#i wrote it all in like 2 hours

[stevebabey]

have sum steddie! maybe modern!au, no upside down!au & a meet cute <3 | ao3

Steve sits in the booth, his foot tapping away mindlessly under the table, with half a mind to abandon the table entirely.

In fact, the only reason he hadn’t yet was because of the $20 he was hanging out for at the end. And the bragging rights, of course.

Robin had set him up on this blind date, plied him with all the promises in the world that he would enjoy it — said she’d spent a decent amount of time hunting for the right first gay date for Steve.

She also conceded that if he, for whatever reason, didn’t enjoy it, she would cough up 20 whole bucks for his wasted time. But he had to actually see the date through for the prize to be claimed.

And the bragging rights were so that Robin — with her uppity, healthy, and happy relationship that Steve was only a little bit envious of — could ease onto the breaks when it came to Steve’s love life.

So it was looking a little bleak at the moment, so what? Every stallion or… lion or whatever had their moments, right? Moments where their mane is a little uncouth and food is low and…. Where was he going with this?

The point was, that Robin got into one relationship and suddenly decided she was fit to become a high and mighty matchmaker. Never mind that Steve had reminded her numerous times that he had dated a lot more than she had.

So, for 20 bucks and the right to stick his tongue out at his best friend when she tried to meddle, Steve could stick one night out.

Besides, she was right about one thing. They weren’t in Hawkins anymore — and San Francisco had a hell of a larger dating pool than his hometown.

Still, that didn’t make people anymore for prompt for dates though, apparently. Steve’s foot taps incessantly under the table, his knee bouncing up and down in his nerves. He runs a hand through his hair and checks his watch again.

7 o’clock, Harvey’s Diner, a cute little Italian place that Steve had begun to frequent since they moved to the city, and a date with a dude called Daniel whom Steve had no idea what he looked like.

This was his Friday night plans.

His watch reads 7:12pm and Steve sighs, his fingers beginning to fiddle with the strap of his watch just for something to do. Great. He had gotten all dressed up for this? To be stood up? How was this any better than his usual Friday night plans that Robin claimed were so pathe—

“Hi.”

Someone sits down in the booth across from Steve, landing with a thump loud enough to give him a fright.

Steve’s head whips up from its focus on fiddling with his watch and— woah. Steve blinks once, twice, and feels his jaw unhinge a little, his lips parting an inch as he gazes at the stranger across from him.

Holy shit, this dude was hot.

He’s got curls for days, dark chocolate ringlets all messy and unkept spilling over his shoulders— long and probably perfect for burying your hands into. Steve flushes a little at the unexpected thought.

He has beautiful brown eyes, widened with a smudge of eyeliner and framed with long lashes. Steve thinks he can spy a smattering of freckles across his forehead. His nose is long and his lips are plush and pink and holy shit, this dude was pretty.

“Oh— hi.” Steve manages to remember his manners. Only after he fully checked this dude out, of course.

God, couldn’t Robin have given him a better warning than just ‘he’s probably your type’? Couldn’t she have warned him that this dude was ‘do-a-double-take-on-the-street type hot?’ What the fuck Robin?

The man across from him grins, wicked and alluring all at once, and shucks off his heavy leather jacket. His eyes do a once-over on Steve, taking his time to check him out— which is great because Steve is stuck on all the glorious tattoos that have just been revealed. So much skin shown in his roughly chopped muscle-tee, swirling ink all down his arms. This dude is hot.

Silently, Steve curses Robin and the 20 dollars that is totally slipping away from him. Why did she have to be right all the time?

“Been waiting long?” The man, Daniel, asks as he makes himself comfortable across the table. He pushes his hair back with both hands, using one hand to gather it into a ponytail, holding it up to air out his neck and Steve now realises he is slightly puffed.

He must’ve run part of the way here, to avoid being later than he was. Steve can’t help but be slightly endeared by that fact.

The man grins again, “Promise I was trying to be on time but, you know how the subway is.”

Steve huffs out a laugh, any annoyance at being kept waiting melting away at his date’s sincerity.

“Not too long,” Steve admits, smiling to ease Daniel’s apparent concern. Across the table, Daniel slumps a little and releases his hair, his curls pooling back around his shoulders. Steve watches, entranced.

“Well, that’s good,” Daniel smiles, eyes bright like he really means it, and his hand darts out to steal the drinks menu from the edge of the table. He looks back over to Steve, a furrow in his brows. “You didn’t order anything?”

“I thought I should wait,” Steve says with a shrug. No point paying for food if your date never shows up.

Daniel looks up from the menu through his lashes and smiles, placing his elbow on the table and dropping his chin in the palm of his hand. “Aw, you’re sweet.”

Steve is a little embarrassed by how easily the compliment makes him blush, feeling his cheeks glow lightly. Across the table, Daniel seems to revel in it, drinking in the way Steve’s face filled with colour with a cheeky smile. His eyes flick back down to the menu.

“You know,” Daniel begins, keeping his eyes on the menu, scanning it with a hum. “Chrissy said you were good looking but I think she seriously undersold you.”

He takes his eyes off the menu to trail up Steve’s body, his gaze heavy. Steve feels a delighted zing go up his spine, feels the way he preens at Daniel’s attraction. Steve opens his mouth to respond, more than ready to return the flirt when—

“Can I get you two started with anything?”

The waitress interrupts. She’s poised with her notepad, standing at the edge of the booth. Daniel perks up and nods.

“Can I get a chocolate milkshake please?” He asks with a polite smile. Steve laughs lightly at his selection and Daniel’s gaze cuts from the waitress to Steve.

“What? Not a milkshake man?”

Steve tries to contain his grin, all too endeared by the man before him. He shakes his head and raises his hand in defense. “Nothing against milkshakes just… for dinner?”

Daniel gasps theatrically and his head snaps back to the waitress. “This man has never had the delight of a Harvey’s milkshake with his dinner. Please bring us two chocolate milkshakes!”

Steve watches as the waitress dutifully writes down the order and turns on her heel, heading for the kitchen. He turns back to his date and gapes, taken aback by the forwardness.

“Did you just order for me?”

“Did you just diss milkshakes?”

Steve scoffs, but even then he can’t stop his lips from curling up into a smile. He can’t believe it but he’s genuinely glad he waited this date out. It's not at all like he was expecting. Even Robin's short description of this dude pales in comparison to the real thing. Steve nudges his foot forward into Daniel’s shin lightly.

“I did not diss milkshakes,” Steve argues, his smile widening at how Daniel’s eyes dart to the table before back up at Steve with a grin.

“Uh huh,” Daniel nods, his voice sarcastic and 100% unbelieving of Steve’s insistence. “Just wait, okay? You’ll be changing your tune soon enough. Harvey’s milkshakes are class. I’ve had a thousand of my best ideas in here, sipping on a chocolate milkshake.”

Steve grins and leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. Under the table, he feels Daniel’s boot nudge against his leg gently— and he laughs to himself. This has gotta be the most teenage way of flirting and he’s fucking loving it.

“You know,” Steve begins hesitantly, letting his forearms lean up against the table. “You’re not quite what I expected, Daniel.”

Across the table, Daniel scrunches up his face, his expression one of pure befuddlement. He puts his hands flat on the table and leans forward.

“Wait, you think my name is Daniel?”

