#currently just trying to past the time so I might make a bunch of little things today

[girlgrule]

[yourdandelionofthedeathknell]

The Theraprism: Good or bad?

Ya know, i've never been sure how to feel on the Theraprism, as shown in the Book of Bill. This is in large part because we get very little info on it, from any perspective other then BIll's own at least (and he is...Not a reliable narrator). Personally, I see three possible interpretations and I don't know which one is correct. To be clear, I think all of these are fairly valid: 1. Their methods seem insipid, but are actually quite effective. They seem to have been effective in the past (one of Bill's fellow patients is slated for release in the near-future apparently), and the Axolotl (who, while not exactly rich characterization himself, has, generally, been portrayed as wise and benevolent) referred to it as "what [Bill] needs the most", which would be weird if it doesn't have SOME merit. I, myself, honestly prefer this one, because I think it works better with the narrative of the Book of Bill (a book which, generally, does not encourage the reader to sympathize with Bill's plight. Pity, maybe, but the framing is very clearly that he kinda deserves this) and the schadenfreude the reader is encouraged to feel if Bill's hellish afterlife is, largely if not entirely, a self-inflicted one: That it wouldn't be particularly bad if not for his own combo of being unable to accept that he lost, that he shouldn't be allowed to do whatever he wants whenever he wants to anyone he wants, inability to form meaningful bonds with others, and, most of all, his total inability to admit to being wrong. He COULD leave at any time, if he would just actually repent, but...He's Bill, so...He won't. It just works best for me if his hell is largely self-inflicted. 2. They are harmful, possibly deliberately. This does have a fair bit of support textually. Mandatory therapy is already a pretty major ethical grey area at best (a major tenant of modern psychotherapy is that you can't make someone change unless they take the first step), they definitely engage in toxic positivity, and, of course, the "Solitary Wellness Void" is...Solitary confinement, which is a practice most modern medical institutions oppose and consider to be psychological torture. So, fair bit of support for this. 3. This is what I think was probably Alex's intent: They're a bunch of oblivious obnoxiously happy morons (as Bill himself would probably describe them) whose attempts to treat eons-old eldritch horror bad guys with puppet shows and arts and crafts is meant to be amusingly-inept rather then actively malicious, and whose effectiveness (such as it is) is down to having literally eternity to try. Kinda like what Mabel might do to rehabilitate someone. To use an analogy, think Charlie Morningstar from Hazbin, at least in the first couple episodes, where the fact that she's treating adult criminals like misbehaving children is the joke and is meant to indicate incompetence rather than malice. I get that isn't that much different from the proceeding (except in terms of "how seriously are we supposed to take this"), but still. I think all three of these have support, and, to be clear, I go with the first one not because I think it's the most supported (might be the least), but because it jives most with how I think about BIll's narrative IE as a character we're meant to, at best, pity, but not really sympathize with. I think the intent is "Bill is suffering a karmic self-inflicted punishment after all the pain and suffering he's caused", not "Bill is being medically abused and we should feel bad for him". The Book of Bill does invite readers to sympathize with Bill occasionally, but mostly past Bill, not current Bill. All viewpoints are valid, this is just trying to organized some thoughts on the subject. I sincerely hope I haven't said anything harmful here. Uh, cards on the table, I am neurodivergent, but i've never had therapy, forcefully or otherwise (although I did have an irrational fear of the possibility of institutionalization for a bit), so i'm sorta going off vibes here, sorry to say. If I said anything insensitive here, I apologize.

[velnna]

I know you generally work fast but I'm curious on how long on average it takes for you to get out a page of ThUG? I haven't had the opportunity to read it yet (it looks SO good) but I'm making the assumption a page is the size of an average print comic style versus webtoon scroll episode length format. Also curious on what short cuts you might take to get them out faster/more efficiently. I'm currently planning a comic in a similar format and am trying to plan my process ahead.

Thank you!

I don't do whole pages in one go (I do all the thumbnails then all the lineart then all the colour) so it's hard to tell exactly how long but maybe around 3-6h per page? Which makes a chapter (25-30 ish pages) take around 150 ish hours. I definitely prefer this to the webtoon format for a number of reasons, one of which being the satisfaction you get seeing a bunch of panels come together versus having to scroll through them separately.

In terms of speed, my entire process is pretty optimised for it, both in comics and outside. I stick to an A5 format and downsize it further (I tend to work with pages at 1000px width and 300dpi) to keep myself from overworking details. If an eye closeup feels tiring to get right or loses proportion, my resolution is too high

I also use textured brushes and leave the lineart more like a clean sketch, which allows me to not only skip straight from thumbnails to it but also to skip work on backgrounds, objects and figures at a certain distance

The main point of comic work is to convey emotions, movement, etc, not to draw everything accurate all the time, and that's probably the biggest lesson I've learned over the past years. You want your art to evolve in a way that means even without a lot of shading/linework/detail the scene gets properly conveyed, imo

Aside from that, I skip work on SFX and just. Write the sounds down or sketch motion lines as basic as they get. That's a stylistic choice but it works for me. And I have a workspace + automated actions + keyboard shortcuts that are all sort of optimised to make me move as little as possible between tasks and screens etc

[theveryworstthing]

I'm Alive

I posted this on patreon so I might as well post it again here. Hopefully current and past patrons see this as well as people who have just been generally curious about where I've been.

I'm very sorry for not being around and I'm very grateful to those who stuck around. To those who didn't, I get it and I truly appreciate you passing through. 

Last year and the beginning of this year have been pretty bad. Some of you might have heard about my grandma's death and sadly, she was just the first of the family losses in the time I've been gone. There was also a friend's death discovery, my parents' health tanking, my friends Going Through It, and my own physical/mental problems. I didn't want to talk to the internet about these things because they were/are very overwhelming and private and tbh I used all my energy to help with the household and make sure work got turned in on time. When I had spare time after dealing with the near constant disasters, I didn't really feel like interacting with the internet at all beyond using it as a way to talk to far away friends (mostly to give them the thumbs up that i was alive) or watch/read things when my brain was less scrambled. Social media was an absolute no go and I didn't have any non-work art to post so I just kind of mentally crawled under the porch to die lol. 

I only drew work related things for months due to extreme burnout and it took me almost a month off after my last job to remember how to create again. I couldn't draw or write, it was kinda like art block except it was more like nothing was there at all? It's hard to explain. 

Things are still happening but I need to get back in the saddle eventually so here I am. 

I'm going to post the little art I did in June and all the sketches I did in January when I re-learned how to draw for myself. Again, I'm so sorry for being away without saying anything and I'm grateful to whoever threw me a buck, or even just casually enjoyed my art. Leaving like I did was really irresponsible and there's no excuse for not at least making a post about all of this sooner.  Every month I got a patreon payment was another wave of guilt because I literally couldn't give y'all anything but at the same time that money was letting me book flights to funerals and keeping my mom comfortable while she recovered from surgery right after I spent a lot of my savings in 2022 trying to fight my late cat's cancer. And then not posting about what was going on made me more anxious as time went on because there was more guilt every month so I felt like I needed to come back with a bunch of art and energy and good reasons and it was just. A Mess. 

But anyway.

I'm alive, I'm back. The Horrors persist, but so do I.

Thank you for your patience.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

hi guys!

so it's come to my attention that this whole few series might be a little confusing to read in a particular order so I'm just gonna try and narrow the explanation down a little bit...

so in order to probably understand monkey's personality first i would read a few bits from chaos fc which starts of as an aussie pest and an english pest who are best friends and love to cause chaos together!

these 5 fics are based around their time in melbourne and what they get up too

↪ i'm never babysittin' again! | mission: chaos fc | yer' a pair of pests! | wheres' dumb and dumber? | come get yer' kid!

from there there's a few fic's that follow on from this with monkey's different adventures in scotland and nashville, where's up to no good as usual

↪ wee' bit of haggis in scotland | yeehaw' it's cowgirl era | you can kiss my ass, cowboy!

following on from these if you want to read more about monkey's past then i suggest reading a lot of reserved feelings which kinda goes into the small details about monkey's reserved side when she first moved in with leah and jordan

there is also a bunch of head canons and blurbs that are related to this as well which will help to understand monkey's past better in monkey's background and i think it is also briefly mentioned in monkey moves in

after this i would recommend reading the separate mini series in which this introduces buddy and it gives a bit of an insight into what she is like and how she handles the separation between her two mums but this is wrote around the same time as monkey returns from her adventures in nashville

there's several more head canons/blurbs that are related to buddy through the time before she was born in ivf and pregnancy and and and even the introduction between monkey meeting buddy for the first time

if you wanted to read about the gender reveal of buddy then i would recommend the flashback fic to finding out the gender of buddy in oh baby! which is in the buddy & monkey series where monkey is so excited about it

the whole buddy and monkey: double the trouble series is pretty self explanatory and it's mostly about the two of them and the adventures they get up too, together

however, there's a few i would recommend reading together which would be the bubbles are pink, jackass! and then the farmyard adventures since that follows on from the swear jar fiasco

from there there's a couple of fics that are not really planned to go in any particular order which are buddy's first words as well as no more money for monkey and we brought a puppy home

there's also a good couple of head canons and blurbs related to this series the break up | euro final | buddy cheering monkey up | zoo adventures | training days | kimmy the babysitter

also the social media aspect of it which is reunited again and monkey's lioness debut

following along with the head canons and blurbs there's several in chaos fc which can be read in any particular order as well leah being drunk | making a fool of herself | monkey encouraging leah to drink more | monkey winding leah up the morning | captain kimmy & monkey blurb | england call up | media duties with monkey & kyra and continental cup celebrations

the four most current ones at the minute are the glastonbury mini series following onto both parts of whoa, we're going to ibiza I and whoa, we're going to ibiza II then from that its' my most current work which is the the haunting nightmares of the past

i hope this somewhat helps and it's not incredibly confusing to read now - there's more to come for all this so i will update this as and when i can!

and as always if you have any questions about anything then please feel free to continue to ask me anything whether it's anonymous or not, i love answering questions about this chaotic pair! 💗

[escapingarchives]

Consider:

Nureyev’s going undercover as a hypnotist for a show at a grand party of the wealthy (somewhere in the estate is a safe with some very important schematics he'd like to get his hands on).

He researches extensively, first pouring over books and then spending hours choosing outfits, rehearsing flourishes and precise movements. He’s also researching the heist itself, of course. But this time, Juno seems more annoyed with all the time he spends on his research. Juno lounges on the bed watching his boyfriend practicing his entrance over and over, only interrupted by occasional dives to double check his books.

Juno huffs and breaks the silence.

“What a bunch of bullshit, can you believe people actually think this hypnosis shit works? Controlling other people with your voice, my ass.” He rolls his shoulders, they've been tense for days, and the pain is worsening his mood.

“Oh now, it’s a performance like any other,” Nureyev replies, “but my research shows people can be put in a trance, can be hypnotized, provided they want it themselves. One cannot make someone do something against their will. They must want to be hypnotized, to let go and be open and obedient. It's quite interesting."

“Can’t see why anyone would want that at all.” Juno says in a snappy retort, but he considers it in his head. Being in a trance, mind blank, just floating and being open to... whoever’s in control. He’d hate it, of course, he’d feel way too vulnerable. Even more so in front of a crowd, at a show of all things. He needs to always be alert.

