#i have a lot of trouble remembering the things i do so these sorta things can be kind of helpful

[iwakuraz]

doing scrapbook stuff again properly for the first time in a few months! happy :3

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Actually told Mr. V we're probably gonna talk about some of. His issues. In therapy, sometime soon-ish

He took it surprisingly well? Kinda just tried to laugh it off, like he always does when he's uncomfortable but doesn't want me to think it's a big deal

[barblaz-arts]

Stephanie Beatrice had played my 3 favorite characters (Rosa Mirabel and Vaggie) and since I watched Encanto and B99 I have my head canon that Vaggie have both Rosa and Mirabel personalities.

Any way, I just want to know what is your head canon or theory about her? ( specifically about Lute calling her weak and why the other exorcist hate her)

Since she is your girl, I would love to read your essay about her.(I’m joking you don’t have to write that much I just like to read your post)

Thank you

"My girl"... Am I just "that one artist who's the biggest Vaggie stan" to you guys? (I won't mind it!)

Oh man! I do have some ideas! A lot of my headcanons were already kinda sorta mentioned in my fic/art tho, so sorry if you're not getting a lot of new info

- I have this headcanon that Vaggie's always been "softer" than the other Exorcists, which is what I assume Lute meant when she said she "always knew [Vaggie] was weak". I know it probably has more to do with how little time each episode has, but what if Lute was so ready, already behind Vaggie when she let that kid go, because she knew this wasn't the first time Vaggie spared a sinner? Maybe that was just the first time Lute actually caught her. Maybe she's always had her suspicions, when Vaggie's kill count would lower every year, and she'd sometimes find Vaggie saying a sinner got away somehow despite cornering that demon moments ago.

- although she's gotten used enough to her lack of depth perception when it comes to her hand eye coordination, especially when fighting, i like to think her reading ability could never truly go back to the way it used to be, so she has trouble reading/ writing/texting (if you notice, i always showed instances of this in my fic ;> )But because she's the hotel manager she still has to deal with them because of paperwork and shit, so she has prescription glasses that help. I'd wanted to include a scene in the First Guest where Vaggie almost cries after seeing Charlie thru the glasses for the first time, because she didn't think Charlie could be any more beautiful, but i scrapped the idea because I couldn't expand the concept enough to an actual scene that could be relevant to the overall fic. I probably should have just mentioned it in a paragraph or something, but by the time i remembered id already posted the chapter I intended to add it in. Maybe I'll use it for another fic.

- she prefers femme clothing so she doesn't really have a reason to do this, but she learned how to do all kinds of ties so that she could do Charlie's whenever

- she grew her hair to compensate for her lost wings

- she wasn't exactly a great cook before she Fell, but she was pretty capable when she lived alone in Heaven. Cooking for Charlie tho gave her the motivation to get better and actually enjoy it

- an angel trait that she could never truly abandon is being a stickler for rules. She's very strict on everyone and herself with these things, within reason. So even when she and Charlie started dating, she insisted that they can't sleep together until they've had their third date. When they're on the clock, they have to be professional and avoid flirtatious advances in front of staff and guests. Charlie didn't mind because she prefers privacy too.

- Vaggie's physical appearance slightly changed gradually the longer she stayed in hell. As an angel, her sclera was paler, her incisors duller, and her skin grayer. But as time passed, her sclera got more and more peach/pink, fangs sharper, and skin more purple toned

- i still like to think that Vaggie's old backstory back when only the pilot was out (having died in 2014 in her early twenties who worked as a sex worker in El Salvador) was still true. Maybe it's just because I've liked Chaggie since pilot, and I've grown really attached to that backstory. I also just really don't want Vaggie to be Heavenborn for some reason. Among the cast she just seems the most grounded to reality to me, so having her revealed to have never been human and born "divine" just doesn't seem right to me. I also just think it'd be cute and funny if it turns out she's chronologically the youngest in the hotel even tho she's basically everyone's strict not-mom.

- idgaf what Adam says, I wanna think that "Vaggie" is short for "Evangeline". I used to have these 2 coworkers in their late 50's to 60's who had Evangeline as their government name, but one of them goes by "Vanj" and the other "Vajee". Being older Filipino women who aren't really too fluent in English, they never thought there was anything wrong with that when they grew up with their nicknames. I like to think that the case was the same if Vaggie used to be human. I'm not sure how common English is in El Salvador, but I'm willing to bet it's possible she could have been given that nickname as a kid by an older family member who didn't know a lot of English. Also Evangeline makes more sense to have been the name of an angel cmon now...

[missashketchum]

Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon!

It's time for Dorm Leaders with Ash's Pokemon headcanons!

Enjoy!

Riddle- Bulbasaur

Bulbasaur is the ringleader of Ash's Pokemon, and Riddle respects it a lot

to be able to keep 50+ chaotic Pokemon in line, despite many of them having the ability to toss Bulbasaur around like a salad

respect

Bulbasaur also has none of the Adeuce shenanigans and is constantly using his vines to stop them

Riddle and Bulbasaur have very peaceful teatime with each other

and by peaceful, I mean the two relax at a table drinking tea and eating cookies

while Ace, Deuce, Grim and Ash goof around

they need the "parental supervision" a Riddle put it

ignoring the fact that Ash has raised Pokemon from eggs like they were her own kids lol

all in all, Riddle and Bulbasaur are actually the most peaceful duo in this entire thing

Leona- Rowlet

ever since Rowlet arrived in TWST, Leona has been waking up with it sleeping somewhere near him

next to him

on his lap

on his shoulder

it was in his hair once

and every single time when he woke up, he would either scare Rowlet awake so it would fly away, or he'd just throw it

but last time he threw Rowlet, Ash threw him, so no more throwing Rowlet

as time went on, he sorta just learned to accept the fact that Rowlet was now his sleeping buddy

and no matter where he hid, he would always be found

no one brings it up to him either, because who wants to tell leona kingscholar that he's getting friendly with a fricking owl

that's right, no one

except Ash, of course >:)

Azul- Dracovish

Azul thoughts Dracovish was kinda derpy (tbh, he kinda still does)

but when he sees Dracovish's Fishious Rend practically obliterate the practice dummies

he suddenly glad that Ash didn't use Dracovish on him when he Overblot...

she did, he just doesn't remember :/

Dracovish was relentless btw

Dracovish loves being petted, and once jumped into the Octavinelle water tank just to make Azul get out of his office

then, once Azul gets out of the office, Dracovish pops out and asks for pets

at this point, Azul caught onto it, but doesn't have the heart to stop it

he won't admit it, but he does like Dracovish

Kalim- Totodile

Kalim and Totodile meet for the first time

then Ash has trouble getting Totodile to go back to Ramshackle with her

the two are immediately glued together and dancing and playing around in the water

jamil is tired

they're literally best friends when the day ends

Kalim and Totodile are hugging each other, huge crocodile tears in their eyes as Jamil and Ash have to physically separate them because it is past curfew, dammit Kalim

Kalim is actually one of the very very few that a majority of Ash's Pokemon like

Totodile especially

did I mention that they're best friends now?

cause they are

it's fun loving Water UM/Type solidarity

Vil- Unfezant

ahhh Unfezant

so agile, so graceful

done so dirty in all of her battles, she deserves better

Vil first meets Unezant as she's flying around with Ash's other Flying-types, and he's never seen a bird do as many elegant aerial tricks as her

is intrigued with how well maintained she is

meanwhile, Unfezant is wondering who the hell this boy is and why he's looking at her like that

is, ironically, unsettled by Vil at first because all he does when he sees her is analyze her, which makes her very uncomfortable

retaliates by sending string gusts of wind to mess up his hair

and Ash has to proceed to tell a very irate Vil that he's making Unfezant very uncomfy and the wind thing was her way of making him stop

guess Rook rubbed off on him more than he's like to admit...

slowly, Vil begins to actually talk to Unfezant, especially complimenting her flying prowess, and Unfezant starts to kind of like him a bit

now messes his hair up as a sign of appreciation :)

Idia- Pikachu

literally who else could I pick?

the biggest lil shit there is >:)

despite being a cat guy, Idia was immediately interested in Ash's only Electric-type

"kinda like a marketable plushie..."

was almost zapped for that comment

but he WAS zapped for picking Pikachu up to look at him

Ash tried to warn him, even went to grab Pikachu back from him

cue Pikachu zapping BOTH of them

cue Ash having to explain that Pikachu does that with people he doesn't like

also cue Ash having to explain that she's used to it because Pikachu literally electrocutes her as a sign of affection

Idia is mildly concerned, but seeing as she isn't hurt he lets it slide

tries to keep making friends with Grim and Pikachu and the two are not having a good time :/

keep the crazy cat boy away from the electric mouse pls

Malleus- Charizard

“ah, what a fearsome yet protective dragon you have”

“but… Charizard’s not a dragon���?”

cue blue screen

he even has Ash pull it up on one of her Pokédex’s

sure enough, not a dragon

at this point, with what happened with iris, Ash is used to people mistaking Charizard for a dragon

Charizard, however, is a bit ofended (cuz that's just how he is 😅)

so he tries to flame Malleus

doesn't work on him, but Ash gets caught in the crossfire and gets covered in soot

cue malleus being genuinely concerned for the human

cue ash having to explain she's used to it and it's a sign of affection

again

rather impressed with Charizard's display of moves

"dragon tail?"

"he's not a dragon >:T"

[your-unfriendlyghost]

Thinking about your fic where Dallas is Tex’s older brother, where does mark come into play? Is there an au where they can be happy 😭💔💔

Well truthfully, in that fic, I think Mark’s in prison still, like at the end of That Was Then, This is Now 🥲

BUT let’s make an AU where they’re happy!

(TW- mentions of canon-typical violence/canon-typical darkness)

(Not a fic btw- just a rambly outline/headcanons)

In this AU, obviously Dally and Johnny live. (they still both have near-death experiences, but they survive yk?)

