#because it’s not just about her just like it isn’t just about Dora

[queen-beefcake-sqx]

me, watching my ex walk away for the thousandth time except in a totally non-permanent way but still mentally super imposing the entire Video Rental scene over it in my head: this is fine this is fine this is fine —

[even-disco-baby]

YOU — “No. There is still a chance.”

DOLORES DEI — “You think so?” Her voice is weary.

EMPATHY — Everything about her is weary. She is the Innocence of weariness, of heroically borne suffering.

CONCEPTUALIZATION — That is the picture you have painted for yourself, at any rate.

YOU — “You looked back. That’s the memory, the moment, that I can’t stop returning to. You looked back. I had a chance, for just that moment…”

DOLORES DEI — She meets your eye, gaze still forever cast back over her shoulder. Time stops. The stars are stilled, the ocean silent. There is *nothing* beyond this memory. Nothing at all. All of infinity is contained in this single moment when anything and everything was possible.

“Oh, Harry…” She sighs, soft as eiderdown. “We never had any chance.”

And just like that, the wave of time collapses under its own weight, obliterating everything. This moment was six years ago. She is gone from here. Gone, gone…

PAIN THRESHOLD — You cannot leave. There was nothing outside of this moment, and now there is nothing at all. It’s all gone. There is no point. I’m sorry. I can’t do this any longer.

VOLITION — Please, don’t say that…

“Okay. Well, fuck me, then.”

“How would *you* know?! You gave up! You didn’t even try!”

“We *must* have had a chance, at some point… Doesn’t everyone get a chance, if nothing more?”

“How could you say that…?”

DOLORES DEI — “Because it’s true,” she says, matter-of-fact. “There is no moment in time that you can turn back to, no branching paths, no infinity. There is only what happened. I looked back… and then away.” She closes her eyes, turning her back to you.

“The moment ended. *We* ended. That is all.”

SHIVERS — A wave crashes against an unseen shore, ocean spray tickling the back of your neck. You shiver, but no one shivers with you. You are alone in this intersection. Why are you here?

“Why can’t *I* end?! Why can’t this all just stop? Please, make it stop…”

“Ended? I’ve barely even started! I got a chance to start completely over as somebody new! I don’t need you anymore! You’re just dead weight to me now.”

“No. That wasn’t the real ending. We’re a part of something so much bigger than this intersection, telling a story that encapsulates all of history! There’s *more* to this, it *means* something.”

“Then… What am I supposed to do now…?”

DOLORES DEI — “No, Harry.” She turns back to you again now, and she looks… sad.

“We were not metaphors. We were people. Our narrative was not intelligently designed. It simply followed the patterns of history, because those are the only patterns we *know.* We tried to create something new, but we failed. There is no narrative reward for our failure, no satisfactory ending. There is only the immutable past and the unknowable future.”

RHETORIC — There is no assurance of what is good or deserved or what may bring relief. There is no assurance of punishment, either. There is no assurance of anything. Not even of a future. I don’t know what to say to make this bearable.

VOLITION — Even so… As long as you live, *something* is promised. Can you live with that?

I can’t, I just can’t do this anymore…

I can. It’s enough.

I don’t know. I just don’t know.

I can at least try for a little longer…

VOLITION — That’s all I ask. That’s enough.

[kavehater]

Okay after freaking out about alhaitham it’s time to be neurotic again that girl is freaking me out sm :D

[soarrenbluejay]

Since I’ve been encouraged to actually share my funny little blorbo ideas here’s another one gang;

Danny moves to Gotham on scholarship for engineering, because the Fentons may be infamous but they’re also insanely brilliant and besides both he and Jazz are showing every sign of embarrassed child of a super genius syndrome, so while the bats are keeping a close eye on him Just In Case, duke is also thinking of introducing him to the Our Parents Are Maniacs But Anyway club maybe after the first month or so.

Gotham does not go for standard dorm living bc of his ‘condition’ and lack of wanting to constantly spook/gaslight a roommate. Besides, living with two small children is a dorm sounds like a disaster in action.

So Danny signs up as a mechanic in Crime Alley, buys himself a teeny weensy lil apartment and Makes It Work. He has been all year after showing up with a de aged Dani and Dan in Amnity after all, and that had gone,,, fine? (The entire town, observing how Danny had been getting increasingly more uncomfortable around his godfather prior to the cloning incident, then just dropped off the face of the earth for several months, the first two weeks stuck in Vlad’s basement enduring horrors and the next Too Many desperately fapping around in the Ghost Zone to get everything handled. All the clones live, all 13 of them. Bunch of them are stuck in the Ghost Zone due to constant need for ectoplasm, but eh, plenty of Zone born never leave, so. One, in the future, apprentices under a green warrior lady on Pandora’s suggestion, another is working in the Eternal Library with Ghost Writer, etc etc. so Danny eventually came back to Amnity with one small child under each arm very obviously traumatized by Somethingn with vlad and doesn’t like being alone with him,,, or touched without warning,, and immediately and passionately proclaims the kids his but struggles to explain how or why,, look some very reasonable assumptions are drawn okay. So the town does the very reasonable thing and does the midwestern equivilant of excommunicating Vlad, except it’s a lot more run him out with pitchforks vibes since he’s the Mayor. Anyway)

He is immediately loved, because while non Gothamites are usually more of a pain than they’re worth, everyone in a while someone even from out of town will just fit in so nicely it’s uncanny for everyone involved. Addams family vibes, it’s referred to as ‘making it home’, just personal hc. He is protective of all the kids playing in the parks and street girls that can totally take care of themselves on their corners but find it HILARIOUS when he just tackles a dick like a wild animal full force no warning. He can fix anything it seems, but refuses to work with weapons. Reasonable enough, people get twitchy about gangs sometimes. Danny mentions being not against Hood or anything, but he’s not going to work for him, littles to take care of and all, but had past experience with ‘Dora and that inheritance mess with her brother he was being a real prick about’ so everyone assumes it’s the equivilant of him having Done His Time and being plenty good for a life time and respects it as long as none of that petty midwestern small town hotshots bring any of that shit over here. And they don’t, because said individuals are on the other side of the mortal veil, so happy day.

See I really love deaged!Dan because he’s just a grumpy lil guy. But he’s also killed millions. He’s so protective of his loved ones, but held back by blending in and also being Smol that it comes off more bitey kitten than anything else. Dani, of course, is a terror, so she fits right in with the crowd.

And sorry gang, but a bunch of kids on their own in Gotham in a poor side of the city just isn’t going to get any attention: that’s just business as usual really. What first gets attention on Danny is not his ‘condition’ or being mistaken for a meta (which he legally probs has an argument for even without the gene bc like these bitches don’t know how metaism works anyway so) or alien (I’m 90% sure he’d be covered by the alien protection act by virtue of being half ‘not from earth’), but because Danny despite best efforts is a Weird Guy.

He grew up in what could only be described as a low level villain level and spent most of high school dealing with smack downs and spiritual invasion. He’s never really processed that any of that is not in fact Normal. Also, he’s capable of making Anything if given the insides of a toaster, blender and alarm clock, and could probably rewrite the circuits of the apartment blindfolded and improve them 1000% even if it ABSOLUTELY would not be up to code.

And sure, things slip every once in a while, bits of spectral ice here, small floating incident there, but everyone just Minds Their Buisness ya know? You really gunna mess with the guy that personally ensured that when your car got flattened by a fight with Killer Croc, you were still able to get in to work the next day by some wizardry? Really?

But Gotham is a city so cursed it’s probably in the exponents countwise, so of course there is a) a flourishing community of magic users and assorted supernatural weirdos and b) a whole lot of shit for Mega Overpowered Ghost King Danny to idly pick at day to day in order to help with his protecting other Obsession. Gotham has plenty of heroes, but by god do they need the spiritual equivilant of an electrician/priest.

Still, Danny, as a baby ancient under a facet of Kronos and KING OF THE DEAD is like, way, way out of their scope to be able to grok, so it mostly just comes off as you know, a family of banshees or something. When asked, Danny very haltingly says he was briefly dead but then revived, which neatly explains his Weird Ass aura and makes it SPECTACULARLY AWKWARD to ask further about. So everyone nods politely, and goes back to their lives after double checking no nefarious bullshit was being pulled.

Then, of course, Vlad finally tracks them down. The whole neighborhood is altered in short order because he doesn’t bother trying to hide being a Rich Bitch or how he’s sneering down his nose at people on the sidewalk. Every connects the dots when Danny paniks. Dani and Dan’s daycare are staffed with some extra, very buff set of hands within the hour. Jerry, Hood’s third in command, personally shows up to the garage Danny is working at to talk things out with him bc he knows he does t like the deal with this stuff due to past unspecified circumstances but well, they guys had already started fucking with him, you see. Stole his tires, spray painted the windows, pickpocketed him blind, and when he retreated tipped off the police to the drugs they’d planted in the glove box.

