#but the idea won't let me be so have this instead

[revelboo]

YOU 🫵 AGAIN HAVE FORSAKENED ME

I went to Walmart and saw THIS and was like, yeah I need that 😭 THEY HAD SO MUCH TF:ONE STUFF TOO?? My bank account is crying already 😭😭

Sorry for shit quality. I was excited 😅

All the figures! 🤣 Do it, do it, do it

Everything Is Alright Pt 104

IDW Starscream x Reader, Megatron x Reader, Soundwave x Reader

• “Problem?” Megatron growls, tempted to reach and touch you just to antagonize Starscream, but something about the expression on the Seeker’s face is almost dangerous. Furious and desperate and barely in control. “You should be gentler with your mate,” he says instead as Starscream’s optics narrow. Remembering those ragged sounds of grief you’d made and the way they'd twisted through his spark. You're only human and he shouldn't even care, but those sounds had bothered him. Never wants to hear them again. Sliding off the berth, he towers over the Seeker, ignoring as Starscream flares his wings. “Don’t make our pet cry again or I’ll take it out on you.”

• Gritting his denta as he stands his ground, Megatron shoulders past him, unconcerned with his anger. Not seeing him as a threat. Turning when the door closes behind Megatron, he mass shifts and grabs Soundwave’s shoulder, trying to pull him away. Hissing through his denta when the communications officer loops a possessive arm around you. Refusing to let you go from where he has you in his lap. “You left,” Soundwave growls in warning and his wings droop.

• “I came back,” Starscream mutters, optics sliding to you and expression softening. Kneeling beside Soundwave and offering you his hand. Asking you to come to him willingly. And you're not sure that you want to. Soundwave stayed and he didn't. “I’ll always come back for you.” But he still left you. Again. “Please?” That raspy whisper does you in and you reach for him, let him pull you to him and wrap his arms around you.

• “You keep hurting me,” you whisper and Soundwave’s spark constricts, hearing the unspoken ‘and I keep letting you.’ Knows you love the Seeker and he hates that fact right now. Hates Starscream as the Seeker rests his chin on top of your head, optics shuttering. Because he’s not sure the other mech understands how badly his rejection and denials hurt you. That alone convincing him that he needs Megatron tied to you. Someone that can force Starscream to be better. Because he won’t allow him to hurt you again. He can't. You'll forgive him in time. Realize that this was the only way. That it was all for you, to protect you.

• Grinding his denta at the pain in your voice and that you don’t sound surprised, like you expected him to hurt you. And that hurts him spark deep. Don’t you understand how much you mean to him? That you’re home and now a future? That you're the only spot of warmth and happiness in his life? Wings flicking as he tries to ignore Soundwave watching and listening, he tips your chin up and brushes his mouth against the corner of yours, nudging your forehead with his helm. "I was afraid," he admits, lips brushing yours, hating saying it out loud. Owning up to the fear and insecurity. Little, soft hands touch his face as you brush a kiss against him.

• "You think I'm not?" Because you're terrified and the one person who should have been there, ran away. Again. Really, you're the one in the dark here. Sparklings? You have no idea how this is going to work. Because the thought of actually birthing something like him, metal not soft flesh like you? There are so many questions, but you're half afraid if you ask them, he'll panic and bolt again. He's already so fidgety and uncomfortable. But he still loops his arm around you, holding you close. And you want to believe that he won't abandon you again, but you're not sure that you can anymore. Once is an accident, but twice?

Previous

Next

[tanadrin]

I am sorry for the anon but I feel too vulnerable to come off due to the nature of my question.

I am slowly losing friends due to my refusal to engage in negative/nihilistic/doomer views of the future. My friends are 1000% convinced Trump and Republicans are going to crash the economy on purpose, leading to a depression, and carry out a Gilead situation. I told one of my friends the other day how, despite everything and the political situation, I am trying to be as positive as possible - or at least neutral. Her response to me was, "Why? I don't understand your optimism. You know they're going to enslave us all like in The Handmaid's Tale, right?" and it has become so dreadful now to interact with them. Anytime I disagree, they try to intellectually dominate me or put me under them in a way where I have no choice but to just leave the conversation.

I know this was a lot. But is there any advice you might have for someone like me? Because I sometimes feel like I am being painted as crazy. I know things will be hard but they genuinely want me to believe I have no future and I can't stand that.

Also, would it be too much to ask if you maybe mind sharing some of the other people/blogs you follow?

I once heard advice on dealing with Qanon family members who had fallen down the rabbit hole and only ever wanted to talk about conspiracy theories or the outrage bait they'd seen on Fox News or OANN or whatever, about not challenging them on their views but basically saying "I don't want to talk about this; let's talk about our plans for the weekend, or what movie we wanna go see later, or what interesting books you've read lately." The idea being, arguing with someone can only further entrench their beliefs, and if you really want to shake someone out of their dismal universe of conspiracism, it helps to remind them of all the things that aren't the fear-and-anger-activating content they're stuffing their brains with for hours every day.

Maybe something like this could help? I have a hard time imagining that someone really believes The Handmaid's Tale really is just around the corner--if you really believed that, surely you would be trying to flee to Canada or doing some political volunteer work or something--and sometimes doomer stuff can be kind of reflexive or phatic, like making a crack about how your retirement plan is to die in the water wars or something. But even if it isn't, I don't think there's any point in trying to argue about this stuff in the moment. Instead try to build on the things you still find fulfilling in that friendship, the conversations and interests and activities with those friends that caused you to become friends in the first place.

If you can't do that--if hanging out with them is always a constant grind of full-throttle doomerism, and they express no interest in actually trying to do something with their feelings of anger and frustration--you are perfectly within your rights to spend less time around them. You could, if you wanted to and you felt that you owed them at least that, give them a heads up as to why. If a close friend of mine or a family member was doing this, I would certainly talk to them about it. But your obligation to subject yourself to someone else's self-destructive idee fixe is not bottomless. Even with a partner you are within your rights to eventually say "I'm not going to talk about this with you anymore."

(And that's not only true of politics or conspiracy theories, by the way! If you have a close friend or family member or partner who--for example--has severe depression but refuses to seek treatment for it, you are not obligated to be the sponge for their misery forever every time they need someone to talk to. If someone in your life is in a relationship or a job that is making them miserable, and won't do anything to leave that relationship or find a new job, and just wants a friend to complain to, you are within your rights to eventually shut that down. Lots of people fall into a holding pattern in their life where they are unhappy but unable to do anything about it, and they will make this their friends' or loved ones' problem. That doesn't make them bad people: lord knows I have found myself doing this before. It's a very human thing to do. But sometimes the Good Friend Thing is to say "I love you, and will support you if you want to actually *do something* about your situation, but otherwise, oh my god shut the fuck up." But, you know, nicely.)