And canonically, Ponyboy and Mark Jennings are friends when they’re about 15-16ish. Now that we’ve made Dally survive, the two just end up meeting through Ponyboy. Now they know of each other, but they don’t know that they’re half-brothers. Dally thinks of Mark as a pesky kid who’s more annoying than Ponyboy but less annoying than Curly Shepard, and Mark thinks of Dally as a tough-hood-turned slightly pathetic guy who “Couldn’t even get the cops to kill him right smh” (crude I know but I genuinely think that’s what Mark would think 😭)

Then I’m gonna have Steve (he’s observant- in the book he was the one who found Johnny’s jacket in the lot, and the one who noticed Dally had taken his ring back from Sylvia) and Johnny (also pretty observant, just in more of a literary analysis way than in a physical way) discuss how similar the two are.

Eventually they mention it to Two-Bit, who’s like “Uh yeah they’re half brothers? Obviously?”

And Steve and Johnny are like “The fuck do you mean Pony’s buddy is Dally’s half brother??”

Two-Bit, who I’m making Mark’s cousin in this ‘cuz Emilio Estevez played both of them, goes “Yeah no- his mom, my aunt, cheated on her husband with Dally’s dad when I was like…four or five…which was how she got knocked up with Mark…y’all didn’t know that??”

Anyhow all three go tell Dally, who doesn’t initially care all that much. Mark’s got a stable life, and Dally doesn’t particularly feel the need to be part of it, although he does maybe start inviting the kid along to the drive in with him, Pony, and Johnny just a little more often

Mark is similarly indifferent when Pony tells him, just sorta says “Aw man, why’s Shepard get to have the cooler hood for an older brother??”

But that all comes crashing down when the events of TWTTIN come to pass. Now, instead of getting arrested when Bryon calls the cops on him, Mark remembers Dally. So he runs from the cops and shows up on Buck Merril’s doorstep just like Pony and Johnny did two years prior.

Dally’s initially mad about it- it’s one thing helping Johnny and Pony, and a whole other thing helping this annoying kid who got himself into this mess. But…he can also see himself in Mark, because the kid’s scared and helpless and alone, and is covering it with anger just like Dally always did.

So Dally lets Mark in. Angrily, and with a ton of complaints, but he lets him in all the same.

When the cops come around, looking for the runaway dealer Mark Jennings, Dally denies knowing anything, and the cops lose Mark’s trail and just kinda give up.

Then Dally forces Mark to dye his blonde hair brown (in a reverse-Ponyboy move lol), and bullies Buck Merril into giving the kid a job even with his record. (According to Mark on pg 147 of the book, he only started dealing to begin with because no jobs would take him with his police record) I’m pretty sure that Tulsa is actually big enough that no one recognizes him, especially with the dye job. I mean the town I’m from is a quarter of Tulsa’s size, and I still barely ever run into folks I know without planning it. And I get out a lot. So like if Mark’s at Buck’s place, I don’t think a lotta people will know of him- he’s sixteen, no one who goes there will know him. (And if they do, well, it’s Buck Merril’s place, nobody would dare to call the cops there anyhow.)

So Mark carries on like that, living low…ish…I mean c’mon he’s still Mark Jennings he still causes trouble. Just not so much trouble that Dally can’t keep him in check. He probably does still hate Bryon- just not enough to wanna kill him?? (Although again idk he’s still Mark maybe he wants revenge anyhow…he won’t get revenge tho ‘cuz I have other plot priorities and anyhow I think Bryon’s suffered enough)

Dally and Mark evolve to be kind of like fanon Tim and Curly- not particularly affectionate, but they care for each other. Mark shows it by helping Dally with chores occasionally, and sometimes stealing him stuff like rings and cigarettes. Dally shows it by letting Mark tease him, and by taking Mark places and spending time with him. And letting Mark call himself “Mark Winston”. (Again, Dallas acts like he doesn’t want to- hell, he probably believes he doesn’t want to, he’s pretty good at lying to himself- but he clearly does) (Tim, Johnny, Two-Bit, and Steve bully him mercilessly for this) (Sodapop doesn't ‘cuz he thinks it’s sweet and doesn’t wanna discourage it lol)

Then, about two years later, we’re at the start of my Tex fic, Hail Mary. That plays out about the same, except both Mark and Johnny convince him to help out with custody of a ten-year-old Tex.

Dally is annoyed still, but has begrudgingly grown to like these stupid kids- including Mason, who isn’t technically related to anyone but Tex, but hey he had a shitty cowboy dad too so he gets to be in the “shitty cowboy dad club” lol

I figure Dally stays in Garyville with Mason and Tex during the weekdays, and takes them to Buck’s on weekends ‘cause he does still have most of his life in Tulsa. Sometimes Johnny stays with them in Garyville too, ‘cuz yk, Johnny’s Dally’s best friend lol, and besides he’s not only an adult now too but is also an adult who is much more patient and easy to get along with than Dally.

Mark and Tex are a horrible combination to be around, even though Mark is eighteen now and really should be more mature than a ten year old. Dally has his mischievousness, sure, but neither Mark nor Tex were born with the little voice in their heads that says things like “arson is bad” and “actions have consequences”. Like Dally likes breaking laws- Mark and Tex don’t even consider laws. It’s bad. Dally and Mason leave them alone to go grocery shopping once and come back to see Mark has let the horses into the house, all because Tex triple-dog-dared him to. Another time, after Cole Collins tells Mason not to hang out with his kids anymore, Mark uses Cole’s car to teach Tex how to hot-wire things. Dally nearly murders him. So does Mason. It’s a problem…

Anyhow, those are my thoughts for now, lemme know yours!

[sailorblossoms-rankane]

there's a gag that essentially 1. shows both Ranma and Akane's flaws for laughs (but not to judge) 2. relies on assumptions and misunderstandings so it can do "raunchy" comedy without really compromising how fateful Ranma is to Akane

There's plenty of perverts in rumic world (their harassment is the setup & beating their asses the punchline) but despite his assholery, Ranma is sorta chivalrous, and he's faithful to Akane (everything else is a challenge/battle).

That's the joke: what if an innocent guy is seen as a pervert

He's often in those types of situations because of naivete and impulsivity – he doesn't think until he's already in trouble (or what he thinks is naive or dumb). It's also plot (or someone's plot). No way "gotta touch a tiddie (pressure point) to defeat her" won't look bad. Any person with a brain would realize that, but that's also the joke:

1. the situation is impossible not to misunderstand

2. Ranma genuinely doesn't realize until it's Too Late. So Ranma is dumb but always innocent, and for that, the formula is as follows:

The setup: the reader ALWAYS gets all the context BEFORE he's put in a compromising position. The other character is generally someone Ranma "shouldn't struggle to deal with." The punchline is that we know he's innocent, but he looks guilty to the character discovering him.

I can see not loving this gag as sometimes Ranma is harassed/invaded. I think the logic behind this happening to him (and not to the girls for example) is that "he's not vulnerable" "wouldn't happen if he grew a spine or used his brain" or something (also, fanservice) it is what it is. (imo some shit definitely doesn't land, but the manga has the ability to make wrong and/or extremely out-of-pocket shit funny just by the strength of its pacing, composition, and characters' expressions)

Part of the humor is also that for Ranma, it's important that Akane doesn't misunderstand (he ALWAYS wants to explain himself to her)... so of course she will lol but it's not just Akane! ANYONE who catches ranma misunderstands.

Here's the thing:

Akane is insecure (remember we learn that she felt like she needed to change herself to get love in the first volume – growing out her hair like Kasumi – experienced an unrequited crush for years, and other fiancées show up just as she's discovering her feelings for Ranma). She's quick to anger, impulsive (Ranma is too) she will hit first and listen later...

But even if Ranma is innocent, Akane's reaction still makes sense as an emotional response. She never gets the context we do before she catches him in a compromising situation, and you'll be hard-pressed to find a single motherfucker on this planet who would be chill seeing their significant other in the situations she finds him.

Akane is very jealous, but it's not like she's beating his ass because another girl breathes in his direction. The comedy always pushes both in extreme situations. Even if logically Akane knows Ranma, insecurities and emotions aren't logical.

(here's the context behind this panel btw)

Akane needs a lot of reassurance, but the comedy often pushes her BEYOND her limits, so she reacts badly. Even if there's always an explanation, finding your significant other in compromising situations regularly would piss any bitch off. At some point you just want it to stop.

Assuming the worst is a consequence of insecurity and being used to having unrequited feelings. But Ranma also does stupid shit like sneaking into a woman's apartment. Getting overwhelmed with anger and struggling to listen makes sense as an emotional response to that.

Sometimes is more about Akane not feeling like she's desirable enough for Ranma, who's surrounded by cute girls, so even if he's faithful she still believes he's interested in someone else. Sometimes she's perceptive, but still frustrated by having to find him in those situations (or stuff like... sure, she doubs Ranma is trying to actually date their teacher, but he's never ~romantically giving her his coat~ to protect her from the cold now is he).

If it keeps happening, Ranma's innocence by itself is not enough to suppress a bad gut reaction. That it is happening at all is also the problem, especially if it's happening because Ranma jumps into situations without thinking.

Something to also keep in mind is that they're both teens sharing a single braincell. Being FULLY aware of the situation doesn't suppress the emotional response. Because... emotions aren't logical!! (and that too is part of the joke)

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 6: Healed wrong, “it’s not my blood”

So I tried something new with this, which is part of why it took so long (the other reasons just being that it’s a weekend and I’m busy). I’m not totally sure I like it, but it was an experiment *shrug*

(please tell me what you thought please—)

I also used the “unhealthy coping mechanisms” prompt, but only sorta.

Warnings: badly broken bones, violence, blood.

Ao3 link

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

If I were less of an optimistic guy, I might say that I was in a bit of trouble, currently.

Or if I was less of a sarcastic guy, I’d say that I’m in pretty big trouble, but I am, and therefore it’s only a bit of trouble. Despite what my eyes are telling me and the kind of overwhelming pain in my leg.

But if there’s one thing I’ve gained from a solid five adventures, it’s the ability to ignore pain. Even when it’s sharp and overwhelming and my eyes are stinging and passing out would be pretty nice, I ignore it with the best of them.

And in addition, I’ve found that going through everything I’ve been through gives you a pretty good coping mechanism or three. I think mine’s sarcasm. Or grumpiness, depending on who you ask. Zelda would say grumpiness, and Ravio would probably say sarcasm, but the jury’s out on which one it actually is. My uncle would probably just laugh and say it’s hot cider.

But anyway. Back to the trouble.

Hi. I’m Link, the Hero of Legend, and I currently have a boulder twice the size of me sitting on my leg.

