#fuck me actually holy shit

[yoinkschief]

run.

BEFORE YOU READ !

Just some context from what the Campaign is and how we got to this point:

Nephyrus was hired by NASA (yes NASA, not some fantasy acronymn thingamajig) along with Marmite (played by my bestie @shran :3) and Li (played by the DM) to go along the vast planets and basically win over their inhabitants to speak well of NASA and whatnot

During his trip, on his way to the inn he'd paid for after landing on their first planet, he's attacked and the following ensues:

The door of the inn slammed shut, framed paintings and furniture rattling as Nephyrus felt the sting of fearful tears fighting to fall as he gasped for air. His hands grasped at his neck as if to prove the hand was gone from his throat, trying to convince himself he could breathe. With shaky hands, he undid the buttons of his uniform and corset, looking at the small slit with a small head of blood trailing a line down his center.

"Fuck…" Nephyrus shuddered, head pooling into his hands as he anxiously ran them into his hair.

He took a minute to watch the blood soak into the hem of his pants as he curled in on himself, working on steadying his breath with every passing moment. With soft mutterings and hums he manages to soften the harsh beating of his heart against his ribs, forcing it to stay in his chest before he sits up right once more with a single, shivering breath.

"Okay…" Nephyrus whispered to himself, eyes darting to the door that was just slammed shut, like he was waiting for someone to walk back in.

Once he was sure no one would, he reached a hesitant hand up to the knife stabbed above his head -where his heart once was- and pulled it free from the wall. The letter that was pinned to the wall from it, fell onto his head and slid into his lap. The picture of a paw print pierced by an arrow taunting him, a vague clue of who the masked tiefling who just threatened his life, a clue he didn't even understand.

He licked and gnawed on his lip, just staring at the piece of paper in his lap, torn and frayed at the edges. He could still feel his pulse in his throat, begging to run free and away from this mess he's gotten himself into with this.

"... Tch… "keep acting like that",,, what does that even mean…" Nephyrus set his jaw awkwardly to try and settle the tension on his head, thoughts running through heaps and hurdles of what this could mean, what this could be about, why this would be happening, any and everything.

He had a sneaking suspicion, this gnawing, grating, idea in the back of his mind as to what this could be about, this theory he was so desperately pleading to be false. The last thing he needed while on a separate planet was a chain keeping him attached to his old one, much less the part he wanted to break off from.

With a more forceful and precise hand, trying to get the hard part over and done with. He couldn't place why it was hard, the subconscious horror if he was right? The thought of if he's wrong and it's something he didn't prepare for? Something else entirely? Why was it so nerve wracking, why were his hands shaking again as he held the paper up, not even an inch above his lap. The paper was taught between his two hands, trembling in his tight grip as it threatened to rip and tear with his anxiety.

Another heavy breath and he fumbled his fingers around the folds, finally managing to open the message.

"Good tidings Abbodon,-"

Well, he knows the guy's name now: Abbodon. Not sure where that'll get him here, though. Fuck- it's a name, and that's good, it's a lead.

"We met again under familiar circumstances. The target is Nephyrus Wendell-"

Nephyrus' set his jaw again.

"Currently working for N.A.S.A. with a pale red complexion and buffalo horns. How it's done is none of my concern.

Regrettably,"

No.. no no no don't let it be that, anything but that.

"The Ballard Family Head.

160,000GP"

Fuck.

Fuck.

"Fuck!" Nephyrus stood, granted on shaky legs as he slid his back up the wall, staring at the red numbers on the  paper.

"160,000"

He did it.

He really, really did it.

He managed to actually put a price on his life. And it was surprisingly high,,, at least in Nephyrus’ opinion. Which,, should say a lot about considering his personal relationship to the head of the Ballard Family. His very personal relationship.

Eugh.

The paper suffered his disgust, a pointed scowl as his hand crumpled the corner of the paper in his sickened grasp of the ink spitting in his face. It made him sick, thinking that such a man could do this to him. Not so much that it was unbelievable, instead of just how believable it was. Wouldn’t be the first time something like this has happened to him. Although, this time it felt more serious, a lot more threatening and made Nephyrus’ feet burn, like he was a sitting duck.