But if your friends want to make themselves miserable because hanging on to an endless stream of toxicity and doomerism from social media (and I will bet this is primarily coming from social media) is more important to them than your friendship, and they can't handle you not agreeing with them, you may lose them as friends. If you do, I'm sorry. That sucks. It's hard to lose friends, and it's even harder later in life when making new friends is more difficult, and I don't want to pretend like that's not a big deal.

[floorbe]

hihi!! i was wondering about something in BG3.

i have tattoos. two on my wrists (one's a moth and the other a pretty mushroom), and a thirteen inch tattoo along my back of the phases of the moon.

how would Astarion react to seeing his lover's tattoos? the scared part of my mind feels like he'd be offended, but i'd also like to think that tattoos are a way for me to take control of my own self and feel in control of my own body again, and he'd see that.

so... what's your verdict??

great question anon!! also ur tatts sound so sick omg... ive been wanting to get one lmfao

-When he first meets you he may insult them out of his own frustration. Why do you get to fuck up your body however you want when he can't even stand in the sunlight he longs for? It's unfair.

-Unfair that you get to do what you want. Unfair that you got to choose what was carved into your skin when he-- ah. There's the root.

-The insults die down the longer you travel together and the closer you two become. As he starts to realize that he can take himself back (and when he realizes that you respect him-- when was the last time he'd felt that?) he sees your tattoos as less of a slight against him and more of a... possibility?

-After a while, you'll instead catch him studying your tattoos when he thinks you aren't looking. This is when the change between insulting your tattoos to complimenting them begins.

-Once past his own frustrations, Astarion would be very supportive! We've seen him when you get Loviatar's blessing- this guy is all for pain and reward (though mostly the pain)!

-He will 100% force you to take him with you to your next tattoo session just to watch and cheer. Wince for him, would you? It's terribly boring watching someone get drawn on, throw him a bone!

-(Nevermind the fact that he was the one who insisted on coming along, but who is Astarion if not dramatic?)

-As much as he supports your decision and regularly tells you how utterly delectable your inked skin looks ("Gods, your skin practically glows in the moonlight, dear... Might I have a nibble? Just to see if it tastes as delicious as you look, of course."), a part of him still feels... bitter.

-He'll feel a bit bittersweet about it if it's a sentimental tattoo you've gotten, but even moreso if it was an impulse or fun decision.

-A part of him will always long to decorate his own body to his own wants- to finally get what he likes on himself. He wants the choice to fuck up his own body if he wants to.

-...He isn't ready for that quite yet, though. Tattoos remind him too much of the runes already on his back- particularly the pain aspect. He's heard you describe the sensation and isn't keen to try it out just yet.

-Don't be fooled, this doesn't mean he won't let you draw up some designs for him. In fact-- he'll demand you to draw a picture of some ideas for him- he must see what you've thought up for him! What do you think would decor him well?! Make him even more beautiful? Oh, you must show him!

-If you offer to actually tattoo him he'll wave you off playfully with a comment on "my skin is flawless already-- why tarnish it?" or a "darling, you wound me... here I thought you loved me for me"

-Not yet, it seems. But one day, you're both sure, he'll take you up on it.

-He already lives out his dreams of living in the sunlight through you- and his dreams of being a hero, being publicly adored, powerful... why shouldn't he live out this part of himself through you, too?

-At least until he's ready for his own tattoo. Which, based on how he's been eying your ink for the past week and rubbing his own wrist, seems sooner than you think.

[backseatsoldier]

"Broken", Not Stupid - 12

Pairing: alpha!Simon "Ghost" Riley x unusual omega!OC (13)

CW: Omegaverse; cult-like situation; dehumanization; selling children to a cult

Author's Note: @jeanzoriley-cod ready? owo <3

"Think maybe we should see about introducing her to Jeanz?"

13 is bolting from clothing rack to clothing rack in the next shop, gathering things to try on. Meanwhile, Simon and Johnny are keeping a close and protective eye while giving her space to do her shopping.

Simon's question, however, pulls Johnny's attention from 13.

"I think it'd be good for her to have other, female friends," Johnny nods, but the look in his eye says he's far more excited about the idea than he's letting on.

"You also just want to see Jeanz again," Simon teases him.

"Who's Jeanz?" 13 asks, having popped up between the two alphas with her arms full of clothing options. "Can you help me get these to the fitting rooms? I haven't gotten new clothes in a while so I wanna try things on before I decide on them."

Simon and Johnny each take an arm-full of the clothes 13 is carrying and follow her to the fitting rooms.

"Jeanz is a co-worker-"

"And friend," Johnny adds. "She helps out our team once in a while."

"And Johnny's sweet on her," Simon chuckles. "She's an omega, though, and I figured you may need friends. Espeically friends that aren't just alphas."

"I am not!" Johnny denies Simon's claim imeediately, his accent getting thicker in his denial.

13 stops outside a fitting room and looks up at Johnny.

"You're blushing," she points out, making the redness in Johnny's cheeks darken.

The Scotsman chooses not to respond this time, instead he gives the clothes back to 13. She grins as she accepts the clothes then disappears into the fitting room with the first load of clothing. By time she's finished trying on all of the clothes she picked out, she's managed to wittle the piles down to enough outfits for a full week that can be mixed and matched as needed.

"So Jeanz?" 13 prods Simon as Johnny leads them to the next shop.

"She's... a lot like you, actually. Even as an omega, she doesn't bend easily. You give her hell, she'll give it back easily. I think you two would get along great, based on what I know of you both. There's a lot of male alphas in my circle and, since you're going to be around, I'll need to expand that circle a bit."

13 scowls a bit but it's quickly replaced with a smile.

"I appreciate it. I haven't had... long term friendships in a while so it'll be nice to try to make those connections again."

"I also need to talk to you about," Simon takes a deep breath, "therpay. Your views on it and so on. I think going would benefit you greatly, but I won't force you into it."

"I've honeslty never been," 13 shrugs. "It... scares be a bit, the idea of going, but I'm willing to try. Seems I'll have a decent support system, though."