Now if you’re like me you’re probably wondering “Mr. Link, how on earth did this happen to you, since you’re the hero of Legend and all?”. And I’d tell you that “well you see, sometimes even the greatest of heroes can be real ding-dongs. Or not look where they’re going and trip.”

Or fall down a mountain while trying to escape an avalanche.

So yeah, it was a pretty crummy situation all in all. Especially since I couldn’t remember a lot of how it had happened. If the sticky feeling on the bag of my head was any mark, then I probably had something of a concussion, which would... explain some things.

It was pretty dark down here, even with the lantern I’d managed to grab and light. Breaking my leg in an avalanche was a new one for me, but really, you’ve broken one leg, you’ve broken them all. This would be the second time I’d snapped my left leg, and based on the huge chunk of rock resting on it currently, it wasn’t going to be nearly as easy to fix as the first time.

My breath puffed out of me in a cloud as I shifted around, trying to budge the rock, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. It was only getting colder as the sun set, and the reality of the situation was starting to sink in, making my stomach feel tight.

My bag had been thrown just far enough away that I couldn’t reach it, the clasp shining innocently in the light from the setting sun. A few items had fallen out, but apart from the lantern, there was nothing that would help much. I had no idea when the others would be along, since I was pretty sure I’d fallen a good halfway down the mountain. Thinking about it, it was actually kind of miraculous the only injuries I had were some scrapes and a severely crushed leg.

Well. And the cut on the back of my head that was making my hair damp with blood. But the leg hurt more.

A hiss escaped my teeth as I tried pushing at the rock again, but it was too heavy to budge, especially with the pain radiating through my body. I was trying not to think about it, but it was getting worse the longer I sat here.

And the blue potion that was just close enough for me to reach wasn’t going to be useful unless I could get the blasted rock off my leg.

I took in a few slow, steady breaths, calming down and bracing myself. I’d shove the rock as hard as I could this time, push through the pain, try and shift it enough that I could at least reach my bag.

This time I would make it. I could do it.

C’mon Link. It’s just a rock.

I counted down in my head, then shoved at the rock with all my might, a scream rising in my throat that I choked back. Pushing put way too much strain on every part of me that hurt, but despite the terrible angle and the fact that I was making absolutely zero progress, I kept pushing, the scream coming out as a pitiful whimper.

The rock didn’t move. My leg ached.

I pulled on the last bit of strength I had and shoved, and then you can probably guess what happened next.

One moment I was shoving, and the next, I was lying on my back, darkness fading from my vision. I’d blacked out.

The sun had finished setting while I was unconscious, and the stone was cold under my back, stars beginning to glitter above me. My lantern was still lighting up the immediate area at least, and I groaned, resting an aching arm over my face.

I was trapped.

I briefly raised my arm and glared at the boulder, ignoring the way the limb trembled. I hoped it was just the cold and not because I was losing too much blood.

“Stupid rock,” I croaked, glaring at the stone. The rock didn’t reply. Which was good. If it had, I’d be a lot more worried.

I gave it a shove, then let out a cry of pain, the movement making my leg and head both throb in sync. I fell to the ground with a hiss, and stared up at the sky, watching my breath puff into the cold air.

I wasn’t getting anywhere with this. If only I could reach my items, I could already think of five off the top of my head that I could use to free myself.

But no. All I had was a lantern and a potion I couldn’t use yet.

I looked over at it again, briefly debating it. The potion would try and fix anything that needed healing, even if it was broken and lying in a strange position. I didn’t know exactly what it would do to my leg if I drank it now, but... I didn't want to find out. That would be my last resort.

Something that wasn’t the wind made a noise nearby, and I stiffened, swiveling an ear. I didn’t use to be able to do that, but perks of briefly being a rabbit I guess.

The noise rang out again, and I groaned, recognizing the familiar growl of a monster. They could probably smell the blood all over my head, heard all my yelling.

I was a sitting duck.

The blue potion glinted innocently in the lantern light, and I swallowed, my mind whirling. The potion would heal my leg wrong, no doubt about that, but my head would heal over completely, and even if it healed wrong the pain in my leg would probably ease enough for me to get a good grip on the rock, or at least stretch far enough to grab my bag.

It wouldn’t be fun. In fact, it would probably end really badly.

But between that and getting mauled by something without so much as a knife to defend myself, I’d take the pain.

Believe it or not, I’d been faced with worse.

I grimaced, and grabbed the cold glass of the bottle, blue liquid sloshing as I tugged it over. My fingers were shaking enough that the cork was hard to remove, but I finally got it, and stared at the liquid, my stomach suddenly rolling.

Eyes glinted in the dark, focused on me, and I swallowed, bracing myself.

“Bottoms up,” I muttered.

Then I chugged half of it all in one go.

The effect was immediate on my head, the pain in my scalp gone almost instantly. The potion swept through and cleared the pained fog that had been clogging up my brain, and rushed through my body like a cool breeze, healing scrapes and bruises as it went. I braced myself as it slipped past my waist and down to my leg, and the cool feeling faltered, unsure of how to proceed.

Then it tore through the limb, trying to fix things.

The boulder firmly kept my leg at an odd angle, and I couldn’t help my gasp as my bones began healing in ways they shouldn’t, bending and crooked from the rocks. My vision whited at the edges as several somethings shifted, and it took me a second to realize the scream echoing off the rocks was mine.

Then the potion finished and I choked in a breath, tears running down my cheeks as I gasped for breath.

I could tell it was wrong, I could tell it was so wrong, but I knew I’d probably vomit if I thought about it too hard so I didn’t. Again, back to the ignoring thing. Instead I shakily pushed myself up, relieved that it didn’t hurt to do so as much as it had a few minutes ago, and pushed.

The boulder was still huge, and I was still in a lot of pain, but this time it shifted a little, just enough for me to stretch a little bit further, and snag the corner of my bag. I let out a cheer that was on the shaky side, then froze.

The eyes that had been watching me moved into the circle of lantern light, revealing the beast they belonged to. Dark scales and long talons met me, and I swallowed. Some kind of lizalfos, though I didn’t recognize it specifically.

Wings spread out from behind it as it hissed, and I quickly began rifling in my bag for the items I’d need. Aeralfos were even worse.

In one fluid motion I’d grabbed both the cane of Somaria and the cane of Byrna, and as the dark aeralfos lunged for my head, I twirled them simultaneously.

A protective whirlwind appeared around me, knocking the aeralfos backwards, and at the same time an orange block appeared under the boulder, throwing it off of my leg, finally.

I grinned in triumph even as my leg throbbed with a fiery feeling, and ignored the pain as I shifted myself to a sitting position. I switched the cane of Somaria out for my ice rod, and shot a few solid blasts at the lizalfos while it was still reeling.

A loud snarl came from its snout as it flared its wings, but before it could fly, I nailed it in the face with a huge blast of ice.

It screeched, and as the whirlwind around me faded, I quickly hammered it with more blasts, until its screeches faded and the cliffside was silent again.

I let out a sigh, shakily leaning against a part of the wall, and was so busy being relieved I didn't hear the second aeralfos until it was too late.

Talons ripped into my shoulders and I screamed as air rushed around me, the monster dragging me up into the sky before I could do a thing to stop it. We were already at a height too dangerous for me to be dropped, and I struggled against the aeralfos, mind whirling.

Was I seriously going to die right after finally getting free?

An idea clicked, and I snatched my hookshot out of my bag, aiming it at a particularly rocky spot on the mountainside. I shot it, and to my overwhelming relief the chain hit, pulling both me and the aeralfos towards the cliff at a rapid speed. I was ready for it though, and I grabbed at the cliffside with a cry, the aeralfos losing its grip on me at the force of the movement.

It howled, and I yelled as I pulled myself up onto the cliff, swallowing back bile as I caught sight of my grossly misshapen leg. I managed to claw my way up, and the aeralfos followed, still making a huge racket.

My hands shook as I yanked out my sword, and as the aeralfos slammed into me and knocked me on my back, I stabbed my blade into its neck.

The aeralfos let out a wracking gurgle, then fell on top of me, dead.

I dredged up the strength to shove it off of me, then collapsed backwards, breathing hard. My shoulders hurt, my leg hurt... most of me hurt actually, but the rest of the blue potion was still somewhere at the bottom of the mountain. And I really wasn't excited at the prospect of trying to climb down with a leg that currently had a few extra angles in it.

So I didn't. I just laid there, breathing hard, trying not to look at my leg and slowly working up the energy to move.

Lucky for me, I didn't end up having to.

"Vet! Hey, I found him!"

I blinked out of my doze at the shout, and heard bootsteps pound in my direction, a horrified gasp reaching my ears. Something poked my face, and then touched my leg—

I yelled and jerked forward, narrowly missing a collision with Warriors' head.

"Don't touch it!" I hissed, and the captain raised his hands in a peaceful gesture, Hyrule abruptly appearing beside him. He gasped as he looked at me, and I tried to send him a reassuring look. No idea if I succeeded. "It's not my blood. Well... most of it isn't."

"The blood isn't— Legend what did you do?" Hyrule asked in a horrified voice. Which was surprising, since Hyrule was usually pretty calm with injuries and the like. "You have— you have bone sticking out of your leg?!”

Oh. Yeah I could see why that would bother him.

More Links appeared behind Hyrule and Warriors, and I saw several faces pale, Twilight putting a hand to his mouth, Sky's face turning green as he quickly ducked away.

"Legend did you heal this? It's bent all wrong, what on earth..." Warriors said in that voice he always used when he was trying to keep his demeanor calm. It wasn’t working.

"It was stuck, I had to heal it, long story," I muttered tiredly, not having the energy for more.

"You know we're... we're going to have to break these again, right?" Hyrule said quietly, and I swallowed.

"Yeah. I knew going into it."

"Can you handle that now?" Warriors asked seriously, and I breathed out, trying to settle my flipping stomach. It needed to be done, the sooner the better.

It wasn’t going to be fun though.

“Yeah,” I said, and Warriors nodded, sympathy on his face.

He and Hyrule moved me further from the dead aeralfos and set me on a bedroll someone pulled out, Hyrule giving my hand a quick squeeze. Four came forward and tucked something soft under my head, and Time handed me one of his bracers to bite down on.