Steve splutters for a moment because even though the answer is duh, yes, it’s become increasingly apparent that the man across from him is not who he was expecting. But if he’s not Daniel, who is he?

Suddenly, the door chimes and someone else is entering the diner. It’s a man dressed like Steve — on the preppy side with hair that must’ve taken at least an hour. He scans the booth and spots Steve’s booth, wandering over, his eyes fixed on the man across from Steve.

“Hey, are you Eddie?” He asks confidently, ignoring Steve’s presence on the other side of the booth.

The man — Eddie — freezes as he glances up at the newcomer and then back down to Steve ahead of him. Steve deflates a little inside as he realises abruptly what’s happened— a mix-up of wrong dates that was completely warranted because this dude dresses exactly like Steve. Steve doesn't stare too long to see if he's any hotter.

Instead, he tries to give Eddie the all-clear with his eyes. He smiles polite as he can and gives a little nod to let him know it was alright to abandon him for the date he was supposed to go on. Not to get stuck with Steve.

Eddie clears his throat and smiles, not cheeky like he had with Steve, but stiff and polite. “Ah sorry man, I think you’ve got the wrong guy. My name's Daniel.”

Huh? Steve takes his eyes off the table to steal a glimpse at Eddie (is his name even Eddie?) and something inside him burns hotly when the man glances across at Steve and winks.

The man standing by the booth wavers for a moment, glancing between them in the booth as Steve schools his expression to neutral. After a moment of silence, there's a half-assed apology as the man retreats, heading back out the door he had just come through. The door chimes again on his way out.

Steve straightens up and peers over his shoulder, watching the door slowly swing shut. He turns back to the man across the booth and squints at him. The waitress returns briefly, dropping two large chocolate shakes onto the table, topped with a mountain of cream. She murmurs something about coming back to take their order in a moment.

"Wait, so who are you?" Steve asks, gently sliding his shake closer to him. "Daniel or Eddie?"

His date —well, his new date— has already begun taking a big long sip from his own milkshake, so enamored with it that when he pulls away there's a dot of cream on the end of his nose. He swallows with a satisfied ah and grins across the table at Steve, not noticing the dairy on his face.

"I'm whoever gets me talking with you a little bit longer."

Steve grins, an endeared roll of his eye at the blatant flirting but he can't deny how it makes his chest warm. He grabs one of the napkins and reaches forward, adoring how Eddie goes cross-eyed as he watches Steve smudge away the cream on his nose. He laughs sheepishly, giving his nose a little wipe with his own hand.

"I'm Eddie." He says, finally introducing himself. He doesn't offer his hand, just gives Steve a little nudge under the table and a grin over his milkshake. "And I think you just saved me from a terrible date."

Steve laughs, giving a little shake of his head. He finally goes in for a sip of his own milkshake— and it's just as heavenly as Eddie had promised, glorious chocolate dancing over his taste buds.

Steve groans quietly, eyes bright when he glances at the other man over his glass, entirely amused by how wide-eyed Eddie has become. He releases the straw and sits back, more invested in this date than he has been in... years. Stallion's got its mojo back. Or lion. Whatever.

"I'm Steve," He responds, giving a little nudge back under the table and a grin of his own. "And I think you saved me from being stood up."

[sophiethewitch1]

congrats on the milestone sophie! i'm so excited to read what you have to share with us! For your 1k celbration, if it's not too much, I'd like to ask for ABXS for Jason and Dick uwu And if ur feeling particularly sharing I'd also love an L from all of them owo

Strei!!! Thank you for the kind words, here's what you asked for. I even did the L's as well for my dearest most beloved mutual <3

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, gen yandere behaviour, murder, stalking, worshipping/weirdly religious undertones for Dick, um pet play sort of?? Jason would bark if you asked him to is all I'm saying.

A = Affection (Is Their Love All-consuming, Expressed Through Possessive Gestures and Overwhelming Intensity With No Bounds?):

Jason: Spreading my Jason Todd Loyal Dog Agenda here but he’s so unbelievably loyal. Way, way too loyal. It doesn’t matter if he personally agrees with whatever your decisions are, he’s listening like the loyal hound he is. Will push and prod at you, but at the end of the day, he’s devoted. While he’d always prefer to be as close to you as possible, he’s willing to stay away if that’s what you really want. Simple guy, aware of himself, and mostly in control of his more fervent tendencies. He refuses to lose control of you, to take too much, so he doesn’t take any. Just giving, giving, giving. He only hopes you’ll take him.

Dick: Dick is probably one of the most clingy yanderes out there. While others might stalk you, or protect you from afar, that’s not Dick’s methodology. He wants to be with you all the time, and make you happy all the time, and he spends his afternoons daydreaming about sitting between your thighs for hours at a time. All the time, if it was possible. While he’s trying not to overwhelm you, he’ll stay as calm and charming as possible. But eventually, he’s going to have to start confessing his love to you because he feels like he’ll explode with it. Along with acts of service, physical affection, and verbal affection, he also really likes buying you things. He’s an all-rounder. Still, he prefers buying you experiences rather than items, like holidays or trips to the fair. He decides against buying you a private island to visit for the summer, but only after staring at the property page online for three hours straight. Like I said, he really is trying!

B = Blood (How Messy Are They Willing to Get in Pursuit of Their Darling? Would They Embrace Chaos and Revel in the Crimson Tableau Painted by Their Actions?):

Dick: I’ve mentioned before that he’s pretty hesitant to kill. He’s gotten over his wild younger years, and is now more mature and in control of emotions. Now, all of that is one huge lie he tells himself that only lasts as long nobody ever tries to hurt you. Dick wears his heart on his sleeve, and then it gets even worse when you come around because his heart is just walking around outside his chest, with no aknowledgement for the dangers of the world. He does try, he really does, but when he snaps, he snaps hard. He’s not too bad of a sadist (also a lie) but when he easily catches whoever has been bothering you, he… well, he might play with them. Just a little bit. He doesn’t kill, he’s very careful of that, but honestly if I was that poor soul, I’d rather be dead. And then the next day, he goes back to being the cheerful sweetheart we all know and love!

Jason: I’ve also mentioned that Jason, unlike Dick, is very, very eager to get bloody. In canon, he enjoys punishing sinners and whatnot, and when he’s fallen for you, uh… So, basically, Jason would rather die than admit it, but he thinks of himself as your protector, your knight in shining leather armour. And along with that previously mentioned possessiveness, he totally lets it get out of hand. He’s aware you probably don’t want him slaughtering everyone who has ever harmed a single hair on your head, but unless you specifically tell him not to, he’s not going to stop. But if you do, he will. He’s loyal, he’s fervent in that loyalty. He wants to destroy anything that could ever hurt you. But he’d never go against your ruling, your will. He might complain about it, though. Loudly, very loudly. However, if you do want everyone who has ever annoyed you dead, he’s totally up for it no questions asked. Would probably consider it a date night of sorts.

S = Stigma (Can the Roots of Their Obsession Be Traced to a Dark Past, a Blend of Childhood Trauma, Twisted Curiosity, and a Skewed Perception of Love?):

Dick: Oh boy, this guy… He’s the poster child for childhood trauma affecting your perception of love. When his parents were murdered, he latched onto Bruce. And when Bruce kicked him out, he latched onto Bludhaven. And now when even Bludhaven can’t bring him any semblance of comfort, of home, you’re fucking heaven-sent. He latches onto you like a benign growth, and god help anyone who tries to tear the two of you apart.