The way she looks up at Simon this time nearly makes him come to a full stop. His heart might have done so, though. A warm feeling fills Simon's chest, almost making it ache, but he brushes off the feeling and continues following Johnny with 13.

Simon glances down to 13's feet. She's wearing the slippers from Salvation still.

The woman needs shoes. She needs them badly.

"Johnny," Simon calls to him, "this one next," he announces as he nods towards the shoe store across the street. Then he looks down to 13, offering her an arm. "Stay cloe, yeah? Don't need you getting hit trying to cross the street."

13 shifts what few shopping bags the guys allowed her to carry to one arm and loops her now-free arm through Simon's.

"I'd prefer life, yeah," she chuckles.

Masterlist | CoD Masterlist | Part One

Tag List: @lucienofthelakes @lostintransist @demothers-empty-blog @scaredyspooks @tessakate @one-really-annoying-tree-rat @nerdyphantomtheorist @gazsluckyhat @peanutismynickname @jeanzoriley-cod

[modelbus]

Would you look at that, it's another COD songfic. ⚠️ WARNING: the last bit is a little spicy!! ⚠️

Pairing: John Price X Gn!Reader

Talk

I'd be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground I'd be the dreadful need in the devotee that made him turn around

Your Captain was a good man. Everyone said it. He was revered, looked up to, practically worshipped. A man who got his team in and out, often in one piece.

A man who appeared around every corner you turned, a friendly smile on his face and a coffee in hand.

"Thought I'd catch you headin' toward the armory." He'll say, offering the cup to you.

"Did you need me for something?" You ask, although you know his response will always be the same.

"Just wanted to check on ya. Can't hurt to have some company."

John Price is always there. In the hall outside your room in the mornings, in the mess hall when you are, stepping into the range when you're practicing. A constant presence behind you, oftentimes with gifts.

It's as if he has to seek you out, a magnet pulling him to wherever you are. Maybe it should be alarming. Maybe. But your Captain is a good man.

"Old wraps are no good, you know." Price says from behind you, his footsteps quiet in the training room.

You reach out, steadying the punching bag. After a moment, you turn to see him, eyes flitting down to the new wraps he holds in his hands.

"We order new ones?" You ask, already starting to unwind the current ones around your knuckles.

"Aye. Meant to be made of stronger stuff. Someone likes to wear through them."

"Guilty as charged, Cap." He doesn't offer the wraps to you, so you offer your hands instead. You're rewarded with a smile in return.

Carefully, and perhaps taking too much time, he winds the wrap around your hands and knuckles. "Gotta take care of these hands. We need 'em." His hands squeeze yours before he pulls back.

Is it a crime to miss the contact? You'll ask the punching bag. "Yes sir."

I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the things I would do So I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out How I'm imaginin' you

"A man would be lucky to have you." Price tells you from behind his beer, dark eyes slowly tracing down your figure and back up again.

The hair on the back of your neck raises, like it always does when you're in danger. When you're the prey instead of the predator.

"Not all of them are worthy of having you, though." He continues, taking a sip—a swig—from the bottle.

Was it any wonder he'd find you in the rec room tonight, alone? That he'd have alcohol to share?

"Amen to that." You answer, laughing to try and diffuse the heaviness in the air.

"'M serious, love. Poets write sonnets 'bout the likes of you."

The idea is laughable. "It's the muscles." You joke to him, glancing down at your own empty bottle.

"A beautiful body." He hums, his gaze weighing on your skin like a physical touch. "With the mind to match, of course."

Bad ideas upon bad ideas. You didn't feel smart right now, just ensnared. A rabbit who stumbled into a trap, exactly like planned.

Price smiles at you, slow and relaxed. You smile back.

"Help an old man to his room?" He asks you, standing. There's not a hint of a slur in his words, nor does he wobble. You're willing to bet he isn't even buzzed.

"You're hardly an old man." Yet you stand too, waiting by the doorway for him.

"Compared to you?" He pauses next to you, ducking his head to speak the words into your ear. "It'd be a crime in God's eyes for me to touch you."

You're frozen in place, but he doesn't reach for your body. He waits, though it's clear he's anything but patient right now. The look in his eyes is hungry — for you.

"Don't think God watches us anymore." Your voice comes out quiet.

His hands land on your waist, pushing you against the doorframe as he boxes you in. "Let's hope not, yeah?"

I'd be the last shred of truth in the lost myth of true love I'd be the sweet feeling of release mankind now dreams of Imagine being loved by me

John's arm slides around your waist as he settles on the couch beside you, pressing a brief kiss to your bare shoulder where your sweater has dipped down. You relax into him and his warmth easily, eyes never leaving the intense board game between Soap and Ghost on the floor.

"Having fun?" John asks, dragging his teeth on your shoulder before relenting and stopping. "They still going at it?"

"It's the most entertainment we've had in weeks." You nod. "And I think Ghost will stab him in his sleep."

"I heard that!" Soap shouts, barely even looking up from the board.

"You got bigger problems, lad." John snorts, squeezing your waist. "And I have more important things to focus on." He adds, quieter so only you hear it.

He's the perfect gentleman. A good Captain, a good man, a good lover. Sweet.

But sometimes, when his lips ghost over your skin, soft as a breeze, you get the feeling he's playing a sheep in wolf's clothing. The blue of his eyes can't hide how they linger on you when he thinks you aren't looking, and no amount of gentle affection can mask the way he always grabs for you.

Sweet little soldier, caught in your Captain's webs. Somewhere dangerous that you love to be at.

He laces his fingers with yours, sighing quietly. Probably tired from paperwork that accumulates after every mission, per usual. At least it makes him a great pillow at night.

What an honor it is to be loved by him.

I won't deny I've got in my mind now All the things I would do So I try to talk refined, for fear that you find out How I'm imaginin' you

"Fucking gorgeous."

You tighten your hand in his hair, heading tipping back against the pillows as his lips trace a path down your body. You're peeling apart, splitting open, right along the seam of where his kisses are. Down the center of your chest, down your abdomen, down your stomach.

"So pretty." He murmurs, eyes on you even as he bites into your skin. His tongue lathes over the mark to soothe it, only for him to immediately repeat the motion elsewhere. "And all mine, sweetheart."

"Yours." You agree mindlessly. "Fuck, John. Just stop teasing."

John laughs against your skin, squeezing your thighs just because he can. His grip will leave bruises in the morning you're sure. It's not the first time, and wont be the last.

