick?"

"Do you eat enough?"

People who never talk to me suddenly can do so as soon as they see me struggle.

I don't know if I like the thought of some random people caring about me or hate the fact that they pity me.

Pity.

Just like Graham said.

People don't care about me.

They pity me.

I tired sigh escapes my lips as I grab my books and put it on the table.

The class filled up by now. That probably happened when I was sunken deep into my thoughts.

Madame Umbridge starts the class as we all suddenly hear the door opening.

"I apologize for being late."

Draco Dickhead Malfoy.

"A second time means detention Mr. Malfoy. Well,well...sit down next to Ms. Caddel." Chirps Umbridge in an irritating, high voice.

Well thank you, Umbridge.

Bitch.

I try to ignore Draco and keep my eyes on the blackboard that Umbridge uses to write down some things we need to learn for the upcoming test.

I suddenly feel Draco shifting closer to me and his hand seems to wander to my thigh.

My eyes are still fixed on the blackboard.

I suddenly feel something on my lap and Draco shifts back into his seat.

The only thing I can spot on my lap is a folded napkin.

I open it curiously only to find a small Crumpet.

The words "Be a good girl and eat up." are written in the upper right corner of the small piece of paper.

I glance over to Draco only to find him staring at the blackboard.

He never gives up, does he?

I don't know if he actually cares or just wants a warm body because he is tired of the cold.

But I can't be that. Whatever he wants.

Graham is going to kill me.

________________________________________

A/N

I have a spicy idea for the next few chapters <3

I am grateful for feedback of any form♡

Have a lovely day! <3

[rising-volteccers]

I've been working on this piece slowly over a few months and finally had the motivation to complete it. This is just a self indulgent piece on the aftermath of HZ044-HZ045. Obvious spoilers for those episodes of course. I'm a bit rusty but hopefully it's still an enjoyable read!

Series: Pokemon Horizons

Characters: Friede, Orla (Major) | Mollie, Murdock, Cap (Minor)

Warnings: Description of a character experiencing a panic attack

---

It's only after the kids have retired for the night that Friede calls for a private meeting. He doesn't have to elaborate on its reason, a quiet sort of understanding prevalent as they all made their way to the meeting room. 

Friede doesn't immediately enter once everyone else does. He stands outside, forehead pressed against the cool wall as he breathes deeply. Once, twice, three times. When he feels a little more centered, that's when Friede slips into the room.

Four sets of eyes turn to him. Graciously, no one comments on the tightness around his own eyes, the way his assuring smile is simply a knee jerk reaction in the face of trouble. It takes a moment for Friede to remember that he doesn't have to, and the smile drops.

Friede gracelessly drops onto his chair. Cap joins him moments later. Usually he perches on Friede's shoulder but his partner, likely sensing the heavy atmosphere, opts to stand on the table instead so he can get a proper view of everyone.

Heavy frowns marred all of their features. No one speaks for a good while, as if fearful of what'll spill out the moment this tentative silence is shattered. The Copperajah in the room is something that needed to be discussed but…

“... I'm glad that you're all alright,” Friede finally whispers. He can't easily shake off the pure dread upon seeing Rayquaza crash into the ship, to see the Brave Olivine fall out of the sky and towards the ocean. If not for Murdock's skill in making an emergency landing and his assuring call afterwards, he wouldn't have been able to focus on the immediate danger in front of him.

“Yeah, us too,” Orla responds steadily. Friede doesn't realize that his fists are clenched until Murdock's warm hand settles atop of them. Friede breathes out, recalls the exercise Mollie taught him. 

In for four, hold for seven, release for eight. Repeat until his head clears up.

Friede is grateful that they give him the time to ease himself back into someone that's not crumbling around the edges. That's better left in private, after he can have a moment to really let the severity of what happened sink in. 

Right now, Friede has to pull himself into the leader of the Rising Volt Tacklers. They're turning to him for support and he'll do his best to become their pillar.

“Okay, so. How badly damaged is the ship?” Friede asks, turning his attention to Orla.

“I'll need time to properly assess it but it's bad enough that we won't be able to fly any time soon,” she replies, lips set into a thin frown. “This isn't like patching up holes. We just about fixed the damage done by that Orthworm last time but the damage here is to the balloon itself, not the ship.”