Jason: Oh boy times two. Not the best childhood, raised on the streets. Taken in by Bruce, things are looking better and then- Well, we all know what happens then. After the trauma of literally digging himself out of his own grave, he feels a bit… disconnected from the world? He feels like a ghost, like he’s still dead, like his death never even mattered and the world kept going after he’d been gone. And that’d fuck up anybody, but someone personally trained by the Batman? Woof. We see in Under The Red Hood that Jason really does think vengeance is proof of love, at least in his case. To him, love is bloody and ruthless. It’s cannibalistic. A give and take. But since he doesn’t want to take from you, he’ll just give himself over wholly.

X = Xoanon (Does Their Reverence for Their Darling Border on Worship, Reaching Extreme Lengths to Prove Their Devotion and Ensure Unwavering Loyalty?):

Dick: He sees you like the sun. Powerful, brilliant, beautiful. And you’ll probably burn him to cinders as he loves you, but he doesn’t care. He probably enjoys the idea a little. Wouldn’t it be nice, to die in your arms? To close his eyes and disappear into you, where he’d never be apart from you again? He realises that sort of thinking is a bit creepy, but it’s one of the few things he simply can’t fight against. Not even the littlest bit. He’s self-aware to know he’s putting you on a pedestal, that you’re not some god or something, you’re just like him. Human. Maybe that makes him worship you even more. He can’t tell, it’s too blurry these days. He just knows you’re important, more so than he is. More so than anything is, really. Also, gotta mention body worship kink. Like, he’s really way too into it honestly. He’ll service you for however long you can last, and then place a hundred kisses against your exhausted body telling you how good you did, how perfect you are. When you look at him after a session like that, you can always see something a little too intense, too crazed to be called love. He knows he’s trying to hide it. He’ll do better next time, okay?

Jason: You’re his master. The hand around the leash. He’s angry at the world, so fucking angry. He wants to destroy it all. Assuming here, you probably don’t want the entire world blown to smithereens, so you’re his… conscience. Whatever you say goes. If you say Joker dies today, then he dies. If you say he can never kill another soul, then he won’t. He’s sassy about all of it, but it’s painfully obvious to literally everyone that he will follow every single order you give. And of course, he wants it that way. Maybe he really should get a collar for himself. He thinks it’d be cute, with your name on it in brilliant gold letters. He certainly thinks that the reaction his goons would give would be worth the effort, never mind your own reaction. Call him your good boy and you will get railed so hard you break the bed, lmfao

L = Love Letters (Is Courting an Intricate Dance Marked by Obsessive Letters and Gestures That Blur the Line Between Devotion and Insanity?):

Dick: I can’t see Dick ever actually sending you the letters he writes, but my god, he writes them. At first, it’s just little doodles in the corners of his very important paperwork, and then he’s scribbling on sticky notes, and eventually, he just gives in and buys a fucking notebook. They’re long winded and silly and he’d absolutely rather die than share them with you. But they make it just the slightest bit easier to choke down his devotion to you, so it doesn’t strangle him right then and there. He almost finds it as addicting as you are, almost being the keyword here. It’s genuinely pretty embarrassing, from an outsider’s standpoint. It’s like what a middle schooler would write in their diary, just lots of your name and hearts and very ridiculous poetry. He’d be good at it if it wasn’t about you, okay?

Jason: Jason, in direct contrast to Dick, writes very good poetry. Especially when it’s about you. It’s the sort of stuff they’ll put in museums, that future historians will write about. Of course they won’t know half of his more demented metaphors are just… straight up things he’s done for you. It’s flowing and beautiful and it’d make you tear up if you ever read it. You probably won’t just because Jason doesn’t really care if you read it, so he won’t share it with you on purpose. However if you find him one day in the library, and you ask to see whatever it is he’s made, you’ll be so very, very lucky. And Jason will turn tomato red, so that’s another plus.

Tim: Everybody knows that when Tim starts a list again, his mental health is on the decline. The list about you is concerningly long. And I’m really not saying that lightly, for Mr ‘I stalk literally everyone at least a little bit’. It’s something at four hundred thousand words by now, he’s not sure exactly. The little note app on his phone has had to suffer through hundreds or even thousands of hours of Tim writing down the most minute details of you and your life. How do you like to sit best? Is your posture okay, or should he worry about it? When you’re hungry, what food do you go for first? What about when you’re sick? If he’s ever around, tapping away on his phone, and you think he’s not paying you any attention, you’d be very, very wrong. Would probably share it with you just to laugh at your horrified face.

Damian: Damian was raised to perfect every form of art, from martial to dance, to even the more traditional ones. He’s always had a fondness for painting, and you’re most certainly his muse. Instead of letters, he paints you. For every memory he has of you, he has at least a sketch. He doesn’t care for almost all of them, as he doesn’t think they capture your beauty properly, so he doesn’t really care what happens with said drawings. Your first meeting has been drawn at least twenty times, and your sleeping face probably double that. Yes, he does draw you in more passionate poses as well. Your face all fucked out, drool leaking from your lips, is a personal favourite of his. He’ll probably share those ones with you, enjoying seeing you squirm. Asking if you want to help him find some extra inspiration because he’s all irritatingly smooth like that. Will laugh if you crush the lewd drawing up, agreeing it doesn’t do you justice. He’ll just have to try again.

[yea-baiyi]

translation of the “true form” conversation is as if hua cheng gave xie lian a fake name when they first met, so when xie lian asks “so what’s your real name” and hua cheng panics it’s bc he thinks xie lian is asking for his dead name but actually xie lian was just asking for his real chosen name because he wants to fuck him

[stevethehairington]

i love you prompts: 98 w/ romantic steddie? 😌

lou!! thank you for sending this in!! ooh this is a good one!!

98. "Take a deep breath"

It’s late when the credits finally start to roll onscreen.

Steve guesses it’s sometime close to midnight, or maybe a little after, but he’d taken his watch off earlier before he’d gotten elbow deep in dirty dish water, cleaning up after the mess they somehow managed to make whipping up a simple dinner of grilled cheese and tomato soup. It sits on the kitchen counter, all the way across the room, and the nearest clock in the Munson trailer hangs beside the phone, too far away for Steve to see from his spot on the couch.

He can’t exactly twist in his place to try and catch a better glimpse of it, or get up to fetch his watch either. Not while Eddie leans up against his side, arms crossed over his chest and neck bent awkwardly so his head can rest against Steve’s shoulder, fast asleep.

When they first put the movie on, the two of them had started off on opposite ends of the already pretty small couch, but as it progressed, they’d gradually shifted closer and closer — in the name of sharing popcorn easier, to whisper their movie commentary directly into each other’s ears rather than speak over the film, and, eventually, so it seems, so that Eddie could use Steve as a pillow. 

Not that Steve minded or anything. He liked it, in fact — likes it. Likes having Eddie so close, likes feeling the warmth of his body pressing up against his own, likes the fact that Eddie is comfortable enough with him to let his guard down like this.

Eddie hasn’t been sleeping all that well as of late, so when his head tipped onto Steve’s shoulder a little over half an hour ago, Steve just slouched a little lower to ease the angle of his neck and reached for the remote to turn down the volume. It had been a little hard for him to hear it after that, but he hadn’t really paid it much attention after that point anyways.