"I've got you all to myself, sweetheart. You think I ain't gonna enjoy it? Take my time putting you in all the positions I've imagined?" His eyes meet yours, and you swallow.

You're so fucked. Have been since the second you stepped foot on this base.

"Dontcha worry 'bout a thing." He lifts his head a little to grin at you. "I've got you."

As his lips return to your body—and that fucking tongue—you send a silent prayer to God to look away.

John Price may be a great Captain, but he was hungry for something you found out far too late, after you were in far too deep.

[jadeleechwife]

Hii!

Could I request platonic Boothill, Gallagher, Sunday and Blade with a teen reader that kind of just stuck to them because they have no parents?

(idk if I can request platonic hcs, pls lmk if not <33)

hello!! thanks for your request, I hope you like it!! <33 and it's fine really, I also enjoy platonic hcs. sorry for the bad grammar

Boothill

- When Boothill found you, you were heavily injured, bleeding. Alongside you, there were two adult figures, both lifeless.

- Boothill was in the middle of a mission that just happens to be in a place that was recently attacked by Anti-matter Legion. He couldn't help but notice your figure, somehow still alive.

- He took you with him to treat your injuries. When you woke up, you were scared, noticing to be in a place that isn't your home, your parents missing and with a cowboy cyborg man watching you.

- You asked where your parents were, but Boothill just sighed, admitting that they won't be with you so soon.

- You got the message and immediately started crying in pure despair, you were alone. Alone in this world with nobody to lend you a hand.

- Boothill could only remember his time when he lost everything, when he lost his kid and family. He felt the closest feeling to what should be an ache to his chest, and suggested that if you wanted to, you could stay with him. He knew he was being impulsive, as a teen living with him could only mean putting them in danger, but he could never let someone who desperately needs help like you to be left behind.

- You were wary about his request at first, but you didn't see any options beside accepting it, as you had nowhere to go.

- And so Boothill became your reference.

- To ensure your safety, he taught you how to handle guns, how to aim in the right spots to take your enemy down, and practiced your reflexes so you wouldn't be easily hit.

- His trainings were all strict, but it was all to keep you safe. He always tried to cheer you up with jokes and reassured you when you weren't doing well in your practices.

- Even after so many training, he still would be really protective of you, being able to beat his targets while also looking after your safety

- "Don'tcha worry kid, while you're with me, no one's gonna hurt ya." - He winked while you both were preparing yourselves to another mission.

Bonus: On your birthday, Boothill would gift you a similar hat that he is using to you, after all you were teammates now, right?

Gallagher

- Gallagher found you by pure chance while strolling the streets.

- He saw a teenager sneaking through a store and and carefully putting something in their pocket while leaving.

- He follows you and eventually corners you to ask you questions.

- You explained that you are only doing that for survival. Your parents sacrificed themselves to keep you safe from an unknown attack, making you completely alone.

- Gallagher listened carefully and couldn't help but also somehow identify himself with you in his darker times, completely lost, without a place to go.

- He told you to bare with him a bit and follow, while he has an idea.

- After a long discussion with the Bloodhound Family, they allowed Gallagher to watch over you with the condition that you don't interfere in any of their duties.

- You were truly surprised at first, as Gallagher didn't miss a beat to somehow take care of you. As much you were suspicious about second intentions, you rather try and see if that was a trap instead of refusing and choose to live only by surviving.

- He said you both will be living by an accord: he would take care of you and guarantee a better life, while you promise to never cause any sort of trouble again and also giving back the thing you stole it. For you, it was a win-win situation, so you had no complains.

- Gallagher was a mysterious man to you, full of secrets, always with a tired look. But even so, he was always ready to teach you many things and tips so you can grown up and be a wise adult.

- Also, in any case of potential danger, he was always prepared to keep you safe, hiding you in perfect spots, or keeping you behind him while he takes care of the threat. He was a silent but caring parental figure to you.

- "I didn't have much opportunities to have someone to guide me to be a better person. I don't want you to be like me, kid. I want you to be whoever you want, and better." - He said one day while sipping a drink he prepared and you also drinking a juice he made.

- You didn't get much of what he said, but you knew he was always trying to teach you only the best. He was hiding a lot and you knew it, but you believed it was for your own good.

Bonus: He teaches you the basic of mixing drinks and sometimes you both have nights where you can experiment combinations of drinks all you like! He always drinks everything you create even when the taste is questionable.

Sunday

- Sunday and the Astral Express decided to relax a bit at a nearby stop when he found you.

- You were wandering, with a hollowing look in your eyes, seeming completely lost.

- He decided to approach you, asking if you were okay and where your parents were.

- "I lost my parents. I lost everything. All it remains is.... void. Nothing. I am nothing."

- Sunday eyes widened at the realization you were just a teenager, lost and unprotected making him remind of his sister, and his deep fear of losing her and let her all alone.

- He asked you to follow him and if you wanted to stay with him and his crew for a bit. You just shrugged off, "it's not like if it matters or not", you thought.

- The Astral Express welcomed you with open arms, touched by your situation, and told you can stay as much as you like until you find somewhere you can call a home.

- Even if the others were extremely kind to you, Sunday was the one approaching you the most, including you in every situation. He couldn't help but try to make you see him as an older brother figure to make you feel safer.

- It took a while for you to open up, but as Sunday keep tolding you his and the others stories, making sure you were always comfortable, and reassuring you to take your time to adapt to the new environment, you finally felt like everything is ok.

- As you discover that Sunday would be temporarily in the Astral Express, you insisted that you want to go with him when he finally finds his promised land. Sunday was surprised, specially because you called him big brother as you stated your wish.

- With a tender smile on his face, he promised he will always be with you, and you both will be searching for this land together.

- "Don't be scared little one, the future is uncertain, but as long we stick together, we don't have to fear anything."

Bonus: Sunday writes a letter to Robin saying he wants you both to meet each other, stating that the family got bigger. He cannot wait until the moment you three can be together.

Blade

- Him and the Stellaron Hunters were traveling around following Elio's script when they found you, almost on the verge of death.

- Kafka already knew it was part of the destiny to finding you, and asked Blade to handle the situation.

- He was confused at first, not knowing much what to do, but even so he scooped your fragile body onto his arms and took you alongside to the Stellaron Hunters.

- After some weeks you finally opened your eyes and saw Blade on your side. He told you he knew you would wake up today and was checking up how you were feeling.