Danny might not have been born in Gotham, but he was one of them. And the Alley takes care of it own.

[fiddleleafedfig]

@wolfstarmicrofic | April 23:rd Teacher AU | Also inspired by this incredible post | 971 words

“It’s because I’m gay.”

Dora’s words had echoed in his head for the better duration of two years.

Two years.

Jesus Christ.

It sounds more clear now that there isn’t an ever pressing haze of alcohol clouding his brain. But alas, he frankly can’t afford to be an alcoholic anymore. He wasn’t even that good at it. A bottle of wine every evening and Remus just turned into a weepier version of his otherwise quite bleak self and watched old rom-coms on tv until he fell asleep on the couch.

But an English teacher’s salary isn’t hefty enough to really support a proper addiction and Remus hadn’t ever been the type of person to steal a car or break into someone’s house just to fuel his habit. With his luck he’d get caught right away anyway.

“This can’t come as a surprise, Rem, we never even had an active sexlife.”

Sure, fine, maybe they hadn’t. But they had been married for years; university best friends turned adult lovers and confidants turned married at twenty five and divorced at thirty three.

The divorce had at least been simple, easy, just like anything else about their relationship. One second she was there, dying her hair in the tub and staining it all bubblegum pink — the next she was moving out and downloading lesbian dating apps.

Remus munches salad from his little packed lunch. He should be planning his classes whilst having lunch — he refuses to, he’d rather sit here all bent-backed and pretend that the salad actually tastes better, that he isn’t regretting moving across the country to get away from it all. That his new life isn’t sinking his mood just like the old one did.

There’s a knock on his classroom door.

Remus looks up from his sad salad. “Come in?”

The door, covered in prints of Shakespeare plays and old illustrations of Of Mice and Men and other English class classics, opens to reveal the knocker.

Sirius has his hair in a bun today, black strands tied back and into a scrunchy that could rival the cheekiest of cheerleaders’. Other than that he is in his usual all black attire, all except his rainbow colored lanyard which holds his keys and the miniature periodic table keyring.

Sirius smiles. It’s all gray eyes that look like they’re sparkling under the hideous fluorescents and can make even the toughest lunch lady blush.

“Hi Remus, is this a bad time?”

Remus tries to swallow the tightness in his throat.

He can’t really deal with Sirius popping by like this, he’s done it quite frequently since Remus’ first week.

“No, not really,” he says, trying to keep his hands from fiddling and his eyes from darting around the room. “What can I help you with?”

Sirius shrugs, careless and relaxed. “I was just wondering if I could borrow your stapler. Seems like mine’s wandered off.”

Sirius drives a motorbike to school.

Remus saw him get off it in the parking lot not too long ago. It felt like the world stood still or maybe moved in slow motion when Sirius removed his helmet and shook his hair out, kitted out in leather. Then his neck got all hot, for some god forsaken reason, and he had to go splash cold water on his face before facing his students in the first period.

So many of Sirius’ supplies have gone missing in the short time where they have worked together.

“Erhm… Yeah, sure— absolutely,” Remus stumbles through sentences as he stands to go fetch the stapler in the supply closet. He turns the little key and quickly looks over the closet, a bit too aware that Sirius is coming closer; if he isn’t misinterpreting the scuff of boots on the floor.

He grabs the stapler, turns around. “Here.”

Sirius is right behind him, right in front of him now. Looking up at Remus with his easy smile and rows of lovely black lashes and… and… and pink lips.

“Thanks, I’ll give it back as soon as I’m done, okay?”

“Yeah…”

Sirius leaves. Remus has to go sit down, he’s feeling dizzy.

“Are you even attracted to me, Rem? I mean— it’s fine if you aren’t. Maybe I’m not your type or something.”

There was always something hidden in Dora’s words, at least in those words. Remus hadn’t come any closer to figuring them out, not even two years later.

He just sits in his darkening apartment, playing those words over and over whilst watching-but-not-really-watching tv. He should really go over to Sirius’ classroom tomorrow. You know, just to make sure he remembers to give the stapler back. And it has absolutely nothing to do with what Dora said those years ago, nothing at all.

In the following morning, Remus dresses in his good shirt and wrestles with his hair for a touch longer than usual. Why? Don’t worry about it.

He goes into work with a determination and anxiety churning in his belly.

He walks up to Sirius’ classroom, a print of Neil deGrasse Tyson on the door, and knocks.

Deep breath.

Sirius opens the door. Light eyes and smiling lips and an overall undeniably beautiful face.

Stapler, that’s what he’s there for.

“Will you go out with me?”

What?! No!

Remus was supposed to ask about the stapler!

Fuck!

Sirius just looks back up at him, glittering eyes and widening smile. He doesn’t say anything.

Remus tries to backpedal. “The stapler — I really need my stapler, that’s what I meant.”

Sirius just smiles. “So I just missed the point two second window of going out with you?”

There’s cotton in Remus’ ears, ringing in his brain. “No— I mean… Wait— Did you want to go out with me?”

Sirius’ smile looks like it’s almost too big for his face. “I thought you’d never ask.”

[looking-for-wisdom]

the “ex-something” character in disco elysium is so interesting to me because what we finally learn about the true Dora from harry’s dream sequence & conversations with the 41st precinct initially undercuts the first impression you get as a player. We learn things that makes it seem like Harry should be over her leaving. Specifically, the fact that she and Harry were never actually married and that it has been six years since she left.

Everything we’re told about Dora needs to be taken with a grain of salt, since it primarily comes from Harry. He’s an unreliable narrator and, if we had her perspective on things, there would surely be more to the story. But even with that said, I feel reasonably confident that the player’s first impression — that whoever this ex is did some damage even beyond typical breakup heartbreak — isn’t completely wrong.

We know a few things for certain. Harry was a gym teacher before they met, and Dora was the reason he joined the RCM. We can also do the math to figure out that they were together for around 12 years. Married or not, that’s a serious relationship. There are implications that Dora might have been pregnant at some point.

Dora’s family was wealthier than Harry’s, but they struggled financially when they were together. They had to rely on her parents for support.

Harry is a grown ass man who is responsible for his own choices. None of this changes that. But the way he is starts to make more sense when you consider that it wasn’t just their breakup that was traumatic. Their relationship itself seems unhealthy.

Harry clearly likes working with kids. Kim actually points out how he is easily able to connect with Cuno and the other teens in Martinase. With that in mind, I imagine he probably liked being a gym teacher. But we learn that Dora encourages him to join the RCM to do more for the greater good. Again, Harry had to agree to this — she didn’t force him to quit at gunpoint. But it rubs me the wrong way that, shortly after they start dating, she implies that his work isn’t fulfilling or important (probably patently untrue in an area where kids won’t necessarily have stable home lives). And, more than that, she suggests that joining the police is the solution.

Granted, we’re told there’s a lot of crime in Jamrock. Maybe it is as simple as her thinking law enforcement helps prevent that. But given the political tones of the game, which intentionally critique cops and the moralist forces they represent? I think it’s notable.

Speaking of which. The class difference between Dora and Harry has to be thematic. So much of the game discusses the struggle between the working class and the bourgeoisie. There’s an inherent power dynamic there. It’s her parents who are consistently paying their bills and keeping them afloat. She has an out that Harry doesn’t. Money won’t be an issue for her when they split, but Harry will be left without any support. Regardless of whether she intentionally held this over his head, this game shows that even without meaning to, the capitalist system harms the poor. That strain must be felt in their relationship, and could cause a lot of damage over 12 years.

All this to say: their relationship clearly wasn’t some fling. And, if Harry is to be believed, the blame for things falling apart was largely placed on him: working to much, not bringing home enough money, not being enough. But even if Dora wasn’t actively manipulating him and he came up with all of this on his own, I think the facts still point to a dynamic where he was made to be small in the face of a woman who came from more. Their backgrounds create an imbalance where Harry was always going to feel the flaws in their relationship more acutely. He starts with little, and gives up much of what he does have to pursue something better for the both of them. But when that isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, he’s the only one left with nothing. She can leave the country and start over.

It makes sense, to me, that he might not have recovered from that in six years. Especially when that rock bottom feeling seems so permanent that he isn’t trying to get better so much as numb himself enough to exist another day.

That doesn’t mean he isn’t responsible or that he’s exempt from having to get his shit together. The game very clearly illustrates that everyone will turn away from him if he doesn’t. But it does complicate his character a bit more than “got left by extremely bangable woman, proceeds to make the lives of everyone around him worse.”

[marlsswrites]

June 29th <3

Always - @rosekillermicrofic - words: 873

TW: Character death, mentions of blood.

It was a dark night, Barty and Evan sat on the damp green grass on the edge of the forbidden forest. Above them was a tall tree, with flowers of varying colours flowing through the vines and lighting up the area.