He glared at the door, he couldn’t even recall the height of the man who attacked him, vaguely his voice. He felt the burn from his feet rocket up his body with shame. What was the point of getting into N.A.S.A. if he couldn’t even manage to fight against someone trying to attack him? If he couldn’t help himself, how was he supposed to help the company he works for? How was supposed to gather the good will of the people here if he practically stood there and let him choke him out against the wall like that?

He shook his head, pushing the hair back from obscuring his view of all possible entrances and exits of the room. He shouldn’t plague himself with those thoughts right now, what he needed to do was figure out a game plan, obviously he can’t stay in this Inn- not even for tonight. Then he would actually be a sitting duck. But he can’t go off the grid either because he’s still working on the N.A.S.A. mission with Marmite and…

Shit.

“SHIT- what am I supposed to tell Marmite and.. And Li…” Nephyrus held his hand to his mouth, brows knitting together in worry as he pushed his shaken body off the wall to lightly pace around the room.

He glanced back down to the note before stuffing it into his pocket.

“I can’t tell them… they’d freak out… they’d get caught up… can’t let them get hurt- Li’s got a son, Li gets hurt I’ll never forgive myself… And Marmite, fuck, I can’t let him go into that tournament alone though- I promised him I’d go with him… Shit… Damn it…” Nephyrus’ tail swatted side to side as he paced around the large room, big even for what he was used to in more expensive rooms - that’s what you get when the entire town is a head taller than you, suppose. 

Looking at his faint reflection in the window, and the red line that seemed to scream out at him in the translucent reflection, he glanced back down to the line down his abdomen. Such a thin and shallow cut, and yet it managed to shake him so much- he’s dealt with worse bar fights than this. But those were happenstance, something that was just a normal thing to happen when people get drunk in the same room together and have differing opinions. This was personal. Way, way too personal.

“Abbodon…” Nephyrus wiped off the thin trail of blood, not bothering to put any bandages on the shallow cut, instead just buttoning back up his shirt which now had a hole in it. He clicked his tongue in annoyance at that before leaning against the dresser in the room. He could barely see himself in the mirror, it being higher than normal and settling at about chest height, but in the reflection he could see the duffel bag worth of stuff he’d brought into the inn and suddenly he was panicking again.

He raced to the bag, sliding along the floor on his knees to quickly unzip the bag to ruffle through its contents. If there was anything he knew about that “Head of the Ballard Family”, he’d want what was in this bag. That is, if he somehow managed to find out what was in it - but seeing as he found out what planet he was going on he didn’t think it to be that big of a stretch anymore.

Gracious above, you go to a whole other planet and your past will catch up to you. That oughta teach him to never run from his problems. Can’t really say he blamed himself though, this was a very infuriating and intimidating problem.

Finally he clutched onto the plain wooden box, small scratches and notches taken out of the once sharp corners and edges of it, the desperate Tiefling failing the simple lock on it before finally managing it open with baited breath, chest tight and body rigid before he found the photos messily scattered about the small interior of the box.

A shaky breath left his lips in heavy relief as he subconsciously curled around the box, tail curving in a semi circle on the floor around where he sat on his knees. He took a moment to go through the photos, trying not to shake any harder than he already was as the memories of the photos poured into mind like a waterfall that wanted to empty out of his tear ducts. They were safe. She was safe.

He neatly sorted the pictures of his mother into the box once more, ordering them through long ago before he was even born to shortly before she vanished from his life, from most frayed and yellowed to pristine and nearly shining with how glossy and white they remained over the years he’d kept them safe in the box.

He can’t risk losing her again. Not like this, not to him for a second time.

He can’t risk Marmite and Li getting involved with this, Li’s son deserves to grow up with a loving and caring father and Marmite deserves to see the galaxy.

He can’t risk their safety.

He steeled his gaze onto the box, sharp eyes flicking to the duffle bag of his essentials and the backpack he had with adventuring gear that would let him… well, get off the grid for a while. At least until he could fix this problem.

Could he though? The way he said those words.

“You must be in big trouble…”

He must have some big fucking balls to be talking like that, or the body count to back it up at least. Made Nephyrus’ throat tight and heart stutter.