Twilight knelt by my head and took my hand, and I breathed in slowly as Warriors and Hyrule got into position.

“Ready Vet?” Warriors asked, and I swallowed.

Warriors and Hyrule would have to rebreak, set, and then heal multiple bones in my leg. It wouldn’t be fast, and it would get much worse before it got better.

But I wasn’t alone this time. Even if I was about to be put through unimaginable pain I wouldn’t be able to ignore... I couldn’t really think of anyone else I’d rather have doing it.

I closed my eyes, and tightened my grip on Twilight’s hand.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

[aventurineswife]

I just thought of this now and knew it would be funny but,

What about a platonic!reader x aventurine but reader is like a grandma Madea. I feel like this would be funny since Madea does a lot of illegal stuff and since the IPC is sorta a government. Although she jokes around a lot, everyone knows she doesn't play when it comes to her family.

I feel like it would be really nice for Aventurine to see how much someone genuinely cares.

“You've Got a Friend”

Summary: When IPC’s gambling prodigy, Aventurine, meets a surprising new friend—[Name], a feisty grandma with Madea-like energy and a knack for stirring up trouble—his life takes an unexpected turn.

Tags: Platonic, Aventurine & Grandma Reader, found family, humor, tough love, loyalty, protective reader, unconventional friendship, hurt/comfort, lighthearted moments, character growth, emotional support, Reader is implied female(she/her) but nothing in details, Reader refers Aventurine with nicknames.

Warnings: Mild language, references to emotional scars, some themes of loneliness

A/N: I'M SO SORRY IF I GOT THIS WRONG SOMEHOW OR SOMETHING!! I HAVE NEVER WATCHED THE FILM/MOVIE AND TO READ THE WIKIPEDIA TO UNDERSTAND HER CHARACTER!! 😭

Aventurine knew he’d seen his share of unpredictable people, but nothing could have prepared him for you.

He'd met you by accident—a rumor had surfaced of an unusual figure wreaking havoc at a nearby IPC office, and he thought he'd investigate, assuming it was just another rowdy client. When he arrived, however, he found the office staff staring in shock as you, in all your “grandma” glory, stood there lecturing a young agent on the importance of family values, all while waving around your purse like a weapon.

“Now, let me tell you something, sugar,” you declared, your tone sweet but deadly serious. ��When a boy like my grandson comes to your office, he’s here for business, not to be messed with. You play nice, and so will I. Got it?”

You didn’t notice Aventurine standing there at first, taking in the scene with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Finally, you turned, catching his gaze, your eyes narrowing slightly as you assessed him.

“Well, look at you, Mr. Fancy Pants,” you said, giving him a once-over. “What’s a youngin’ like you doing workin’ for the government, hmm? Ain't no good come from trustin' those suits. Just you remember that.”

The other employees in the office looked around nervously, but Aventurine only chuckled. “You must be…[Name]?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

“Grandma [Name] to you,” you replied, adding a pointed finger jab in his direction. “But you can call me Madea.”

The friendship that blossomed between you and Aventurine was…unusual, to say the least. You quickly took a liking to him, although you never hesitated to remind him you didn't trust “no government types.” You even went as far as calling the IPC “that mess of bureaucratic backstabbers” whenever Aventurine would bring up his job. Yet, despite the tough talk, you always had a glint in your eye whenever he’d visit, bringing you little trinkets he’d won in his latest gambling scheme or updates on his work.

One day, you caught him staring off into the distance, his confident smile faded just slightly, his guard down for just a moment. Without warning, you gave him a light smack on the back of his head, making him jump.

“What was that for?” he asked, rubbing his head and glaring at you.

“Stop lookin' like a kicked puppy. You’re handsome, got a job, a snazzy suit, and them fancy-lookin’ eyes. Life ain’t all bad, honey.” you said with a smirk.

“Since when do you hand out compliments?” he asked, a hint of a genuine smile appearing.

“Since I realized you ain’t got nobody who does it for ya,” you replied, shrugging. “You work so hard, pullin’ strings, playin’ games, but who’s there for you when things go south?”

That got him. He paused, then looked away. “Life is a game, Madea,” he said softly. “You can only rely on yourself.”

“Well, that’s a load of nonsense if I ever heard it,” you said, crossing your arms. “You got me, sugar. You just don’t know it yet.”

One evening, while the two of you were hanging out (at his request—though he’d never admit it), Aventurine made the mistake of mentioning that he had a meeting with some shady IPC officials that he didn’t quite trust.

“Now, what kinda mess you gettin’ yourself into, huh?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“It’s business,” he said, waving his hand dismissively. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Oh, I don’t like that look you’re givin’ me,” you said, wagging a finger. “Now listen here, if any of them suit-wearin' snakes give you trouble, you come straight to me, you hear?”

He laughed, holding his hands up. “I think I can handle myself just fine. Besides, it’s not like you’d be able to get into an IPC boardroom in the first place.”

You shot him a wicked grin. “Is that a challenge, honey?”

And sure enough, when Aventurine arrived at his meeting the next day, he was shocked to see you already inside the room. You were sitting there, looking comfortable and casual, surrounded by people in stiff business attire, a sly smirk on your face as you glanced up at him.

“Hey there, sugar! Fancy seein’ you here!” you called out, loud enough to startle the room.

The officials looked between the two of you, clearly baffled. Aventurine, unable to suppress his laughter, leaned in and whispered, “You know, you’re absolutely insane.”

“Only insane thing is lettin’ you walk in here without backup. They don’t scare me,” you whispered back with a grin, “but they should be scared of me.”

Over time, you became a fixture in Aventurine's life, always popping up when he least expected it, giving him advice he didn’t think he needed, and occasionally pulling a prank or two on his IPC coworkers just to keep things interesting. And though Aventurine kept his usual, unbothered demeanor, he couldn’t deny it—having you around felt like having someone who actually cared.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you set down a plate of warm, homemade cookies in front of him. “A little somethin’ to lift your spirits, sugar.” you said.

Aventurine stared at the plate, then back at you. “I don’t…know what to say.”

“You don’t gotta say nothin’. Just eat. And remember—family ain’t about blood. Sometimes, it’s about who’s there to smack you upside the head when you’re actin’ a fool.”

A genuine smile broke through Aventurine’s usual smirk, and he picked up a cookie, savoring it. For once, he let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to play the game alone.

[razorblade180]

Martial Practice 2

March:*planking*…….

Yanqing:Two more minutes.

March:You’re insane.

Yanqing:You said you were going to take this seriously, and I’m going to take this-

March:*plops to the ground*

Yanqing:Seriously!?

March:I’m trying! Although I don’t get how this helps swordplay!

Yanqing:Your arms will get tired swinging a sword a lot, but it’ll never feel worse than planking for five minutes. Honestly I thought you had it. You can help fight Phantylia but not endure a five minute plank.

March:Not even remotely close to begin the same thing! Ugh, this is frustrating.

Yanqing:Imagine my position. I see you make similar pacing errors I’ve done and can’t help but patiently wait for you to stop!

March:It’s not like I’m not listening. I just-

Yanqing:Think you can make use of an opening, so you take it. Believe me, I get it deeply! Now I get what the General means when he says “Don’t think you can make a strike. Know you can make a strike.”

March:Ahhh, so know different than archery. Don’t let the bowstring go unless you know have the shot.

Yangqing:I…actually never thought of it like that.

March:Yanqing, I really am taking this seriously and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful but Yunli’s approach in our practice is a little less…intense. *sits up*

Yanqing:Of course it is. After all, you’re representing the Loufu, not the Zhuming. Not to say she isn’t being earnest, but certain pressure isn’t going to fall on her if you make errors.

March:Oh…it’s that serious?

Yanqing:Yes and no. Sorta?

March:What happened to needing certainty!? You can be direct with a sword and not an explanation?

Yanqing:Hey! I’m trying to find the right phrasing! March, you are an outsider but you’re also an accomplished fighter. In all honesty, you’re picking up the sword really well. People all over will be interested to see your skills, but I wouldn’t say their expectations are unreasonable. Like I said, you’re not from here.

March:So the bar is great instead of excellence. Mistakes won’t be held too harshly against me but that doesn’t mean I can afford to cause a blunder.

Yanqing:It wouldn’t surprise me if most citizens would simply be happy seeing someone as charismatic as you take part in learning our customs. Mistakes are bound to happen; however, they’ll be directed at my inabilities as a teacher. Then by extension…they’ll say things like “what has the General been teaching his disciple?” That’s where I draw the line. I refuse to cause him any unnecessary trouble.

March:So that’s why you’re so stiff. I can see why, but Jing Yuan doesn’t seem like the type of person to put too much stock in opinions like that. He definitely wouldn’t blame you.

Yanqing:Doesn’t change the fact I would be causing unnecessary problems for him. I’d blame myself…

March:…(He’s quite the little adult. Between him, Bailu, and Dan Heng, I’m starting to wonder if any kid on the Loufu actually gets a childhood.) Looks like I gotta put in double the effort. But first…mind if we eat?

Yanqing:Alright. Despite what it might look like, I’m not trying to run you into the ground. I’ll buy of course. I’m sure there’s something on the ship you’re still dying to try.

The sudden and loud sound of his stomach growling makes his face turn a little red as March tried not to snicker. Yanqing simply starts walking, prompting her to get up.

Even after that little moment, March notices how the boy carries himself maturely and as a teacher. If she was being honest with herself, March remembered how eager she was to do right by Himeko and Welt when she was brought into the Express family. Sure she entered the Wardance out of curiosity, but the choice to train so admittedly was born from the desire to continue helping her newfound family. She could definitely relate to Yanqing’s ambitions and fears.

Without hesitation, March pulled out her camera and ran to catch up with him. The girl put her arm around his shoulders and smiled brightly before hitting the flash.

Yanqing:Agh! What the heck!?

March:Hehe, hmmm not a bad photo of me at least. You might need some work though.

She shows him an image of her smiling cutely while he’s completely caught unaware and a little startled. His stern face quickly shattered into pouting as all prior thoughts vanished.

Yanqing:I wasn’t ready! That’s not fair!

March:Oh so you want another one? Okay, better bring your best smile!