“Alright, so we're grounded until the balloon can be fixed. At least the ship can sail, so I'll see about getting permission to dock the ship at one of Levincia’s ports.” Friede supposed if there's one thing to be grateful for, is that they’re already close to a major city so that repairs can go underway as soon as Orla gets a full assessment. 

“How are the Pokemon? No one sustained any injuries?” Friede turns his attention to Mollie next. 

“All of them are understandably shaken. It's different from turbulence,” Mollie responds, leaning back against her chair. “Some stuff fell off the shelves but none of it hit the Pokemon. Chansey made sure to keep everyone calm while we made multiple trips towards land.”

“Good, good,” he mutters. It guts him inside to put the Pokemon through such a harrowing experience but at the very least, they’re in good hands with Mollie. Friede will bring Charizard to her later for a check-up.

Friede asks a few more questions about affected areas within the Brave Olivine before they tackle the next course of action: the repairs needed to be done.

“Orla, is the damage something you’re able to fix by yourself?” Friede questions.

She hums, arms crossed as her brows furrow in deep thought. “It’s definitely the most damage the ship’s experienced so far, and while I’ll need to get a good, proper look, I think I can fix it.”

That is gladdening news, even if it’s hard for Friede to feel properly happy about it. “Right. You’ll be having your hands full with it. As for the rest of us, we’re going to have to find ways in drumming up funds for the repair.” It’s not going to be cheap, that’s for certain.

“I know I saw an ad before in the city,” Murdock pipes up, having stayed silent for most of the conversation earlier. “About part-time work at Patisserie Soapberry in Cortondo. The bakery owned by Katy, the Gym Leader there.”

“I can do private consultations,” Mollie adds. “If we’re going to be grounded for a while, I can set something up on the ship. That, or I’ll do online consultations if safety’s a concern.”

“And I can offer online classes or take up researching gigs,” Friede says. “Or take on whatever jobs we get.” 

“That sounds good. Though, now the question is what are the kids going to do?” Murdock’s sporting a deep frown now. “I don’t want them to get bored staying here when we’re doing work.”

“Don’t worry about that.” For the first time since this meeting started, Friede’s lips from a small smile. “They’ve expressed interest in learning about Terastallization. I know someone that I can contact with so they can learn just that.”

He’s going to be pretty busy in the coming days. People to contact, plans to hash out, things to do. Nothing left to do but go at it full steam ahead if he wants the Brave Olivine to be airborne again. 

Seeing that it’s been a long, stressful day for everyone, Friede won’t hold them up any longer. He hangs back long enough to pass Charizard’s Pokeball to Mollie before returning back to his room with Cap trailing behind him. 

Inside, he finds the aftermath of such a violent collision. Anything that’s not taped down is strewn all over the floor. Fallen over books and research papers that are going to be a pain to rearrange greets him. 

Friede sighs deeply. He wants nothing more than to fall onto his bed and sleep but his head is still buzzing with all sorts of thoughts, wanting nothing more than to scratch the itch to be productive. He knows that he’ll feel much better later if he begins the task of cleaning his room up now.

After he hangs up his jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, Friede gets to work. 

------

It hits Friede thirty minutes later.

The mildly buzzing thoughts rush to the front of his mind all at once. A heavy weight drops in his stomach like an anvil. While he knows what’s happening logically, he's still powerless to stop his own spiraling. 

��Pika?”

Friede has experienced freefall before. Reckless flights on Charizard in his younger years meant instances where he flew too close to the sun. His body is like that right now, floaty in a way that gives him little control. Tremors ripple down his arms, causing his hands to start shaking. 

“Pikapi? Pika!”

Things could have gone terribly wrong. Every time he blinks, the scene plays out behind closed eyelids. The Brave Olivine with a gaping wound to its side falling into the ocean, most of the occupants inside powerless to do anything. 

He was powerless to do anything. 

Friede thinks Cap's trying to catch his attention. It's hard to tell over his increasingly labored breaths. He wants to carefully place the book down in a last ditch effort to exert control but he knows it's not working. 