Fireflies flew around the two boys and moonlight hit Evan in a way that made him look like he was glowing, Barty was sure he actually did glow.

This was all he ever wanted, Barty thought, this moment right now. He could live it forever, play it on repeat in his head. Always thinking of his Evan.

When he held Evan’s hand, he clutched onto it like he was going to run away. When he kissed Evan, he always made sure to leave a mark, because that was Barty’s Evan, no one else’s.

Evan lay his head to rest in Barty’s lap, his blonde hair splaying out and his long dark eyelashes fluttering shut over his ghostly blue eyes. He hummed as Barty ran a pale ring adorned hand through his hair, kissing Barty’s wrist with a small smile tugging on his lips.

“I’ll always love you Evie, you know that right?” Barty whispered in his ear.

“You will?”

Barty nodded and pushed out a hushed yes. “Of course I will.”

“I’ll always love you too Bee.”

-

One year later, Barty was sobbing. He was shrieking for help, he was crying, he was bawling, he was shaking and pale and pleading. “Evie no.” He croaked out as he held the dying boy in his lap, urgently running his hand all over Evan’s hair.

“It’s okay Bee.” Evan whispered, his voice hoarse and croaky like it hurt to even speak.

“No- no it’s not.” He hissed and sniffled, his cheeks flushed red and tears streaming down his face. Barty Crouch Jr never cries, never. But he was a mess right now, and even he knew there was no stopping what was about to happen.

Evan coughed, the bloodstains on his shirt becoming more prominent. Barty had found him like this, a rather injured and bleeding wizard running away from him, who just left Evan here to rot. All alone.

Pressing his hands against the wounds, Barty shrieked out a cry as he buried his head in Evans shoulder. It’s something he’s used to doing, he does it all the time, and Evan always used to kiss his hair and whisper sweet nothings into his ear.

He cried more into his lovers shoulder, his Evan, always his Evan. Nobody should’ve been able to take him away, Barty should’ve been there. That’s not fair, it doesn’t work like that- he can’t go. Not yet.

“Evie.” He muffled into his neck. “Please don’t leave me.” He choked out. “Not- not yet.” His voice was small, muffled by the material of Evans jumper. He could practically hear Evan smiling a pitying smile as he ran a hand through Barty’s hair, kissing the top of his head.

“I’ll always love you, Bee.” Evan whispered into his ear. “Always.”

Barty’s cries grew, chanting a string of no and please. “I’ll always love you too Evie.”

“Always?” Evan whispered into his ear again.

“Always.”

Holding Evan tighter as he felt the life drain out of his body, Barty muffled his last cry into Evan’s torn clothes. “I’ll find you, I promise.”

-

“Dora.” Evan shook her shoulders.

It was years later, in the afterlife to be exact. It was beautiful here, far more relaxing and lacked the horrors that were the wizarding world. Or so he thought.

“Dora, why isn’t Bee here?” He asked warily. “Why? He should be here, he-“

Pandora had tears in her eyes, she looked horrified.

Evan had sent her to watch over Barty as he took his last breath, Evan couldn’t bear to see it. He just wanted to see Bee, his Bee. “Pandora, what is it?” He asked again in a smaller voice.

“He-“ A beat. “The dementors kiss.” She trailed off, staring into oblivion. Her horror struck face stone and fixated on the ground.

“No- no he’s not.” Evan shook his head and stepped closer to Pandora. “Pandora look at me.” She looked up, biting her lip anxiously and blinking away the tears that were already streaming from her eyes.

She placed a hand on his cheek, Barty always used to do that, he thought. “I’m sorry-“ She started.

“They can’t take him from me again.” He swallowed. “No, they haven’t it’s not true…” He cried.

Shrugging Pandoras hand away, he fell to the floor. Sitting at the bottom of a nearby tree and resting his back on it, his head slammed back into the wood as he groaned in pain, but not from his head, from his love.

His sister crouched down in front of him, placing both hands on his knees. “I saw it happen, Ev.” She sniffled.

He couldn’t bear to imagine it, Barty, Bee, his love, getting his soul sucked from his beautiful body. Left motionless and pale on the cold stone floor of a cell, nobody there to mourn him, nobody left to care.

I’ll always love you Bee. He thought as he sobbed into Pandoras shoulder.

Always? A deep voice spoke from the back of his head.

“Always.”

[stressfulsloth]

In regards to your post “and now I'm. Just thinking about the loneliness that is SO pervasive through Elysium.”…

I have one thing to offer, or perhaps nitpick if you’d prefer it that way.

I don’t think it’s entirely fair to say the Sunday Friend isn’t a real friend. The Smoker On The Balcony believes him to be a real friend, even if he isn’t going to be there come Monday morn. But isn’t that enough? A friend on Sunday is still a friend, even if it makes waking up Monday all the worse.

Perhaps I’m biased though! Now that I think about it, most of my friends would fit the description. “Fair weather friend” feels to cold, but “sunday friend” is good enough.

And of course none of this is to say your post is at all wrong. It’s lovely and true. I just felt the need to quarrel publicly with that little detail.

To conclude, since I really just did not make myself very clear here; you are utterly correct to include the Sunday Friend in a post about loneliness but I take slight issue with saying he’s not a real friend. And so I wrote you a very long ask. And now as I reach it’s end I’m realising this was a very silly undertaking. But I’ve come this far so I’m going to grow a pair and hit “ask”.

Thank you for taking the time to read this, I hope it isn’t too desperately obnoxious.

Peace out ✌️

Ahh man I'm sorry anon but I'm going to have to disagree with you pretty strongly here 😅 tbh I was a little too easy on him in the original post. It's not necessarily the temporary nature of their acquaintance that makes the Sunday Friend's friendship questionable on its own, although it doesn't help.

The Sunday Friend is quite literally not a friend. "Friend" in his title is a euphemism; he's not coming to visit the Smoker because he's his friend. He's coming to visit the smoker to do a bit of poverty tourism, to admire the crumbling place that his beliefs have helped to destroy, and a bit of heavily implied sex tourism too. A "first world" tourist, a bureaucrat from the international government, visiting one of the most impoverished districts of Revachol to spend his nights with a student. He's not the Smoker's friend, he's a client. They're using 'friend' as a stand-in for his actual role, which is a) as a part of the moralist bureaucratic system repressing the revolution and keeping the city as a whole trapped in a laissez faire purgatory easily exploited by foreign capitalists and ultraliberals, while still maintaining a friendly respectable face, and b) as the Smoker's customer, exploiting the poverty of Martinaise's residents to get what he wants for cheap and using the easy mobility that his money and status give him. Imo he's intended narratively as a parallel for the moralist coalition government; he views from a distance, focused on money and *ze price stabilité* but entirely divorced from the poverty and consequence of his work. Happy to dip his toe in and make use of exploitable populations in Revachol, but always ready to leave too. When asked how he became 'friends' with the smoker, his response is literally to describe the coalition occupying Revachol.

He knows so little about the Smoker beyond him being there to study art, but what kind? "Perhaps graphic design? Printmaking? Who knows?" As to your point about the Smoker thinking he's a real friend, the Smoker is under no illusions about who the Sunday Friend is. An injection of money. Someone with power, someone with the mobility afforded to him by ownership of a non-Revacholian passport, someone content to watch the place decay and do nothing but indulge himself in pet projects and worry about bureaucracy. Someone with the freedom to leave when things get bad; a freedom that is narratively only assigned to a rare few extremely bourgeois characters. Dora, on her flight to Mirova, Joyce and her boat, Trant and his academic travels, and the Sunday Friend who will be out of Martinaise like a shot the moment things start to kick off despite being a part of the overarching structure that is responsible for Revachol's subjugation and rising political tensions. The Sunday Friend will use the Smoker's labour, use the vulnerability of Revachol's precarious situation to his advantage, then once it becomes too precarious or he gets bored, he'll withdraw. In answer to your question, no, I don't think that's enough. Again I probably oversimplified in my last post but the loneliness all throughout DE is not just an emotional state but a political one. Alienation is a major theme. As is the impossibility of building community in the face of capitalism relentlessly subsuming anything in its path, in the face of shallow relationships dictated by the need for survival. The Sunday Friend embodies that concept perfectly. He is exquisitely shallow in conversation, a perfect moralist who at all times strives to remain impartial and distant.

Anyway. Tldr; my point is that the relationship between the Smoker and the Sunday Friend is far more transactional, and far more exploitative, than you seem to believe. "Friend" is not being used literally but euphemistically. A 'fairweather friend' is better than none, sure, but that's entirely inapplicable to this situation. Sorry for the long post and I hope it's not too rambling- I'm surviving on very little sleep right now but I hope it clears up for you a bit why I referred to the Sunday friend in that way initially.