Now, though, the movie is over, and it’s late enough that Steve’s verging on overstaying his welcome. He knows he should probably wake Eddie so he can let him know that he’s going and say his goodbyes and head out.

But Eddie just looks way too peaceful. Steve doesn’t want to wake him.

Instead, he decides that he can just leave a note. In case Eddie does wake up to find him gone. He’ll know nothing bad happened to Steve, just that he went home for the night and that they’ll see each other tomorrow — because chances are they will. They hardly went a day without spinning into each other’s orbits now.

Except, Steve doesn’t want to just leave Eddie on the couch either. He knows from personal experience that the Munson’s sofa is not exactly the most comfortable thing ever. Every time he falls asleep on it, he wakes up with a crick in his neck and an ache in his back. He doesn’t want that for Eddie.

His bedroom isn’t far, just down the hall, and Steve will feel a lot better if he gets Eddie to his bed before he leaves. So, he does his best to maneuver out from beneath Eddie, cradling his head as he removes it from his shoulder and lowers it to the cushion instead.

Steve takes a second to roll out his shoulders, then he slips one arm under Eddie’s back and the other behind his knees, which are curled to his side. As carefully as he can, he lifts Eddie from the couch.

Eddie stirs, but he doesn’t wake, thank god. He just smacks his mouth a little and buries his nose into the collar of Steve’s sweater, and Steve lets out the breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

Eddie’s lighter than he looks, but still pretty heavy, and Steve doesn’t want to drop him, so he takes it slow as he follows the path towards Eddie’s door at the end of the hall. It’s, thankfully, already open, so all he has to do is kick out a foot to push it wide enough to fit through.

The blinds in Eddie’s room are still fucked up — broken enough that the slats droop down in a way that gives the morning sun the perfect opening to shine right in and wake him up before it’s time. Eddie complains about it constantly, but he hasn’t made any sort of attempt to fix them yet, and right now, Steveis grateful for that. The glow of the moon is bright enough to seep in through the gap, providing just enough gentle light that Steve can see where he’s going.

He makes it to the side of Eddie’s bed without issue, and delicately deposits Eddie onto his mattress. Again, Eddie shifts, rolling slightly onto his side, but he still doesn’t rouse.

The blankets are shoved to the end of Eddie’s bed, and Steve stifles a snort at that as he reaches for them and starts to pull them up and over Eddie’s body. He knows Eddie runs cold, so he takes a moment to tuck the corners in and add an extra blanket to the top so that he’s nice and cozy.

Then, unable to help himself, Steve brushes Eddie’s bangs to the side and leans down to leave a soft ghost of a kiss to his forehead.

He’s just starting to straighten up and pull his hand back when quick fingers dart out to curl around his wrist, trapping him there.

Steve freezes, eyes snapping back open to find Eddie, awake, blinking hazily back up at him.

“Steve?” Eddie asks, groggy, still somewhere halfway in between awake and asleep.

“Hey, yeah, it’s me,” Steve whispers. “You fell asleep, I just brought you to your room so you’d be comfortable,” he tells him.

Eddie smiles then, this sleepy, goopy sort of thing that makes something warm settle in Steve’s chest, and he tugs on Steve’s wrist. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and Steve thinks maybe he has something he wants to tell him.

So he leans in closer.

And closer.

And closer.

Eddie tips his chin up, and Steve thinks he’s going for his ear, so he can whisper his sleepsoft secret. Only, his mouth doesn’t go anywhere near Steve’s ear. Instead, it lands against his own in a—

In a kiss.

It’s chaste, tender, just the sweet press of lips against lips. It catches Steve off guard at first, but the surprise settles, and Steve is about to let himself melt into it.

Then the moment shatters.

Eddie jerks back, bolting upright as he scrambles far enough back in his bed that he hits the headboard. His eyes are wide open now, fully alert and not a single trace of sleepiness anywhere on his face as he stares at Steve. His hand, the one he’d had around Steve’s wrist just seconds ago, hovers over his own mouth, like he can’t quite believe what it has just done.

“Oh, oh, fuck,” Eddie chokes out. “Shit, shit, shit, I’m so— I didn’t mean to— fuck, you have to— please don’t—”

“Woah, hey, it’s… it’s alright, Eddie,” Steve says, holding his hands out in what he hopes is a placating gesture. He doesn’t come closer, doesn’t want to frighten Eddie further, but he wants Eddie to know that there’s no reason for him to be so scared. He’s not… he’s not mad. Or upset. Or anything that Eddie probably thinks he is right now. Not even close.

Eddie’s words start to fail him as his breathing begins to hitch, and Steve can see the rapidfire rise and fall of his chest. His eyes are on Steve, but he’s not looking at him. He’s looking through him, like he’s somewhere else right now. Like he’s spiraling into every single bad place his mind can take him right now.

Steve recognizes it for what it is — a panic attack.

“Eddie,” Steve tries, forgetting politeness as he moves to the edge of Eddie’s bed and kneels against the mattress. He reaches out to rest his hand on Eddie’s shoulder — to give him a point of contact, something to focus on. Something to ground him. It’s what usually helps Steve whenever he’s having a panic attack, finding an anchor, to bring him back down.

Eddie’s hand flies out to grasp at Steve’s wrist, and Steve lets him pull it from his shoulder so that he can curl his fingers around Steve’s palm instead. His grip is tight, nails biting into Steve’s skin, but Steve doesn’t care.

“You’re safe,” Steve reassures. “You’re safe and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Eddie nods, but Steve isn’t so sure his words have reached him. Not when he still looks so panicked, and his breathing is still coming out too fast.

“Hey,” Steve says softly, rubbing his thumb over the back of Eddie’s hand. “Take a deep breath,” he instructs.

Eddie’s eyes settle onto Steve’s face, still hazy but doing better at focusing. Steve smiles at him, nods encouragingly. “Come on, do it with me, deep breath in.”

Steve makes a show of inhaling again, holding up his fingers to count to three before he starts to let it all back out in an exhale. He goes through it twice before Eddie catches on and starts to mirror him.

They follow the pattern until finally Eddie’s breathing returns to normal and the panic seems to subside.

“Are you okay?” Steve asks, once Eddie’s shoulders slump and his head drops forward, his hair hanging like a curtain around his face. Steve hasn’t let go of Eddie’s hand yet, and he doesn’t plan to.

Eddie lets out a humorless laugh, but he doesn’t look up. “Depends,” he starts. “Are you going to… to fucking… hit me or shout at me or something?”

Steve’s face screws up, mouth tugging down into a hard frown. “What?” He asks. “Why would I do that? Because you had a panic attack?”

Eddie snorts. “No,” he replies, like he can’t believe that’s what Steve thinks this is about. He stays quiet for a second, two, three. Like he can’t quite bring himself to say it. “Because I— because I kissed you,” he finally breathes.

“Oh,” Steve says softly. He watches Eddie for a moment, doesn’t like that he can’t see his face. He wants to see his face. So, with careful fingers, he reaches out to brush Eddie’s hair back, to tuck it behind his ear.

Eddie’s breath catches as he does, and his gaze flickers up to Steve’s, briefly, before fixing firmly on his lap again.

“Eddie,” Steve starts, “I’m not mad that you kissed me.”

It takes a second for his words to sink in.

When they do, Eddie’s head snaps up. His eyes land on Steve’s, wide and surprised and searching. “You’re not?”

Steve shakes his head. Lets a little smile grace his lips. “Nope,” he confirms. “Not one single bit.”