Sadly, this isn't an unfamiliar sensation. Friede remembers the long and terrible nights where he questions his purpose in life, his brilliant mind viciously turning in on itself. All the times where he shook beneath the covers, grounded only by Charizard's head resting atop his legs. His partner is being checked up at the moment by Mollie after–everything.

Friede hates the cold but the trembles wracking his frame isn't caused by it. Muscle spasms perhaps from the sheer effort, futile as it is, to fight off his own thoughts and feelings. He sucks in air through the tiniest straw in the world and wheezes out a pathetic breath.

I should probably sit down, Friede thinks distantly, eyes flickering down towards his trembling hands. He quietly pleads for his emotions to give him more time to–not think about the memories that are coming out of their hiding place. Shoved to the darkest corners in the heat of the moment, prioritizing what’s in front of him (of Roy and Liko and Dot’s safety) instead of–

The Brave Olivine is fallingfallingfalling he’s not able to do ANYTHING but watch as his friendsfamilyhome falls out of the sky and they’re going to sink in the ocean they’re going to die–

Friede bites his lips, nails biting into the palm of his hands as he hunches over. His vision darkens, white sparks flashing behind closed eyelids from how tightly he squeezes them shut. His shaky legs stumble back, and he trips over nothing before he falls heavily onto his bed. A soft cry slips out when pain erupts from the back of his head as it smacks against the wall but he barely registers it. He’s too busy fighting back the stupid panic clawing at his chest, knowing that he’s being an idiot cause he’s fine, they’re all fine and well and present and they discussed on what to do so there’s no reason to dwell on it anymore.

Yet his ever traitorous mind keeps spinning what-ifs, of scenarios gone horribly, tragically wrong. People he’d have to contact, to comfort, to accept all the vitriol and hate from because he’s the leader so all of their safety should have been his top priority. Friede trusts his friends explicitly but he imagines they’d have regretted placing their trust on him. Can visually see their fear and terror and despair over having followed him in the first place cause now it’ll result in their untimely end.

Friede’s eyes burn. Amidst the sharp panic, he distantly feels a bitter anger growing in himself, at himself, and it’s not helping any. His chest hurt, his head ached, his everything is one giant mass of agony. He hates it. Hates it so so much cause now he’s being reminded just how much it hurts to be afraid.

Above all else, Friede is afraid. Terrified. He’s faced the world with reckless abandon that seeing how his world can easily crumble is a harsh smack to the face. 

He whines softly. Unsure whether the chill he feels now is real, Friede still tries to pull his blanket up to cover himself, hoping that the soft fabric is able to secure him in a way that he’s incapable of. His shaky hands struggle to get a solid grip, and for some reason, this small inconvenience is what finally made the tears bubble over. 

Arceus, this is such a stupid thing to cry over. (In between choked sobs, he fights for air). Friede’s just making a mountain out of an Excadrill hill. (He’s convinced he’s drowning). Everyone’s fine. (He feels lightheaded). The ship is grounded and in need of repairs but with Orla’s handiwork, it’ll be fit to sail in no time. (Black spots dances around his vision). He’s fine so why is he–?

“Friede!”

Warm hands gently enveloped his tight fists. A soft voice gently shushes into his ears.

“It’s going to be alright.” One of his hands is maneuvered into pressing against a soft surface. Vaguely, he feels the gentle rise and fall beneath his palm.

“Try and follow my breathing, okay?”

As he blinks waterlogged eyes, the orange blob slowly sharpens into a familiar face. It’s Orla, sweet, kind Orla who’s looking at him with such soft concern in her eyes. 

Friede doesn’t deserve it. She would have been in the engine room, the first place that would’ve exploded had the ship crashed. The thought causes his breath to hitch, triggering a fit of watery coughs that renewed his tears.

“O-Orla,” he gasps. “I’m–I’m so s-sorry–”

“Shh, none of that now,” Orla gently shushes him. “Just focus on my breathing, okay? I know you can do it. In… Out… In… Out…”

He still desperately wants to apologize but the want to appease her is stronger. So Friede tries his best to follow along. He feels her drawing in a long, deep breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. Orla repeats this for the next couple of minutes, purposefully exaggerating the sound of each inhale and exhale so Friede can more easily follow along.