[liyawritesss]

hmm riri finding the perfect ring for you and then proposing hmmmm

ᴏɴᴇ ᴅᴀʏ ɪ ᴡᴏɴ'ᴛ ʙᴇ ᴀʙʟᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴀꜱᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴏᴜᴅ ᴇɴᴏᴜɢʜ

Characters: MCU!Riri Williams x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Drabble

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: Normally vows are made at the altar, but Riri just can’t seem to wait till your decked out in white to swear her life to you.

Warnings: mild cursing 

A/N: This is honestly such a cute ask….i love Riri being a hopeless romantic and when she finds that one person she knows she’s gonna be with, there’s nothing stopping her from loving you in the way a wife would

Tags: @6-noir @playhousedistee @shuririsdefenseattorney @shuriszn @venusdusse @wrendermedone @writingintheshadowsforever @mbakuetshurisprincess @verachii @slytherin-34 @the_lesbian-fangirl @itsmaniiiiiiiii @strangefishflapturtle @cuddl3s4shur1 @shuriislut @dejaonline @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @inmyheadimobsessed @aaliyg @cafehyunji @chunkybabygorl @rosielovesfamily @lulu-network @killmongerskeepermain @riri-red-car

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“I have a question.”

It’s the first thing said that breaks the silence that had been looming in Riri’s room for the past hour. It was a comfortable silence, spent with the two of you laying in each other's arms. You’d snuggled up under Riri’s side as she was entranced in a pretty intense basketball game on her gaming console, you busying yourself by watching TikToks on your phone when she had opened the floor for a conversation.

“Yeah?” You respond, still entranced in your phone.

Riri took a pause, her fingers stilling on her controller. She bites her lip, choosing the next words carefully.

“What does a ring mean to you?”

You find yourself stilling with your scrolling as well, eyebrows furrowing as you tear your eyes from your screen to look up at the girl you were cuddled under. Her eyes had stayed glued to the television screen; probably because if Riri were to return your gaze, the practiced prose she had conjured up would have flown out the window.

“What do you mean?” You asked, rightfully confused by her choice of words. A second passes before Riri completely pauses her game to direct her attention to you.

“If I got you a ring, what would it mean to you?”

Many people would say that nineteen was too young to know the person you’d want to spend forever with. At nineteen, you’re supposed to be finishing your first year of college. At nineteen, you’re supposed to be partying with your friends, drinking the night away, figuring out what you want your twenties to look like. 

At 19, you’re supposed to be taking risks. But Riri has had enough of taking risks.

You’d been the first good thing to happen to Riri in a long time. Since the death of her best friend. Since the whole ordeal with Wakanda and Talokan. And in the two years of knowing you, and the year of dating you, if anything had become more certain to the young engineer, it was that the way she felt about you was the kind of love her mother and step-father had. The kind of love you could feel from miles away, intense and all-knowing. And she had no intention of letting it go.

“I…I would love it, obviously,” you say, ���i love anything you get me, Riri, even though I keep telling you I’on need nothin’-”

“-because having me is enough, yeah, yeah- that’s not the point.”

You move to sit up, and Riri helps you, snaking an arm around your waist, discarding her controller to the side as she puts all her attention on you now. She swears the thumping of her heart can be heard outside her body, it being so harsh and profound in her chest that it almost feels as if it shakes her being with each pump of blood in and out of the organ.

“What would it mean to you if I got you a ring?”

You took a moment, letting the thoughts swirl in your mind, trying to conjure up a response that would satisfy her. There isn’t a word imaginable that would describe the absolute joy you’d be in if the purpose of said jewelry piece was for what you thought it was for.

You took one of Riri’s hands into your own, the caramel velvet of her skin beautifully clashing with your own, molding together as if crafted to belong together. 

“It would mean the world to me,” you say, and you’re sure you had more words to say, but once your eyes lock with hers, they get lost in your throat. Perhaps it was the intensity of her stare, and the amount of love they’ve always had for you, or perhaps it’s the way she gently pulls her hand from yours to rest under your chin, focusing your attention onto her, “why?”

Because I have a promise ring under my pillow with our marriage date engraved inside the band. Because I love you fucking much I can’t see life without you anymore. I’ve lost too much. I can’t lose you. I want to promise to be with you until we can make it official.

“Look under my pillow over there,” Riri hums. 

There’s a tightness that rises in your chest; a good kind of tightness, anticipation for what you would find. The sound of rustling sheets fill the room as you reach up towards the head of the bed, a hand diving under the feather stuffed pillows, fishing around until your fingers curl around something small, cube like, velvet. You almost stall for a moment, but the hand on your lower back is a reminder that the anticipation you feel is maximized by ten for the engineer behind you. So you pull back, and with you comes the tiny jewelers box, as well as what you know to be inside of it.

A silence fills the room as your gaze switches between Riri and examining the velvet box in your hand. 

“It ain’t the real thing yet, but-” Riri begins, her hand slipping the box from yours and into her own, opening the top to reveal the ring inside. It takes a minute for you to recognize that it’s the same ring you’d been gawking at in one of the jewelry stores window displays downtown a month prior. If your calculations were correct, that ring would have cost her at least a band; and if she got herself one as well, then more.

She takes the ring from it’s plush white crevice inside the box, holding it up for the both of you to see, “-I figured it’d be enough til we get everything right.”

It takes everything in you to hold back the tears swelling in your eyes, begging to fall from your lids. Speaking would have surely opened the floodgates as well. All you could do was allow her to hold your hand as she slipped the jewelry onto your ring finger, fitting perfectly onto it.

“I ain’t letting you go, (Y/N),” Riri proclaims, as one hand interlocks with your now ringed hand and the other fishes under her hoodie to reveal the silver chain, which has another ring hanging from it, as you suspected, “but I swear when I get my shit together, there won’t be anything that’s gon’ stop me from asking you.”

And yet, with the glistening in your eyes, and the tightness of which you hold her hand, Riri already knows your answer.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[simplykorra]

I feel your compliments like bullets on skin - chapter eight

Ava isn’t exactly an MI6 agent, but if you ask her, she’s pretty damn good at making other people believe the bullshit that comes out of her mouth.

So when she goes full celebrity tantrum and tells Chanel to buy her not one, but two first class tickets on her flight because she doesn’t want to deal with anyone, she gets her way.

Chanel usually understands Ava’s needs and respects them. She knows Ava values privacy and when she is actually going away on vacation, she likes to isolate and live a little luxurious. So getting the seat next to her on a long flight open isn’t the strangest request in the world.

She does have to apologize to Dora, and promise her that she won’t forever be the conduit between Ava and Beatrice and the rest of the world, but Dora goes out of her way to drive by Bea’s place and drop off her ticket.

They don’t meet up at the airport and when Beatrice gets on the plane, they act like they’ve just met. No kisses, no hand holding or hugs - just little smiles and knowing looks.

On the flight, they chat like normal and watch a couple of movies together. Halfway through the second one, Beatrice falls asleep.

Ava can't really begin to describe how excited she is to be here, on this flight and headed so far away from California and all the hustle and craziness. She hasn’t spoken to Vincent in three days, Chanel has promised not to contact her until next Friday and though she has an obnoxious as fuck trip to Brazil coming up, she’s entirely focused on this week.

Never could she have imagined finding someone like Bea. She is the exact opposite of everyone Ava has ever had even a second date with. She’s so unaware of Ava’s world. The movies Bea likes are documentaries and older, foreign films.

Ava doesn't mind those, in fact she loves the documentaries and has told Bea about her history with them growing up. They were her lifeblood - her view of the outside world.

Ava spent years and years learning about animals and history, about the way things were made and where things were so she could piece together her own map of the world. It wasn't perfect, but when she was finally able to step out into it, she took the time to enjoy as much of it as possible.

It’s that, she thinks, that makes her career worth it. She gets to see so many beautiful places, whether it be for work or promotion or even now, having the money to fly out to the beach and escape.

They exit the plane together, and Ava is wearing a hat, a mask and a pair of sunglasses to keep herself hidden away.

There’s no personal security here yet, she’s hired out from a local firm for the weekend but they’ll meet them at the hotel. Which means that she’s vulnerable, even with her hair tied up and all her cover on, people seem to recognize her.

Still, she can feel the way Beatrice’s demeanor shifts as they’re making their way through the airport together. Scanning the crowd constantly, seemingly aware of every noise and movement.

When a child runs by, screaming about something he’s found, Beatrice’s hand instinctively whips out and presses against her.

“It’s okay,” Ava says, her voice soft because the action leaves her a little breathless.

CONT ON AO3

[quietblueriver]

Another prompt!

On the edge of consciousness

Quick thing #5.

In which Bea suffers a minor injury and Ava has some trouble dealing. All fluff. Very silly. Thanks for the prompt! :)

-

Ava’s exhausted by the time the van rolls back into Cat’s Cradle. She and Dora had taken six of the newly-official sisters to follow up on reports of some strange behavior in a town in rural France. Ava was hoping they’d find a whole lot of nothing and more than a little wine. What they actually found was eight wraiths and one fun new demon who had hurled himself through one of the cracks that had started appearing after Ava left, apparently a side effect of Adriel yanking Reya into this world, even though she only stayed for like 5 minutes.