And, well, in for a penny, in for a pound, right? He shuffles a little closer on his knees, presses further into Eddie’s space. “In fact…” he trails off. Does a little searching of his own. “I wouldn’t mind if you did it again,” Steve finishes after he’s sure that Eddie isn’t going to push him away.

Eddie’s eyebrows lift this time, the pull together. Steve wants to smooth out the little wrinkle that forms between them. 

“Are you… you’re serious?” Eddie asks.

“Serious as a heart attack,” Steve replies.

The corner of Eddie’s mouth twitches, then a smile breaks out across his face. “Holy shit, you’re serious,” he says, followed by a breathless little laugh.

Steve can’t help but laugh too, and he nods and starts to tug at Eddie’s hand to pull him in this time. “Yeah,” he says. “Now that that’s been established, you think I could get another one?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s won the lottery. “Jesus christ, yes, yes please,” he says, and the hand not caught in Steve’s comes up to bunch into the front of his sweater as he meets him halfway.

It’s a little offcentered, a little overeager on both of their parts, but it’s perfect.

When they break apart, Eddie presses his forehead against Steve’s. “Were you leaving?” He asks.

“I was,” Steve answers. “I don’t want to now,” he admits.

Eddie chuckles and lets go of Steve only just long enough to peel back the covers Steve had so lovingly tucked around him not too long ago.

“So stay,” Eddie says.

With his welcome so graciously extended like that, who is Steve to say no?

So he stays.

100 ways to say i love you prompts

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

cough hack wheeze who wants a teeny tiny fantasy au snippet with uhhhh laughingstock Tension. it's like... half a scene! unedited & out of context As Is Tradition

~

“Nothin’ much. I think I’ll poke around nearby towns, shake down some travelers - see what falls into my paws.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea, Barn,” Howdy says. He sweeps aggressively, spreading dirt more than gathering it into the usual neat piles. “Who knows if those ne'er-do-wells are still roaming around the woods - if you and Ed couldn’t take them, what makes you think you could alone? Or- or! What if you stumble across those cultists? I hate to think of you stuck in an ambush with no help coming, knowing fully well that-”

A large paw slips the broom out of his grip and sets it to the side, and Howdy stammers to a stop as Barnaby crowds him against the bar with a soft, “Howdy.”

Howdy swallows hard, bracketed on each side by strong blue arms. The look Barnaby fixes him with dries up his well of words and bristles his fuzz. Howdy’s heart hammers against his ribs. He can feel Barnaby’s body heat, and it’s lighting his blood on fire. 

“I’m not gonna be reckless, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Barnaby says. He barely needs to speak louder than a whisper for Howdy to hear him loud and clear. He smells like sweet smoke. “The other day was a one time deal, cross my heart. But, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take someone with me. I’m sure Jules is itchin’ to get outta town.”

“What would really make me feel better is if you stay,” Howdy blurts, just barely reining in the with me. He tenses, knowing that he’s toeing a dangerous line. One wrong word, and he’ll make the unspoken spoken - but the stress drains out of him as Barn’s eyes go soft. Perhaps that wouldn’t be so bad. Of course there’s no reason to worry, not about this, not with him. There never has been.

“You know I can’t do that,” Barnaby murmurs. “Not yet.”

Howdy doesn’t need to say that he knows. Not for the first time and with any luck, not for the last, it clicks in his mind that they’re on the same page - he doesn’t need to be a telepath to understand the thoughts behind Barnaby’s dark eyes. 

Barnaby says it anyway. “I gotta get him back. I can’t… there’s no room for anythin’ else right now.”

Howdy sighs through his nose and slumps against the counter digging into the small of his back. He nods and adjusts the lapels of Barnaby’s vest. His fingers ghost over soft blue, and Barnaby doesn’t flinch at the contact. If anything, he leans the barest millimeter into it. His gaze burns into Howdy’s, even if they aren’t meeting at the moment, but it isn’t a bad feeling. Quite the opposite, actually.

“Well,” Howdy says in a low voice, “if you find a good lead, send for the rest of us. I’ll be there as fast as my four legs can scamper.”

Barnaby smirks. “Even if you need to take a boat?”

“Even so, Barn.”

The smirk slides into something that isn’t a frown, but isn’t a smile. It’s too soft for a grimace, but too intense for simple recognition. Barnaby seems to sway forward, and Howdy is sorely tempted to meet him halfway.  

But Barnaby’s claw taps the counter, and he pulls away before anyone’s mind can be made up. Howdy’s hands slip from his lapels, brushing against fur as they fall and knuckles skimming over the smooth, fresh scar cutting across Barnaby’s belly. 

“I’ll be back before you know it,” Barnaby says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He squeezes Howdy’s shoulder and then his back is turned, and he’s leaving. All Howdy can do is watch. 

And call out after him, “Your table will be open and waiting for you.”

Barnaby pauses in the doorway and looks over his shoulder at Howdy, and his grin is so full of affection that Howdy may just burst. 

“With a free pint?” he asks.

“Hey now, don’t push your luck pal.”

Barnaby bursts out laughing, and Howdy can hear it even after the door thuds closed.

[dvasva]

Tbh? I think the radiant emperor duology deserves more critique than it gets in its tag, so after stewing it over for a couple weeks and also discussing it with my friend, I have decided to do it myself.

So. Spoilers for She Who Became the Sun and He Who Drowned The World ahead.

First off, so nobody accuses me of hating the series, I liked the series. I'd say I'd give the first book a 4.5/5, I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I like both books. I truthfully skipped the fisting scene, it triggered some dysphoria that I wasn't comfortable with personally but I don't have problem with it existing in the book, it's good where it is, no changes.

No, my critiques come mostly from the second book, hwdts. Which sucks because I absolutely loved Baoxiang in it, it's a well known fact that my ideal type is pretty, really mean, characters. ('What about Madam Zhang?!!!???!? Shes mean and pretty!!' I hear you ask. Give it a second cause i will get to my beloved madam zhang) So, my critiques are mostly organized as 'The first part I didn't like in Hwdtw that signals the thing that became my biggest issue, the bits in the middle that i did like along with the bits that I felt didn't really work well, and Act 3 which is where my issues really were exacerbated.'

By the end of book one, I had a general annoyance but acceptance that Ma Xiuying was a bit of a weak character, and not weak as in 'dang shes a woman and cant fight' or any other sexist way you may interpret that, but weak as in structurally, she didn't really have as much depth as other characters. I thought she didn't have as much time put into her character as others. And yeah you could have a million character analysis essays over Ma and her place in the story and etc, but for me, her setup for the next book as potentially having conflict with Zhu or her own morals was the most interesting part of Ma. In general I think a lot of people tend to overlook this flaw partly because Ma is a cis lesbian character and the main 'love interest' in a book that is usually marketed to people as sapphic, which yeah there is certainly a sapphic relationship in the book but I think saying it's a major part of the book is really giving the relationship a load bearing wall ot isn't strong enough to carry. The Radiant Emperor Duology is not a romance, first and foremost. To describe it as a wlw romance is gonna leave people who read ot specifically for that reason kinda dissappointed by the end of book 2.

My big critiques didn't start until book two, and a particular scene, though. Ma, at the start of book two, was generally filling the niche of 'nagging wife' to zhu, which yknow, is a fine place to start from. I was a little disappointed there was no further discussion of Ma's disapproval of the morality of Zhu's actions, and in fact the dead child was pretty much entirely forgotten by Ma in favor of being Zhu's wife. Which, yknow, sure.