Friede focuses everything into following along, and soon enough he’s doing it more of his own volition than simply copying Orla’s motions. Slowly but surely, his mind winds down from the nigh high panic it was in before. At some point, one of Orla’s hands gently settles on the nape of his sweaty neck, easing his head down into resting atop her chest. 

Orla’s steady heartbeat further grounds him. It enables him to focus on the fact that she’s alive, unlike what his mind tries to claim earlier. Friede sighs quietly, frozen in this position for what feels like hours until Orla speaks up.

“Hey, are you back with me now?”

“Yeah,” he mouths, then clears his throat to say in a steadier voice. “Yeah, ‘m good now.”

Orla hums in response, and while she seems content to leave him like this for as long as he wants, Friede now feels the deep pangs of shame hitting him. Biting his inner cheek, he slowly pushes himself off of Orla, quickly turning his head to swipe at his eyes. It’s a feeble attempt of regaining back his tattered pride, not when a brief glance at her showcases the evidence of his breakdown on her shirt.

“So… I’d ask if you’re alright but–” Orla gestures lightly between the two of them. “–I’m guessing that’s not the case.”

“I’m sorry,” Friede coughs, feelings his cheeks burn in embarrassment. “I–I didn’t expect you to…”

“Oh, Cap came to get me,” Orla says, sporting a faint smile. “He seems–insistent that I follow him, so I did. And I’m glad.”

Right, Cap would do that. His partner always looked out for him, and in a situation where he’s unable to Volt Tackle his way through, it’s reasonable to assume that he’ll seek out someone who can deal with the issue. 

Friede’s grateful, even if it’s something that he’ll realize much later. Right now, he’s battling both shame and exhaustion. His brows furrow from the stress of it all, but they smoothed out when Orla pressed her finger against his forehead.

“I can practically hear the gears turning in that big noggin’ of yours,” she states. “Whatever it is, stop it. I know you’re going to just work yourself up again.”

Her light tone manages to make the corners of his lip quirk up. Friede’s eyes shift downwards and to the right, unable to properly meet her gaze.

“Heh, you know me well.” The faint smile drops moments later. He’s quiet for awhile, and Orla seems to understand that he needs time to regroup his thoughts. Once again, Friede’s grateful, even if there’s a part of him that thinks it’s undeserved.

“Look, with what happened today…” Friede swallows through the heavy lump in his throat. “It… it could’ve ended up a lot worse than it did. I’m sorry, it’s all my fau–hey!” 

The sudden flick to his forehead cuts off his apology. Friede instinctively covers the sting with his hand, looking confused at Orla.

Orla gazes back, nods once before lowering her hand. She crosses her arms. “Sorry but it sounded to me that you were trying to apologize for something that was completely out of your power.”

“But–”

“Nu-uh. All of us agreed to go. We all understood the risks of going up against the Explorers and Rayquaza.”

“Yes, but–”

“What happened was something no one could’ve expected. The ship suffered damage but everyone got out of it safely, did we not?”

“Yeah but it–”

“Should be all that matters, yes? Then I don’t see why–”

“Because you all trusted me, okay!?” Friede doesn’t mean to raise his voice but it does surprise Orla into silence. He covers half of his face with his hand, heaving out a deep sigh. “I’m the captain of the Rising Volt Tacklers. All of you trusted me and that trust nearly got you all killed.”

Friede closes his eyes, unwilling to see what kind of expression Orla makes. That only serves to make him vulnerable to the next flick on his forehead, this one seemingly harder than the last.

“Ow! Why do you keep doing that!?” Friede’s a bit annoyed now, gaze narrowing at Orla.

“It’s because someone’s being an idiot right now,” Orla replies, meeting his eyes with an unimpressed look of her own. “Look, do you trust me to make sure the ship’s engine runs smoothly?”

“Yeah?” Despite the confused note to it, he responds without any hesitation.

“Do you trust Mollie to look after the Pokemon in the event of an emergency?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then do you trust Murdock to steer the ship in the event that you’re unable to?”

“Of course.”

“So we trusted you to look after the kids and deal with whatever trouble that came their way, simple as that,” Orla concluded. “I can confidently say that as infuriating as you can get, no one here regrets trusting you Friede.”

Stunned into silence, he remains still when Orla reaches out to bump her fist against his chest. “So put you trust in that at least.”