Definitely not getting Marmite and Li wrapped up in this. Living together with them or not for the next time knows how long, he should be able to at least address this issue before the tournament. Or so help him, he does not want to drag a second into the ring with him like that, not when other people could get hurt because of his own incompetence.

“Sorry, friends.” Nephyrus muttered to himself, giving the box before him on the floor a loving kiss. “Didn’t expect this to happen. Not like this, anyway.”

Stuffing the box carefully back into the bag, he zipped it up - not before pulling out a quill and some paper, writing a vague message that some unexpected contingency came up so he had to report back to his ship for the rest of the week, but won’t ask for a refund for the room - more so that it was just not going to be in use anymore.

He thought about where to put it when the memory of his own personalized note was brought back to his head - not that it ever really left, but pulled his attention enough to turn his gaze to the knife on the floor where he sat. He felt sick looking at it, the very thought of that knife being pressed against him - the fact he did nothing to prevent it. He’s better than that - he SHOULD be better than that, anyway.

Nephyrus slung the duffel over his head onto his shoulder, dropping down next to the knife to pick it up. On it were the faint remnants of their interaction: a thin sliver of his own blood, already dried on the end of the blade. He scratched a piece of it off with his claw before he grimaced at the fact it could’ve killed him. He wasn’t sure why he was so upset at the fact he was basically spared, maybe it was the weighty feeling of something looming over his head at all times, the fact that his very assassin warned him instead of deciding to take his life right there, like some sick, dangerous game.

Nephyrus was no sitting duck.

A single paper left on the pillow of the bed, window cracked open for a quiet exit and dent in the wall were the only things left in the room, the only things tying him to being there. The last remnants of him sitting still and waiting for some predator to take him life meek prey.

He wouldn’t let that happen again.

@lanternbanter

WHAT THE FUC K!!!!

[nova-rpv]

a redraw of the first drawing i posted here to celebrate the fact that ive been in tumblr for more than a whole year posting my shit and havent deleted my blog in panic yippee \:D/ (mushy rant in tags)

[brodorokihousuke]

GUESS WHAT DAY IT IS

[ghost-proofbaby]

foolishness and all

summary: your boyfriend puts your love to the test when his heart is set on a certain unsightly purchase.

pairing: eddie munson x gn!reader

warnings: jar jar binks. not edited, i was laughing too hard.

wc: 1.8k+

a/n: this is the product of a very insane conversation that occurred in the middle of the night last night with @emmaisgonnacry, @lokis-army-77, and @emma-munson. forever sad we can't get the jar jar watch </3 (but at least emma got the darth maul one!) ((thank you for making me laugh until i cried last night, friends.))

“If you buy that thing, I’m breaking up with you.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“Yes, I am.” 

“I’m getting the watch.” 

“And I’m getting a new boyfriend.”

You glare at your boyfriend for several beats of tense silence, narrowing your eyes as if it’ll do anything to change his mind. His heart is already set – there’s no stopping what’s about to happen. 

“Edward Munson,” you stress, hand shooting out to hold his wrist, but he’s already whipping it out of your reach, “That thing is hideous. We’re shopping for a nice watch for Steve’s wedding, not that.” 

“This thing has a name, sweetheart,” Eddie smiles toothily, tilting his head tauntingly at you, “And I think it fits the theme perfectly.” 

“In what fucking world?”

You're whispering harshly now, trying to keep from causing a commotion in the middle of the store and garnering any more unwanted attention. The workers had given you strange enough looks when Eddie had first laid eyes on his prize, his little yelp of excitement seemingly startling them. 

The less people who witnessed the atrocity on Eddie’s wrist currently, the better. 

Eddie goes against that wish entirely, holding his wrist high in the air for the entire mall to see at this point, “In my world. He did say it was meant to be open for interpretation-”

“Not like this.”

“And my interpretation is buying this absolutely priceless Jar-Jar Binks watch.” 

The thing looks down at you, almost as if it’s laughing at you just as Eddie was right now. 

Part of you wonders if it’s all a bit – something Eddie noticed set you off, and he’s now making it into an entire catastrophic situation solely for his own enjoyment at your irritation. But part of you also knows that even if it is a bit, Eddie Munson will commit wholeheartedly to it. 