It was quite an initiation for the newbies, who did really well all things considered. The whole deal is to make sure they can do this kind of shit without her, because Ava wants to be able to step away from demon-slaying every once in a while to travel the world with her curious, hot, polyglot girlfriend. She’s a teacher now, or whatever, so she didn’t just let loose with the halo when she got annoyed. Instead, she stood there and called out instructions and warnings and made sure none of the babies got maimed or worse and that they didn’t maim or worse any of the possessed. Quite a few halo interventions in the end, but they’re learning.

And the wraiths would have been enough, but of course there was the demon, a real asshole who at one point started sprouting and flinging weird spikes from his back. Ava did a lot of shield throwing and yelling and worked very hard not to intervene unless absolutely necessary. They got him down, in the end, and she finished the job. She’s physically fine but she’s mentally done—she needs sleep and Beatrice. Beatrice, mostly.

They haven’t spoken in three days, which isn’t unusual, unfortunately, but she always hates it. Occasional texts are sometimes the best they can do and she’d sent a few while Dora was driving but hadn’t heard back. Again, not unusual. Bea hates her phone even if she loves Ava (and she does, which she makes clear all the time to everyone and which Ava feels incredibly smug about, thanks) and she’s busy right now with training newbies.

Ava is looking forward to hunting her down in the yard, engaging in only a moderate amount of PDA because “I need them to be able to look me in the eye, Ava, please," and then sleeping for at least 12 hours.

Ava’s hauling her duffel from the back, the rest of the team shuffling inside, when she notices Cam, waiting nearby and fidgeting with her hands, her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Cam?”

Camila…flinches? at Ava’s voice and Ava doesn’t like that one bit. She swings the duffel over her shoulder and walks toward her, frowning.

“Hi, Ava. Welcome home.”

Her voice isn’t peak happy Cam but she’s not upset. Still. “What’s wrong?”

Camila sighs, meets Ava’s eyes. “Okay, most importantly, everyone is fine.” Ava’s heart rate spikes immediately, the halo humming to life. “There was a bit of an accident.”

Ava stares expectantly at her, heart pounding and halo charged, and Camila winces.

“Beatrice was involved.” Seeing Ava’s face, she says again, loudly, “She’s fine! She will be fine! She is in the infirmary and everything is…”

Ava’s off before Camila can finish, dropping her duffel and phasing through the first of the walls between her and the infirmary doors. She has the layout of Cat’s Cradle memorized at this point, after eight months of living here and training here and wandering the hallways when she has nightmares and manages to sneak out without waking Bea, so she has a pretty good idea of where she’s going—straight back and to the right.

She’s barely bothering to let her body fully constitute again, catches two sisters in one of the hallways by surprise and hears a “Holy Father!” before she bleeds through a storage room and turns right down another hall to find herself, finally, at the infirmary doors.

She sees Beatrice propped up in the second bed, privacy curtains mostly open, holding a well-worn copy of The Oresteia, because of course she is, a bandage where an IV line would be on the back of her hand. Her other arm is in a sling, a wrap peeking out from the neckline of the loose gray sweater she’s wearing. She’s awake. She’s sitting up. She has a book. Ava is so relieved she nearly cries.

Beatrice startles obviously when Ava phases through the last door between them, and Ava knows she must be incredibly tired or incredibly stoned or both, maybe, to react that obviously. When she turns her head to face Ava fully, Ava’s jaw clenches tight and she starts forward immediately. The left side of Bea’s face is battered, covered in scrapes and rubbed raw in spots.

Bea seems unbothered, smiling dopily and letting the book fall closed and into her lap so that she can wave excitedly, moving her whole upper body in concert with her hand. She stops the motion quickly, flinching and staring down at her torso like it had broken a promise, brow furrowed in disappointment.

Yeah, so. Stoned it is.

Bea brings her attention back to Ava and the frown disappears as she reaches out, her motion still uncoordinated but less violent. Her palm is up, fingers wiggling expectantly. It’s adorable, but Ava can’t really enjoy it right now.

“Ava! I missed you!”

Ava smiles at her, grabs the wiggling fingers gently between her own and sits on the edge of the bed, leaning over for a chaste kiss. Beatrice, uninhibited and unashamed, hums into it and sighs when they break apart, eyes fluttering and body swaying in a full Disney Princess-esque swoon. The instinct to coo at her like the precious baby duck she is fights with the ongoing panic in her chest and results in what she’s sure is a super fucking weird expression but Bea doesn’t notice or care; she’s all big brown eyes and open adoration.

“Hi, baby. I missed you, too.” She smooths a hand over Beatrice’s hair, newly shorn on the sides (a development that nearly broke Ava in the very best way), the length on top messier than Bea ever lets it be when she’s conscious and outside of their bed. Bea leans into her. “What happened here?”

She frowns, her forehead wrinkling, and Ava smooths the patch of unmarred skin with the tips of her fingers as Bea says guiltily, “Sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t want to make you worried. Just a little accident this morning.”

Ava will deal with that later. She’s not trying to get into it with sweet, stoned Beatrice about when to call. (Always, is the answer, Bea. Always fucking call. There is literally nothing more important.)

Before she can ask about what happened again, though, a flustered Camila hustles through the doors. She hovers uncertainly and then offers, weakly, “She’s okay?” The inflection lets Ava know Camila is aware of what a stupid fucking thing that is to say, but she glares at her anyway, and Camila blanches.

Ava turns back to her girlfriend and asks, resting her hand over Bea’s good one, the IV bandage tacky on her palm, “What kind of accident, gorgeous?”

Beatrice blushes, flips her hand so that she can play with Ava’s fingers, and says, incredibly nonchalantly, “We were practicing an extraction and I got hit by a car.”

Ava’s whole body tenses. The halo hums lowly.

“You got hit by a car.”

Beatrice hums, distracted by Ava’s hand, and then frowns, maybe realizing exactly how fucking awful that sounds. She looks up and adds, as though it will help, “Only a little!”

Camila sighs loudly but keeps her mouth shut.

“You got hit by a car a little.”

Ava works very hard not to lose her shit. She doesn’t want to upset Bea, and the real target for her anger, whoever hit her girlfriend with a car, isn’t in the room right now. She breathes deeply. The halo pulses the littlest bit under her skin in sympathy, still humming quietly enough that only Ava can hear it.

Beatrice offers, as if it might help, “A tap, really.”

“A tap? Beatrice.”

“No big deal. See?” She frees her good hand and uses it to wave up and down her body, flinches when the motion requires her to bend slightly and she’s definitely not making the point she wants to make. Ava catches her hand and holds it still.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re fine.”

The halo hums louder and Ava feels energy start to build under her skin, hot and itchy.

“She should recover quickly. She’s been hurt a lot worse.”

Ava snaps her head back to look at Camila, both eyebrows up and mouth open a little disbelievingly. Because yes, Bea is going to be fine, but this nonchalance? About getting hit by a car? Nope. Nope. Nope. How is Ava supposed to leave, like, ever if this is how her girlfriend and her best friend approach what looks like one step down from vehicular manslaughter? Fine. Jesus Christ.

“Gee, thanks, Cam. Have you been taking bedside manner lessons from Lilith?”

Camila blushes but Ava’s attention is quickly drawn back to Beatrice, who is nodding in agreement with Camila, or trying to. The drugs aren’t doing her any favors on that front, so the movement gets away from her, less decisive and more drowsy and drunken. The effect is something between a puppy trying to keep itself awake and Mother Superion on the rare occasions she stays for game night (or, once and memorably, karaoke) and indulges in one glass of wine too many. Like both a puppy and Superion, Bea begins to sway, eyes closing, and Ava puts a steadying hand on her uninjured shoulder. She gets a grateful smile when Beatrice settles back into the pillow.

As if sensing that she’s about to start again with her questions—which, despite what the two idiots in the room with her apparently think, are absolutely reasonable and pretty fucking chill relative to the information she has—Beatrice says, voice a slightly slurred and incredibly exaggerated mimic of the one she uses when training recruits or doing serious OCS things, “It could’ve been much worse. She wasn’t even going that fast.”

Camila groans and the halo thrums and Ava adjusts on the bed, gentle but unable to stay still any longer.

“It could’ve…” Ava splutters. “She wasn’t…she wasn’t even going that fast?”

Ava hates the word shrill. It’s misogynist as fuck and used to invalidate women’s feelings and police their tone. Bullshit. But she won’t deny that the pitch of her voice is rising higher and higher with each piece of information. She reaches for a metaphor Bea would appreciate. She’s a tea kettle about to go full whistle. She’s a tea kettle about to explode.