Friede stares down at the fist. Abruptly, he exhales deeply, shoulders dropping. “Alright, you made your point Orla.”

When she puts it like that, Friede can’t help but think his previous thoughts were silly. It deepens the embarrassment he feels earlier, though he also feels like a weight has been lifted off of his shoulders. At the same time, the physical and emotional exhaustion of today hits him like a full bodied Volt Tackle. 

“I think it’s better for you to get some rest,” Orla gently suggests. Friede thinks he nodded at her suggestion, though it’s hard to tell when it feels like his head is stuffed with cotton. There seems to be hands helping him lay down, and when his head hits the pillow, his blanket is covering him. 

“Mmm… but I still gotta…”

“Shh… don’t worry about everything.” A gentle hand settles over his forehead, slowly sliding down till it covers his eyes. “Just rest. Trust us to keep everything safe, okay?”

Trust. That’s something he can do.

[ace-and-the-rpg-horrors]

Shizurui's feelings for each other headcanons (can't believe i've not done this yet, i should have my badge revoked, honestly-)

- as i'm pretty sure all us like... five Shizurui-ers agree, Rui definitely fell first

- minor celebrity crush ever since he was introduced to MMJ! that he didn't think would mean anything. but then after he properly spent time with her on the school trip?

- kaboom, cue falling head over heels queerplatonically <3

- disaster. absolute disaster, he is. he's so obvious about it despite his best efforts not to be

- during W x S rehearsal, Emu'll be chatting about her school day and who she talked to- everyone else catches on to how Rui seems more interested in her rambles immediately after Shizuku's name's mentioned

- even Leo/need finds out about it through Tsukasa and Emu and are gossiping about it. a bit of Shiho has withered away and died at the thought of her sister getting close with Tsukasa's somehow even more chaotic friend /silly

- Shizuku doesn't realise SHE likes him more than an acquaintance, let alone being aware of the other way round

- she subconsciously tries finding excuses to spend time with him <3

- "oh dear :(( i broke the microwave again :(( i suppose i'll have to call Kamishiro-san :(( and he'll spend time telling me how to fix it :(( such a shame... :)"

- it helps that all her friends now direct her to Rui when she has tech issues since they're aware the two know of each other's existences now!! they all reckon it's a miracle they met, since he's the rare one who won't ever get tired of explaining anything related to tech again and again <3 (especially since it's her)

- she definitely takes advantage of that without meaning to. whattt, just wanting to talk to him? as far as she knows, she's just mysteriously become more aware of how often she struggles with computers and appliances!!

- Tsukasa unintentional, oblivious wingman?? TSUKASA UNINTENTIONAL, OBLIVIOUS WINGMAN!!

- "ahaha, Shizuku!! absolutely wonderful show last weekend, we all went to see it and agreed it was marvellous!! especially Rui, actually, i recall him murmuring that you looked "ethereal," haha!! i'm sure he was quite impressed by the stage lighting then!!"

- rest in peace, Rui Kamishiro, he died too young

- 'tis all well though, since Shizuku, OF COURSE, believes he was just on about lights. (and was totally NOT disappointed when she heard Tsukasa's conclusion, nope, not at all, that would be so silly, to expect Rui was complimenting HER and not just the technical aspect of the show, wouldn't it? these idiots /most affectionate)

- Nene makes fun of Rui endless

- once she (almost immediately) pieced it together, she started doing shit like playing a Shizuku focused song to grab his attention when he's absorbed in tinkering and completely tuning everything else out. and then she loses her mind when it WORKS

- "oh, so THAT makes you finally look up?"

- Emu, the most emotionally intelligent character in the game, in my (correct) opinion, also just knows instantly and definitely thinks they're adorable and is VERY straightforward about it

- "Rui-kun, Rui-kun, i have the most WONDERHOY idea, wahahahaha!! you and Hinomori-senpai should TOTALLY go on a DATE over there, at the Ferris Wheel!! :D "

- "...!!"

- "ehhhh?? are you okay?? you look like your heart went crash-bam-boom!!"

- "... Emu-kun, we are very lucky i had paused eating just now because i do not believe you are quite vertically gifted enough to perform the Heimlich maneuver on me."