It doesn’t matter if it’s a joke or not. He’ll be leaving this store as the owner of that watch, and the thought mortifies you. 

“Please,” you finally resort to begging, feeling a bit childish as you give a pitiful hop to reach his wrist. It’s useless. He only stretches higher, shirt riding up to expose that strip of pale skin beneath the fabric. Your eyes catch on it momentarily, but you force yourself to not get distracted, “Eddie, baby-”

“Nuh uh,” he’s quick to shake his head, taking a full step back from you, “Nope. That baby shit isn’t working on me this time. I’m buying it. End of discussion.” 

Fine. The sweet talk route didn’t work. That’s fine. 

You had more than one weapon in the arsenal. 

Before he can even think to step any further away, you reach out and hook your finger through one of his belt loops, giving a tug that further exposes the band of his boxers all while forcing him closer to you. 

You’re back on your tip-toes, no longer reaching for the watch, but to let your lips barely graze over his as your whispers, “What if I ask you not to very, very nicely?” 

That has him faltering. Complete hesitation as he takes a deep breath and visible gulp, arm beginning to drop ever so slightly. 

“I would… I’d…” he trails off, clearly losing focus as your lips stay hovering just out of touch, “I’d probably… I-”

“Probably not buy it – right, handsome?” 

And just as quickly as he’d fallen victim to the game you’d started playing, he’s pulled from it. 

He leans back as far as he can with your finger still clinging to his pants, scrunching up his nose, “I see what you’re doing. Not fucking fair. It’s only thirteen dollars, anyway. I bet if Steve was here right now, he’d tell me to get it.” 

“He wouldn’t!” you whisper-yell, giving up and pulling back as well, “It’s his wedding, Eddie. He told us to get something nice to fit in with the black tie dress code,” you can see him ready the argument of interpretation once more, and nip it in the bud, “No amount of interpretation can ever qualify the head of Jar-Jar Binks turned into a watch as something that fits into black tie attire.”

He’s not convinced. Not of the point you’re trying to make – no, you know he agrees with you and is just being a little shit at this point – but of not buying the watch. 

“What if I just bought it?” he barters, “Maybe I don’t wear it to the weddin-”

“There’s no maybes about it. You can’t wear it to the wedding. You’re one of the groomsmen.”

He lifts his other hand just as the one adorning the eyesore finally drops to be eye level once more, “Fine! Fine. I won’t wear it to the wedding, but I’m still getting it.” 

It’s a compromise. Or as close to a compromise as you and Eddie were going to get to right now. 

With his wrist finally lowered, you can finally get a proper look at the thing. It’s Jar-Jar’s head with a band to mimic his skin, no clock in sight until it’s flipped open. The inside might be even worse though. Vivid font curling to spell out Jar-Jar, a light orange background with darker swirls, and the world’s smallest sliver of a screen to display the digital time. 

It absolutely blows your mind that anyone thought it was a good marketing idea. But then again, people like your boyfriend exist. He was the intended audience, not you. 

“It’s not even that cool,” you weakly still try to fight the losing battle, gingerly grabbing for the wrist this time with your free hand. Your finger hasn’t left Eddie’s belt loop, now resting comfortably in it, just growing fond of the closeness rather than weaponizing it against him. 

And maybe as a way of keeping him from running up to the counter to complete the purchase. Maybe. 

“It’s the coolest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he proudly proclaims, right there in the middle of the Radio Shack, never having looked more satisfied with himself, “It can just be a conversational piece. I promise, I won’t break out the secretly evil little shit-”

“What?”

“Unless the occasion actually calls for it.” 

“I’m sorry, can we go back to where you just called Jar-Jar secretly evil?” you ask, more perplexed than concerned at this point.

He was getting it. You were hating it. You had bigger wars to win with the man before you at a later date, surely. 

His grin makes you regret asking, “Oh, you haven’t heard the theory about Jar-Jar being a Sith lord, have you?” 

Your finger slips from his jeans, and your eyes nearly roll out of your head. 

“Go buy that thing. I’m waiting in the car.” 

“Wait, babe, no!” 

“Nope. I’m not listening to this.” 