But…

Sometimes he just wants a break from it all, even his own head. Especially his own head. To relax and leave himself in the hands of... well. Maybe he can see the appeal, just a little.

He doesn’t say any of this out loud, of course. Nureyev just hums, practising how he'll pick his pendant out of his front pocket.

“Juno,” he says after a while, “since you’re not receptive to actually being hypnotized, can I test the act on you? Then you can tell me how it looks, without being distracted.” He smiles, one of his canines peeking out.

“Yeah, alright,” Juno replies, trying to sound nonchalant. He sits up at the edge of the bed, stretching a little, ignoring the little jump of excitement he feels for a brief moment. “But I’m still gonna tell you whenever you sound way too ridiculous.”

Nureyev's smile widens, and Juno's eye focus on his sharp teeth. “Wonderful, Juno.”

Nureyev starts with his grand entrance, speaking to the imaginary audience. Juno’s both in awe at his confidence and ability to glide seamlessly into the role, through the sheer ridiculousness of it all.

He resists the temptation to make a snide remark when Nureyev adresses an invisible audience member with the tales of his past deeds.

“… and I shall do it all, with this!” Nureyev reveals the crystal pendant he’s fastened to a chain in a dramatic flourish. “Now, esteemed audience, please quiet down so I can demonstrate my abilities on this lovely lady.”

He sits on a chair in front of Juno. “Now please Juno, focus on the crystal. Let your thoughts clear. All that matters is to keep your eye on the crystal, and listen to my voice…”

Juno rolls his eye, but still leans forward. Nureyev holds the crystal up by the chain so it catches the light, and starts swinging it slowly back and forth.

"That looks really stupid," Juno remarks.

Nureyev shushes him.

It’s a pretty jewel, probably worth quite a lot. Juno wonders where Nureyev stole it. It’s a deep violet that shifts from a sparkling, deep blue, into a gold-speckled pink. It naturally grabs his attention, swinging back and forth. The swinging part still looks stupid. But maybe it would be nice to...

The pendant swings, and Nureyev keeps talking in his smooth voice. This might not be so bad, after all. Juno doesn’t feel vulnerable, there’s nothing to be worried about, he knows he’s safe with Nureyev. Who’s currently speaking, but Juno can’t recall what he’s been saying. He focuses on Nureyev’s steady voice again; he loves listening to that melodic voice.

“You feel the tension leave your jaw, your neck, your chest, arms, that’s it, relax…”

It’s surprisingly easy, Juno thinks, to relax. Usually it’s hard to let go of all the tension that sits in his body. It's such a constant part of him that it almost feels strange how easy it melts from his limbs.

“… your stomach, your legs..."

He's breathing more deeply now, he notices. It's comfortable where he sits on the bed, letting his eye follow the pretty pendant that catches the light. He's safe here.

"...very good, relax for me, you're doing so well."

Juno feels warm at that. He's glad he's doing well. Nureyev's voice really suits this kind of thing, he thinks. Smooth and low and inviting. Juno wants to tell him he sounds nice, but he's so relaxed. It can wait. He struggles to keep his eye open.

"... even more relaxed and sleepy, and you'll only let go on my count - wait, Juno?"

The pendant stops for a moment. Juno lets out a low, protesting sound. It's very hard, but Juno lifts his heavy eye to Nureyev's face. He was doing well, wasn't he?

"Are you really -?" Nureyev says softly.

Juno's so relaxed and comfortable, he felt so close to letting go and now he's confused about what Nureyev's even talking about. He manages a questioning "hmm?"

Nureyev stares at him for a long moment, considering, and then he smiles again, showing his sharp teeth. He cups Juno's face, and it feels nice, so Juno leans into it.

"Oh Juno, you are too lovely, " Nureyev says and holds up the pendant again, swinging the beautiful crystal. "Look back at the crystal and keep listening. That's it, well done, and you feel yourself gliding back into the comfortable feeling. Just focus on my voice and how good it feels."

Juno's eye is following the jewel again, how it catches the light, his breathing evening out. He feels like he's enveloped in a soft blanket.

"When I count down, you will feel even more relaxed at every step. When I reach zero, you will sleep for me. You'll be fully under, open, and relaxed. No need to be distracted, just be in the moment, no need to think of anything else..."

Distantly, Juno hears Nureyev speak for another minute, then he starts to count down from ten. For every number, he feels heavier, and more and more comfortable. It's so easy to let go. He wants to let go, to let Nureyev take care of him. Vaguely, he realizes he's wanted it ever since Nureyev introduced him to his newest con. Blank, soft, mindless. Quiet. Juno wants that, and he trusts Nureyev. Of course he does.

"Zero. Sleep for me, Juno."

Juno does.

[divineerdrick]

Homestuck Beyond Canon Upd8 for October 8, 2024

Here we are! This might be the end of the current story arc, and we'll finally get to see if Vriska successfully makes it out of this. I was also informed a while back that today is the one year anniversary of the HICU taking over the comic.

Before I jump in, I had a theory I wanted to put out there. I was thinking more about how Vriska was always destined to go down these two paths and what that might mean. Now we know she had different fates than the two we saw. In fact, we saw a third indirectly. We saw it when an Aradiabot from a doomed timeline where Gamzee snapped early revealed a surprise final piece of Doc Scratch's code. That reveal was a book Gamzee made in the blood of the other trolls. And Vriska's blood is in there.

But only two Vriskas are ever seen in the bubbles, probably because the Vriskas that survive to their creation are always the same. Do any Vriskas lost along the way matter? We don't really know. They might still be important, but the lion share of Vriska appears to be split into two fates.

Now, thinking back to the epilogues (I know that can be hard) Dirk describes the process of becoming a fully realized or ascended God Tier.

And some of you just saw where I'm going with this.

Dirk became a full God of Heart first because of how connected he was to his splinters. Rose followed as her continued explorations of fortune connected more and more of her deviating paths through Paradox Space. And Dave . . . well he got a very Dave ascension. Honestly with how well he handled the multiple version of himself running around, an Obama pep talk was likely more than what was needed.

But there's only two Vriskas that need to come together.

If Vriska can accept herself, the team on Candy C will have a fully realized and ascended Thief of Light on their side. One that has already exerted narrative control before! That might be enough to help fix a lot. And if Vriska has anything to say about it, and you know she will, things might really start moving.

News Upd8

We get a team post this time! They're mostly just excitedly gushing about the milestone and some of the things that have happened in the past year. But they also reminding us the first big flash is coming. I honestly can't wait!

James mentions that this is not originally what was planned and that they were just going to make a bunch of connected shorts originally. I still like stuff like that, but I'm glad they were able to get this going again.

There's a lot of thank yous from the team. But I still feel like I want to thank them for continuing this in such a wonderful way. This comic and this community has been really important to me for a while now, and I'm eternally grateful there are still "semi-official" things coming from it.

James does give us a bit of an outline on the progress for EOA1. It sounds like things are still early, but they're hoping to hit one of the "funny numbers". The next one will be 11/11 or one of the kid's birthdays. But 413 sounds like a good project deadline to me.

They're continuing with two upd8s this month, so I'll need to try to make sure I catch the next one in a more timely fashion.

Upd8

We've cut away from Vriska. As the news said, no more VN for us. We return to Candy Earth C and our stressed out adults.

Kanaya has left on her own for now. Her fury has not yet been satisfied it seems, with what Rose took as an implied threat from her. Also, I just noticed the subtle space symbol in Jade's shield. Nice touch!

Still a lot of justly tense and uncomfortable conversation going on. Jade really wants to fix things. She feels like she's the one to blame and she needs to make things right. But Rose doesn't particularly seem receptive. I don't think she wants Jade's help. Also, there's a mention of Rose losing her temper over a conversation about her mom. I think it's mostly meant as a little nod to how much older they all are and that things have happened that we never got to see. But I can't help but wonder how things went down.

Yeah, this is pretty painful. Jade really wants to do the right thing, but Rose has formed her own opinion of the best course of action. And now she's trying to convince Jade it doesn't involve her.

Hamster guy? I'm pretty sure I'd remember hamster guy so this has to be something new.

Honestly, Jade is sounding a bit more mature than Rose here. It's painful, but she's right. Reality has very little to do with a person's "truth." The only sensible path to change a person's perspective is usually the empathetic one where you focus on understanding where they're coming from. Even then, all you can usually accomplish is being someone they might turn to when an external event breaks the reality in their head.

Speaking of personal truth's, Jade has been feeling that so many of her friends haven't really cared about what's going on. That might have been a little true for Dave, but I think she got a completely wrong read on John. John very much cared, he just wasn't good at doing anything about it. That's one of the reasons he suffered from depression, one of the reasons he was always trying to fix something or do something important. But between the glimpses of her in the epilogues and the credits, I get the impression she was constantly trying to reach out to him. From her perspective, John's depression might have seemed to be apathy.

But big surprise the one that grew up so isolated is having the hardest time getting a read on people.

THE ART!!!

Urgh! Oh this is bad! Rose is just suppressing everything she's dealing with. Admittedly, there's a lot going on right now. But it sounds like she's not trying to process any of the stuff that's been occurring on this crazy version of Earth C. She especially can't seem to deal with Roxy, and that's apparently been causing more problems than we've seen.

I'm not sure I agree with Rose here. I don't believe an absolute truth has to be derived from authority. But then, to the best of my knowledge, I don't live in Paradox Space. It's hard to hold to the truth of observable reality when it can be so easily changed and manipulated.

Interesting . . . Rose has turned to her powers as a form of coping mechanism. As things get hard, she begins trying to sort out all the "meandering side-paths." The rote of it, the monotony, is soothing to her the way a "cozy game" is to me. And if she's successful, she gains insight and even something to look forward to.

Oh no! Rose has seen a future where Calliope will sacrifice herself to try and save everything! And worse it doesn't work! Things are apparently more dire than we thought, and that's with Jane running around in Condesce mode!

Huh! If I'm parsing that right, Rose is going to suffer a mortal wound but one that won't trigger the God Tier clock. Instead she'll have to recover like a normal person will. Ouch! This immortality really isn't all it's cracked up to be.

And the other shoe drops! The reason why Rose agreed to something like this, the reason she's been so cold and distant. While she's recovering from the bullet wound, Kanaya will be alone. With what she's done, Kanaya will have the impetus to seek independence. She hasn't seen the end result, but she believes Kanaya will have a more fulfilling life this way. She's been driving her wife away so this Kanaya won't be left in paralyzed mourning the way Meat Kanaya seems to be. That is a horribly dangerous game, and one almost guaranteed to backfire.

But apparently Rose doesn't think any of it matters. Like Dirk, she thinks this universe is irrelevant and doomed. She knows what John needed to do, and here John didn't do it. She's hasn't quite gotten to the optimistic point of nihilism, but the apparent lack of meaning is providing her with some relief.

Do I honestly need to say anything here!

Rose has been able to play the rain for a while now. But as her powers have matured, she's gotten better at it. Though this makes it sound not so much like she's playing it, as dancing to a tune beyond her control. But then, this Rose doesn't feel the need to control anything.

Can you imagine accidentally bumping head first into a figure of myth and legend?