The Scene I had issue with happened (Spoilers once again) after Zhu finally captures Ouyang and imprisons him at her base of operations. Ma, dressed in her empressly regalia enters his room with the intention of being the bigger person. She walks in, looks at the stripped down and humiliated general who killed her father and famously is also really a women hater, and tells him she forgives him for killing her father. And then she gets upset and cries when the prideful general who hates women gives her a dressing down and taunts her and is like 'I'm glad I killed your father'? She nearly cries because Ouyang was mean to her (notably only cause he was mean to her and didn't gracefully accept her forgiveness, not because he killed ehr father) and runs off to Zhu. And Zhu responds with 'Wow, he's just a weirdo, everyone likes you and everyone in existance immediately knows you're a good person and you change people.' Which, my friend suggested before she finished the book, was a case of Zhu placating Ma and dismissing her feelings which would be an interesting dynamic.

Really my hangups with this scene come from multiple parts.

1. Ma' few character traits including being observant and reading people really well (a thing she's praised for in book 1) and having good social intuition are completely thrown out by her thinking being alone with ouyang and forgiving him would be a good idea and then her being shocked and upset when he spat on her forgiveness. And

2. Zhu's response is never once treated by the text as her dismissing Ma and placating her, and Zhu's statement despite never being shown to be true before and that moment being the first time it's ever mentioned, ends up becoming Chekov's moral purity by the end of the book, where the plot hinges on Ma being able to magically heal a damaged character's mind enough for Zhu to win in the end. Which I will get back to. There's a lot of other stuff happening between here and the end.

So, before I get back to Ma and her role in the story, I'll address some other bits from after this scene. Both problems and things I enjoyed generally.

Madam Zhang and her parallels to Baoxiang and her being the absolute queen of dissociating really was interesting (before act 3). She was a very compelling character who I completely understood and felt positively about. She had a way more interesting relationship with gender imo than Ma did, especially in book 2. I didn't really like that she was overwhelmingly shown having sexual villence done to her, that felt weirdly like a punishment. But, I did like her a whole bunch, and I liked the look we got into her head. She was probably my second, maybe third, favorite character in the whole book until Act 3.

I really, really liked Ouyangs dynamic and relationship with Zhu. The weird sexual tension between them, their weird kinda nonsexual but also kinda very sexual S&M relationship. It was somehow the most sensual, sexual part of a book that featured Madam Zhang having sex with multiple people, and Zhu going down on Ma, and a lot of other mentions of sex or scenes involving sex. Tbh I feel like, in a way, Ma was left to the sidelines for most of the book because Ouyang became the primary 'love' interest for a hot second there and the only reason Ma could get her spot back was Ouyang and Zbu's separation. Also, from what I've seen when people talk about this book, they always kinda try to express Zhu and Ouyang's dynamic as very nonsexual and nonromantic, as platonic mostly. And there is no inherent superiority of romantic over platonic, but I think to insist that it is only platonic, and not a strange swirl of romantic, platonic, sexual, frustration and relief, and a swirl of familiarity and vulnerability all wrapped into one, is doing the dynamic a bit of a disservice. And ther is, imo, very clearly a subtle hint of romantic intent and interest on Ouyang's part before he realizes Zhu has a body he hates.

Which is also another point I didn't like. Ouyang and Zhu's relationship end felt off. The entire bit with the pirates felt off, but especially how Ouyang found out about Zbu's body, and how Zhu reacted. I think Ouyang finding out second hand, from a combination of being suspicious and from Jiang saying it, was a poor way for that to be revealed. I think there was a better way for that to happen that woyld have felt more like a betrayl to zhu than this did. The fact that Zhu and Ouyang were so in tune and could see each other perfectly, but this one thing was a blind spot for both of them because of how unaffected by gender Zhu was compared to how overaffected by gender Ouyang was is a really interesting thing to explore, an interesting disconnect between two character's whose entire basis for their relationship is 'like recognizes like'. I think Zhu seeing it as a betrayl would have been more impactful if she had presented this informatuon to Ouyang herself and been rejected than how it went down. And, I think her not realizing Ouyang would be disgusted that he felt connected and felt a sameness to someone with a body he found grotesque and that he feared would have been more interesting for zhu, who views herself outside of womanhood and didnt really think that other people would not see her outside of womanhood, if she was the one who told ouyang herself.

Also, less importantly, think going into Ouyangs annoyance that zhu kept moving his target further away was a good move but it wasn't expanded on as much for my taste. I also really liked it when (spoiler) Xu Da dies, and that entire part despite some minir bits, was extremely good in that Zhu finally has tasted loss. She had, up until that point, been riding a wave of positivity, she was the underdog who won over and over again despite all the odds and despite her own reckless choices. So I did appreciate that everything went wrong for her at least once. that would have been, imo if other things were changed, a good place to end a book two in a three book series. Which will make sense as to why I mention it im a bit.

I also didn't like how Ma was nonexistant unless the plot was like 'ok we need to remind people that Ma exists.'

And there's of course other stuff but those are the main points of acts 1 and 2 that i wasn't fond of or that i liked.

Act 3 is a wholely different behemoth which can be encapsulated with 'I wish it was longer but also different' (courtesy of the convo my friend and I had).

My friend and I both agreed that we liked this kind of courtly drama game it was playing. My friend doesn't tend to like the structure or writing style of a lot of the chinese wuxia, danmei, or courtly drama translated books i read, so it was nice to know that the genre content isn't the issue for her there.

The biggest problems I had with the ending though was 1. I think Baoxiang and Ma had an interesting dynamic despite it being really rushed and how distasteful I found the entire concept of Ma being such a good wholesome goody good good person that she could change Baoxiang, quiet his demons and fix him in some way. That was annoying in an otherwise interesting dynamic. And 2. I think Madam Zhang's character traits and cleverness and all that were wiped away to make her inexplicably jealous of Ma in a way that I don't think fit her character and just served to fit a trope of jealous empress who hates the favored concubine.

So, here's my major proposed changes.

1. Ma gets sent to Khanbaliq extremely early on. Like, act one maybe after ouyang is captured early. This serves three purposes. A. Ma has something to do and is more present in the story. this could be a good xhance to let her actually feel frustrated or upset at Zhu in some tangible way that needs to be resolved or talked thru eventually. B. she gets more time to build a relationship with Baoxiang, whose entire defeat hinges on him having a strong connection with her. and C. Her absence in the other parts of the book feel less like she's being ignored or forgotten. It makes Zhu's lack of haste more than just a way to annoy Ouyang, and turns it into an interesting moral choice. Should she rush to Khanbaliq to save Ma or trust that Ma will be ok in favor of gaining power? Her lack of haste means Ouyang leaves, depressed, and she loses Xu Da, all while she doesn't even have the assurance that Ma is ok, she is truly at her lowest point with nobody with her. If Ma is in Khanbaliq and that's explored, then Zhu and Ouyang can also explore their dynamic without Ma feeling a bit like she is battling for Zhu's attention.