You turn from Eddie to walk away, making sure he can’t see the corners of your mouth twitching with a smile you’re so desperately fighting, but it’s no use when he grabs onto your elbow to spin you back around. 

“Eddie, I’m not-”

You’re interrupted with his lips on yours, an unexpectedly genuine kiss ensuing. The kind that reminds you why you’d ever deal with someone who wants a Jar-Jar Binks watch, the kind that reminds you why the occasional embarrassment Eddie purposefully puts you through in public is all worth it. 

All the butterflies, all the sweetness, all the tenderness. The way his thumb traces over your skin as his hand stays wrapped around your elbow, the way his other hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You can still taste whatever sour candy he’d bought moments before walking into the store all over his tongue and lips, hiding his last cigarette from hours ago. 

It’s a good enough kiss to forget the entire interaction that had just occurred. 

When he pulls away, you’re a little breathless, all fluttering eyes glazed over as you look up at him, “What was that for?” 

His smile could melt your entire existence. Turn you right into a puddle of all the love you struggle to contain, just for him. 

“Just because,” he shrugs, but then he continues on, “And for putting up with me. Thank you for that.” 

“I don’t put up with you,” you say immediately, and mean it.

Even when he’s being insufferable. Even when he’s still wearing the goddamn Jar-Jar Binks watch. You don’t put up with him – you love him. Foolishness and all. 

Your finger returns to his belt loop, and this time, you tug him in for another kiss. Something short and sweet, something just because. 

“You know,” he mumbles against your lips, arm wrapping around you so you can’t leave him just yet, “They have a Darth Maul one, too…” 

Your hand comes up between the two of you, only a slight struggle, just for you to smack him in the center of his chest, “You can only have one, Munson.”

“We could match!”

“I am not wearing that thing.” 

He throws his head back and cackles, a certain glee only born of being with the one you feel safest with flooding his features. All those wrinkles in the corners of his crinkled eyes, the stretch of his lips that bring on the appearance of dimples you could bury yourself in if given the chance. A boy made up of stardust and felicity. Your boy made up of every good thing that could have ever existed in this lifetime. 

You’d rather bicker over the useless things with him a hundred times over than ever live a life without him. 

“It’s fine,” he finally sighs dramatically, “I’ll just wear the Jar-Jar Binks watch to our wedding one day.”

Our wedding one day. 

Your heart just about explodes, and the only thing you can do to not choke up is smack him even harder. 

Our wedding. 

It has a nice ring to it. 

“I’m going to fucking kill you,” you tell him instead.

There’ll be plenty of other moments to talk about that. Now, when he still wears the ugliest watch you’ve ever laid eyes on, is not the time. 

“Gotta catch me first,” he teases as he slowly backs away, a twinkle in his eyes that makes you question if he knows how you’d secretly felt about that joke. That makes you question if he and Steve Harrington had really only been shopping for Steve’s rings for the last year. 

He doesn’t even run to the counter, knowing that you won’t be chasing him. You’re content to stay back and wait. You’ll always wait on him, really.

Even if it meant waiting for the day he wore that goddamn watch on your wedding day, because at the end of it all, you’d probably let him. You’d even wear the Darth Maul watch to match if he insisted. 

You’d let him wear whatever he wants, and you’d wear whatever he insists upon, because at the end of the day, it wouldn’t matter – it’d be enough to simply marry the dork that just tripped on his way up on the counter while giggling over a watch on his wrist, and know that he’s yours, forever.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @mediocredreams @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin

@ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87

@thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @aysheashea @kellsck

@cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975 @eddiesxangel @siriuslysmoking

@witchwolflea @tlclick73 @magicalchocolatecheesecake @mizzfizz @nanaminswhore

@mikiepeach @ali-r3n @hawkebuckley @alwaysbeenfamous @darkyuffie-blog

@vintagehellfire @lilmisssiren @elvendria @loveryanax @stylexrepp

@princessstolas @fangirling-4-ever @eddiesguitarskills @babez-a-licious @josephquinnsfreckles

@writinginthetwilight @trixyvixx @kittydeadbones @munson-addict @bluejeangenies

@cryingglightningg @joannamuns9n @missmarch-99 @rhirojo @findmeincorneliastreet

join my taglist!