- Emu wingman number two? Emu wingman number two!!

- it actually gives Rui so much stress that Emu goes to the same school as Shizuku, cause you just know she might let something slip without even meaning to. not like Shizuku would catch on in the vast majority of cases though

- you could have all their friends waving a massive sign at her reading "RUI KAMISHIRO LIKES YOU" in gigantic, lit up letters and she'd be like "aww~ that's so very sweet, i didn't know Kamishiro-san was such a passionate fan of idols!! hehe, i'll remember to thank him for supporting our group so much...!!"

in conclusion: one of them is as oblivious as one can possibly get while the other gets to be nothing of the sort, thanks to his friends constantly reminding him of his feelings at every chance!!

[angelofdiamond]

Then I saw the demo trailer and I can say.... CABBAGE YES FINALLY! IS OVERDONE WELL THIS GAME! Ok now that I've calmed down I can continue, for sure when the game is complete something will change but for many who feared that this Layton was also made with Ai, this goes to disprove it a lot for two reasons: in some places you can see that the characters can look a bit "angular" is an Ai however good, can hardly reproduce shadows so well and badly done (I saw a guide on how to recognize an Ai design and it explains more or less this). An Ai fixes all kinds of imperfections almost to a perfect level but yet it is done extraordinarily well this demo, you can see imperfections now, let's begin with some scenes that I have loved it...

1) Layton is really proud and surprised of what Luke has created also if clearly doesn't know what is his use xD

2) Here we can see what Coindar what can really do and we know now that Luke still can't speak properly american but at least something he know

3) Seems that the people that Luke helps, they know how much Luke looks up to the professor so dearly... my word Luke really misses so much the professor Layton 😔

4) STEPDAD PROTECTION MODE ACTIVED!

5) his hand on Luke's shoulder is an affectionate clue of how much Layton trusts Luke and cares about him 😭

6) Layton: "Luke are you scared?"

Luke: " no no professor but I have to change my pants for a moment, they have turned from petrol blue to khaki brown" 🤣. I loved how the professor laughed in order to joke with Luke, he knows very well that he is scared is kind of in his own way teasing him affectionately without offending him as he did during their old investigations and it's nice to note how Luke character-wise hasn't changed that much in addition...THIS IS ANOTHER PROOF THAT HE CARES FOR LUKE AT THE AFFECTIVE POINT OF STEPFATHER-STEPSON AND THAT CONSIDER HE SO TO DO THAT (because you obviously have to be very intimate to allow such a thing-not everyone likes physical contact)!! LITERALLY WHAT STRA LITTLE CABBAGES YOU NEED GUYS TO BELIEVE THAT THE PROFESSOR CONSIDER LUKE ALSO IN THAT WAY D: !?!?

7) And the face she makes and she clearly says: " please let's go away that I'm chickening out...please let's go away that I'm chickening out..." and then she's disappointed and resigned because she knows they're going up against a ghost and he's still terrified of it...ispriceless xD!!!

And now the cherry on the top of this astonishing demo....THIS PIECE OF MASTERPIECE 2D ART WITH THEM!!!

Look at them having tea together after a year of separation (although they will certainly have kept in touch frequently or after Luke homeworks) and how happy they are together also because it is since the first part of the trilogy, the second part, the movie, and the crossover that they have not had tea together in peace.

[that-one-enby-ranger]

Puzzle

“I blame you for this,” Halt said grumpily.

“You’ve said that already,” Crowley complained back. “And I'll admit that it was my fault, even though it wasn't, if you move your arse and help me fix it.”

Halt was half sitting, half lying across one of the couches in the living quarters Crowley had in Castle Araluen. He had a glass of wine in his hand which he was now twirling around, watching the liquid swish in the glass.

Halt groaned. “I'm too tired,” he complained, “and I wasn't the one that broke it.”

“Well I didn't break it either,” Crowley said stubbornly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“Liar,” Halt mumbled, loud enough for Crowley to hear.

“If you help me fix it, then I'll stop complaining. Otherwise I'll just keep annoying you and you won't be able to have any peace for the rest of the night. And,” Crowley added, “I'll lock all my doors so that way you can't escape and you really will be in here all night.” Crowley held Halt’s glare easily, refusing to back down.