2. Madam Zhang is suspicious of Ma, or feels actually tangibly threatened by Ma. In act 3, Madam Zhang's anger towards Ma feels really out of place. She got exactly what she wants, she is empress, her emperor isn't interested in removing her from her position and her position isn't threatened by anyone. Baoxiang won't get rid of her, he won't demote her, he has shown zero sign of ever even considering it. So, why is Madam Zhang jealous of Ma? Imo, especially since she very clearly has dissociated into oblivion and has no love or affection for anyone anymore, and no real desire or motivation to secure her position further aside from maybe producing an heir to make sure shes taken care of after Baoxiang dies, there's no reason for her to be inextricably jealous of Ma. It kinda just erases all of Madam Zhang's political savvy and cunning into jealous, petty woman, and that sucks. If she was suspicious of Ma's intention, or Baoxiang genuinely expressed spmething that actively threatened her position, her hatred of Ma would make sense, but instead she hates Ma cause Ma is ugly and spends every night with Baoxiang. She hated rice buckets concubine cause that concubine used a lot of funds and competition genuinely made her position less stable. She needs better motivation for hating Ma.

3. As I mentioned earlier, Zhu needs to be the one to tell Ouyang that she does not have a dick. That's just all around better, it feels more like a betrayl to bare your secrets and be rejected, etc etc.

4. The duology should have been a trilogy, with book 3 starting when Zhu is at her lowest, ouyang is dead, ma is in khanbaliq, Xu Da is dead, a new guy is the emperor. This is where a book three should have started. in a series that has so many important characters, i feel like it needs more space. she's in a 10 gallon tank when really she needs a 30 gallon tank. Lots of it, especially towards the end of book 2, felt rushed and the extra book will absolutely push that back a bit and make it less rushed.

Anyways that's my critique of The Radiant emperor duology. Once Again, I liked the series, its one of my favorites i've read all year. I don't dislike it, and having a critique or opinion about something doesnt mean I didn't like the book or understand the book (because obviously if i understood it i would understand why its flawless). I liked it, there are things I wish were different, that's it.

[coffinsister]

It is officially tcoaal's birthday today

This game has actually become so important to me it came out at a time where I was deeply miserable and lonely all the time

And now I get to look back and see how much my situation has actually improved and a lot of it can be traced back to the friends and the art I made thanks to this game

Good incest game go vroom

Maybe I will try to finish colouring something or upload a fic to celebrate the occasion

[deoidesign]

Hello I stumbled across your profile and I just say I love your art style! I've gotta ask, how'd your develop it? And do you have any advice for someone who can't decide what they want their art to look like?

Thank you so much!

To be entirely honest, I don't feel like I truly "developed" my style. I feel a lot more like I finally let myself draw it! But I am incredibly deliberate with my work, and I do have clear tendencies and preferences... So I'll do my best to explain how I got to where I am now as an artist.

It's important to remember that "style" is something of a nebulous concept. It changes with you as you grow as a person, and most artists can work in and emulate many art styles! Art really is a form of communication with yourself, and your "style" is a reflection of the tendencies and preferences you have. My art does not look how it looked 5 years ago, and my art will look different 5 years from now too. I've changed, and my art reflects that!

(2012, 2018, 2023; two pieces I remember being incredibly proud of and considered my best work up til that point, and then my most recent piece)

What you need to do, as everyone will tell you, is study the fundamentals (anatomy, perspective, form and structure, lighting and shadow, color, and composition) so you have the proper tools to make the most informed decisions possible about your art, and so you can deliberately break or follow rules as you please for your desired effect. I know it sounds silly to learn rules if you're not gonna be following them anyways, but they help you be much more consistent and intentional! More knowledge is NEVER a bad thing to have!

However, I know it's a bit demoralizing to just be told to study fundamentals. Everyone knows you're supposed to do that, but it takes YEARS to learn, and people want their art to feel how they want it to now (which is very very very normal to want!)

So on that front, I have 2 follow up suggestions that I personally find helpful (of course, everyone is different, so it's not like this is the only way to learn! But, if it resonates with you, it might mean it will work for you too.)

1: Separate study from application

I believe this is beneficial for a few reasons:

If the goal of every piece is learning, it can become frustrating, overwhelming, and boring

It's harder to self critique when there are multiple variables to investigate. I like to study one fundamental at a time

Study (usually) works best with a large quantity of output, whereas application of knowledge (finished pieces) is often more satisfying and effective when you get to take your time

Deliberate practical application of what you've learned in a finished piece helps cement the learning in your mind, and also lets you get satisfying finished pieces with noticeable improvement after a good study session!

I've found that keeping these things separate helps me improve faster and more deliberately, and it takes a lot of the pressure off of both aspects! I'm not worried about my studies looking beautiful, they're just to learn! And I don't feel pressured to critique my finished pieces, cause they're just for fun and to make something pretty. I personally find this helps me have a much healthier relationship with my art.

When studying, copy! Copy things as best as you can, all the time. It gives you something to compare to for self critique (and of course, if you're copying someone else's work and you share the study, ALWAYS give credit, share the original, and say it was for study.) In application, don't copy: reference. Make it yours!

2: Let yourself do the things that feel "easy" or like "cheating"

This one is simpler: nothing in art is easy.

If something feels easy to you, most of the time it's not because it's actually any easier... It's because it's part of your natural tendencies and preferences! This took me forever to realize, but as long as you're actually doing some study, then you're learning. You don't need to learn All The Time. When you're doing the "application" portion, you should let yourself do whatever is actually the most fun and feels easiest! This is where your style will start to come through, and where you get to learn about yourself. Take the pressure off, and have fun!!!

The only cheating in art is theft. If you're not stealing, then it's allowed!

My whole life (and yes, still!) I'd get regular criticism about both my style and my subject matter. You will too. You'll see a thousand different styles, and a hundred different things to admire in each. Your heart will ache that you don't draw like others do.

But art is a form of communication with yourself. It's like your voice, or your accent; just something that's a part of you! It can be fun to mimic others', but when you sit to have a conversation you speak naturally. (I know some people want to and do change their voice, but this is a metaphor and metaphors aren't perfect)

Don't stress so much about what you want your art to look like, especially if you're not sure. There's a lot of value to be had in constant experimentation, I think it'd be rather boring to only draw one style the rest of my life. What I draw is what I want to see, right now, for who I am now! It's a part of me and comes naturally, if I let it!

I hope this helps!

[skitskatdacat63]

And here is the bull himself >:)

+ lore notes

I was like, ah I should make the shadow something interesting, and then I'm like GIVE HIM BULL HORNS???? OKAY SURE !!!!! I'm glad such thoughts can strike at 7 in the morning....thanks brain. But hehehe I'm glad bcs now this matches up super well with the Nando one!

New ship dynamic: who's the bull and who's the matador :)

I think, in this AU, Fernando is generally pretty fond of Seb when he first meets him. Like "ah yes my very own protégé, very nice, I shall mold him in my image." But then Seb starts veering off that course. Bullfighting is all about being dramatic, but Seb maybe has a bit too much(🤏) flair for the dramatic. This escalation starts while he's still Fernando's assistant but he keeps it generally at bay. But god when he becomes a matador himself, he's just off the rails insane.

Bullfighting, to me, is a sport about reckless endangerment of one's self in the pursuit of drama and performance(its literally described as a tragedy in three acts.) But Fernando thinks Seb endangers himself *too* much, not because he cares or anything, but he's making a mockery of the sport!! Especially when Seb starts doing that bull hand symbol(seen above), Fernando just keeps become more enraged with him, not anything to do with the fact that Seb is threatening his records and threatening his own wellbeing, nah of course not.