“Best smile.” Funny, the moment he thought about it, Yanqing immediately found it difficult. Teeth or no teeth? Was he looking too directly into the lens? Why was this so hard!? His gaze shifted left at March to see what smile she was making; only to notice the girl was sticking her tongue at him childishly. Yanqing didn’t think twice about returning the gesture as they began the dumbest stare down in history.

It wasn’t long before both of them broke out into laughter over their antics, giving March the perfect opportunity. Click! The perfect shot of just two fast friends being silly and full of life.

March:Aye, I knew you had it in you. I’ll be sure to send you a copy. That way you’ll never forget!

Yanqing:Yeah well…thanks. *smiles* Now then, let’s get some food already. I’m starving!

March:Don’t have to tell me twice!

[sprunkimortality]

What do every Sprunki think of Gray?

Oren: "He's chill, bro. He's got good taste in music." Raddy: "Eh. He keeps out of my space and I keep out of his." Clukr: "According to my observations, Gray is a rather stoic individual. His lack of physical expression betrays his ability to feel emotions, and he can be quite hard to read at times. I can only make guesses as to how he feels based on context clues." Fun Bot: "Oh, Gray! He requests interesting songs from his favorite bands! It's always a new experience when he comes up to ask me to play something!" Vineria: "We're at similar wavelengths. Our auras blend well."

Brud: "Gray? Me like Gray! Gray is friend!" Garnold: "Gotta say, the kid's got interesting artistic interpretations of robotics. I didn't even know what divine machinery was until I heard him go through a whole rant about it! He's a cool one, I'll tell you that." OWAKCX: "G- Gray…oh, well, he- …h-he doesn't really…um…w- we don't…talk that much, you know? Hoohoo-! S- So, I, I- I don't know much about him, eh…e-except the fact that h- he wears the same shirt every day, hoho…" Sky: "Gray is so cool! He's got edgy makeup, edgy clothes, edgy music, everything's edgy! I want to be cool like him!"

Mr. Sun: "Ah, our very own Neutral Sprunki! There's a charm to his poker face that only he can pull off!" Durple: "Ahaha! You speak of my deadpanned companion? I've known him since we were Sprunklings! We were both losers without friends or anyone to chitter with at lunch, you see. Except I, in my ever-present radiance, was spared by the hells of torment he had to go through during those highschool years! That's not to say I condone it, no no no. I am HIGHLY against treating our very own emo boy with such exclusionism!" Mr. Tree: "I have been with him for every rest he takes every day in the afternoon. He brings peace to this bright and colorful town." Simon: "Well gee, Gray's one of my greatest friends! He's responsible and he always knows what to do in even the scariest situations! Don't tell him this, but…he's like a big brother to me! Yeah, we're the same age and unrelated but I don't care! He's big bro Gray to me!" Tunner: "Th' lad's in his own lil' world sometimes. He's a good kid. Never gets into any sorta trouble. Don't got a clue about the things he rambles on about sometimes, but I ain't gon' stop 'im whenever he does that. It's his passion."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He may not look like it, but he knows how to have fun in his own way! He visits me a lot! Though, he usually doesn't use my search engine or anything, like everyone else would. He just likes to come by and have conversations with me. It's nice!" Wenda: "So, like, big backstory dump, but…I actually hated Gray's guts. I dunno why. I was an evil kid! Like, so evil. I shoved him in the hallway and called him dumb and fat and whatever. Real talk, I was so mean to him. So like, him forigivng me was like, SUPER surprising. Like, what do you mean you forgive me?? Sure I regretted it and I apologized to his face but I didn't think he'd actually be, like, cool with me now! Anywayy. We're buddies now. We hang out and all that, soooo yeah. Happy ending! I hope." Pinki: "Gray is such a sweetheart! He helps me out at the bakery sometimes, even though he doesn't like having to deal with cooking oil…I really appreciate it whenever he comes by to help!" Jevin: "Within that anti-expression he wears, Gray is a Sprunki with passions to share."

Black: "He's not too bad, I suppose." Saves: "Sorry, who is…? Ah, yes! The horned one with the dirty shirt…ah, I remember now. Gray…he's so kind and generous. He is the same one who visits me every weekend, isn't he? Yes…he helps around the house. We tell stories to each other. He's precious." Ciqu: "He abides. I have no strong opinion of him." Sprinkles: "Heehee! Gray is fun! He takes care of me and Sky sometimes! He's like a big brother, but he doesn't have any little siblings…which is a bit sad, because he's fun as a brother!" Calvin: "Gray is super cool. And also fun to play pranks on! He doesn't get mad, so it's a little funny!" (edit 12/8/24: X FORGOT CIQU...XM SO SORRY MR POLICEMAN....)

[writefightandflightclub]

“Yes man” (Cecil Dennis {fuck me, how did I get here} x fem!reader)

Summary: Blurby McBlurbFace. Mainly chat, slight fluff, smut, pining / friends to lovers vibes.

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

Warnings: alcohol consumption; drug use mentions (weed); smoking; dumbification of Cecil, I guess. Mommy kink if you squint. Public erections / handjob sorta, premature ejaculation / cum in pants. Mentions of dead fish but no fish were harmed. Actually, a surprising number of animal metaphors. Oops. Rimming I’m sorry that one snuck in very last minute Omg.

A/n: having a shitty mental health day (boo) and this Cecil blurb (whilst not my best) is my self-care ☺️ I don’t remember his character well aside from wet bloody cat boy, but I’m damn sure not rewatching that again so this will have to do 😅. Feedback appreciated! 🧡 (Is the rimming too much? 🙈) Not proofed and I’m almost positive autocorrect will have screwed me over.

Also totally inspired by @my-secret-shame’s meme and @foxilayde’s amazing blurb. I will not pretend to have had an original idea! 🧡

“Come onnnn, Cecil,” you whine, poking him in his soft belly with your index finger. He giggles lightly, almost like a hiccough. “It’s always me coming up with the ideas. What do you wanna do next?”

He turns his head as though in slow motion. Moves as if he’s underwater, this one - at least when he’s got food and several beers in him (which is most of the time). He looks up. Blinks at you; dumbly. “What do you mean?”

Eh. You’d really thought your statement had been quite clear.

You resist the urge to pinch his cheek and tell him It’s a good job you’re pretty.

“I mean, that I suggest things, and you go along with them.”

He blinks again. It’s like everything is just a little slower in Cecil’s world. Takes a little longer to filter through. It’s refreshing, in a way. He’s in no rush, and it encourages you to slow down too. To smell the roses.

Cecil is beyond easy-going, come to think of it. Goes with the flow like a dead fish. You’re pretty sure, in fact, that he’d go along with just about anything. With just about anybody’s hare-brained schemes, without once thinking through a single one of the potential consequences.

Scratch that - he probably already has done just that; which would explain a lot of the trouble he’s routinely gotten himself into since you’ve known him.

Though, you suppose, in a way that’s refreshing too. You always did worry too much.

Besides, he always seems to muddle through, somehow. Though quite how has you stumped. It’s hardly due to his charm or his smarts, now, is it? Even so, despite whatever attributes he is lacking in, you can’t deny that he must be doing something right. Trouble simply seems to slide right off the man’s back. Like water off a… well. A dead fish, you guess. What a versatile metaphor.

He blinks at you again. Maybe those big pretty cow eyes help, just a teency bit, to get him out of trouble, you would wager.

Look at him though. You’ve never seen anyone more relaxed. Practically horizontal as he’s hunkered down in the booth, seated next to you in the corner of your usual dive bar. Maybe there’s something to be said for all the pot and seedy hotel room fucks he indulges in. You bet his shoulders are inordinately loose. Maybe he really does have it all figured out, despite appearances.

As you ponder this, Cecil -eventually- makes a non-committal noise, before his bloodshot, glassy eyes flick back to the TV hung up on the wall. He is barely even watching it. Just letting it happen to him, like he does with most everything else.

That’s probably why you’ve never fucked him, you realise, like a bolt out of the blue. He’s pretty, sure. But you wouldn’t.

You don’t mind control - that’s not it. You don’t mind taking charge. But with Cecil? You think he’d take it lying down - a little too literally. If you’d ever suggested you and he fool around, you’d never know for sure. Never know if it really was his idea - a thought or desire he’d ever had before - or if he was simply far too agreeable and opportunistic to decline. So agreeable, that he’d let you ease your vagina up and down on his cock until you came on him. You were intrigued by the thought, sure. But you refused to go there simply because Cecil couldn’t come up with anything better to do.

You look at him, and immediately bat that thought - the vagina all over cock one - away though, as you regard his complete lack of gumption. It’s tangible. Look at him now, for example. He’d seemed to like the way the air from his non-committal noise had filtered over the neck of his bottle, tucked under his folded chin. Indeed, he is now pursing his full, curvy lips, and blowing over the mouth of it until a soft series of “hoots” fill your booth.

You fold your arms and sigh.

You reckon that will amuse him for the next ten minutes at least, so clearly, once again, Cecil’s not the one coming up with a plan for the remainder of this evening.

It’s not that you ever really have to do anything with Cecil to have a good time. It’s just that, tonight, you’re antsy, and it’s making your thoughts wander in directions. Down below his zipper directions, so help you.

“Beer’s empty,” Cecil states flatly, finally noticing after sucking on the bottle for a mo, poking his wet pink tongue around the rim like the little wet cat boy he is. Cute though. Does things to you.

Anyway. You register his statement, but you observe that no action follows. He doesn’t look at all like he plans to do a damn thing about it.

You decide to test your theory, then. Your theory that Cecil’s simply a dead fish swept along in your river. That maybe he doesn’t even want to be here at all. Never did. That you are just another something that happened to happen to him.

“Do you wanna go get Mexican?” you offer, with ulterior motives Cecil is not shrewd enough to pick up on.

His eyes tick back from the captivating, shifting lights of the TV. “Sure,” he smiles softly at you, perfectly content, it seems - and yet, you are less than satisfied.

“See!” You smack the palms of your hands together in triumph, and he jumps. Pushes himself up a little straighter in the seat, his palms disappearing into the worn, lumpy upholstery. “See what I mean?”

He blinks at you blankly. Again.

Clearly not, then?

“You just go along with anything I say. We ate two hours ago, Cecil,” you complain, recalling the all you can eat Chinese buffet you and he had gorged on with two coupons you’d cut out of the newspaper. You drop your hands to your lap, dejectedly. You’re getting agitated with him, which surprises you, in truth. And still… there Cecil is. Unflappable. Calm. Constant. There are pros to his cons, for sure. “I just… I never know if you actually like what we’re doing, you know?”