She takes a deep breath, counts, exhales. Does it again. Okay. Okay. It’s not helpful for her to blow up. She’s been too hard on Camila. She needs to know what happened and what Bea needs. That’s what matters.

Bea’s clearly working to keep her eyes open. New strategy. She takes the deepest breath yet, presses a very soft kiss to Beatrice’s uninjured knuckles, Bea humming and closing her eyes fully.

“Sleep, baby. I’m just going to talk to Cam. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

“Promise?” Sleepy brown eyes blink open at her and she’s nearly pouting and Ava’s got a whole lot of feelings right now, but love pushes to the top easy, easy, easy when she looks at Bea.

“Promise.”

Her voice is calm even if it is still much higher than normal as she looks to Cam and asks, “What happened?”

Camila steps closer, hesitant, and Ava consciously works to relax her shoulders. She says, standing and reaching to pull Camila into a hug, “Sorry I was a bitch. I’m,” she glances at Beatrice, whose eyes are closed again, “I had to take care of all of the baby nuns and I’m a little exhausted and it’s Bea and I just…”

Cam hugs her tighter and wipes a tear from Ava’s cheek. She hadn’t even realized she’d been crying. She’s fucking tired.

“I understand. It’s okay.”

Beatrice makes a soft noise, and Cam smiles at her fondly. “They gave her more medicine just before you got back. I’m honestly surprised she’s still awake.”

“Mmm.” Ava steps back a little and shakes it out, folds her shoulders back.

“It really was an accident. Beatrice was helping a novice in a drill with a moving extraction, and the driver was a little overeager, and, well, Beatrice got knocked back with some force. She dislocated her shoulder and has some nasty road rash, but, as you can see, they’ve given her medication, and she should recover relatively quickly.” Camila bites her lip for a moment. “I promise she’s okay, Ava. I would’ve called you immediately if anything serious had happened. I’ll always call, even if Beatrice won’t.”

She uncoils a bit more. She knows it’s true. There’s no way that Cam wouldn’t call her or send Lilith to come get her, if things got really bad.

A tiny, sleepy noise escapes Beatrice, and Ava blows out a breath, smiles at Camila. Beatrice is fine. Beatrice will be fine.

She eyes the sling and wonders how long she’ll need to wear it. Bea’s going to hate being on the bench. The newbies are going to hate it, too.

Underneath the totally reasonable anger, she feels almost bad for whoever it was who hit Bea. She’s pretty beloved, even if she won’t admit it, and it’s no secret that Ava can be a little, uh, overprotective. The kid’s probably having a rough time.

“I know we’re avoiding another Yasmine situation, but clearly there’s some work left to do on teaching the novices left to drive.”

Camila frowns and begins to respond, but they’re interrupted by the familiar hiss of Lilith’s arrival, the black wings folding behind her a ridiculous contrast with the bulging M&S bag in her hand, the top of a green Colin the Caterpillar box peeking out of the top. Ava bites back a smile. What a fucking softie.

She lets go of the glamour that she wears in public, her skin mottling with scales as she removes her sunglasses. She reels back slightly when she catches sight of Ava but recovers quickly, thrusting the bag out in front of her without a word. Ava takes it, catches sight of candy and biscuits and a tin of fancy tea.

“Thanks, Lil. She’ll be excited about these.”

Her eyes turn to her shoes, black boots identical to Bea’s favorites, says gruffly, “How’s she doing?”

“She’ll be fine.”

Camila smiles at her and Ava lifts a shoulder, moves to unload the bag on the table next to Bea’s bed. Beatrice, apparently still awake enough to notice Ava’s presence, reaches a hand out and rests it on Ava’s thigh, whispers something that Ava is almost totally sure is nonsense. She doesn’t try to decipher, kisses her cheek before before going back to her mission, rifling though the considerable stash Lilith brought and beginning to pull things out.

“You’re being much calmer about this than I anticipated.”

Ava snorts and looks up at Lilith, whose eyes are focused on the injured side of Beatrice’s face.

“Yeah, no. I lost my shit for a bit there. Cam took the brunt of it.” She turns her eyes to Camila. “Sorry again.”

There’s not enough room on the table for everything—Lilith really wasn’t fucking around—so Ava prioritizes Bea’s favorites.

“Like, I’m obviously not delighted and I’m definitely going to have a talk with Bea about when to call me, say, for example, when she gets hit by a car, but she’ll be okay.” She tucks what won’t fit on the table into the little drawer below and brushes some of Bea’s hair back. “Also, stoned Beatrice is super cute.”

Lilith’s shadow falls across Bea’s body, and Ava turns to see the sharp line of her jaw clenched, her eyes scanning Bea’s body and lingering on her shoulder.

“It really was an accident.”

It’s said absently, her voice soft as she leans even further forward to tuck a corner of Bea’s blanket a little tighter around her. Ava’s stomach swoops with fondness, and she reaches her own hand out to squeeze at Lilith’s bicep, black scales and warm skin a strange contrast on her palm.

“Yeah, Cam told me. It’s fine. I mean, someone’s getting a talk from me, because what the fuck, but…”

Ava halts at a hum from the bed. Beatrice is clearly just on the edge of consciousness, eyes straining open before fluttering closed again, words barely coherent. Barely coherent, but coherent enough.

“Don’t be mad, love. Lilith is usually a very good driver.”

[awful-little-goose]

Some more doodles with Buzz!

Buzz (or Buzzbuzz) kinda plays the role of the “teacher” character, sorta like Dora y’know? Of course, it comes from a play on “spelling bee”. They don’t- control it, and sorta just blurt out facts, lessons, or questions to the camera- which greatly confuses both the other humans and Buzz themselves.

Now for how they feel about other characters!

They like Kinger well enough! He’s the only one who doesn’t complain about the bees that spontaneously spawn near Buzz, so they like to give him some bees every now and then since he likes insects. He sometimes calls them “Their Majesty Bee”, as a variant for “queen bee”, no one knows if he’s purposely making a joke or just- being odd. Overall they view him as a sort of slightly crazy but still nice uncle

They really do not like Jax. Since Buzz is HEAVILY influenced by cartoon logic, any accident they may suffer may result in an extremely amusing (yet still unpleasant) visual…so that means it’s twice as more funny to cause them harm for Jax

Buzz has a lot of sympathy for Gangle. As a pretty laid back and somewhat optimistic person, they always try to cheer up Gangle when they’re stuck with their tragedy mask, by trying to shine another light on the situation at hand or performing tricks

They’re not too fond of Zooble (who- is personally my favorite character LSKSKSK I love them so much). Again, as someone who’s rather laid back and onboard with doing lots of activities, they don’t really vibe with a person’s whose whole stitch is “fuck off, leave me alone”. Still, they know that Zooble is far from being an ass like Jax is, and the two of them get along from time to time

Buzz gets along with Raggs pretty well. Since Buzz’s room is basically a garden, they like to take her there to garden together- they’re fully aware of how stressed out she really is, so they try to help out in their own way. It’s their way of thanking her for being such a positive force around

They’re…conflicted when it comes to Caine. On one hand, they don’t hate being there at the Digital Circus, and they appreciate how invested he seems to be in keeping them active and stimulated. Yet, they can’t help but feel uneasy around him…their wings will start buzzing and their ears/antennas will get all twisted

They…don’t dislike Pomni, but her concerning attitude and obsession with that so called “exit” make them wary around her. They’d also just like her to relax- sure, the transition from one world to another is tough, but how can she be sure she actually had a life before all that? She can’t even remember her name, can she? So, that means there probably isn’t anything to return to, so she should just accept it and chill ouuut…or else she’s gonna abstract REAL SOON, and they are NOT sticking around for that

They REALLY don’t like Bubble, just because it’s so- unpredictable. Fortunately, their bees (who they have no direct control over whatsoever) seem to feel that, and are always around to pop that nuisance away

And as a bonus…Kofmo! Who I didn’t draw! All I can say is that they were really fond of his puns, they like plays on words the best, but they did not care for how upset he’d get over people no reacting properly or sincerely enough to his jokes

Concerning their severe case of “cartoon logic”, that’s something they’re also somewhat a bit mad at Caine about: their cartoon experiences tend to be really unpleasant, but they also have to put themselves back to normal on their own! They’d just like him to at LEAST ensure that they get back to normal automatically, that’d be the bare minimum

Also bonus Zooble because they ALWAYS get forgotten in arts, and I get it they’re super complex and hard to draw, but I LOVE them, I LOVE their design, and I LOVE their personality- please love my geometric baby

[landofzero-archive]

Perplex - Prank Intersection 8

Season: Spring

(Location: Starmony Apartment Hallway (2F))

(Early morning. Rinne Amagi’s prank filming day)

Rinne: Fuaaahfu…… Oi, Yuta…… What time is it?