Karkat and Kanaya have a bond that goes well beyond anything they ever developed with their human lovers. Even if Karkat's power wasn't literally over the bond of Blood, they've survived so much together it honestly wouldn't matter. And right now, Karkat's opinion of the humans that sat on the sidelines while their Troll friends needed them isn't exactly high.

COME ON!!!

Jane is still processing her conversation and some of things that came of it. Does Jane think she could have convinced more of her friends to stand with her? Does she think she could have saved Dirk from the fate he chose?

Also in a very real way she doesn't quite look human in that image. Even though I think this might be a human moment for her, she's made her visage, consciously or not, monstrous. The Condesce's crown is a collar around her neck.

Unfortunately she's decided that rather than learn from her mistakes, she might as well just plow on and build something new and better. She is a god after all.

Love how they're teasing out the reveal of what has come of Jake's epiphany.

I'm not posting that image. Even with my heavy use of spoiler tags, I'm not risking it.

Oh come on! You didn't make it a clean shot! Goddammit Jake!

Well that's one way to cut from that. I mean HOLY SHIT!!!

Jake appears to not be out of this yet. This almost feels like a callback to Vriska sitting on the beach after a failure. Can the big man recover from it?

And we end with Rose having just left Tavy and Yiffy with a letter and some snacks.

Wow! That was intense!

It legit seems like nothing, not even a bullet, is changing Jane's mind. And I mean, I know Jane is a god, but come on! Could Jake seriously not get a good clean shot off? Wow!

Y'know, honestly I can see it. Despite his awakening, he had to play it out like one of his movies. That was just enough time for Jane to realize what was going on and quickly dodge out of the way. Then, rather than quickly ending it, he had to quibble out an apology.

Honestly, I just don't think he was truly capable of doing it, so he sabotaged himself. He's just lucky that all the pummeling he's gone through has toughened him up enough that he might get another shot. That is if he doesn't get wiped out in whatever that cake-shaped, doomsday device she has in orbit does.

Fuck that was a ride. And a really tense one at that! Guess now we're waiting for next upd8 this month!

[une-femme-de-lettres]

Festive Spirit

Pairing: Ghost x Reader (mutual pining only) Word count: 3880 Warnings: none, just pure fluff Summary: The Task Force 141 is forced to lay low after a particularly demanding mission. There’s no going home for the Holidays this year but you want to give your boys some of the festive spirit of the season. Note: I just love them so fucking much!! And I’m a sucker for domestic fluff so there you go! Link to Masterlist

“Hey…” Your voice is quiet as you enter the small kitchen where Price is busy filling a mug with hot water. Your eyes dart to the window above the counter top, soft white light is projecting onto the ceiling of the rundown apartment you are currently staying in. It snowed again last night.

“Slept in today, Shells?” he asks with a smile, handing you the mug he just filled and completed with a bag of tea and three sugar cubes. You smile back and take the object, enjoying the feeling of warmth seeping through your fingers.

“Just had a rough night,” you say, making your way to sit at the table, grabbing a spoon while passing by the counter. “That’s all,” you finish in a smile. You’ve not been spending the calmest nights lately, memories of your latest mission still running around your mind, keeping you awake and alert at all times. This added to the fact that at least two of your teammates have been keeping the whole place filled with their snoring every night. Speaking of which…

“Where is everyone?” you ask curiously, watching Price sit at the table, on the chair opposite from you, with a light grunt.

“They went out for a run,” he says, making you huff. In that weather? So it is true that 141 members have a death wish…

“You stayed?” you ask Price matter-of-factly, your spoon clinking against the walls of your mug as you calmly stir the sugar into your hot beverage.

“We need to stick together as much as we can, just in case, while we’re laying low,” he explained, making you nod slowly.

“Right,” you reply, still rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “How long until we can return to base?”

“Not for some time, unfortunately,” he sighs, looking at you with a sorry expression. He lets out a breathy chuckle. “I’m gonna have to spend another Holiday season stuck in a safe house with a bunch of riled up guys.”

“Yeah,” you laugh in turn. Truth is, having to spend this time of year with your colleagues was not the best case scenario, but they were somewhat like a family to you still. So might as well enjoy the turn of events and make the most of it. Especially considering what you have gone through these past few days.

“Well, about that,” you start, your voice slightly quieter as if you feared some of your teammates might still be in the next room, able to hear your conversation. “I wanted to talk to you,” you say, watching Price sit a little closer to the table, attentively listening to you.

You proceed to explain to him what you have in mind. You want to celebrate the holidays in some way, and the best thing you’ve found would be buying a small gift for everyone along with a few decorations to bring the festive spirit into your temporary habitation. A nice home-cooked meal would be nice too, but that is definitely a plus, if you manage. Progressively, you see his face light up with a warm smile, making his eyes squint ever so slightly. Wrinkles appear around them.

“That’s…” he starts, contemplating your proposition, “I’ve not even thought about it, that’s very thoughtful of you,” he says and you have to keep yourself from smiling too much. Your heart beats faster at the prospect of carrying out your little plan.

“Well, you know this mission’s been rough on all of us so…” you explain, a few images projecting inside your mind. You try to cut them out, looking over at him. He gets up slowly, approaching you as you take a sip of your beverage.

“You finish your tea and pack what you need, I’m gonna get the car ready, yeah?” he says, cocking an eyebrow. You smile.

“Thanks John.”

“S’ nothing,” he replies, chuckling and patting the top of your head before exiting the kitchen, leaving you to figure out more details about your plan.

The location of your safe house is a rather small city. But it has a pretty extensive retail park at the edge of town with a large range of mainly chain stores. Perfect for what you have to do.

The place is bustling with activity, with people getting ready to celebrate Christmas Eve tonight. People buying last minute gifts. People gathering supplies for the five course meal they’re about to feed their families. And people simply shopping or wandering around town just to kill some time before tonight.

You visit a pound shop first. You have a pretty good idea of what you’ll be able to find for your teammates around here. But you still ask Price for advice, just in case. He knows them better than you do after all. You also take the time to gather a few decorations to cheer up your space, garlands, a comically small Christmas tree and a few ornaments. Price follows you closely, offering to carry the stuff you collect along the way. You don’t have that many things so you dismiss his help with a grateful word.

Still unable to think of anything else but your job for a day, you also take advantage of your little adventure to stock up on a few supplies in other stores. Mainly food but also various consumables and material that you could use in intervention, just in case you have to get back on the field immediately.

By now, a couple of hours have passed and Price suggests you get lunch somewhere. You stop at a chain fast-food restaurant. It would definitely be better for discretion to eat in the car or grab take out to eat home but you still have a few things to grab here after lunch and Price is not about to let you freeze to death in the middle of a parking lot. You take a seat in a small booth in a corner of the restaurant and quietly eat your meal.

You start a nice little conversation with Price that ends up with him talking about a few of his past Holiday experiences. He talks to you about how he had to spend Christmas Eve at Credenhill with the boys one year. And how Soap had forced Ghost to put up decorations in the base’s common room with him then. He even managed to get Ghost to wear one of those Santa hats, over the mask, of course, for maximum effect. He then stops for a second and wonders. You look at him curiously and he smiles, preparing his question for you.

“What’s the best Christmas present you ever got?” he asks, amused at the memories forming in his own mind. You chuckle, your eyes darting to the food in front of you as you think about it.

“I was ten, I got my first camera,” you finally say excitedly, still trying to gather up the few memories you had of that time. “It was one of those Polaroid camera things,” you explain, mimicking the object with your hands.

He can’t keep his eyes away from you, you’re talking about it with a bewildered expression on your face. It warms his heart.

“I took that thing everywhere, everything I saw I would photograph,” you sigh. “And I would hoard the pictures in my room, some weren’t even legible but I just wanted to keep them all,” you finish with a chuckle and a shrug.

“You’re a photographer,” he says matter-of-factly, leaning back in his seat. He tries to hide a fact that he is delighted to learn more things about you. Or even just to hear you speak so openly, especially when you’ve been so quiet and reserved lately.

“Well I kind of stopped with the years, and with work…” you explain with a sad smile. Price moves the conversation to another light topic and you keep conversing quietly until you’re both done eating.

Your search then continues in other stores. At some point, Price leaves your side to get to another store, designating the car you came in as your rally point. It’ll give you time to go to your last destination. You still needed to get a gift for your Captain.

Once you’re both back at the vehicle, you ask him for one last stop at the Tesco store nearby. You still want to get some sort of meal ready for Christmas Eve but the kitchen in your safe house won’t exactly allow for extensive cooking. You end up settling for a bunch of frozen pizzas that you’ll be able to cook in the small oven there. Good enough…

Of course by the time you’re back, the boys have returned from their little training session but you manage to sneak what you’ve bought inside without raising suspicion. You pretend to have a mild headache to retreat inside your room for the next hours. Price, your partner in crime, plays along and checks up on you from time to time, making sure to also keep the others busy so they don’t question your absence too much.

Price’s whole ‘We forgot to get a few things this morning, boys…’ spiel seems to have worked as he manages to make your teammates leave the safe house long enough at the beginning of the evening for you to put up the decorations and start the pizzas. You quickly decorate the main space as you don’t know how long they’ll take to come back from their supply run.

You place the small pre-decorated tree in the centre of the coffee table in front of the couch. You surround it with the wrapped gifts and you see Price smile at you from the corner of your eyes.

“Is one of those for me?” he asks with a chuckle. You stand up from your kneeling position on the floor and get back to hanging the tinsel garlands on the wall with tape.

“Don’t you dare peeking, Price,” you threaten and he laughs it off.

As the clock is ticking, you only feel your heart beating faster and faster, making you slightly out of breath. You can’t help picturing the events of the night ahead and you often have to snap out of your reverie to focus on your current tasks.

You know your teammates are returning when you hear their heavy footsteps in the stairwell outside the apartment. You jump up to wait by the front door impatiently. Price looks at you from inside the kitchen, his heart already melting at the sight.

Soap is the first to enter the apartment, shoulders and head covered in a light dusting of snow. You smile at him as his eyes widen with at sight before him.

“Steamin’ Jesus, Lass… what’s all this?” he mumbles under his breath.

The others soon follow. Ghost stays behind for a moment, closing and locking up the door. Gaz takes a moment to look around at the decorations, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“You did all that?” He asks and you shrug.

“Might have gotten someone’s help…” you say with a mischievous smile and a quick look back at Price. Gaz gives a knowing look and nod in the older man’s direction.

Your eyes are on Ghost, then. He looks in slight awe before your desire to have them spend joyful Holidays in your small safe house. But a very light shade of sorrow tints his gaze. You feel your heart sink inside your chest ever so slightly.

“Happy Christmas, boys…” you mumble, your throat unable to let out louder words.

Soap hugs you tightly and thanks you sincerely. The gesture puts joy in his heart in that time when he can’t be with his own family. Gaz does too, before his gaze meets the coffee table and the presents laid on it. He laughs, you really went all out.

You join Price in the kitchen while Soap, Ghost and Gaz get rid of their snow-covered outerwear and put away the supplies they just bought. You notice from your spot inside the small room that Soap has found the red and white Santa hat you got earlier. He excitedly puts it on his head, before the disapproving looks of his teammates, especially Ghost’s. But he doesn’t care because he can see how it makes you smile, and that’s all that matters to him.