“But. You always suggest things I like. So why would I say no?” He shrugs a little. “Tacos are good. I like tacos. I like…” he hoots into his bottle again as he says the word. “You-ooooooh.”

You hate to admit it, but his answer has you stumped for a moment. Cecil’s statements may generally be simple. Uncomplicated. But they can be oddly profound at times.

Christ. Maybe… Does the man actually have a valid point? Or, perhaps you’re looking too hard for meaning in his words - it’s possible. You feel like you’ve spent a lot of time lately looking hard at Cecil, perhaps to justify your bizarre and inexplicable feelings.

Possibly you’re even projecting. His seeming lack of independent willpower would certainly make that easy enough to do.

Maybe the man has a point though. Maybe he’s not as “easy-going” as you think he is. Maybe you’re just coincidentally so attuned to his desires that he’s never had cause to deny you. Maybe you are aligned with his desires. One and the same. “What if I asked you to do something you didn’t like, then?”

You slurp up the dregs of melted ice through your straw and Cecil blinks again as though it’s taking all of his processing power. Damn, though. You’re surprised that the fanning of those endlessly long cow lashes didn’t cause the curtains behind you to billow in the breeze they threw up. “Like what?”

You shake your head. Touch his arm to placate him. “Never mind, Cecil.” Christ. If he can’t even think of a single Thing He Wouldn’t Like, maybe you can safely stick to your dead fish hypothesis. It’s all the same to him. Just happening to him. He’s not choosing you.

That particular thought, when it arrives, niggles you more than expected, but you quash the growing agitation which rides in alongside it.

Meanwhile, Cecil looks around, quite visibly thinking. “I wouldn’t get up outta this seat,” he states adamantly, his voice croaked from all the blunts he’s worked through today. “I wouldn’t like that.”

You believe him. He’s practically sliding down to become a puddle on the floor. Dissolving into the bar furniture; becoming one with the upholstery.

Your lips curl up into a tender smile, remembering one particularly ridiculous night at Cecil’s. The night involving a 3am bong sesh, culminating in him genuinely believing he had merged with the couch, becoming a half-human half-upholstery monstrosity. He had waved the two huge, puffy couch cushions around as though they were his arms, and he’d grabbed you up in the middle of them like a grilled cheese, sandwiching you and taking you down to the floor where the two of you had rolled and laughed until you’d cried.

When the laughter had subsided to only the odd titter here and there, and you had lain on his disgusting rug almost nose to nose? That’s the first time you’d wanted to kiss him, and it turned out not to have been the last.

Fuck. You are rather fond of this idiot, aren’t you? How the fuck did that happen?

Engaged fully now though - slightly more lucid than your fond memory- Cecil sits up. Still slouched but this time over the table, his forearms bracing him against the surface. As he moves, you get a waft of his layered, stale cigarette smell. It’s… confusing, in its appeal. Should be off-putting, but you find, in fact, that it’s a comfort.

“No? You don’t wanna?”

With a rush of affection you link your arm through Cecil’s, and he slumps his head on to your shoulder as though it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You weren’t ready for the way his knotted curls brush your cheek, and it inspires a similarly dense and tangled knot to form in your middle.

“No.” It’s the most sure you’ve ever heard him sound. “I don’t wanna get up.”

“A minute ago we were going for Mexican food, Cecil.” There’s a beat. “That kinda involves movement, you realise?

He swivels his head towards you then, gaze all doe-eyed and pathetic, and the proximity of him parroting on your shoulder knocks you for six. “You mad at me or something, Hottie from Walmart?”

You snort. He doesn’t always pull out that nickname for you - how you’d been known to him before you had been known to him - but it always makes you sentimental when he does.

He shifts from you then, tilting his body towards you. Scrutinising you with apprehension in his sweet face.

Fuck him actually, and fuck his pouty beautiful kissable lips most of all.

You sigh, and you deliberately soften your face. He’s easy-going, sure, but he’s sensitive. Trouble slides off of his back, but other things… other things don’t slip off quite so well, and he often gets like this. Like he’s done something wrong, when he hasn’t.

You actively resist the urge to coddle him. To tenderly rake his somewhat grimy but beautiful curls off of his forehead.

You hardly want to examine the fact he brings out your… motherly instincts; but it doesn’t escape your attention that he always seems like he’s craving just a little nurturing. You want to take your thumb and smooth out the creases in his troubled brow.

“No, Cecil. I’m not mad at you. I’d tell you if I was and we’d talk about it.”

He nods.

You’re not mad at him. Really. And so, you take pause to wonder why this happy-go-lucky trait of his is particularly irking you today. “It’s mostly a good thing, I promise.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.”

He looks pleased for a minute and then: “Wait. What’s a good thing?”

You want to kiss his stupid mouth until he can’t think. Which you don’t think would take long at all, actually.

“That…” You think about how to phrase it, and it quickly occurs to you. “That. You’re my ‘yes man’.” He is expressionless for a moment, and you wait for comprehension to slowly crawl over him. “I mean, Cecil,” you take his clammy hand in yours. “That it’s always fun with you. I mean that you never shoot down my ideas. Even when you probably should.”

His face splits with a brief - goofy, but wholly endearing - smile. “You have fun with me?”

His big cow eyes go all soft and wet.

Oh boy. This idiot. If you didn’t have fun with him, even just sitting on his grotty couch, what other reason could you possibly have to hang out with him, huh?

You open your mouth to say as much before thinking better of it, but for once Cecil beats you to it.

“I have fun with you too, Hottie.”

It’s another one of those moments of levity that you’ve experienced surprisingly often with Cecil. One of those moments where everything feels a just little more profound. A little more magical. Sometimes, Cecil gets you in the gut just a little harder than expected.

Great. And now you’re thinking of Cecil all up in your guts.

“I should think so - I’m awesome. But, right now? All I’m saying is…” You tap your noggin. “Tank empty. No ideas. It’s your turn to decide what we do tonight? Okay?”

You search his eyes. His big, beautiful, sincere and secretless eyes. You silently ask the true question you want to ask him. I want to know what you want.

You’re not yet ready to admit the questions buried right beneath that one: do you want me back? Could you? Would you, Cecil?

“Yeah?” Cecil responds, unsure, and you immediately worry that you have, in fact, given him too much responsibility. His expression compresses in a frown of deep, deep concentration. Like he’s really wrestling with this.

You watch with bated breath, dying to see what he comes up with - if anything at all.

And then - aha - he finally has it.

“I could jerk off.”

“Wha-?” You playfully bat him in the arm, aghast. “Cecil!!”

“What?” A surprised, contrite laugh bobs in his throat.

“I mean.” You swallow. “How is that an idea for both of us?”

Oh that’s your problem with his idea?

That it’s not participatory enough?

“You could help.”

Your jaw drops open. “Cecil! I’m not gonna-” you switch to a loud whisper “-jerk you off!”

He blinks again, his eyes glinting with a gentle - ever so gentle - flicker of amusement. “You’re not a yes man,” he complains softly, his curly lips sneaking up into a curly smile. “Always shooting down my ideas.”

He bats his lashes at you and oh boy - even Cecil must be starting to figure out that you’re a sucker for those big, pretty brown eyes. Your one true weakness.

“That’s really what you want?” you ask, trying to keep things light. To keep your tone jokey and jovial, like always, despite the rising tremor in your voice. “It would involve getting up, you realise?”

He winks at you - a gesture which seems entirely unlike him and yet somehow works - and smirks down at his crotch. “Already am.”

“If you’re really so uncontrollably horny, why don’t you get someone else around here to help you, huh?” Your heart skips a beat. “Why me?”

He’s looking at you like he wants you but… he’s an opportunistic guy. Goes with the flow. That’s how things come to him; he’ll take his cigarettes and beers and fucks wherever and whenever he can get them.

He unceremoniously pulls out a rolled blunt and lights it up, the filter end pressed between his plush pink lips.

“No.” It bobs as he talks and he takes little, peppered drags to get the burn going.

“No?”

You blink at him dumbly now.

“No. I only want you.”

Correction. That’s the most sure of anything you’ve ever heard him.

He slips forward, exhaling his smoke into your mouth as his lips caress yours. “Come on,” he encourages. “Get going. Before my penis turns into a couch cushion.”

He kisses your laugh, and as his tongue slides hungrily against yours suddenly it isn’t quite so funny. Suddenly, you feel like maybe Cecil has the best ideas.

“Right here?” You reach down, and you smooth your palm over the clothed bulge at his crotch. “In the booth?”

“I’m already barred. Heh. What are they gonna do?”

You smile at him, licking your lips as Cecil bucks up into your hand, his head lolling back against the lip of his seat, and his pretty eyes fluttering closed.

He groans, as your fingers snake to tease open the button at his fly.

“Oops,” Cecil whispers contritely, almost immediately, his cheeks and his ears darkening with a deep crimson flush as he looks over to you. “I just… I…”

Oh God. He just came in his pants, didn’t he? Oh Lord that makes you inexplicably hot.

His big, pretty eyes are wet with apology. “Are you mad?”

“No, Cecil.” Poor baby. “I just think I should take you home and get you cleaned up, hmm?” You next words all run into one, as you struggle to get your new genius plan out of your mouth. “Mayberimyoualittlewhatdoyousay?”

Did you actually just suggest that you take him home to rim him? Good Lord.

He blinks rapidly, the colour in his cheeks flowering more, like a beautiful rose unfurling. “Y-Yes. I say yes.”

It’s a hare-brained plan, for sure, but you decide that for once,

you might as well just…

go with the flow.

It certainly works for Cecil.

[3lectricinsomnia]

every headcanon you possibly have about two? i am so normal about him

Ooh, the biggest one I can think of rn is when they were younger, Two really looked up to One. You can read more about that here :)

Ummmmm, some other ones: Two picks up a smoking habit, he's more prone to being allergic to stuff because of all the substances he puts in his body because he was trying to fix himself, he's more prone to getting sick for the same reason, ofc the headcanons revolving around his fondness for plants and insects (he's most definitely built little teeny tiny houses for his bugs).