- You said you were lost, and still feeling pain, but you remembered a strong man carrying you to safety. "It was you, right?" you asked.

- After you were completely recovered, Kafka always made sure you were always by Blade's side, making Blade teaching you the basic of self defense, even if against his will.

- Somehow, after passing so much time with Blade, you got attached to him, seeing as some sort of big brother figure. You wanted to follow his steps, be strong and relentless as him. You admired him.

- Blade, on the other side, tried to push you away as much as possible. Firstly because he thought you were a hassle to handle, but then he realized it was because he wanted to protect you. He was a monster, and that was no lie to him, and the last thing he wanted was ending up hurting you somehow.

- He didn't know how to handle you most of the times, as he was not used to deal with teenagers, but even that, he started to enjoying your company, even if never admitting that.

- "Listen kid, one day, when my journey reaches to an end, I am going to die. Don't think that as a bad thing. It's my most deserved rest. Until that day, I am going to make you stronger. You will never be like me, but take that as a blessing. You will continue your journey on your own, but this time, you won't need to be scared. Take the obstacles of your journey as challenges to reach your highest potential. Don't waste anything, got it?" He said that to you one day.

- Even if you were scared of losing someone you cared for again, you already understood everything he said. You smiled, and promised to be the strongest warrior someone ever seen.

Bonus: On the beginning of your training, Blade was teaching you how to reach for the enemies weak spot and made you stab him on his chest. You were terrified as seeing the sword crossing his body completely, your mind going blank. Blade couldn't help but laugh as he takes off the weapon watch your reaction as his body regenerates. It was the first time you thought he was super cool.

[bitletsanddrabbles]

Island of the Procrastinating Brain

I swear, my brain is actively trying to drive me insane.

Back in 2022 it came up with a plot for @alex51324 's "Island of the Gays" where the Duke of Crowborough comes to the Island because, well, by this point the man's less of a human being than he is a walking bundle of neurosis. I got through a couple of scenes before my brain got tired and stalled out, but I still have a good frame work. Every once in awhile, I come back and poke at it and get out a few more sentences. Maybe even a paragraph or two.

Yeah, have I mentioned I'm not a fast writer?

And Phillip does NOT want to deal with his issues and Thomas does NOT want to deal with Phillip, which, okay, FAIR, but that's kinda the point of the whole thing. But in the meantime my brain still wants to write Phillip on the Island, so what's it done?

Come up with a sequel, naturally!

And it really, really wants to write this sequel despite the fact I can't do it properly until I've written the first piece, which neither my brain or my characters seems interested in, because they are all PUNKS, but my brain will NOT stop thinking about this hypothetical sequel which, at this point, will never be written.

So I'm just going to write out the summary for the thing here, in case anyone's curious and wants a laugh, because I can and maybe it'll galvanize the lump of grey cells in my skull to be productive. Maybe. Not holding my breath.

Things you need to know before going into this:

Random.org has decided that Thomas is married to Peter Fitzroy for this one, which is kinda important for Thomas's characterization.

Phillip only kinda counts as human at this point, but he's actively trying to fix that. The results are mixed.

It was inspired by a couple of polls I ran when I was trying to figure out where I was taking the first piece (hey! I have the last scene written!) and the suggestions that Phillip might like working in some sort of architectural field (believe that was from @o-rchidae) and that he wind up married with an older working class bloke who would not take his shit.

Right then. Let's go.

-

Okay, so, this takes place a couple of years after the Walking Disaster of Crowborough arrived. At one point he was tapped to help with building or repairs or some such and he realized he liked it, so he's taken to studying books on building and architecture and has joined up with the local work crew. The problem is, he's basically teaching himself out of books and then applying it to real life, so he keeps getting ideas about "Say, why don't we do this thing THIS way?" and while it'll seem like a reasonable idea, there is, in fact, a very good reason NOT to do it that way, but because a) he's a Duke and b) a bunch of people hate him, on general principle if nothing else, everyone just goes "Oh, okay, sure" and the do it that way and…it fails. And the people who hate him laugh and it's obvious that EVERYONE knew it was a bad idea and he gets frustrated, but he wont' say it, because a) Duke and b) boys don't cry.

And this goes on for awhile.

After a bit, though, a new guy shows up who has lots of experience building things. It was kinda his job before he got here. He is educated in the ways of Building Things and knows what's up. He's also at least ten years Phillip's senior and has limited patience for upper class twits, so when he joins the crew and is informed there's this know-it-all-Duke who's always demanding they do things his way (by which we mean 'making suggestions that everyone just goes along with'), even though it's stupid and wastes time and resources, this guy goes "Pff, not on MY watch!"

And sure enough, the next time Phillip makes one of his suggestions, instead of "Yeah, sure, okay" he gets "We're not doing that." Why? "'Cause it's a stupid idea that won't work." WHY? "Because (insert full explanation of why the thing wouldn't work)." And Phillip stops asking and the rest of the crew cheers and laughs at how the old guy sure showed him and they anticipate an end to the questions.

THIS TOTALLY BACKFIRES.

Instead Phillip, who had actually been kinda slowing down on the suggestions over time, is making ALL of the suggestions, ALL of the times, and arguing every last aspect of the suggestion with Old Timer before giving up. The crew can't put up a fence without an argument. Old Timer starts calling Phillip 'Phil'. Rather than tell him to stop, Phillip just starts calling Old Timer by a similar nickname, which Old Timer ignores, because not giving in to his own trick, oh no. There's talk of starting a police department in case they murder each other.

After this has gone on for awhile there is a Big Dramatic Plot Twist and the Old Timer goes out into the woods for something and…doesn't come back in a timely manner. He stays gone long enough for people to get worried and mount a search. To everyone's shock, Phillip wants to come. He's quite insistent on the point. They finally agree to put him in Thomas's party because he and Thomas "get along now" (read: Thomas has spent enough time with Peter talking him down that he can tolerate Phillip's presence under the right circumstances as long as he doesn't say anything). The parties go out and before long, Thomas and Phillip's party has the good luck to find Old Timer. He's accidentally been injured badly enough he can't walk and crawling through the woods is not easy going. The manner of this accident wasn't a super obvious bad idea, but that could maybe have been avoided with a bit more thought, perhaps, with luck. Most of the party just nods and goes "Yeah, sounds about right, could have happened to anyone."