The cheap pizzas start smelling really good and you can’t stop smiling in anticipation. Price teases you for it but you know from the look in his eyes he’s currently the happiest man on Earth.

You end up all sitting around the small coffee table, either on the floor or on the couch. You suggest Price sits on the couch - it’s better for his hips - and he curses at your insolence. The pizzas join your little reunion and you start eating eagerly.

Some anecdotes about past Christmas experiences are exchanged just like earlier today when you had lunch with Price. Soap tells you about his own side of the story and even Ghost joins into the conversation. He looks way more excited than earlier but he can’t help adverting his gaze every time your eyes meet him, making him pause for a second before speaking again.

After your meal, you quickly debate opening the gifts in the morning as is tradition, but you end up settling for unwrapping them tonight. No one says it, but everyone knows why.

Price is the first to get his present. You insist on giving it to him first as he was the one that helped you make this day truly count. You can see his face turning a very light shade of red when you hand him the gift from your spot on the floor. He can’t help but smile.

He smiles even wider, if it were even possible, when he takes a black woollen beanie hat out of the box. The wool is soft against his fingers and the colour is a deep shade, discreet and elegant.

“Just in case you want to get rid of that old bucket hat…” you say under your breath, suppressing a laugh. Soap chuckles and, for a split second, you’re sure you can hear Ghost let out a small laugh too. Maybe your senses are playing tricks on you.

“Oh come on, it’s not that bad!!” Price replies, looking slightly offended. Gaz raises an eyebrow and cocks his head.

“It’s pretty bloody ugly, mate…” Soap says with a dramatic squint in Prices direction.

Price still thanks you warmly, even after your little show of humour. Soap’s gift comes next. You hand it to him from across the table and he eagerly takes it, unwrapping it quickly. You didn’t know Soap that well so you asked Price for what to get him. Your heart beats faster as he opens it, you hope he’ll find it nice.

He unwraps a small dog plush toy. A German Shepherd with a small keychain so he can keep it on his equipment, you thought. The animal looks cute, with big blue eyes, it reminded you of him a little when you got it.

“I was told you really like dogs,” you explain shyly. Price starts laughing silently and Soap looks up at him with an angry look.

“Oh that’s funny now,” he says sarcastically with a nod. Your expression falters as you get it. Soap hates dogs - they scare him shitless, in fact.

You feel played and frown at Price. But suddenly your eyes are wide and on Ghost again as he laughs along with Price. He looks over at Soap who’s sitting beside him, thinking for a second. You can see his eyes fill with a mischief you’ve rarely witnessed on him. It suits him.

“Maybe you’d prefer half of it?” he asks Soap. The sergeant’s shoulders drop again.

“Come on, L.t…” he says under his breath, making Ghost and Price laugh harder. Your eyes remain on Ghost for a moment, his eyes slightly squinting with the smile hidden under his mask. He looks happy, he looks… cute?

With this, Soap moves to sit beside you and give you another hug as a thank you. He whispers in your ear that he absolutely love the small toy, no matter what the others might say. Your heart flutters inside your chest.

After Soap’s comes Gaz’s present. You hand it to him like you did for the others and he smiles gently. He looks around at his teammates while opening it, curious of what little trick you had in mind for him. He takes a second to read the cover of the book he just unwrapped.

“10 subtle ways to prove your superiors wrong without getting fired,” he says, you smile when he looks at you. “Nice one, Kid,” he says with a chuckle. You know of his aversion for blindly following orders and respecting stupid regulations. Doesn’t really sits right with him, does it?

“Is this directed towards me?” Price asks tentatively, casting a suspicious look towards you.

“Nah, it’s for higher up, Captain,” Gaz responds, winking at you.

You’re glad he gets it. This is a stupid gift, you know it. But again, every one of them is some kind of joke. And they wouldn’t have liked it any other way.

Ghost’s turn finally comes. You can’t help but feel a little shier handing the present to him. You try to look at him in the eyes. He looks back.

“Ghost, here’s yours,” you say quietly and he nods.

“Thanks.” His voice comes out colder than he would’ve liked. You swallow a small lump in your throat.

Inside the package is a pair of black socks with a white skeleton feet print on them. They match his gloves and his mask. You tilt your head slightly.

“To keep you warm,” you add quietly as you see his eyes going from the socks to you, widening ever so slightly. You swear you can see his cheekbones raise slightly under his mask.

A heavy silence stretches between you all. This one’s meant as a joke too, but it’s way more than that to him. And the words you just let out are proof that you care more for him than you actually realize. You notice that only now that you spoke them.

“They were leftover from the Halloween section…” Price’s playful voice breaks the silence and you turn to him, trying to silence him with a gesture of your hand.

“Shhhhh, stop!” you exclaim, extending your arm to try and hit him in the shin before turning to Ghost again. “Don’t listen to him,” you say, pointing at Price.

“It’s true though,” Price continues, making the others laugh. Of course they were on clearance after Halloween season was over but you don’t want that fact to make this gift seem any less thoughtful. Ghost doesn’t see it that way. He speaks to you sincerely.

“Thank you, Shells,” he says with an amused voice, making you pause for a second. “For everything you did today,” he continues, putting the socks down on the table with the discarded wrapping. You feel the urge to look down but your eyes move around instead, looking at each and every one of your teammates.

When you finally turn to Soap, who’s still sitting beside you, his eyes are curious.

“You don’t have a present, Lass?” he asks and it dawns on you only now. You were so caught up in getting them their gifts, you didn’t even think of getting one for yourself.

“I guess my present is… this,” you assure them with a smile, gesturing towards the whole space you sitting in. Price chuckles at your enthusiasm but shakes his head. He knew that would happen. He knows you all too well.

He slowly takes a small box out from behind him on the couch and nudges at your elbow with it. You look surprised when you look back at him.

“There ya go, Kid,” he says with a gentle smile, “picked it out while you were on your own,” he explains with a shrug. Of course he did…

You open the box slowly and discover a small Polaroid camera. The others look curiously at it and back at Price. You can’t keep your eyes off of your gift, memories coming back to you instantly.

“They still make those?!” you ask excitedly, feeling the pang of nostalgia inside your heart. You can’t help smiling goofily, your limbs trembling slightly with the rush of emotions. You stand up and move towards Price. “Thank you so much,” you whisper as you hug him tightly.

“S’ nothing,” he responds, letting you go so you can explore the small object. Gestures come to you naturally, muscle memory kicking in quickly. Load the film - tweak the exposition - activate the flash - press the shutter button. You want to try it so bad.

One idea comes to your mind, then. You look over at everyone from where you’re standing. You would want this moment to last forever, but it won’t. And the closest thing you can’t think of is this.

“I want to take a picture of us,” you say, looking at Ghost. ‘There’s no picture?’ ‘Never…’  “If you’re all okay with it,” you say hesitantly hugging the camera close to you. You can see Ghost’s eyes moving to you. They’re gentle.

“Hell yeah,” Soap says, standing from his spot on the floor.

“I’m in.”

“Sure…”

Gaz and Price talk in turn. Your eyes are still on Ghost. He looks at his teammates fondly and nods.

“Why not?” You feel your heart grow lighter inside your chest and smile excitedly.

You take your seat in the middle of the couch, between Gaz and Price. Soap rapidly moves to the armrest, sitting on it awkwardly and leaning towards Price to make sure he’s in the shot. He pulls the Santa hat down onto his head slightly and smiles.

Price wraps his arm around your ribcage to pull you closer and Gaz motions Ghost closer. Ghost mirrors Soap position, only he doesn’t lean in as much. He tries to look over at the camera lens as you extend your arm as far as you can. You press the small red button. The flash practically blinds you and you can’t help laughing.

The film rolls out of the camera and you take it out, looking at it for a moment and leaving it aside to cure. While it does, you start another animated conversation with the others and you attempt to take more pictures of you and Soap, or Price and Gaz... Soap insists that you take one of him with his gift, you happily oblige. The apartment gets filled with laughter, loud voices and colourful curse words. The first picture you’ve taken still sits on the small table behind you, colours slowly getting brighter.

And when the picture is finally legible on the white film, you will be able to see how Ghost doesn’t in fact look at the lens and instead watches you intently from the corner of his eyes. And you will be able to tell just how gentle his eyes really are when he is looking at you - only you.

Taglist : @stressyanddepressyfoodservice @fatedeniedhope @cabreezer0117 (I probably need to redo that taglist cause I don't think it's up to date, sorry if I missed anyone...)

[splatsvilles-fashionista]

So over the week I've been replaying Return of the Mammalians, because I haven't played it since the week Splatoon 3 launched and I wanted to see how I felt about it without the excitement of playing a brand new game clouding my critical judgement.

(spoilers for RotM below, just in case)

That said I didn't feel like it changed my opinion very much. RotM's biggest problem is that it feels like the developers thought of a couple of really cool ideas (The fakeout in the intro, Deep Cut being bosses, the lore in the Alterna Logs, the final fight against Mr. Grizz) and then put them all in the game without really trying to connect them all in a very tangible way, and as a result Alterna is a very nebulous space that doesn't make any sense from a narrative standpoint (if it was a human settlement why is it full machinery and tests only inklings and octolings can use? What even IS the treasure we assemble except "a tool that just happens to solve the current problem?) but only really exists for gameplay.

The story also suffers as a result of this, too. Narratively nothing really happens until the very end of the game, where we end up just kind of stumbling into Mr. Grizz's plot to fuzzify the world right as he puts it into motion. Octo Expansion got around this by using its lore snippets to give the supporting cast a story of their own that unfolded as you progressed through the game, and ultimately it's Agent 8's actions that push the story of OE forward. In RotM we just happen to be there when things happen.

But despite all of its problems RotM also just plays really well. The combination of OE-style shorter trial levels with Hero Mode-styled hub areas you have to explore for levels and secrets work really well together, and those hubs in particular are an absolute blast to dig around in for secrets and open up a little by little. Deep Cut are incredibly fun as ineffectual Team Rocket-esque villains, and the whole final fight against Mr. Grizz is really good, especially the music. I don't even think Calamari Inkantation is especially good by Splatoon standards, but 3MIX is genuinely just an astounding track.

But I think what ultimately makes me feel more positive than negative about RotM is that I think its' thematic undertones actually really work for me. Mr. Grizz's actual involvement in the story might have been mishandled but as a villain he works. I've already written about him a bunch so keep things brief Splatoon has always been about the dangers of clinging to the past, and Mr. Grizz pushes that idea to its limits, because he is the past. He is a relic of a lost age, and he is so desperate to return to the world he knows that he will burn the future and turn back time (metaphorically) to achieve it.

But there's also the Alterna Logs and the reveal that it was human dreams of seeing the sun that drove sealife onto dry land. I think there is a compelling argument to be made that they didn't need to explain any of that to begin with, but I also think the explanation works with everything the series has been setting up on a thematic level. Humanity is gone, and will never come back, but our dreams lived on in the minds of the inklings and the octolings (and the jellies, and everyone else), and while they didn't know why, they reached for the sun together, and by achieving humanity's dreams they earned the right to take our place.