This one kind of goes for both of them. I don't remember if I talked about it before or not so I'll just talk about it again. When they were younger, the twins had a really hard time sleeping separately. Even though they had separate rooms and Draxum expected them to sleep in their own rooms, they couldn't sleep alone so they wind up sharing a room and it's a habit that sticks with them well up until Smart Lair. So now that One is gone, Two has a lot more trouble sleeping and puts more focus into work.

There's another thing here (towards the end) that explains the difference between One and Two's morals. If you don't want to look for it, I'll just copy and paste it here:

(One) At a certain age, Draxum started pulling One away for “special” training, which was basically Drax getting One to get used to taking lives, starting with small animals. At first, One had a really hard time pushing through and whenever he finally got the job done, he’d feel really guilty afterwards

He’d cry and Drax would ask him why and would say that crying about it is pointless and it won't help him.

I had this very specific idea of Draxum pulling One away from Two when they were playing + having fun then having One accomplish this task probably for the 2nd or third time and One coming back to Two covered in blood, absolutely numbed and hollow, which kind of puts a wedge between them.

By the time Draxum puts One in the nexus, One’s already sorta used to that feeling and it’s not such a big deal— but I was thinking the nexus is maybe what makes One think that killing is acceptable because when he kills he gets rewarded and maybe it’s also what makes him realize what his purpose is— and ofc Draxum’s already been feeding him that but when One is fighting in the arena, he actually gets what Draxum means ab their purpose or whatever about being warriors and stuff bc he knows he can fight and that he can kill and that he’s good at it and that’s what makes Draxum happy

and I just think this is very interesting bc this implies that, initially, One knew what he was doing was morally wrong and he could feel it but bc he was encouraged to kill and wasn’t punished for it, his viewpoint kinda got skewed

(Two) And in Two's case, he started to kill either after One fights in the nexus or he sees One kill one of the animals bc he sees his brother doing this and thinks “oh, yeah. I can do that” but because he wasn’t taught the difference between what he should destroy and what he should protect, that’s kind of why he’s Like That. And it's why Draxum fears/doesn't trust him like he trusts One.

That's all I can think of for now but if I have more, I'll reblog this

[atheneum-of-you]

I dreamt about Hermes last night, which is interesting. I've never dreamt about one of my gods before. It felt like more proof that he was with me, that he's the path I've been destined to take.

I don't remember everything, but I remember before I fell asleep there was a buzzing sensation in me. I'm used to that in a way, it happens whenever I'm about to have sleep paralysis. But I didn't have that last night. Instead, I was dreaming but still somehow awake. I was aware that I was still awake. But I saw Hermes. First in a haze, then more and more clearly. We were both falling, at least I was falling. He had a smile on his face and it made me not afraid of hitting the ground. I think at some point he reached out and grabbed my hand but this is where a lot of the dream starts to get hazy.

There was a lot of shapes and images, I think at one point I saw a dragon but I can't say for certain. Then my sleep got a little deeper, but I was aware that I was more at the crossroads of falling asleep but still aware that I was awake. Sounds weird, I know but that's the only way I can describe it.

I was walking through some sort of cave, in my pajamas, and Hermes stood at the edge of a pool of water. There was a waterfall behind him but when he saw me he smiled. He was tall, and as I got closer to him I thought "I expected gods to be giants". Almost like he heard me his smile broadened and he did in fact get bigger. Not ginormous, but much bigger than me. I think he was hunoring my silly thoughts.

Somehow I remember what he looked like in my dream. He had his winged helmet, and his hair was brown and curly and the helmet pushed his curls into his face and covered his eyes. But he clearly had no trouble seeing. He was shirtless except for a sash across his chest and cloth wrapped around his waist and he wore his winged sandals. He was also buff. Not like insanely so, but very muscular and tanned. But the most noticeable thing was that he sorta glowed with a pale yellow light. His whole body seemed to glow and my dream self rationalized it like "Oh he flies around and is exposed to Apollon's light all the time so it makes sense he'd glow with rays of the sun. He carries Apollon's light sometimes." Mind you, he wasn't always glowing. Just when I got closer to him.

I think he spoke to me, but I don't remember what was said. I do remember feeling like a child next to him, and when he had gotten larger he let me cling to his bicep and hold onto him. He was incredibly warm and comforting. The last thing I remember is looking up at his face and that big broad smile of his flashing pearly white teeth.

I think I somewhat woke up after that and then fell asleep properly into a completely different kind of dream, but that one stood out the most to me and I wanted to share it.

Now that I'm awake, I distinctly remember thinking to myself how desperately I'd want to be his priestess last night. I don't think I thought about it enough to influence a dream as it was just a passing thought, and I've never had a dream like that before with that level of conscious awareness. It didn't feel like a dream, it felt like communication. And maybe I'm misinterpreting it, but it felt like he acknowledged my wishes and wants me to reach that aspiration someday. That it's an open invitation to reach for it. And that he'll be watching my progress.

I'm a very new follower of his, and I know the path of priestesshood is a long and dedicating road. I'm not so full of myself to think he was telling me to start training for it so early in my devotions, especially as a closeted devotee. But maybe, just maybe...

[alittlebitofloveliness]

i uh.. i’m sorta scared to request cus u feel like a celeb with how damn good your writing is😭 anywaysss a super sad soda oneshot would literally make my day please ahahaaa

Hi lovely! That's so sweet of you to say, thank you for your request. i hope this lives up to expectations lol, its based off this line from canon:

"The only noise was the nurse's soft footsteps and Soda's light breathing. Darry looked down at him and grinned half-heartedly. "He didn't get much sleep this week," he said softly. "He hardly slept at all." "Hhhmmmm," Soda said drowsily, "you didn't either.""

****************************

Sodapop had never much liked church.

He’d always had trouble sitting still, and when he was little spending two hours sitting still and listening to a sermon he could hardly understand was like torture. As he got older, sitting still never became any easier, now matter how hard he tried, and the leniency afforded to a squirming child wore thin once he was about eight. But church had been important to mom, and anything that was important to mom was important to dad too. Darry had hated church as much as he did, always too practical to put much faith in it.

“How am I supposed to not believe in Santa but believe there's a man in the sky watching over me?” Darry had asked dad one day when mom was in the kitchen making sandwiches for the church picnic. Dad had taken him and Darry aside then and explained that their thoughts were their own and they could think them all they wanted, but that church was about more than the preachers stories and prayers to God, that it was about community and helping people and learning to dress nice and act properly, so they would all have to keep going. That had sated Darry, ever the dutiful son, and he’d gone in good spirits and kept his disbelief to himself further such that mom and Ponyboy- who’d been fascinated by the stories ever since he could start to understand them- who believed in God wholeheartedly wouldn’t overhear him.

Soda hadn’t been too sure for a while whether he believed in God or not. He’d spent more time focusing on trying not to squirm too much under mom’s glare to puzzle out his thoughts on the universe, and when he was outside of church he was much more focused on fooling around town with Steve than he was thinking about God. He figured it best to leave such thinking to smart folks like Darry or deep folks like Ponyboy, or even pious folks like mom, than for someone dumb like him to think over it. Chances were, no matter how hard he tried to puzzle it out, he’d get it wrong. He tended to get a lot of things wrong. He’d gotten most of his math test wrong the week before, and he was already failing english. So yeah, better leave such thoughts to people who could actually figure it out. It didn’t matter anyway. He still went to church either way, still listened to mom’s scolding after each sermon, and then promptly washed his hands of the whole mess until the next sunday morning.

Then mom and dad had died and they’d stopped going to church. Well, he and Darry had. Pony still went, though whether it was because he still believed or because he felt closer to mom doing it Soda wasn’t sure and he hadn’t dared ask, not when Pony had been in such a fragile state, hardly speaking for months. Truth be told, it had scared him something awful. It had scared Darry too.

Still, much as he hadn’t liked church there were some things he remembered vividly. He remembered the hard bench under his knees when they knelt to pray. He remembered the times mom had dragged him to confession after he and Steve had done something particularly bad, and he remembered the stories. In particular, he remembered the stories of purgatory, of the inbetween, of waiting for heaven or hell, being stuck between salvation and damnation. Mom had always been terrified of purgatory, always abhorred the thought, seemed more averse to it than the idea of hell. Soda hadn’t understood. He’d rather be stuck between life and death than stuck in a pit of fire being tortured forever. When he’d said as much mom’s eyes had filled with shadows.

“Waiting can be it’s own kind of torture, dearest.”

He hadn’t understood then. For all his trouble sitting still, he’d still thought snakes and fire and pain had to be worse than waiting for something- even salvation.

Now though, he’s starting to understand. 

Ponyboy and Johnny have been missing for almost three days, and Sodapop is starting to lose his mind. Here he is, helpless, unable to do anything to find them, to help them, unable to do anything but wait. 

Per usual, mom was right. This is torture. 

He is not used to being unable to do something. Usually he does everything, anything, all the time. Together, he and Steve are a whirlwind, both unable to stop moving for more than a minute at a time, a wild, reckless, fun loving, unstoppable force. But he can’t find a kid brother who doesn’t want to be found, can’t search for a kid who left no clues- and even beating the shit out of Dallas hadn’t made the hood tell him where the kids went. Even though he knows Dally knows.

So all he can do is wait. Darry is in a similar state to him, unable to do anything and horrified by it, but Soda is still so mad at him he can hardly find it in himself to care. He knows Darry didn't mean to hit Ponyboy, just like he knows Pony didn’t mean to be late for curfew- but he still did it, and now Pony is missing. Their fourteen year old kid brother, who loves books and movies and doing dumb shit with Johnny, who is tough but not mean enough to properly defend himself, is missing. 

Shit. How did his life come to this? A year ago all his biggest worries were passing English and trying to get Sandy to go out with him. Now, he’s got dead parents and a missing kid brother and a girlfriend who's been so cagey recently he knows something is wrong even if she won’t tell him what.

Darry is in the recliner, reading the newspaper but he’s been reading it for the past three hours and hasn’t turned the page even once. Soda is on the couch, knee bouncing, not doing anything at all. The clock on the wall ticks methodically, mocking him. The face reads 12:37. This will be the third night Pony has been gone. Soda can’t help but wonder where he’s sleeping, if he’s warm enough, if he’s scared. His nightmares are bad enough when he’s home. What if he has one while he’s away? Sure, Johnny’ll take care of him, but he doesn’t know how, not really, not like Soda does. Johnny doesn’t know that Pony will need him to look away for a minute while he wipes his eyes, and then need to talk for a few minutes before he goes back to sleep. Johnny won’t know he needs someone to stroke his hair to calm him down, but that he’d never in a million years ask for it.