…Phillip flips straight out and starts screaming at Old Timer for being an idiot who could have got himself killed. And then storms off a ways into the woods, back toward the village, leaving everyone else wondering a) the best way to get the injured man back home and b) what the heck just happened with the prissy little Duke. Thomas gets deputized to go find out what Phillip's problem is. There is protesting involved, but he finally gives in because he'd like to be home by dinner, thank you very much.

Phillip has, by this point, stopped to have a smoke, which both gives Thomas an opportunity to catch up and, thankfully, a scent to find him by. Thomas asks him why on earth he's so upset that Old Timer is hurt since the two of them hate each other and everyone figured Phillip would LOVE it if the other man died…

And that's when he finds out that everyone's had that relationship all backwards. Phillip doesn't hate the Old Timer, oh no! He loves being called 'Phil'. He absolutely adores the fact that when he asks "Why don't we do this?", rather than just go "Yeah, okay" and waste time and resources doing something HE KNOWS WON'T WORK, the Old Timer says 'no' and, over the course of the argument, actually EXPLAINS why not, which means Phillip ACTUALLY LEARNS THINGS. The more he argues, the better he becomes at building things and he doesn't have to try and decipher what some book is telling him or guess what the book might be leaving out and he LOVES IT and if the Old Timer had died, how would he learn things then? When Thomas points out that he'd learn just as much - maybe more - if he just asked the Old Timer to teach him things rather than argue, Phillip low key panics because what if he figures out Phillip WANTS to learn and stops talking to him or refuses because he doesn't like him at all?

By this point Thomas is a) trying to remember if he was ever THIS paranoid, and praying he wasn't and b) wondering what on earth to do with a Duke who is clearly in love with a crusty old working class codger, but hasn't figured it out yet.

He decides to tell Rouse and make it HIS mess to deal with.

Phillip and the Old Timer eventually get married and get a cottage of their own and Phillip about dies happy at the idea of a home that he actually owns instead of something that he's the custodian of for the next generation who will be the custodians for the generation after that and so on.

[incorrect-fnaf-quotes]

Rabbit Restoration Project: |16|

You moved away from the locked door, starting up a little pace in front of Springtrap. Okay, okay... I think that probably could have gone differently. I shouldn't have even answered.

The rabbit said nothing, only repeatedly glancing towards the right, and then to the left, to watch you. Why did I even bother? Either way, she was going to force her way in.

You shook your head and sighed. Forget about her right now. There's a lot of other stuff that should be focused on right now. I still don't have everything for Springtrap...

The pacing came to an end, but your feet continued to move--going back over to the couch, where you leaned against the back of it. I could get ready for the day, and out to do that. How long would that take?

Springtrap started to make his way over to the couch to join you. How well would it go if I brought him with me? Or if he just stayed here and waited for me to come back?

With a grunt, you shook your head, pushing the idea away for now. No. There's something else that I want to get done first. If he wants me to know about it...

You clapped your hands together, clearing your throat--and the sound caused the rabbit's ears to twitch, and after a moment, he tilted his head to the side. "Mmm?"

"Springtrap," You turned to stare at the tall rabbit, "I want to know about it. If it's so important... and maybe I'm actually a little curious now."

"About?" Springtrap grinned, inching a little closer.

"Freddy's." You answered with a huff, before walking alongside the back of the couch, until you reached the front, and collapsed onto it.

There was a delighted chuckle, followed by his footsteps--just a little heavier. "Do you not tire of spilling out so many questions?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Well, do you not tire of being vague, rabbit?"

The rabbit snorted, but he said nothing. Instead, you only sat there, listening to the continues footsteps here and there, before Springtrap was finally in your line of sight.

Except, instead of choosing to sit down, Springtrap was standing a few feet away from you, the grin on his face almost seeming a little bigger. It was like you were in a class, and he was about to give a presentation.

"You'd keep squeezing out all of those questions, so it's best that I tell you enough." Springtrap hummed, ears slowly twitching. "Then, your lack of knowledge won't be so... frustrating."

Throwing your hands up at his voice, they were momentarily placed on either side of your face, and a huff escaped. "Will you let that go already??"

You thought you heard what sounded like a "No", but that wasn't completely certain--as Springtrap seemed to move along, his raspy voice just being quick enough.

"The first to be created was Fredbear's Family Diner. Officially, by two old friends, the diner opened its doors in the late 70's." Springtrap began. "It was quite a tiny thing, but neither of them cared too much."

Your mouth started to open--but almost as if he read your mind for the approaching question, Springtrap continued. "Henry and William... each of them had children--all of whom visited the diner frequently enough."

Closing your mouth, and nodding, Springtrap let out a little hum. "It went well enough for the next few years, minus a little... situation, for one of them," He seemed to almost shudder at something, "But then came 1983."

For a minute, there was silence from the rabbit, as he almost seemed to be deep enough in thought that he had become distracted. You considered snapping to get his attention.

Although, just as you began to move your fingers closer together, Springtrap started up again. "It closed shortly after an unfortunate birthday surprise. But, of course... it wasn't the only location to be made."

"Wait-"

"Back then, I was only aware of three other locations." Springtrap kept going, holding out a few fingers in front of you, before wiggling them around a little bit.

An unfortunate... what? What happened during a birthday? You reached a hand up to scratch at your face. Was there just some sort of malfunction at one point, maybe?

Or maybe the place hadn't been getting all that many guests or money for a while? In front of you, Springtrap had started to slowly pace back and forth. Whatever happened could have been minor, but enough to finally close it?

It shouldn't bug me, but why didn't he say what it was? Springtrap's pace quickened, and you rolled your eyes. Would he come back to it and be like: "Three guesses for what happened, let's see if you win!"?

You shook your head, and Springtrap's voice broke through the thoughts. "This one with the "Toys", I'd say that it had... better luck at remaining opened. But not good enough."

Shoot... did I miss out on some of his explanation? "It succeeded for only about a week. Similarly to the diner, it closed after a birthday party. A man's frontal lobe was bitten by the fox."

Your eyes went wide, and although your mouth opened to be able to say anything, no noises were pulled out--dying down below in your throat. What?!

Springtrap waved a hand around, shrugging. "I believe the man was a worker there. He was sent to the hospital after everyone realized what had happened. I have been unaware of his fate."

He came to a stop in front of you. "They held a few old animatronics in a room near the back. So, when the incident caused this pizzeria to shut its-"

"Excuse me... what?!" The words forced their way out of you.

"Mmm?"

Getting off of the couch, you stared up at the rabbit. With how close he was, you had to back up a bit to actually see his face--but going any further, and the couch would be your spot again.