TL;DR: RotM good actually

[icallhimjoey]

short bit of writing to help me process a deeply personal current situation - slight chance more of these will pop up in the upcoming few days as i move through all of what needs moving through Wordcount: 1.2K

---

Suddenly Gone

“Hey, it’s me, let me in,”

It sets you off immediately, face scrunching up and everything tensing from your stomach up until it builds too much and sobs slip out. You hold the buzzer down and see in the intercom how Joe needs to turn to push the door open with his shoulder. He’s carrying bags of shopping and, fucking hell, you’d just stopped crying and calmed down enough to maybe go for a big food shop yourself.

It’s been tears and tears and tears. In stupid places. Normal places too.

Just, all over, really.

It's waking up and crying over breakfast because you forgot for the first twenty minutes of the day. It’s yoghurt slowly going salty because you suddenly remembered.

It’s wet cheeks after seeing initials hidden on a number plate when parking outside a supermarket.

It’s kindly unaccepted apologies as you try to croak through a bunch of them for not being able to answer the phone with an unhitched voice.

It's dark clouds but somehow also sunbeams that break through sporadically, because isn’t it all so stupid? Seeing something that you know they would find hilarious, and instead of it making you laugh, it does the exact opposite?

It's stupid.

It’s also people offering and offering and offering.

“Let me know if I can do anything!”

“If there’s anything I can do...”

“Call me whenever, all’s fine, just let me know,”

But you don’t even know what needs doing. What you want. What you need. You know, besides distraction. And your fridge filled. But, that’s weird to ask. It’s polite for people to say nice things but what do you actually ask for? What do you say without burdening someone? Do you just text? With words?

“Hey,”

Bags get put down and you quickly find yourself stood in an embrace, arms wrapped with tenderness and strength, pulling you into a safe haven of solace. Encircled in his arms and surrounded in his warmth, a cocoon of security is created. You’re protected. Understood. Shielded from all the absolute shit that’s found you over the past couple of days.

“How was today?” Joe speaks into your hair.

“Long,”

Leaning into the hug more, Joe allows you a brief respite from the heavy weight of grief. It’s difficult to feel vulnerable for such a long time, for so many consecutive hours. Really drains you.

“Did you get everything sorted?”

“Nearly,”

You feel emotions surge once more, but Joe remains steadfast in his hold. Stable anchor in the storm, keeping the whole ship from drifting, from tipping, from sinking.

You stand there for a long time, and when you start to think of the bags on the floor that hold items that might need a fridge or a freezer, you also notice that the tightness in your chest has eased. Breaths have become deeper.

Joe notices the shift, and pulls back, but only to use both hands to cup your face and connect with you beyond arms embracing and bodies being pushed together.

“Funeral’s Monday,”

And fuck off, just saying wild crazy insane outrageous shit like that gets you. Makes you tense your mouth to keep the whole thing from wobbling, but corners get pulled down as far as they can go anyway. Makes you frown hard to somehow try to keep tears from spilling, which obviously, they do anyway.

Joe uses his thumbs to swipe. Kisses just below your eyes. Presses your head into the crease of his neck below his chin to hide you there, away form the world. Lets you burrow there.

The hug lasts a long time, and you try to convince yourself that it’s not too long. That Joe probably is glad that he gets to help by just holding you a couple of minutes. People keep saying they want to help, and that you just need to let them know.

It’s nice that Joe didn’t wait for you to ask for anything.

He’s just there.

Here.

“I brought food,” he says after a little while, and you’re reminded of the bags once more.

“I’m not hungry,”

It’s not a lie, but you know Joe won’t have it as an answer.

“That’s all right, you can just eat without feeling hungry,”

Kisses get pressed to your forehead, and after one last tight squeeze, bags get taken into the kitchen. You want to help, keep hands busy. Focus on a task. For a moment you’re scared Joe’s going to tell you to let him do it, to go sit down, but Joe knows. Distraction is a welcome temporary escape from overwhelming thoughts and emotions.

But it’s all tricky, isn’t it? It's all fickle things.

You don’t notice how deep you’re lost in thought until you get pulled from them by Joe taking the jar of spaghetti sauce from your grip. You’d been staring at it after pulling it from one of the bags.

“Oh, sorry,”

You watch Joe place it where it goes. You’re not even sure if it’s the brand that she liked, but she fucking loved spaghetti.

“Actually,” you stop Joe from closing the cabinet. “Can we do a bolognese tonight?”

Joe smiles, pulls the jar back from where he put it and leaves it out on the counter.

“Of course.”

Before you know it, there’s hot tears stinging the raw skin once again. And it’s so frustrating. Had you been alone, you would’ve called yourself a stupid bitch out loud because who the fuck cries over the prospect of dinner?!

But you’re not alone. Because Joe’s there, even though you hadn’t asked, hadn’t let him know like everyone asked you to in all their kind messages.

And so tears are just... they're just part of you now.

And you manage to not hate yourself for it.

S'okay.

And Joe doesn’t even really mention it which is exactly right.

“And can we do it with chicken instead of beef?”

“Absolutely,”

It’s how she liked it. Something about the texture of ground beef she hated.

“I know it’s weird,” you start, but before you can finish your sentence, Joe places a packet of diced chicken breast onto the counter.

It’s a gesture that shouldn’t get to you as much as it does, and yet...

“You ok?” Joe asks when Joe giving you want you want, the thing you asked for, has the opposite effect it would usually have – more tears instead of less.

“No,” you shake your head, big wet eyes looking into concerned ones.

“But I will be,”

You’re not sure if it’s happy tears, or maybe if you’re just tired and drained, but you know you’re right. Not all right. Not yet. But you will be. Joe’s there, with hugs and kisses and, you will be.

“S’just a lot,” you shrug, and Joe frowns at you, says, “Of course it is,” like he’s almost upset that you even have to say it. Like he doesn’t understand.

He does.

“But I’ll be fine,”

And he knows you’re right. Doesn't question it. Doesn't say shit anyone else would tell you, that you don't have to be, that you are allowed not to be. Accepts it for the truth, and says,

“But you'll be fine.”

And hearing it from him sets it in stone. Makes you smile, even if only for a second. You will be fine.

the end

---

The Taglisted: 

@ghostinthebackofyourhead @dirtyeddietini @jasminearondottir @cancankiki @sidthedollface2 @dylanmunson @thefemininemystiquee @alana4610 @emmamooney @thatonefan-girl @paola-carter @figmentofquinn @haylaansmi @thewondernanazombie @munsonmunster @kellyxo1  @chaoticgood-munson @sherrylyn628 @ohmeg @05secondsofsexgods @lovelyblueness @adoreyouusugar @nadixq @roosterisdaddy36 @alwayslindie @eddie-joe-munson @ali-in-w0nderland @pepperstories @phyllosilicate-s @thebellenouvelle @luvrsbian @joesquinns @choke-me-eddie @alizztor  @frootvelvet @did-it-work @capricornrisingsstuff @quinnsmunson @frogers @kennedy-brooke @daleyeahson @harringtonfan4 @emma77645 @tlclick73 @eddies-puppet @electricmunson @everythinghasafacee @a-time-for-wolvess @lucifers-side @barfightzanddiscolightz

(taglist currently full, sorry!)

[the-s1lly-corner]

TADC X Skater reader, except the reader is new and has no idea how to skate and keeps falling all the time,,,

TADC cast x skater!reader !

Wasnt sure if you meant roller skate or skate boarding so I might flip flop between those two I hope that's okay! I also have a similar request for a roller skater reader that I answered a few days ago, which I will link at the end of this post!

Written in mobile!

Side thing idk if it's because I have so many requests rn or what, but I SWEAR my inbox is bugging, I keep seeing requests I didnt notice before... maybe I just accidentally overlooked them? But I SWEAR it wasnt there before because I have looked at my current inbox a dozen times now over the past few days

Idk

CAINE:

Regardless of if ypure a roller skater or a skate boarder, hell or even an ice skater; if you're having trouble keeping your balance, Caine will hover above you and steady you. Hands on your shoulders, or hands under your arms... he may even grab your hands and lift them up while guiding you

I think its very sweet

Manifests a digital cushion for when you fall over

Regardless of if your body is part skate, or you just skate as a hobby, he will cheer you on the same

POMNI:

Honestly you've probably slipped backwards and fell onto her. She probably makes a squeaky toy noise when your weight slams into her... good news about this being the digital world, neither of you are going to be significantly hurt!

If you're wearing skates you guys probably stumble and struggle to get back up... it's a little sad to watch..

RAGATHA:

Insists that you wear a helmet and knee pads. Like sure you cant get permanently hurt, but it makes her feel better !

Helps you try to keep you steady by putting her hands on your sides or shoulders... nervously walks beside you while helping you.. pro awkwardly hovers her hands over you as well as you get more confident with it

JAX:

Either will actually help you or may he a menace... "endurance training" but its actually not endurance training that's just what he says when he throws a bunch of those tiny bouncing rubber balls into your path

"Expect the unexpected " type shit

I mean he would still help you up, I think

Not many thoughts here <\3

KINGER:

Balances you by standing behind you and holding your hands/wrists up... kinda looks like you two are dancing or something. Except you're on a skateboard while he walks you around the floor

Very sweet about it

Kind of gives off the energy of a guardian trying to teach their kid how to ride a bike

Its sweet I think

I would let kinger teach me how to ride a bike

I still dont know how to ride a bike

Hes so so encouraging, too

ZOOBLE:

Thinks that you skate is cool.... oh, you're new to it..? show them what you got!

Oh...

OOOOH...

Ooooh noooo... you just face planted into the floor

I think they would also try to guide you threw it. Probably the only one I can see who skated before, though in their past life in the real world

Maybe jax did but idk

I think they would join you, besides they kind of wish to see if they csn relearn how to do it with their new body

Yay bonding activities

Not many ideas for zooble either.. sobs

GANGLE:

Unique take for gangle, imagine not only do you struggle to keep steady while you're skating, imagine you struggle with stopping. I think you can see how this goes. Imagine you accidentally ram into her while trying to stop.. I mean look at it this way... her ribbons get stuck in your wheels so technically.. you do stop..! Pleade be gentle picking her out... I can only imagine how gnarly that feels

[seiya-starsniper]

Rating: Teen || Chapters: 2/5 || Word Count 3.5k/??

Summary: The Dead Boy Detectives run into a familiar pub while out on a case, and Crystal has to contend with an unfortunate event from her past.

AO3 Tags: POV Multiple, Hob Gadling gives live advice to a bunch of teenagers, while helping them solve cases, that's it that's the fic, also he maybe plays matchmaker for his hot mess bestie

Chapter 1

Read Chapter 2 below, or using the link above on AO3!

--------------

Hob Gadling considers himself to be a rather open minded man. He's lived hundreds of years, and seen thousands of strange and unusual things in that same amount of time, so the chances of something catching him completely off guard are rather slim in the year 2024.

The last few days, however, have proven that there are still many, many things that can surprise him. 

One of those things being one Charles Rowland, who is currently waving at Hob from the entryway of the New Inn.

Hob normally doesn't like to get involved in anything having to do with the supernatural, and especially not anything related to the type of work that Edwin and Charles do. He'd met them purely by chance after some asshole with delusions of grandeur had tried to frame him for a series of murders. He’d sent Edwin and Charles on a wild goose chase in a poor attempt to cover his own tracks.