“You can't do that,” Halt said, trying to call his bluff, but Crowley held firm.

“I'm your boss.” Crowley didn't say anything more than that. Halt glared at him some more, his wine glass a little tighter in his grip before he gave up.

“Fine,” he hissed between slightly gritted teeth. He placed his glass on the small table next to the couch and stood up, stretching. He stood next to Crowley and looked down at the wreckage

“Do you know how to fix a table?” Crowley asked, glancing at his friend. Halt shook his head. Crowley kneeled down next to the broken pieces and picked up one of the table legs that had snapped off. “It looks like that the pieces that broke off were individual parts before being put all together,” Crowley observed, standing up again. “Nothing is properly broken, the pieces just came apart, so we need to put them back together.”

“Should probably use something more permanent than whatever the last people did,” Halt said. He walked back over to where he placed his wine glass and took a big sip of it.

“I have some glue,” Crowley said but Halt waved his idea away.

“Glue isn’t going to fix this,” he said, “it’s probably what the original idiots used in the first place.” He was still holding his wine glass and didn’t set it down, and now Crowley was holding his own.

“What about some rope?” Crowley hadn’t drunk enough wine so that he was drunk and clueless about everything, but he had drunk enough so that he couldn’t come up with proper good ideas.

“Are you stupid?” Halt asked, “Rope ain’t gonna work either.” He paused, pondering the situation for a moment while taking another taste of the red wine. His eyes lit up, an idea striking him. “You know what might work though,” he said slowly, “if we combine the two.”

Crowley looked at him curiously. “What do you mean?”

“We could both glue it, and then tie it together with the rope. By themselves, they're useless, but if we use them both at the same time, then maybe they can be useful.” Like Crowley, Halt had also not drunk enough to get properly drunk , but enough to be thinking and acting like an idiot.

Crowley considered the idea for a couple seconds. Anyone who didn't have multiple glasses of wine in their system could see that that was a bad idea, and that it would most likely not work. But Crowley was not one of these people. The intellectual part of his brain was slightly clouded with alcohol, so of course he said:

“Yeah, I guess we could try that.” Crowley went to grab his rope and glue while Halt sat down crossed leg next to the broken table, wine still in hand, and tried to figure out what pieces went where. Crowley returned with the supplies and sat down next to Halt, placing his own glass on the floor next to him.

“You're gonna knock it over if you leave that there,” Halt remarked dryly.

“No I won't,” Crowley replied with quite some dignity.

The two half drunk friends began to try and reassemble the table. They would switch between holding two of the pieces together and constructing them to stay together.

They struggled for almost a full hour, constantly swearing and arguing with each other about “no that's supposed to go first” and “what the fuck are you doing with that? That doesn't go there” and even, “You're supposed to put the glue first then the rope not the other way around!”

Throughout the entire process, they constantly got the wrong pieces in the wrong places, and sometimes wouldn't even realise until after they had put them together. Glue got everywhere, and their hands became so sticky to the point where Crowley tried to pick up his glass with his sticky hands. It worked for a little while, before it didn't and the glass dropped and shattered, red wine soaking across the floor.

Halt looked up at him with an unimpressed look on his face. “I told you.”

“No,” Crowley said, “you said I was going to knock it over. I dropped it. There's a difference.” Halt had no response to that so he just rolled his eyes.

By the end of their little frustrating as hell puzzle of a broken table, they had managed to construct a table with some misplaced pieces that was still somehow standing. It was wobbling slightly, and looked like it was on the absolute brink of falling over, but it was standing.

“I am very proud of ourselves,” Crowley claimed.

Halt looked at him. “You do realise that if you put anything on here it's gonna break, right?”

Crowley shrugged. “I know. I don't care. We still managed to put it back together.”

“It looks like some sort of mutated table.”

“Whatever. You want some more wine?”

“We had like three trying to put this monstrosity together,” Halt pointed out.

“I know,” Crowley replied, “but I think we deserve another one. You know, as a reward.”

“Fine. One more.”

This is very stupid and I did not put much effort into it because I'm tired and was writing it on my phone but I just felt like writing two drunk idiots in love.

This is definitely probably the least serious mood board I have done and we have the homophobic dog to thank for that :D