"You're telling me that a dude gets his head bitten by an animatronic," You exhaled, "And you don't know what happened to him after? And that they managed to open up another place?"

"Well, for one," Springtrap grumbled, giving a little shrug again, "I was not exactly there when it happened. I never did go to the hospital, either. His incident was the only part I was ever aware of."

Your arms crossed. It would be pretty strange to see an animatronic wandering through a hospital's halls... but focus.

"As for getting a new place opening shortly after..." Springtrap chuckled, and it sounded as if he were smirking. "Well, you'd be shocked by how many incidents there were... but that never stopped them."

"Tragedies were splattered all across Freddy's, no matter the location, even some of the more recent ones." Springtrap continued. "Learning if any new ones had been built... it was a part of my little research."

"Tell me." You blurted, sitting back down.

The rabbit stared.

"Tell me about the other things that happened at the other locations." Can't be too bad, can it? That guy... that was already bad. But I didn't see it, at least... that must have been a shock.

"Oh," Springtrap tilted his head, and hummed. "Are you so certain? I don't want to scare you and have you up in the middle of the night, scared to fall asleep, and have nightmares..." He chuckled.

"And then, what would certainly be worse for you-"

Stop talking like that. "Springtrap, tell me about the other birthday from the diner."

The words caught in Springtrap's throat, and as he fell silent, it was as if his whole body had frozen, too.

About a minute passed--the rabbit seemingly needing that time to process your request, before he focused on you. Springtrap's eyes seemed to twitch as they stared. "What?"

"You heard me. I want to hear about what happened... you were there, you had to know." You answered. Please don't be the worst thing ever, please don't be the worst thing ever...

Springtrap finally started to move again--albeit the slowest that you had seen at this point, and he huffed. He hesitantly waved a hand around. "Fine, fine, if you so insist..."

"It was late October when the boy, one of the owners' sons--William's, to be exact, was having his latest birthday there. Everything had been set up to be perfect." Springtrap rasped.

"And that's what it truly was for a short time: perfect. Unfortunately, the youngest son had an older brother, who also had some friends. They thought that they could mess with him that day."

"And?"

Springtrap just stared. "The group came up with some sort of prank--that is what they kept calling it. Picking the boy up, they headed over to where Fredbear resided on the stage, in the middle of a song..."

The rabbit's voice just seemed to be getting colder, and if it had an actual feeling, then you would have shivered. "They managed to lift the young boy up, placing his whole head into the opened mouth of Fredbear..."

Your eyes widened. "W-"

"He got in the way. Fredbear kept trying his best to perform with something stuck, but you want to know what that resulted in?" Springtrap whispered, his head tilting again.

Springtrap, ever so slightly, opened his mouth back up--but not so much that you could actually manage to see inside--before quickly closing it with a quick chomp.

He laughed, but it was filled with so much bitterness. "I may have told you that I don't bite, but that day? Fredbear certainly did. The boy's whole head had been crushed so effectively..."

"Hey-"

Springtrap kept going, starting up a new pace again. "Blood stained the floor, the stage, and anything else close by, like Fredbear himself. It was a miracle that they cleaned it all up, but not the one that was needed..."

He clenched a fist. "Nobody was able to prevent it in time. Not even me. I hadn't been there at the time--not performing, nothing. They'd pulled him out of the jaws, and it was certainly not a pleasant sight."

His voice was getting a little quicker. "You didn't even need to be close to see all of the details of the horrid injury... you could already tell. But in that moment, the boy was still alive."

"He didn't stay that way for long. Shortly after, the boy died in the hospital, unable to be saved. So much blood was spilled that day in the diner, and it would not be the last."

"Hey!" Your voice was a little louder that time, your eyes still wide--but if Springtrap had managed to hear, then he was simply ignoring it all in the moment.

"The other owner, Henry... he lost his daughter, Charlotte, just outside. She had been thrown out into the pouring rain. It was so loud, and everyone was distracted, that nobody could hear her..."

"Not even if she had screamed." Springtrap hissed. "Henry had been searching for his beloved daughter for some time, but by the time she was discovered, it was far too late."

"Spr-"

"A few years later, five more lost their lives. It was said that they had each been lured away by someone there. And yet, you want to know something a little funny?"

He spread his hands out. "They searched, and searched, and kept searching... but no matter how hard they did, it didn't seem like they would succeed in finding any of the five."

Springtrap leaned forwards. "And you want to know something else? They say that the five of them were placed in the suits of the anim-"

"Springtrap!" You shouted, raising from the spot on the couch a little more quickly than before, and holding out a hand in front of the rabbit. "Enough. I don't... I'd rather not hear any more, okay?"

"Are you certain?" Springtrap stared at your growing frown.

"Yes." It was an instant reply. Looking away from Springtrap, you spun around, staring towards the front door. You began making your way over towards it.

"Now, I'm going to head out and collect a few things that I need. Just stay here..." You took in a deep breath.

Springtrap wasn't following you like the last couple of times--instead, he remained by the couch, letting out a few huffs, before it was followed by slow mechanical whirring.

You didn't need to look back to know that the rabbit was staring--watching you. It could be easily felt.

And it continued to be--until you walked through the door, and promptly shut it. You leaned against it and groaned.

@ravenmccookies @mcfries123 @spaciebabie

[what-is-it-to-be-pk-esque]

Ok I know I'm heavily biased here but like I kinda love that Astarion's romance is one of the few in this type of video game where you basically end up canonically unmarried and childfree in his "good" ending? Just travelling the world??