Hob thought that once they caught the real murderer together and cleared things up, that would be the end of things. But then, Hob kept getting involved in their cases over the years, all of them entirely on accident. Eventually, somewhere between the fourth and fifth poltergeist, Hob decided he might as well figure out how to defend himself against supernatural entities, and maybe make himself useful for these poor boys too. They certainly needed all the help they could get.

Hob had been glad to hear that Edwin and Charles had recently gotten some sort of amnesty in exchange for continuing to help ghosts and other souls move on. It was good work, what these boys did. Hob has seen ghosts that haunted the same places for centuries finally be to pass on into the afterlife thanks to them. And now, they not only had permission to keep going, but had gotten more help to do it too.

The addition of Crystal to their little crew had been a surprise, and Jenny an even bigger surprise, though the latter seems less interested in solving cases, and more in making sure Crystal doesn't get herself killed in the process.

Still, Hob's only ever seen the teens all together in some sort of group, never alone, and he's definitely never seen Charles without Edwin. From the moment Hob had first met the two ghost boys, they’d always been a singular unit in his mind. And yet here Charles was, alone and looking strangely expectant while trying to appear casual as he waits for Hob to close out the tabs on the last remaining lunch hour patrons.

“Everything all right?” Hob asks when Charles approaches him once his last customer leaves. 

“Of course!” Charles answers, his signature smile bright on display. “I was just in the neighborhood and wanted to say hello. And to thank you again for the assist the other day.”

As a ghost, Charles is technically always in the neighborhood, so Hob knows that that’s not all that there is to his visit. It also hasn't escaped Hob's notice that Charles specifically picked the one day Jenny wasn't working the kitchen this week to drop by the pub. He clearly doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s here.

But Hob knows by now how to deal with skittish teenagers. Even dead ones.

“Well I'm almost done here and then I'm gonna head upstairs for a cuppa,” Hob says. Mark’s going to be here soon to relieve me of duty. Happy to have some company if you have the time to spare for an old man.”

“Oh! Yeah sure, I'm not busy,” Charles says, and cute that he’s still trying to pretend that he hadn’t come here with a purpose, when his eagerness is so clearly written all over his face. “Don't need any food though, as you know.”

“Sure, sure,” Hob replies, waving his hand dismissively so Charles can head upstairs ahead of him. He's going to make a cup of tea for Charles anyways. The boy always seemed to love the steam that came out of the mugs, even though he’d never admit it out loud.

Mark comes in exactly at 2:00pm, and Hob chats with him for a few minutes, before he clocks out and heads upstairs to his flat above the pub. Charles is already waiting for him in the living room, and Hob immediately sets to the task of warming up some hot water in the kettle and grabbing some mugs for tea.

“So how are things at the agency?” Hob asks as he waits for the water to heat. “Busy as ever, or more so now that you’ve got yourselves a psychic?”

“Definitely busier,” Charles says. “Crystal’s been a massive help with our cases, we're solving them even faster than before.”

“Good,” Hob replies, just as the kettle clicks, letting him know the water is done. “I’m glad she’s using her powers for good nowadays,” he adds as he brings the two mugs over to the couch. Charles looks surprised by the extra mug, but accepts it without a word. Hob doesn’t expect him to drink any of the tea, of course, but as predicted, Charles seems to fall into a trance watching the steam rise out of the cup.

“Thanks for not giving her too much of a hard time,” Charles says when Hob sits down in the recliner across from him. “She’s been really down on herself lately for everything in her past.”

“I can only imagine,” Hob agrees. He knew a thing or two about wanting to reinvent oneself and burning away the past. He’s had hundreds of years to do so after all. In fact, it could even be argued that Crystal was far ahead of where Hob would’ve been had he been in her shoes. The girl he’d met a few nights ago was so different from the one he’d met a year ago in court that Hob would’ve thought she had a twin instead. 

“Seems like you two get along well,” Hob notes after a brief silence has passed. Charles perks up immediately, taking the opening in the conversation.

“We do,” Charles replies, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “She’s amazing.”

“Yeah? So are the two of you a thing then?” Hob asks, and would you look at that, turns out ghosts can blush after all. 

“I—maybe?” Charles says, his voice pitched higher with uncertainty. “I don’t know, actually. I mean, it's, well…complicated I guess?”

“How so?” Hob asks. He’d suspected there had been something going on between them, it was obvious in their body language, and how they gently teased one another throughout the night after the banshee had gone. Now Charles is talking like a man newly in love and completely besotted.

“Is she giving you mixed signals?” Hob follows up when Charles doesn't answer.

“No!” Charles exclaims, shaking his head. “It’s me really, I’m—I don’t know.” He sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. “I thought for a while that’s what I wanted and then Edwin—” he suddenly cuts himself off, a small amount of panic now crossing his features.

Ah. Now the reason for Charles' visit suddenly makes itself clear. Crystal clear even, but Hob keeps that terrible pun to himself. 

“So Edwin finally told you how he felt about you?” Hob asks, deciding to rip the bandage off now and quell the strange awkwardness in the room. Charles’ head whips up so fast Hob feels his own neck start to cramp up in sympathy.

“You knew ?” Charles asks. “But Edwin said he’d only figured it out when we were in Port Townsend!”

Hob shrugs. “Sometimes, things are easier to spot when you’re not in the middle of them,” he replies. “But it was pretty clear that, at the very least, Edwin considered you the most important person to him. It's not surprising he fell in love with you too.”

“You really think so?” Charles asks. “Because I don't—I’d never really thought about it before, you know? He's my most important person too, but I never thought that we would be more than that. But now that he's said it, I can't stop thinking about it.”

“Yeah?” Hob asks. “Does it bother you that he feels that way?” A shake of the head. Good. “Do you ever think you could return those feelings?”

“I don’t know, and that’s the problem!” Charles cries, his voice pitching near to a whine. He stands and paces around Hob’s living room, and Hob has to try not to laugh into his tea. Teenage problems were always the same, whether a live or dead.

“To be honest, I’m still really into Crystal,” Charles starts, “...but then after everything with Edwin, and what happened to Niko, I started thinking, well, how long will that really last? Crystal’s alive, I’m not. She’s going to—she won’t—she’ll eventually—”

“Grow up?” Hob offers when the teen can’t find the right words. “Grow old, hopefully? Live a fulfilling life with someone else that’s flesh and blood?”

“I—yeah. Ideally yes,” Charles replies, though it's clear the thought bothers him by the way he scrunches his features. “But also, what if us being together puts her in too much danger? What if she—if what happened to Niko happens to her, I couldn't bear it, Mr. Gadling.”

“Hob,” Hob corrects the boy gently. “I've told you before that you don't need to call me Mister anything, makes me feel way older than I already feel,” he adds with a laugh. Charles gives him a half smile and just shrugs helplessly. Some habits were impossible to break, it seemed.

“And those are perfectly reasonable fears to have,” Hob continues. “Crystal is her own person though, and you need to take into account that she might find the risk worth it. And to be honest, I feel like the risk to her life is the same, whether you two are romantically involved or not.”

“Yeah, I suppose you're right,” Charles agrees, flopping back down onto Hob’s couch and staring back into the still steaming mug of tea. “So do you think we should give it a go, then?”

Hob shrugs. “I think you two like each other,” he replies, “but whether you think a relationship is worth it is up to you. Does Edwin know about you two?”

“He knows—some stuff yeah,” Charles replies sheepishly. “I had told him I liked her way before he, you know, confessed to me and all. And like, even afterwards, it seems like he’s fine, but I really don’t know if it’s all actually fine, or if he’s just trying to act like he’s fine just because I look fine but he’s not really fine and what if I’ve mucked everything up or—”

“Hey, slow down, Charles,” Hob interjects, and the boy’s mouth clicks shut immediately. “From what I can see, nothing has changed between you, so I wouldn't worry about it,” he adds, trying to sound as reassuring as possible. “Besides, you and Edwin have been together this long now, you've got more than enough time to sort things out, one way or the other.”

“Yeah,” Charles agrees, his voice now wistfully soft and clearly full of affection. “When we were in Hell, I said that to him,you know. That we have eternity to figure it all out.”

“Did you now?” Hob asks, now smiling himself. “Sounds like you two are on the same page then, as per usual. Now you just need to make a decision yourself and Crystal.”

“Yeah…yeah you're right,” Charles says, seeming to come to a decision. His back straightens and he sits up, his signature smile back on his face. “Edwin and I may have forever, but Crystal doesn't and it's rude to keep a lady waiting right?”

“Absolutely," Hob replies.

Charles leaves shortly after, promising not to overthink everything and let his feelings come naturally to him. Hob is fairly certain he knows where things will land eventually, and he's sure Charles does too. It doesn't make the journey to get there any less worthwhile.

[samaraannhan20]

Harry Styles Imagine: College Reader AU!: Keep Driving

A/N: i saw videos on tik tok of him reading this fan’s sign and i just ran with it and the outcome makes me really happy

Warnings: college!reader, agegap, mentions of drugs and sex(just song lyrics)

“H I need to go to the booth soon,” you say as you run your hands through Harry’s hair as he lays his head on your lap. “And also you need to, and I’m just guessing here, but warm your voice up? Or listen to the opener?” “I know, I just don’t want to get up.” “Babes, you have to give an entire concert tonight, you have to get up,” you respond with a small chuckle. “Besides, aren't you just so excited to read fan signs? I bet there will be a bunch of good ones tonight,” you say, and begin poking your fingers around his face. “Harryyyy get up. Come on. I have to pee before I go out there,” you say, laughing because he has begun wiggling around trying to get away from your fingers. “Okayyy,” he says, dragging it out. “Can I get a kiss before you go though?” “Of course H,” you say, and then lean down and kiss him, before pulling away so that he can sit up and move.

“Can I read this out?” Harry asks as he stands onstage a few hours later. Your sign says ‘thanks for teaching my daughter about cocaine and sideboob,’' Harry says as he reads a fan's sign, and you openly laugh from the box you are currently in for the concert. “Ohh goodness. Scott, let me tell you,  first time I played that song to my mother,” he says, and then pauses for a second and shakes his finger, before pointing at the fan. “Be glad you weren’t there! That’s all I’m saying. I wish I wasn’t there.My girlfriend,” he starts, and then has to stop because the cheering gets way louder. “I know, she’s amazing. But my girlfriend was there, and I know most of you have seen videos of her melting, in a way, to the floor when she is overwhelmed. Videos that my sister has posted before, or Sarah, because she does it literally any time that she is embarrassed, and one of my favorite past times is embarrassing her in front of family and friends.” “Jeff is he really about to share this story?” you say, looking quickly between Jeff and the big screen that you can view Harry on. “I think he might be,” Jeff says with a laugh, before turning his attention back to Harry. “So as this song played, mind you she had already heard this song, I played the album for her before I played it for Mum, she literally slid onto the floor, her little melting things that she does, as my mother reacted to that song. I felt so bad, I tried to apologize, but she said… wait, one second. Darling,” he calls out, looking towards the box he knows you are sitting in. “Can I tell them the conversation we had after we left that day?” “Yes!” you shout back, laughing and nodding your head, knowing that at the very least the cameras are probably on you so he’ll see your nod. Jeff cracks up with laughter next to you, and you slap him gently on the arm. “She said yes!” he exclaims, and then starts his story again. “Okay, so, as we left I told her ‘Clearly my brain left my head when I asked you to go over there with me,’ and then she responded “Babe, if I was uncomfortable with people hearing the song, I would have asked you not to put it on the album. Your mom’s reaction was what could be expected from a mother hearing about her son doing drugs and…’ okay well I’m going to stop there, but you get the memo,” he says with a chuckle. “Anyways, let's get back to the concert!” he shouts, and the band starts to play the intro to the next song. As he starts up again, you find yourself drifting into the memory of playing Harry’s House for Anne the first time.