Yuuta: About 4 o’clock. It’s still dark out, so it’s still the middle of the night.

Rinne: Seriously, it’s only natural that I’m tired…… Whose bright idea was it to do a wake up prank? They’re costing me my precious sleeping time.

Kuro: You’re the one who suggested it……

Yuuta: Yeah. Rinne-senpai’s the one who told us to meet at 4am.

And yet he was the last to arrive and he was late. Are you gonna have self-awareness about your work from now on?

I specifically asked Kiryu-senpai to be the photographer. Do you understand that?

Rinne: Don’t get so worked up, Yuta. If you speak too loudly, the Vice Prez might notice, won’t he?

Yuuta: And whose fault is that……

Rinne: Hm? Actually, Narushii hasn’t come yet, has she?

Kuro: Yeah. Narukami declined since lack of sleep would be bad for her skin.

We don’t need that many people for a little wake up prank anyway.

Rinne: True. But, Narushii is also missing out.

It’s a great opportunity to see the Vice Prez’s silly face. Right, Yuta?

Yuuta: You’re the only one happy about that, you know.

Rinne: Nah, the Yuta that pranked the Vice Prez is just like me!

The prank is a variety show where you make people look like idiots and then laugh at them♪

Yuuta: Haah…… It’s no use. Being with him just makes me stressed in the end.

Kiryu-senpai, let’s get this over with.

Kuro: Yeah. I also want to get a few more hours of sleep in. So, you all line up there.

Rinne: Alright, Yuta. Let’s link arms and get going. We’re fellow accomplices, after all♪

Yuuta: Nope. Stop yapping and get prepared.

Rinne: How cold. The dynamic duo is immediately at risk of breaking up……

Kuro: And let’s go. Three, two……

Rinne and Yuuta: “Good morning everyo~ne!”

Rinne: “Y’all in front of the TV, don’tcha know how late it is? It’s 4am.

There’s only one prank we could be pulling so early in the morning!”

Yuuta: “Yep! It’s the class wake-up pra~nk♪

Oh? Are you bored of watching simple wake-up pranks?”

Rinne: “As a matter of fact, our target ain’t some run of the mill idol.

What a surprise! The target this time is Ibara Saegusa of Eden.”

Yuuta: “When it comes to Saegusa-senpai, even within Eden his private life is especially shrouded in mystery.”

Rinne: “He’s in high demand as a talented CosPro idol. He’s a real super star!

He’s also the vice president of our office, so he might get peeved if we prank him but……

That doesn’t matter! Today I’ll be showing you the Vice Prez’s most private moment without any mercy: his sleeping face!”

Yuuta: “But it’s not interesting just charging in to wake him up, y’know~

So this time…… Ta da~♪ There’s the bonus of throwing a water balloon at Saegusa-senpai!”

Rinne: “It’s also washing his face, so it’s killing two birds with one stone. How about waking up with some nice cold water, gyahaha♪

Btdubs, besides me and Yuta, Dora-chan is also here as our photographer♪

Isn’t it extravagant to use an idol as the cameraman!?”

Kuro: “You’re the one who begged and forced me……”

Rinne: “My bad, my bad. Besides being the cameraman, Dora-chan helped out in a lot of other ways.

There’s other idols rooming with the Vice Prez, so he talked to them and got them to go to other places for today.

Well, none of ‘em are from CosPro so it would be hard for us to do the behind the scenes work. Rinne-kun also worked his hardest, y’know.”

Yuuta: “C’mon, don’t go on forever about the behind-the-scenes stuff. You’re getting too vivid about it.

Or rather, Rinne-senpai had absolutely nothing to do with it. Why are you acting like you did?”

Rinne: “That’s because I’m the one who came up with the project. Any success from it is also my success♪”

Yuuta: “Uwah…… you’re so irrational. Maybe I should jump ship after all.

Juuust kidding♪ Now, let’s end the introduction and go straight to Saegusa-senpai’s room, where he’s all tucked away!”

(Location: Starmony Dorm (Ibara, Mitsuru, Midori, Tsumugi's Room))

Rinne and Yuuta: “(Whispering) Pardon the intrusio~n.”

Yuuta: “Uwah, it’s so dark~. Kiryu-senpai, please watch your step.”

Rinne: “If you were to fall loudly and wake him up, everything would be ruined.

So, where could our Hebi-chan be sleeping? Is it this bed? Or this bed? …… No, he’s over there.

Oioi, take a look at that bed, Yuta, Dora-chan. There’s someone sleeping in it wrapped up in a thick blanket.

I never thought the top idol Ibara Saegusa of Eden would be the type to sleep all snuggled up like that.

He’s surprisingly cute in some ways, isn’t he, Yuta♪”

Yuuta: “Yeah it’s actually kinda cute……

But this is no time for yapping. C’mon, Rinne-senpai!”

Rinne: “Let’s do it. Let’s get right to the main dish then.

—That’s why you’ve all gotta see it! The top idol, Ibara Saegusa’s, adorable sleeping face will finally be revealed!

Now, let’s get a peek! A happy morning’s come, ‘venomous snake’-kun♪

…… Wh- huh?”

Yuuta: “Is that a mannequin!? That’s not the Vice Prez at all, Rinne-senpai!”

Rinne: “OI OI OI, what the heck’s going on? You for real confirmed that Vice Prez was snoozin’ in his room, didn’t ya?”

Kuro: “Yeah. Actually, there’s been some strange noises for a while now.”

Yuuta: “Maybe…… The sound we heard was from the mannequin?

Eh, this……!?

IS THAT A BOMB!?”

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[kavehater]

Someone said kaveh is irani but the Kurdish irani type and I think my mum would actually hate him more

[thistlecatfics]

Tedromeda Rec List

I put together a Tedromeda rec list for an anon ask of @spindrifters, and I figured it ought to be its own post! I like messy, imperfect, bordering on toxic Tedromeda, and I especially love lesbian!Tedromeda so if those are not your things you may not vibe with this rec list and that's ok! But if they are -

Turncoat: in defense of andromeda tonks nee black, @ink-splotch (8.3k) 

“When her little cousin Sirius got disowned too, years later, Andromeda sent him a fruit basket.”

This fic was so big and so brilliant and the world building is so excellent. It made me cry. I had to triple check the word count in putting it here because it seems so much longer because it’s just so rich with life and detail. 

War, or Peace, or Whatever This Is, Slyboots (7.6k) 

“Fall in line, that’s the way, and never mind who gives the orders. Carrying on, that’s the British national sport.”In the aftermath of the Fall of the Ministry of Magic, Andromeda Tonks does what little good she can.”

I love a war time fic with complicated world building and no good choices. Really brilliant fic. The sharp, fast moving pace adds to the paranoid anything-can-happen-at-any-moment feeling of a coup.

In Memoriam, Bitterfic on LiveJournal (6k)

“When he was young, brash, he had said that the Muggle-born were as good as any purebloods, yet he had never doubted that Andromeda Black was infinitely superior to him. Even after twenty-five years of marriage, he never thought of her by his name, as Andromeda Tonks. She was to him always Andromeda Black whose voice cut through the darkness that night in the Forbidden Forest.” (cw: sexual assault, suicidal ideation) 

A brilliant haunting little fic from my favorite LJ writer from wayyy back in the day. Ted Tonks POV

Andromeda Liberata (133k+ WIP) (lesbian Tedromeda) 

“In which Andromeda Black cruelly betrays her sisters and sets in motion the total destruction of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black because she fell in love with a lesbian muggleborn.”

While it might be tacky to put your own fic in a rec list,  I’m quite proud of it :)

i don’t forgive you (but please don’t hold me to it) by evawrites (10k, T) (lesbian Tedromeda)

For Andromeda, the choice is not between the Dark and the Light. It’s not between Headmaster Dumbledore and the Dark Lord, not between Teddy’s family and her own. Instead, it’s between Bella and Teddy. Foolishly, Andromeda prays she’ll get to keep both.(She gets to keep neither.)

Dark and haunting and the contrast between Bellatrix and Ted is so well set up.

history books forgot about us by spindrifters (25k, E)

Andromeda Black meets Ted Tonks quite by accident, and it’s something like mischief at first sight. From the lost papers and mixed-up files of the marginalia universe, the complete history of a relationship that was never meant to happen.

This canon-divergent universe is everything, and these two recklessly in love kids are everything to me!

wherefore/evermore by @leftsidedown (150 words, T)

continuing the Great Literary Tradition of mad women writing villanelles

A poem!!

-

And then some Andromeda-centric fic where Tedromeda is important but it's not really a shippy fic:

not like the rest of them by unspeakable3 (11k, T)

Sirius has recently followed in Andromeda's footsteps and emancipated himself from their family. This afternoon, the two cousins will reunite - and see each other for the first time in four years. Andromeda is nervous. Sirius is nervous. There is a lot they need to say to each other.