Like it's honestly the millennial dream lmfaoo cannot believe i chose what would undoubtedly be my favorite option, first try

[raayllum]

2x06 / 2x07

+ Bonus:

[clementimetodie]

Why does the right constantly believe they are not being idealistic, the world needs to conform to your beliefs for them to work too, things are not going to just turn on a dime because you think you're intellectually superior for not thinking about the impact your changes would have on other people

[mcrcki]

it stopped being about a choice and became a necessity the moment she realized just how far fucking gone he was, how corrupted this power had made him. the moment he confirmed that he was the reason her sister was dead, that mira had been drained by him-- he was still xaden, his voice, his words, everything was still screaming at her that he was still in there, and yet, could she really believe that he was going to be stop there? that he wouldn't continue to fall down this path of corruption until he was no better than the venin that killed liam? 'i don't have a choice anymore.' she knew she should shut her shields down around her mind, and yet, she still couldn't block him out, knowing that placing that last brick right now would seal her decision, his fate.. she would just have to actually win. the praise is the last thing she allows through the connection, knowing it would only distract her, it would only make this all hurt that much fucking more to hear him still be... still be him. she places the last of her shields in place, her mind fully her own, knowing she needed to keep her mind planted in the archives. as she twists away, she watches as she loses one of her daggers to the ground below them. that's one dagger down, she knows she won't have any time to retrieve it.. she would just have to make them all count. zihnal needed to be on her damn side right now to actually win against the very person who trained her. would lightning be the only thing that actually worked, though? was he still human enough that a dagger would kill him? how had things gotten this fucked that she had to even think it, let alone begin planning it! "this is not because you fucking love me! do you actually think i would want to live a life not remembering who i really am? who any of us are? that i would choose to forget my friends? my dragons?" you? the last part was unspoken, not wanting to give in to that ache in her heart. the xaden she was fighting to save very well might have been gone. she dodges his move too slow, too distracted by this fucking conversation. she can fight in pain. she's lived with enough of it to ignore the sting. she needed to focus, to fall back on the moves rhi had trained her in instead of relying on only xaden's training.. he would be expecting all of those first. but before she can move, he's around her, arms warm and so close to feeling like home. but it's wrong, the image twisted as she feels the knife hovering over her throat. hell, any of other fucking sparring match she would have leaned forward to kiss him, wishing he was looking at her with anything but those burning red eyes.. i will not die today. she had to repeat it to herself as she jumped through all the ideas in her head about getting out of this. "i won't forgive you if you bring that knife against my throat. we have fought for this for so fucking long, xaden. don't throw it away for power." she had enough room between them, foot reaching up to kick out at his knee, she just had to get him off balance enough, to get any space between them before she dropped. distance... all she needed was distance.

he knows that any chance of talking will be gone once she pulls the truth from him. and she always manages to pull it from him, there's no doubt about it. and pull it from him she does. 'i'm not making you do anything, violence. this is your choice.' because he also knows she's not going to go down with out a fight. but this is what's best for the both of them. she won't remember the loss of her sister, she won't know what he is, she won't know to fear him. they can go back to the way things were, with no mistrust or pain between them. she and mira might even end up as sisters again, everything would end up fine. and some part of him knows that this is what he'd been afraid of. the possibility this exact line of thinking is what had led him to lock himself in his house with his shields up after that fucking maze. it's raging against the idea of hurting her at all, much less killing her. but the rest of him? it's convinced he's doing what's best for her, and for the two of them together. the look of fear on her face almost breaks that small part, he'd never wanted to see her look at him that way, even when they were nothing to each other. but that part is shoved down quickly at the flash of pain in his thigh. xaden swears under his breath, but his expression twists into a smirk in spite of it. 'that's my girl.' he shoots through the bond, knowing she'll hear it, even with most of her thoughts blocked from him. he's not at all shocked she's managed to twist away, the same clever fucking woman who had solved everything life had thrown at her. "i'm doing this because i love you. wouldn't it be better to not have to think about all of this? to get to live with no worries?" his own dagger is in his hand, shadows curling around him as he prepares to fight. it's not one he thinks he'll lose, he taught her everything she knows. every move she can make is one he'd made first, so how can she best him? a shadow quickly shoots out to wrap around the hand holding the dagger as he stalks forward, slashing at her torso, a shallow wound, he doesn't want her to die in pain, as he grabs at her loose hair with his free hand. once he gets a grip, he pulls her close, almost an embrace, and brings the blade up to hover near her neck, though not touching her skin. "don't you want to be with me without all this fear, violence? i'll find you when you wake up, and we can go back to the way we were."

[flowercrowngods]

i don't know how to be merely acquaintances when we used to be friends. or i think we used to be. i don't know how to yearn for a simple hello when you've been heaping your affection on me months ago, and i don't know how to talk to you when you won't say anything. when suddenly it's all about me. you know i have nothing to say, you know my brain is void of everything but horribleness and i cannot tell you about my day because i don't even know about my day. i cannot tell you about my day when i know you won't listen, when i know you'll apply your philosophy to my world and don't believe me when i say that everything is terrible. i don't know how to be the person you seem to think i am, or the person you want in your life. i don't know if you want anyone else in your life now that you're in love and sappy, found another recipient for your affections, leaving me empty and wounded and yearning.

you said you missed me. said it many times, while i was gone. now i'm back, have been back, and i wonder how you missed me, why you missed me, when you won't talk to me. i think you mistook missing for worrying. i think you mistook caring for a feeling of obligation. i think you like missing me more than talking to me.

and i think i can't breathe with how much that hurts

[oh-meow-swirls]

was looking through old posts and i'm surprised to see that i seemingly didn't have any commentary on anything in 3 in chapter 7, 8 or 9, the posts related to 3's story go from "my first reaction when i saw yopple-bot was 'i love you. but also you are definitely the boss for this chapter-'" to "i have been in hell all day. hell being bada-bing tower." funny to me cuz those chapters are like, the best ones sdfkljsdfjfsdkjlfsdjkl-

[protect-namine]

I actually have a fic idea but lc is a show that's like. you will never ever have all the information and context until the end. and I am a writer who writes best and more confidently when I have all the info and context at my fingertips. so now I'm just like 🧍‍♂️

anyway. ramble in the tags

[triflesandparsnips]

Something something Ed seeks out or is confronted by his own reflections three times in ascending order of violent emotions (the hand mirror, the salver, the knife)--

And we see Stede being painted twice in his old life, not looking at the painter or the painting but at some distant other thing, and then finally seeking to see himself in the third appearance of his portraiture-- only to find he's been painted out.

I wonder if Stede will someday ask to be drawn, and how, and whether he will look at the artist while they work, or the other people in it (if any), and seek out the finished work and be happy to see himself reflected in it.

...and I wonder if Ed will avoid reflections now (remove the mirrors, avert the eyes, but sometimes he'll catch himself in still water and flinch away--) because he knows what he is, he made himself this way, he knows how others see him and he can see it in their eyes without needing any further proof (except what he sees in Stede's eyes doesn't seem to match, so better not look there, fuck, fuck--)

Stede will look so, so hard now, and Ed will look at anything but-- a switch now, from their season 1 selves, lasting, perhaps, until they can finally see themselves -- and each other -- fully.

(And maybe, after that, they'll be able to see themselves together.)