[exoid-the-locomotive-monarch]

>be a webcomic

>decent popularity and critical support from the fans at the start

>immediate drop in quality over next bunch of updates

>fans hate it

>gets so bad writers and artists are harassed to the point of leaving the team

>endless controversies between writers acting shitty on their personal Twitter account to fans to accusing discord mods of being 4Chan nazis

>comic loses half its funding 8 months in

>bimonthly updates 4 months in return to the sluggish once a month updates from the start

>pause 14 months into the comic’s intended 5 year run.

>announce a month later indefinite hiatus

>radio Silence for THREE YEARS AND NINE MONTHS

>be almost 4 year anniversary of the webcomic’s start, 17 days away to be exact

>drop 4 DOZEN pages

>new director

>new writers union

>new EVERYTHING even the title of the comic changed

>the “it’s so over” from the fandom supercharges back into “we are so fucking back”

>its name is enough to scare half this website into shock

>look at tags

[bogdreamz]

korvo lost and farting 0 stars for you my boy

[rambles-about-minecraft-ocs]

one of my favorite things about zedaph is that on a server full of people that find strange and oft-overlooked minecraft mechanics or rare events and then see just how far they can push them in the name of spectacle or efficiency or world-breaking, zed is over here finding these mechanics in order to do the weirdest things he can think of in as entertaining a manner as possible

like i 100% have faith in zedaph's theoretical ability to be just as efficient or spectacular or world-breaking. if he wanted to do that stuff, i trust that he absolutely could. but thats so far from being his priority. instead, hes going to spend around a week of irl time focused entirely on eventually having the good luck to spawn in something insanely rare so that he can convert it into something even rarer, the result of which being something that 99% of the server reacts with complete and utter shock that it even exists in the first place, just because its zany and funny and he wanted to. and i love that

[otome-dissection]

compilation of Hey What The Fuck Did They Mean By This

[shima-draws]

Me? Drawing Tododeku for the first time since *checks calendar* APRIL of LAST YEAR???

[yeloenk]

THERES NO FUCKING WAY

I WIN AT LIFE I WIN I WIN I WIN

[vaggieslefteye]

Angel, can I see you in your dressing room for a moment?

[witchinatree]

i know the whole "do you think jon ever used his powers to Know what his parents looked like" thing is far more devastating than this but what if he tried using his powers to remember original sasha? jon and sasha always seemed closer than the rest, he picked her (and tim) to work with him and tolerated a lot more nonsense from her than anyone else (using his password to access his computer [161], debating his pronunciation of calliope [25], etc)

and ofc jon and martin became significantly closer as the podcast went on, but in the beginning he was cruel to martin when he gave a statement but accepting of sasha? idk i think their friendship was a lot deeper than we realized (ESPECIALLY since his first murder in season 5 was because NotThem provoked him about sasha) and i think jon wouldve used his powers to Know the original sasha, not sure if it wouldve worked though

so so sorry to distract from the post but can yall read the tags for me because i suffered immensely for this post

[mayashesfly]

Fyolai is so fucking insane to me.

You mean to tell me that this entire time that the person who wanted to be free from his feelings would've been trapped if he successfully killed Fyodor? Not just in the sense of the grief and mourning he would experience from his death but that he would be trapped in his own body with Fyodor? A bird stuck in a cage of his own making even further?

You mean to tell me that the guy who wants to lose himself would've thoroughly lost himself to the one person he loves? The only person that understands him? And that person seems to want to become a part of him? TO become him if he succeeded?

So thoroughly together and lost in one another that they become each other?

DUDE THIS IS THE PINNACLE OF CANNIBALISM AS AN ALLEGORY FOR LOVE TO THE NEXT LEVEL

HOW ARE YOU SUPPOSED TO TOP THIS

HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO COPE

THEY MAKE ME INSANE THEY MAKE ME INSANE THEY MAKE ME INSANE

[lunarharp]

if i just told you i love you would this world change

[tangledinink]

im just saying that some of the people on this godforsaken webbed site would probably not survive watching siblings/young children interact irl

[densewentz]

Fake Anime Screenshot (??? I guess??)

Day 17 is what it is! This kinda style eludes me rip but we gave it the ol' college try anyway