Imperfect runaways!!

we were sisters once (we have another love now) by Nefaria_Black (3k, T)

Dora is six and few things are more exciting than a day spent in Diagon Alley. Even if the street is packed with people. Even if she’s separated from her parents by the crowd Because Mother is easy enough to find, isn’t she?

Haunting fairytale vibes

The Waves by nanneramma (3k, M)

Andromeda is not sure if she got it right. But she tried.

Gorgeous canon-compliant character study

-

And for those who like some Blackcest with their Tedromeda:

Clip, Ravel, Cleave by @vdoshu (15k, E)

Before Andromeda met Ted, she was a Black, through and through. While years later the story was told that she’d turned her back on her family’s dark ways, in truth, nothing was so simple.In the beginning, it was just Andromeda and Bella. And it was just the two of them until it was too much.

An all-time favorite featuring Andromeda and Ted meeting after Hogwarts and dark magic addiction and all sorts of dark goodness

[maladaptivedaydr3amer]

I justttt finished the pantheons character description!!! @glxssybby I finished it!! And Pandoras the first one there:)

The Pantheon.

Characters bio:

Basics:

Name: Pandora Circe Rosier

Middle name: Circe

Nick name: Panda, Dora

Age: 16

Gender: female

Sexuality: Straight-ally

Birthday: April 6th 1961

Description of looks:

Skin-tone(+descriptors of skin)pale, a bit blemished and dewy.

Eye color + shape; hazel blue eyes, downturned.

Hair-color+texture: very light blonde hair, its very long(too her waist), its very frizzy and wavy. It always looks like she just got out of bed.

Height: she’s about 5’9

Weight: 118.9lbs

Body build: thin and a bit gangly.

Voice: a bit monotone at time, but most of the time it’s very dreamy and soft.

Distinguishing marks: she has deep eye bags from her staying up late to experiment, she has really long nails and they always have dirt under neath them.

Overall attractiveness: 6.3/10.

What they would rate themselves: she would herself 5.6/10 because she knows she isn’t that pretty and she doesn’t care(she doesn’t care about looks)

Tattoos and piercings: she doesn’t have any tattoos but she’s always drawing on herself, she has her ears pierced and she always has on funky earrings on.

Everyday outfit: she always wears some sort of colorful tights but most of them have holes in it, a knee length skirt that’s kind of dirty and has a few rips at the hem, A tank top or a simple shirt with a funky cardigan or jacket over it, and she always has a bunch of jewelry(most of it she’s make her self) and her foot wear are a junky pair of boots.

Make-up: she never wears makeup, sometimes some smudge eyeliner but besides that she never wears anything of it.

Personality: she’s probably the nicest out of the group, but she’s very honest so sometimes that can come of as rude. She’s a bit odd(but aren’t all the Pantheon are?) she’s very quirky and that’s why Xeno likes her so much.

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Character bio:

Basics:

Name: Dorcas Tabatha Meadowes

Middle name: Tabatha

Nick names: Cas, Dork.

Age: 16

Gender: Female

Sexuality: LESBIAN

Birthday: December 17th 1961

Description of looks:

Skin tone(+descriptor of skin): dark, her skin is very much flawless

Eye color+shape: she has dark brown eyes.

Hair-color+texture: she has black hair, and her hair is usually in dreads.

Height: 5’11

Weight: 123.6lbs

Body build: athletic and lean.

Voice: she has a very appealing and attractive voice.

Distinguished features: she has a hooked nose, she has eye-bags from staying up to late studying and she has dimples and she also has little ringlets on her dreads.

Overall attractiveness: 8.8/10

What she would rate herself: she would rate herself 8.9/10, she very pretty and she knows that, and she’s also very confident.

Tattoos and piercings: She wouldn’t have any tattoos, she would have her nose pierced along with her ears. Her earrings would be emeralds.

Everyday outfit: she would wear a turtle neck(in either purple, green or black;she always wearing those colors), she would wear a plated skirt(usual in black), a pair of tights and her shoes are always platformed; such as platform loafers and boots. She’s also is always wearing a pendant that was her mothers(it’s a Jade Crystal)

Make-up: doesn’t wear much makeup because she doesn’t like and she doesn’t want pimples, but she does always have a Smokey eye.

Personality: she’s a bit bossy and sassy at times but she’s very kind and understanding, she always cares about her friends and hers mental health, and she’s can be a bit mean and she always speaks her mind, but it always comes from the best place from her heart.

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Character bio:

Name: Bartemius ‘Barty’ Crouch Jr.

Middle name: doesn’t have one

Nick names: Bart, Bee, Junior.

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Sexuality: gay

Birthday: October 21rst 1961

Character description:

Skin tone(+ descriptors of skin): pale, very freckled.

Eye-color+ shape: a dark brown, hooded.

Hair color + texture: straw blonde, sorta wavy but mostly straight.

Height: 5’8.1

Weight: 117.2lbs

Body build: rather scrawny and slender.

Voice: rather high pitched.

Distinguishing marks: lots and lots of freckles, dark circles underneath his eyes and bags underneath his eyes(insomnia) and he has dimples.

Overall attractiveness: 6/10

What they would rate themselves: he would rate himself probably 5.8/10, he knows he isn’t exactly attractive but he doesn’t care because the only person he wants to find him attractive is Evan.

Tattoos and Piercings: he would never get any tattoos or piercings because he is absolutely terrified of needles.

Everyday outfit: a sweater vest(any color) layered over a collared shirt, jeans and a pair of converses. And some jewelry(a ring Evan got him for his birthday and a bracelet Pandora made for him)

Personality: LOSER! He’s the definition of a loser, he’s awkward, easily scared and kind of an asshole. He’s always giving someone a dirty look or a side eye, he’s really really nerdy always correcting people but ngl he’s also kind derpressed(b/c you know daddy issues), mood swings.

•<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>•

Character bio

Basics:

Name: Regulus Arcturus Black

Middle name: Arcturus

Nick names: Reg, Reggie, Rex

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Sexuality: GAY

Birthday: August 2nd 1961

Character description:

Skin tone(+ descriptors of skin): very pale, a bit blemished.

Eye color + shape: green, hooded.

Hair color + texture: very straight(unlike him), and his hair color is raven black.

Height: 5’6.9(5’7 when he isn’t slouching)

Weight: 115.2lbs.

Body Build: he’s a little muscular because of quidditch but not a lot, but he is very slim and slender.

Voice: he has a lisp(I don’t make the rules).

Distinguishing marks: he has a few beauty marks splattered around on his face, he also has a few acne scars. He has deep eye bags from not sleeping half the time, he would also have gap between his two front teeth

Overall attractiveness: 5.9/10

What they rate themselves: he would tell people that he thinks he’s 9/10 but really on the inside he thinks he’s about 4.9/10 he hates how he looks but he would never let anyone know that.

Tattoos and piercings: he wouldn’t have any piercings or tattoos.

Everyday outfits: a black button up and a pair of jeans, he would also wear a pair of converses(they’re black) and some jewelry(all of it is silver), I think he would wear a black family heirloom too show that he is the true heir of the house of black(it would probably be a necklace of something).

Personality: He’s a rude, weak, petty and arrogant person, he angers easily and he doesn’t let people get close to him very often. He puts on a show of confidence even though he’s very insecure. He’s a bit awkward but not that much. He’s always scowling and he’s always talking to himself under his breath about people that has pissed him off. But he has his kind moments like with Dorcas and Pandora, but mostly Dorcas because she is his bestfriend(and the other way around).

(I could go on and on about his personality)

•<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>•

Character bio:

Basics:

Name: Evan Pierre Rosier

Middle name: Pierre

Nick name: Ev

Age: 16

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Bisexual

Birthday: April 6th 1961

Character description:

Skin tone(+skin descriptors): tan, he skin is clear and flawless.

Eye color+shape: his eyes would be blue, upturned.

Hair color+texture: his has golden blonde hair, his hair is curly and wavy.

Height: 6’2.3

Weight: 153.7lbs

Body build: very muscular, fit and athletic.

Voice: he has a sort of low voice

Distinguishing marks: he has very thick eyebrows(I can’t think of anymore).

Overall attractiveness: 8.8/10

What would they rate themselves: he would rate himself 9.6/10, because he knows he’s attractive and he shows it he’s very convincing and people see that, and that’s why he way more popular than his other friends.

Tattoos and piercings: he has a few tattoos nothing too over the top but he has a few, he has his ears pierced and they’re always studded.

Everyday outfit: a baggy band shirt and a pair of jeans, and some pair of tennis-shoes. He’s always wearing a watch and a few bracelets(given to him by Barty and Pandora), he also has a bunch of necklaces on.

Personality: he’s confident and very cocky, he’s can be rude at times and he always has a smirk on his face. He’s always judging someone for something they did or something they were wearing. He’s clever(street smarts), a lot of people either hate him, like him or love him.