The clock ticks, the minute hand creeping closer and closer to the top of the clock. Soon, it will be once in the morning, just five hours before his opening shift at the DX. He should get some sleep, he knows, but he can’t face that room, that empty bed where his baby brother should be, safe and warm, not out somewhere in the cold. He can’t shut his eyes on the couch either, not when sleeping could mean missing the moment Ponyboy calls or walks through the door. So he sits, knee bouncing, and he waits, his other brother holding his own vigil in the armchair. They’re united in their terror, pulled apart by anger and remorse, and their salvation is a rusty haired kid running from a crime he didn’t commit, somewhere in the darkness.

Part of Soda is tempted to say that this, the waiting, is the worst thing ever, but then he remembers that after purgatory can be heaven, yes, but it can also be hell, and that is not something he is prepared for right now, or ever again. It was bad enough losing mom and dad. He’d rather spend forever waiting for Ponyboy to come back than to find out something terrible has happened to him.

Still, each second that passes is an eternity, and each minute an infinity without Ponyboy here with them, and the clock mocks him evermore as time passes and nothing happens.

“Do you think,” Darry clears his throat, looking the sort of young he only ever looks this late at night, when Ponyboy is asleep and the gang is gone and he can be Darry instead of Superman, “do you think he’s alright?”

Part of him wants to say nothing, to give him the coldness of silence until Pony is returned to them, to let him suffer for his hand in their brother’s disappearance, but Darry is all he has right now, the only other person on earth who understands, and Soda cannot bring himself to be that cruel.

“Yes.” He says instead, because Ponyboy has to be alright, and he cannot torture himself with thoughts of his personal hell when he is already being tormented living in this purgatory.

Darry nods and goes back to staring blankly at his newspaper. The clock reads 2:13 the next tim he deigns to speak.

“You should get some sleep, little buddy.”

“I can’t.” He tells him honestly, and Darry doesn’t fight him, too tired or too defeated or maybe just too guilty to even try. 

“Yeah,” Darry sighs, “me neither.”

They sit like that, trapped in purgatory, until the sun rises over the horizon. Eventually, Darry rises to go shower, Soda goes to start breakfast, and they begin the fourth day without Ponyboy.

The day passes much like the night, waiting, waiting, waiting.

Pony doesn’t call. He doesn’t come home. Dusk falls, and Soda and Darry take their places in the living room.

Purgatory continues.

They wait.

[notmorbid]

margo's got money troubles.

dialogue prompts from margo's got money troubles by rufi thorpe.

all things that are genuinely interesting aren't quite real.

i believed in santa until i was twelve. i'm cheesy.

the way you look at something changes what you see.

just say what you mean. don't pussyfoot around.

you just wander around in your underwear?

why are you going through my desk?

does your wife know you do this?

i've never told anyone this.

you shouldn't be telling me you love me.

what are you, catholic?

'want' and 'should' are two very separate things.

since when do you care about being a good person?

there's things you won't understand until you're older.

i'm really glad i met you.

do you think things happen for a reason?

i think you're just scared to admit you want to wreck your life.

sometimes ruining your life is the only thing you want.

what if i'm making a big mistake?

don't make the same mistake that i made.

nothing cheers up aging alcoholics like a baby.

if ___ proposed, would you say yes?

if you don't want the same result over and over, you have to do something different.

this meal is my treat. order whatever you'd like.

feel free to disagree. i'd like to get your opinion.

we are all fallen creatures. the real test is what we do when those chickens come home to roost.

i always want to see you.

i'm not exactly a kid anymore.

have you heard of onlyfans?

in some circles, i am sorta famous.

i don't believe in getting sick.

where are elmo's parents?

come cuddle me.

we're just pretending words have meaning, at this point.

are you a heel, or a face? the bad guy, or the good guy?

i want ____ so much that it frightens me.

you are such a puzzling mix of traits.

i'll require you to answer one question for every question i answer from you.

is ____ your actual name?

where does the character end and the self begin?

the line between 'real' and 'not real' gets a little fractal.

you're an icon. you are literally iconic.

what's the best sandwich you've ever had?

you look like a movie star.

it feels like we're in a dream.

i'm afraid that being loved is the only way to be safe.

you know a lot more about ____ than i realized.

this is so bad. i'm so scared.

everything is going to be alright. i promise you.

you don't even love me anymore.

i am rich in all the things that count.

do bad people ever know that they are bad?

what if inside, i'm secretly rotten?

are you okay? how did you get out here?

there's no such thing as 'too weird'.

tell me. you don't have to tell ____. just tell me.

you're gonna be so famous.

i think i'm getting confused about what's real and what's not.

i don't want to step back. i want to keep going.

you smell the same.

i don't know why i'm crying. i'm not sad.

i feel so far away from who i was.

ice cream is in order. large quantities.

i will never forgive you. i never will.

you want a donut?

you can make sense without making meaning.

i'm not even mad. i just feel like an idiot.

don't try to make me feel better. it makes it worse.

no human being is trash. even jesus said that.

the important thing is to control the narrative.

everyone loves to put a bitch back in her place.

you delight me.

every single dollar is power.

aren't we all always putting on an act?

i feel like i know you better than i know anyone in the world.

i thought if i did the right thing and was a good person, it would all turn out okay.

my landlord doesn't care if i'm a good person, just if i can pay.

when you're lost in a deep, dark forest, the thing to do isn't to get scared of the trees. you have to find your way out again.

i want to get really into making bread. like, aggressively into it.

you should get to be young. i remember that feeling.

i feel like you're picking me up for a school dance.

we can't start making out before dinner.

what the fuck is 'goodreads'?

nothing's wrong. i'm just, like, plotting how i'm gonna put the moves on you.

everyone needs a break, sooner or later.

this is going to be one of those things i regret.

good. get angry at me. hate me.

where would you go?

i'm going to try to be someone you can be proud of.

why doesn't ___ love me?

what did i do that this is all the love i get?

sometimes understanding isn't enough.

feelings change. don't i have the right to my own emotional journey?

the things we make up in our heads, the assumptions we make, wind up being much worse than what's going on.

it's amazing what you don't find, if you aren't looking for it.

when you're going to do something stupidly brave, it helps to have less time to think about it.

you must think i'm so weird.

you probably think of yourself as one of the good guys.

you're still such a mystery to me.

it's so good to see your face.

so you don't want to date me?

i just kept thinking we weren't done.

[tmf-confessions]

Back with more Liam ranting because I’m going insane.

I find many things about his character interesting, but one of the most interesting things about him to me is definitely how his character relates to romance.

Like, think about it. Jake has a crush on Daisy(+Hailey?), Hailey is pretty obviously being set up to end up with Jake, Sean has a crush on Daisy (most likely), Daisy possibly reciprocates those feelings, Zander and Luke are dating, Milly has a crush on Elliot, Drew and Zoey used to be dating, Lia has her long-term crush on Jake, even Henry has a long-term, very obvious crush on Lia.

My point is, there are very few characters in this series who don’t have some sort of romantic ties to another character. In fact, the only characters other than Liam who don’t have some sort of love interest are probably Sadie and Maria, which makes sense since they don’t get much screen time (Maria more so than Sadie).

And to me that makes the romance aspect of his character a lot more interesting, especially since his attraction to women is an almost comedically large part of his character.

You’d think someone who’s main gimmick is romance-related would have more of a role in the shipping stuff, whether it be showing romantic interest in any character or being a matchmaker or something, but no. Liam shows no interest in any girl at their school other than maybe one time where it’s mentioned he tried to ask an offscreen unnamed character out, and he actually seems pretty clueless when it comes to things like why Jake is even going through everything he does for Daisy, the show itself even pointing out how he doesn’t understand traditional romanticism. He’s not even the one who realizes Jake might have a thing for Hailey, either. If I remember correctly, it’s Drew who realizes first while Liam just sorta stands and listens.

And honestly, when almost every character has a long-term crush or love drama, having a character who just doesn’t get any of that and thinks they should just cut to the chase and confess or whatever is really funny. It does, however, make Liam a bit of an outlier and makes talk of his sexuality pretty interesting to me, especially since the lack of canon content leaves more room for interpretation.

Like I said earlier, Liam’s romantic interest in women is such a large part of his character that it almost feels performative. And I’ve seen that lead to a lot of people headcanoning him as gay or aromantic. And I think that’s cool!

As an aromantic person myself, I’m probably a little biased as to which one I think about more (even if I do love some of the Liam ships). But him mostly focusing on people he has no realistic shot at being in a relationship with (Stacy’s Mom, that girl he sent the donation message to) does remind me of aromantic experiences.

And I don’t know, I imagine that he’s the kind of person to get a new ‘crush’ every week, ask them out, and when if they say no, he’s a little sad for less than 24 hours then moves on, almost like he never felt anything at all. Which is why he’s so confused over why Jake would go through all this trouble for Daisy when he could just ask her out right then and there.

I guess I think it’d be something like him wanting the emotional closeness of being in a relationship with someone, who he assumes should be a girl, and so he pursues that without realizing what romantic feelings he’s ‘supposed’ to feel in relation to that. He doesn’t understand why people act the way they do when they have a crush because he just doesn’t feel that way when he thinks he likes someone (If we go with the aromantic reading).

As for the him liking guys headcanon, I’m probably not as confident as to what that would look like. But I presume it’d be something like him trying to do what he thinks he’s supposed to do as well, and never realizing that when people say they like a girl it’s different from how he feels, which is just “they seem pretty and nice and relatively pleasant to be around” while feeling no actual attraction. (Maybe idk I’ve never had that experience)

To get back on topic, I guess I just like how out of the ordinary he feels compared to everyone else. In a universe where every other character seems to show their romantic feelings in a similar way, (has long-term crush and feelings for a long time before they finally dramatically confess), Liam does not do that, and that’s pretty cool.

(I have no idea if this makes any sense sorry if it’s just incoherent rambling lol).

confession #830