December 2021 “Oh Harry! Daydreaming was so good!” Anne says as the song finishes. “I agree!” Gemma says from her spot next to her mother. “But I think my favorite so far was Matilda. Uh, Y/N, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but was that one about you?” “Oh, um, yeah. But it’s okay now. But, oh, girls. Just wait. I love all the songs, and I don’t remember the exact order, but some of my favorites from this album haven't been played yet,”  you say, as Harry clicks play on the next song. He walks over and sits back down, next to you on the couch, resting his arm on your shoulders. You lay your head on his shoulder. It isn't long before you realize what song is playing. “H,” you whisper, getting concerned. “Is this Keep Driving?” “Yes love,” he whispers back, and you proceed to completely dig your face into his neck. “Harry I really like the beat of this one,” Anne says, and you feel a blush begin to build. “Passports in footwells, kiss her and don’t tells,” comes from the record player, and you begin your slow slide off the couch, which happens every time you get embarrassed, and it's almost unstoppable. Harry holds tighter to you, to stop it, and does manage to stop it for a while. You’re so focused on not sliding off the couch, that you don’t notice Gemma pulling out her phone and starting to video you.  “Life hacks going viral in the bathroom. Cocaine, sideboob, choke her with a seaview.” “Harry Edward Styles!” Anne shouts, and you slide the rest of the way off the couch, and lay your face on it, Ariel in the grotto style, as Harry gets reprimanded about his song. “I can’t believe you put that in a song! I mean, I knew you did drugs occasionally, and obviously I’ve known forever that you have sex, but to detail it like that in a song! And look at Y/N! You and I both know she only slides off the couch like that when she is super embarrassed.” “Mum!” he exclaims when she finally pauses to catch her breath and gives him a chance to get his thoughts in. “Before I decided to put this on the album,” he says, and stands up, crossing over to stand in front of Anne. “Y/N and I both talked about it for a long time! And she was okay with it. She’s only embarrassed because my mom is sitting here listening to the details of our sex life, however minute.” “Harry you at least could have warned me,” she responds, quieter than she had been. “Mum, you told me after I explained the first song that you didn't want me to warn you, or explain every song before it happened. So, if anyone is going to be upset, it’s me. My music is an extension of who I am. Just because you don’t like the lyrics doesn’t mean it’s not a good song.” “Guys, stop fighting,” Gemma says, and stands in between the two of them. “Mum, it’s just a song. Give him a break. Let’s listen to the rest of the album.” The four of you sat and listened to the rest of the album, with Anne and Gemma giving their thoughts at the end of each song. After Love of My Life, Anne pipes up with final thoughts. “Harry, it was an amazing album. I was a little freaked out after "Keep Driving”, but it really was an amazing album.” “Thank you Mum. I appreciate it.” The two of them hug each other, and Gemma walks over and wraps her arms around you, and you do the same with her. “I know you didn’t write the album,” she whispers in your ear. “But you inspired it. Thank you for being the light in his life.” You squeeze her a bit tighter, before whispering a thank you and pulling away.

Jeff nudges you as you come back from the memory. “If you want to get back there before he takes the encore break we should probably head back now,” he says, and you nod, grabbing your water bottle and heading out of the box with him. As you head backstage, fans begin to notice you walking by, and you wave at some of them who are visibly taking pictures or videos of you. When you make it backstage after showing your passes to the security, you sit on the steps that lead off stage and shout something to Jeff. “You know? I will never get used to people loving me. I haven’t even done anything that’s worthy to give me fans, other than being Harry’s girlfriend.” Jeff crosses over to where you are sitting and squats down in front of you. “You give him something to sing about. You keep him sane. You’re you. Don’t act like you don’t do anything, Y/N. You do more than any of us. Besides Harry himself,” he says, and leans forward, patting you on the shoulder. “I couldn’t have said it better myself,” you hear from behind you, and turn to see Harry standing there. “I’m gonna take a couple of minutes to sit here with my girl,” he says, and Jeff nods before heading to the refreshment table to get Harry a new water bottle. “I love you,” he says, sitting down on the steps next to you. “And I am so thankful that you are spending the summer before your last year of college,” he says, but you interrupt him. “Last of 6. I’ve been there forever,” you say, and he chuckles a little, and wraps his arms around you. “But it’s not because you failed classes. It’s just a long program. Now, let me continue please,” he says with a laugh, and kisses you on the forehead before continuing. “You’re taking the last summer before you become a full blown adult to travel the world with me, and I appreciate that so much. I wouldn’t even be here without you. I wouldn’t have written Harry’s House and had it succeed as much as it did without you,” he finishes, before leaning over and kissing you on the lips. “Now, I’m going to go sing the encore, and then we’re going to go back to our hotel room and…” he trails off, looking at Jeff standing above you both holding a water bottle out and laughs. “I feel like I’m in university again. We’re gonna go get a good nights sleep before doing it all over again tomorrow,” he says, with a sly wink in your direction. He chugs the water that Jeff handed him, and kisses you one more time, before heading back out to the stage. You stand at the back and watch him sing Kiwi for the last time of the night, just in awe of him. Before he comes offstage, he says one more thing to the audience. “I want everyone to give one last big cheer, but not for me. Give it up for Y/N, without whom we would not have half of the songs I sang tonight. Goodnight!” he screams before heading offstage. As soon as he’s off, he walks straight to you, picks you up, and kisses you as you wrap your legs around his waist. “I love you Harry,” you say as you pull back from him. “I love you,” he says, and pulls you in for another kiss.

[iridescentpull]

Day two of Hideduo/FitPac Kiss Week – Kiss on the Forehead & Murder Mystery AU

[ ao3 link here ] [ fic below cut! ]

Fit’s never been this interested by someone before.

This detective– Pac, as he introduced himself all those weeks ago at Spreen’s funeral– is very intriguing. While all the other detectives who visited him after the ‘mysterious’ death of his late husband jumped straight into the investigation and questioning process, detective Pac seems to be going much slower, taking in the situation and his surroundings.

He asks about his thoughts and feelings on the events that had occurred and how he’s coping. He’s gentle with Ramón when it’s time to question the child and doesn’t get annoyed or snappy with the little boy when his answers are a bit incoherent. He doesn’t jump to any conclusions and takes everything said with a grain of salt, considering it from every perspective and not just assuming the truth.

It’s... a very nice change of pace, to be completely honest. One Fit is absolutely taking advantage of, considering the circumstances.

Plus, the detective is very, very, attractive. Long, black hair pulled back. Dark eyes that seemed to shine with the light. A lean yet muscley body. His suits were always tailored perfectly and he always smelled like roses. The bonus was how flustered he got every time he saw the dresses Fit wore, stuttering and trying to advert his eyes the moment his eyes landed on him.

Fit smiles lazily, spinning the wine inside his glass with a small twirl of his wrist, letting the alcohol slosh against the edges of the glass as he leans back against the plush, leather sofa. The dress he’s wearing today is a deep, dark red. The same shade as the wine in his glass and the blood that was spilled (not that anyone needs to know that part, though).

And, while his current attire is quite revealing, it’s modest compared to the last few times the detective had visited. The neckline was still low and showed off a generous amount of his chest, but the skirt was much longer and went down past his knees, a slit coming up the side to his thigh. He’s not even wearing heels today, and the stockings he’s wearing only come up to his thighs.

“So.” Fit speaks, voice silky smooth as usual. “You’re saying someone must have not disposed of the body? That my husband’s body might still be here?”

Pac’s face flushes and his eyes dart away, trying to avoid looking at Fit. His fingers drum against the notebook in his lap, filled with his messy scribbles of the conversation and notes. His own glass of wine sits next to him, empty.

“I– I wouldn’t say ‘still here’.” Pac stutters, fidgeting with one of his finger’s of his gloved hand. “The body may have been disposed of, just not properly. If someone didn’t do the job right, then the body would be somewhere around here.”

Fit hums, raising an eyebrow as he crosses his legs, the fabric of the dress bunching up around his thighs. He takes a long sip of his wine, making sure the detective is looking as he licks his lipstick-covered lips. “That’s quite a theory.” He says.

The other male nods. “Well, yeah, but it’s the only one that makes sense. There’s a record of a missing body, but there’s no way the body could have been taken out of the neighborhood without anyone noticing.” He speaks, frowning as he thinks. “The police have been strict in this area thanks to the murders that have happened recently, as you know, so if the body were taken out, then they would have noticed and caught whoever was trying to take it.”

“Yes, the police have been quite diligent since all these murders have been occurring.” He says, putting his glass out and leaning forward. “More wine, detective?”

Pac glances at the glass and bites his lip, thinking. After a moment, he sighs and holds his glass out. “If you don’t mind, thank you.”

The American takes the bottle of wine and pours the other man some, smiling at him as he sits back and takes another sip. Pac gives him a grateful nod and takes a sip as well, savoring the taste of the drink. They keep talking and drinking as the night progresses, the atmosphere getting more relaxed.

After a few glasses of wine, Pac is a little tipsy, yet he finally is comfortable enough to have a real conversation. The detective is leaning against the armrest, head propped up by his hand. Fit’s sitting a bit more comfortable now, having taken off his shoes and is resting his feet in the detective’s lap, who doesn’t seem to mind.

“You know, Fit, you’ve really got me thinking.” Pac says, frowning a little as he thinks.

Fit stares at the expression, entranced. “Really?” He purrs, reaching out and brushing his fingers against the other’s stubbled jaw. Pac stiffens a bit but doesn’t pull away, looking down at the hand before glancing back up at the others face with an eager look in his eyes. “What’s got you so deep in thought, detective?”

The detective hesitates a moment before replying. “You, actually.”

The widow smiles, pleased. “Is that so? What about me is on your mind?” He asks, running his fingers up to the detective’s hair, twirling a few strands.

“You– you’re just very mysterious.” Pac replies, licking his lips as he shifts. “I know next to nothing about you, past the basics and what is needed for the case. Even though I’ve come over every other day, I feel like I barely know you.”

The American tilts his head, eyes glittering. “Oh? Would you like to know more about me, detective?”

Pac blinks before his face flushes again, his cheeks a pretty pink. “Well– I, I mean, yeah. That’d be nice.” He stutters out, eyes widening as Fit leans even closer.

“I could tell you everything about me.” Fit whispers, breath fanning across Pac’s lips. “But, I’m afraid you might not like what you’ll find, Pac.”

The Brazilian frowns, confused. “Why would I not–” He cuts himself once he realizes how close their lips are, Fit’s body hovering above his own. He feels his heart start to race, the beat quickening the longer he stays silent.

Fit’s about to press a kiss against the other’s lips when Pac moves his head down at the last second, causing the other to press a kiss against his forehead. Pac’s eyes are wide and his breathing is heavy, chest heaving up and down as he tries to process what just happened. He doesn’t seem to be the only one, for Fit has a stunned look on his face.

“Pac...?” Fit asks, a little uncertain.

The detective looks up and stares at the other, conflict in his face. “No, sorry, I– it's not you.” He says, pushing the other away gently and standing. “I just– not like this, at least.”

He stands up, stumbling a little, and starts towards the door, only to be stopped by Fit grabbing his arm. He turns around, surprised, and watches as Fit pulls him down, their faces a few inches apart. “I– I should go, Fit.” Pac stutters, averting his eyes. “I’ve stayed here for too long.” He says, pulling away.

Fit lets him go this time, and Pac takes the chance to leave. He walks out the door and down the hall, only turning around when he gets to the staircase. Pac stops, staring at the figure of Fit standing in the doorway, before taking a deep breath and hurrying down the stairs.

As the detective leaves, Fit holds his chin, a curious look on his face. Oh, he’s very intrigued now. Pac was pulling away but his eyes told a completely different story. Eagerness, conflict, desire… Fit smirks, chuckling to himself as he closes the door.

“What have you found, my dear detective.” He tells himself. “What have you found…”

[wisecrackzach]

Durge HCs (with appearances from Gortash)

Some hc rotating in my brain about my durge but I'm too lazy to write fics rn so this is my outlet

The Dark Urge and Gortash learned how to ballroom dance together. Gortash knew he was going to take over Baldur's Gate and figured he should know how to dance like the rich do (he's the kinda guy who believes in dressing for the job you want). So, he decides to teach himself and Durge too since he wants to rule with them. It was clumsy, messy, and got a little violent, bloody, and even erotic at times.

Gortash also made Durge do some other proper society training. Obviously, Durge wasn't built for proper society but Gortash dreamed of it and now thay dream included Durge. So, he made them also learn what fork to use for when (the beast and belle dinner scene frfr) and posture training. Durge hated this very much. They threatened Gortash life many times and many fork were stabbed into hands.

I refuse to believe that Gortash doesn't know how to lace his shirt. Therefore, I've decided that durge used to lace them that way because they were always dressed by their followers so they didn't know how. And now Gortash keeps it that way.

I 100% think that Gortash is obsessed with money and appearing rich. He buys gaudy expensive clothes but doesn't know how to wear them or the current trends because he didn't grow up rich. So, he looks kinda silly with his ugly red shoes and anxiety robe but no one dares make fun of him for it.

And because he cared about clothes and presentation he would buy Durge a lot of clothes that durge probably never wore.

Durge probably went to the shoe store Gortash's parents own when they were a kid before becoming the dark urge.

Orin and Durge are kinda like Zuko and Azula to me. Like even though they're both kinda fucked up inside and hate each other, they're still siblings. They probably had dumb arguments as teens like normal siblings but a little bloodier. And they probably braided each other hair and cared for one enough without admitted it was that. I wish so badly their could be an ending with Orin with a redeemed Durge like their was with Zuko and Azula.

Kinda fucked up but I wouldn't put it past them, Orin and Gortash hooked up after the Durge was taken. Buuut Orin would be shapeshifted into Durge for Gortash. Additionally, Orin used the Durge form to mess with Gortash just for fun.

Redeemed Durge HCs

The general public does not know about Durge being from Bhaal's temple and kinda being the cause of it all. Except for Duke Ravengard (if alive). Which makes it really awkward for a Durge romancing Wyll because his father is so clearly scared of Durge. They feel bad and they're trying to calm him but he's definitely resents them a little.

Durge probably killed Gortash's parents after the whole saving the world thing in the good ending. Like this might be a redeemed durge but they still killed them cause they still felt bad for Gortash and his parents sucked.

Durge made a memorial for Orin, Gortash, and Ketheric. Maybe they even added The Dark Urge too, just to remind themselves that's not who they are anymore.

If Durge is a warlock then original their patron is Bhaal but after they reject him Withers is their new patron.

Since they're kinda the hero of Baldur's Gate now, Durge was forced to do a bunch of public appearances and go to fancy parties and balls. Unfortunately, they've forgotten everything that Gortash taught them before about being in the upper crust so Durge is totally lost and feels like a rabid wolf in a bowtie. However, the gang helps them where they can. Primarily, Wyll and Astarion. Lae'zel offers advice but it's never any good...

[givemea-dam-break]

Hey!! I love your writing and was wondering if i could request a Lockwood x reader where the reader works at another agency, is injured and research-bound while they heal, and they meet Lockwood at the archives (thought it might be cute if he pretends to be researching but is really only there to see them) <333

a/n: yes!!!! oh i love this idea! thank you for requesting and for your support <3 I'm not entirely satisfied with the end, but i hope you enjoy!!

warnings: none gn reader

Carrying a bunch of newspapers and files while on crutches is much harder than it looks, you've found out.

Most of your time at the Archives which was supposed to be spent researching for an upcoming case has been spent, instead, trying to pick up the pile of newspapers you've dropped everywhere. Unless you want to sit on the ground and then try to stand up once you've retrieved them, there's no easier way to collect them off the floor with a cast that stretches from foot to thigh, and the few people in this section seem to be conveniently engrossed in their work.

You huff as you push the heap of information along the ground with your crutch.

Stupid stairs, you think. Miserable people.

But, then, there's a voice behind you saying, "Oh, let me help with that!"

Someone slips past you, bending down to the ground to pick up your research before turning to face you, smiling.

You know this face. It's the same face that you often see grinning in the current newspapers after completing big cases. It's the same face you see at odds with the Fittes teams throughout London. It's the same face you've seen around the Archives before, though it's usually accompanied by one of your close friends, a fellow researcher, George Karim.

This boy is Anthony Lockwood, owner of Lockwood and Co.

You'd recognise that grin he dons anywhere, having grown far too accustomed to seeing it when you read the newspaper in the morning before heading to your agency's headquarters - well, if a tiny studio apartment with a stash of equipment and a consultation table can really be called that. Bunchurch isn't much, but it got you on your feet in a town as expensive as London.

"Thank you," you say, clutching your crutches a little tighter.

"(name), right?" he says. "George's friend from Bunchurch? I'm Anthony Lockwood."

You nod. "I know who you are. You're practically the most famous teenager in all of London."

The smile he gives you is full of glittering white teeth that should come with a blindness warning. "Where are you sitting? I'll bring these over for you."

You point over to your table, which is covered with notebooks, pieces of paper, and multiple pens that have already run out. He takes your items over, and you hobble behind, flushing red when he pulls your chair out for you.

"Just to make your life easier," he says. "I can't imagine how annoying it would be to have a full-leg cast. How'd you end up with it?"

For the moment, he sits across from you. His smile eases the tension in your bones, and you understand why he's so successful. George has always told you of Lockwood's way with charm - it's how they've kept out of trouble - and how people always fell for it like flies in honey. You figured you'd be different, but you realise you're not. You're not mad about it, though. There's something reassuring in the easiness of it.

"I was on a case the other night," you explain. "Just me and this other girl. She got such a fright from the ghost that she tripped over while we were near the stairs on the second floor, pushed me over, and I fell down. I fractured some bones in my knee, or something, so now I'm stuck solely on research. Had no clue it propagated such a big cast."

Lockwood looks like he wants to say something, but changes his mind. "Must be sore."

You give him a look. "You can say Bunchurch is a joke. George has told me exactly what your opinions on us are, but some of us don't have Talents strong enough to constitute working for prestigious agencies such as yours." A pause. "Yes, it is quite sore."

"I don't think -"

"Yes, you do." Your laugh seems to ease him a little. "I think the exact same, don't worry, but they're the best I've got."

"It's nothing personal," he insists. The tips of his ears are curiously red, and you smile.

"No, of course not. Anyways, what brings you to the Archives? Thought George was your research man."

His grin has returned. "George is currently handling something else, so I told him I'd get some research done, although I'm having trouble finding things. I don't know how you do it."

"Well, I've spent most of my time here trying to push a pile of newspapers from one place on the ground to another, so I'm sure I can waste more helping you out if you'd like some help."

"Oh, you will not be wasting your time," he says. "Interesting stuff, this case."

"Is that so?" You raise an eyebrow. "What's the case?"

He looks like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "A cat haunting this poor kid's bedroom."

You snort in response, taking the notebook he hands you. It's not George's handwriting, which is messy and akin to chicken scratch, but rather loopy and pretty fancy-looking. Lockwood's, perhaps. He watches you the whole time, and usually the attention from someone would make you shrivel up and want to hide, but there's an easiness in his company. If anything, you feel bolstered by his attention, like you've done something right and earned it.

"It's in Soho? You must be getting paid a fortune. It's expensive there."

"Not much more than our usual fee," Lockwood says. There's a little undertone to his voice - nerves.

You frown at the writing. "Why are you even taking this kind of a case? It's something the people living there could solve with silver decor and a little bit of lavender in each room."

Lockwood shrugs. "We like checking everything out, I suppose. Getting rid of the ghost completely."

"Well, if you really want to do research on this, there's a section over there, you see that sign at the end of that bookshelf - No, not that one, the one behind it. Yes, that one. You'll find some stuff on Camden, the people who have lived there. Maybe there's a newspaper filing about a cat's brutal death or something."

He's quiet for a minute as if comprehending the words. "Yes, okay. Thank you."

Narrowing your eyes at him, you say, "Where's the case again, Lockwood?"

"Camden, remember? You just said."

"You've made this case up."

"What?" His ears are red again. "No, I didn't."

"Lockwood, I'm a researcher. I know things, like when people are lying. Camden and Soho are two extremely different places. And, well, no offence, but this write-up from your 'consultation' doesn't contain nearly as much as it should."

"Easy mix-up," he insists. "I had a long night."

But, judging from the masked expression on his face, you know you're right.

"George would never pass up doing research, no matter what else he was doing. He isn't handling anything today, is he?"

A moment of silence. "No."

"And you're not here to research a case. Even a six-year-old would know to go to the big sign that says Soho for a case there."

He's looking anywhere but at you, adjusting his tie or playing with the cuffs of his shirt.

"You just conveniently appeared when I needed some help." You think for a minute before smiling. "Anthony Lockwood, did you make up a case just to see me?"

It's a bold claim. You've never properly spoken to him, and you only really know him superficially, through newspapers and George and seeing him from afar. Logically, there's no way what you're saying is true. There's nothing overly interesting about you - no special Talents or hobbies, and your agency barely ever makes the paper. But your claim is right. You know it is.

"I'm not that scary. You could've asked me out for coffee, or something."

That's when his eyes meet yours, and you feel completely entrapped. They're warm and soft and filled to the brim with stories beyond your comprehension.

"And you would've accepted?"

You shrug. "As long as you suggested somewhere nice."

And there's that grin again, but something about it has changed. It no longer holds a building's worth of charm and persuasion. It's gentler, more Anthony than it is Lockwood. You smile yourself, goaded on by his.

"Well, would you like to go to get coffee with me? When you're not on crutches, probably. Or whenever."

"Do you always make up cases to ask people on dates?"

"Would my answer change yours?"

"Probably not."

"So...?" he prompts, and there's a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

"I'll go," you say. "We'll see where we end up."