Seb's gesture is making a mockery of the sport, he's disrespecting the culture, the very nature of it, blah blah blah. Jenson once asks Fernando, after noticing him seething while watching Seb do his gesture, "Which bull are you really trying to defeat?" One could also describe Fernando and Seb's relationship as a "tragedy with three acts."

Anyways Fernando gets very tied up with this rivalry. Even after suffering a severe injury(I have yet to decide, but y'know mchonda electrocution core), he quickly returns to the sport, loath to let Seb get any more headway. And then Seb gets injured, poor little sweet Seb, and neither of them can handle it. Though I already covered this in my prev lore post 🤭 and I think I put it pretty viscerally there so!! I digress.

They're both matadors, but the bull itself is not the only bull Fernando wants to conquer. Conquer as in death? Hm.

[13thspectre]

Long ass ramble on Mariner and Boimler and their relationship

I think the first step in why Mariner comes to care for her purple dork is the fact that he surprised her. These two idiots knew each other for about a year by the first episode, had probably been around each other a lot being bunk mates, so Mariner probably had a confident idea of who Boimler was deep down. She saw him as a product of propaganda and social engineering. The kind of guy who would sell her and a ship of refugees out for a superior's nod of approval. Someone who saw rank as the end all be all of what Starfleet had to offer.

So, when he ends up not ratting her out on that first episode, I think that may be one of the first times since she'd become more cynical towards Starfleet that Mariner had gotten someone wrong, that they proved them to be a little bit better in her book. So from there, she becomes attached, thinking there's hope for this bootlicker. Maybe, if he turned out to be better than she pegged him for, he could be trusted. Maybe this organization where she's been listlessly dragging herself up and down the ranks in some kind of administrative limbo can really do good. And some part of her that's been questioning if she belongs here at all, doesn't even believe she could really belong on her own mom's ship, thinks that maybe she's found somewhere and someone with whom she does belong.

Boimler's side of things is... very similar. Mariner surprises him. Constantly surprises him. She breaks protocol, disregards authority, spits in the face of the Prime Directive. She's an ensign, same as Boimler himself, but Mariner is easily one of the most frustratingly amazing and impressive people he's ever met, having stories rivaling many starfleet legends, and having the skills and contacts to back them up. And she shows him that she's not just some tantruming rebel, she actually does care, wants and is willing to go the extra mile to help. To do the kind of things that Starfleet often professes to do, but so often just never gets around to.

Mariner challenges everything that Boimler thought was concrete: the infallibility of starfleet, the concrete importance of established protocol, the belief that the achievement of rank is the most certain sign of purpose and importance. She is everything he wants to be and not. She is sociable, likable, able, strong, witty, quick on her feet, and yet she also possesses none of the bigger-picture ambition to do something widespread and worthwhile with her ability. Mariner lacks some of the sensitivity and cautiousness that comes with avoiding unnecessary disaster, and the desire to achieve a higher rank to actually combat the shortfalls of Starfleet she complains so much about.

It's in that mutual challenge that their mutual importance is found: they're each other's anchor. Mariner anchors Boimler so he doesn't get swept up in monotonous idealism, and Boimler anchors Mariner so she doesn't wash away in listless despair.

And I think that's why Mariner is so angered by Boimler's leaving for Titan. It's why despite professing some kind of cool when it comes to dealing with disappointment, she is so stuck up on him that she leaves him dozens of angry messages, demanding an explanation. Why, months after he left and no chance of him returning, she still keeps onto the idea that he's still there or will be back, like keeping spaces for him in the showers. Because it wasn't just that he betrayed her, and right after professing friendship. It's that him leaving her, and so coldly, implies that she was right about him from the beginning. Boimler leaving for the Titan proved her instincts right, that other people, especially those in starfleet, couldn't be trusted. To do what really matters. You couldn't trust others to not hurt you if you trust yourself to them.

Boimler, I think, does not realize he's lost his anchor. He doesn't realize it for a while. On the Titan, trying to survive every batshit crazy operation Riker sets them on takes precedence. When he isn't screaming his lungs out in a wordless prayer to the cosmic koala for survival, he's trying to reconcile what he thought he joined Starfleet for and what he actually wants to do. Boimler isn't in this for the missions, or even the glory (mostly, he still likes to brag a bit, I mean who wouldn't). Boimler wants to be an explorer and a diplomat. Someone who wants to learn what there is to know about this insane deadly universe they're somehow prospering in (he's someone excited for anomaly consolidation duty, and sometimes has a close to encyclopedic knowledge of the things they're dealing with, like Tendi and the cube). He wants to find and learn about other cultures, wants to find and learn how to make new friends (even if his execution on that last bit is clunky and awkward at best, at least for now).

Boimler realizing how important Mariner is to him doesn't come until 2x5, when only he is able to get into Starfleet's biggest party with its biggest names. The shouting pulls through, the hurt comes back, and Boimler and Mariner go separate ways again. But when Boimler finally has his dream of rubbung elbows with the top brass, he sees the party differently. Maybe a little more like Mariner would. Boimler doesn't see people schmoozing and networking. He just sees a party, full of people enjoying the company of those they trust and love. This is where Boimler realizes some of the true weight of his leaving, and just how much it affected him in turn, not having his anchor with him.

Now I'll be honest here in that I haven't really watched much TOS, so I'm missing some of the full gravity of the comparison betwen Kirk and Spock and Mariner and Beckett. What I do know is that they were combative but also complimentary, one was the charismatic daredevil that flounced the rules, and the other was more by the book and research-oriented, though the LD dynamic duo I guess has much more in the way of neuroticism and personal dysfunction. I know I'm doing a bad job of distilling Spock and Kirk's dynamic, so please let me know if I'm off the mark, or elaborate on how this might fit into my little spiel. But the point is that here is when both realize how important they are to each other. Seeing those names carved into the counter of a bar, following perhaps a similar story of how Kirk and Spock ended up there, Mariner and Boimler now realize that they can come back from this. They have the potential to do great things together, but more importantly, they just want to be in each others' lives again.

When they get stranded, there's once again the issue of trust. Mariner still clings to that idea that she is the mentor and better of Boimler, and so she has to look out for him, whether or not he realizes or wants it. She doesn't trust hum to do well on his own or to make the best decisions. At the same time, we see Boimler stepping up a bit. He takes the douche-bot AI with them against Mariner's idea to just bury it (at first) to keep monitoring AGIMUS, he tries to climb the tree to get fruit himself because Mariner is injured, and even just shuts Mariner down a bit when she's anguished that that shithole planet's fruit somehow also tasted like black licorice. We see hints of Boimler being a bit more confident, a bit more capable and sure of himself, without empty pride being the only thing in his arsenal. And when it seems like Mariner was right all along and Boimler fell for some manipulation, it's revealed that he was playing AGIMUS, playing both of them like a fiddle. Boimler had a plan, executed it flawlessly, apologizes to Mariner for deceiving her, and gets them rescued. Now, both of them still know Mariner is far and away the more capable of the two in most areas, but Mariner now doesn't see Boimler as some hapless naive child. She'd still go out of her way to save his butt, but not because he's her self-proclaimed responsibility, rather because he's her friend.

In 3x1, Mariner is depressed and angry. Her mother's in custody, in a public trial, and she can't do anything, except apparently trust the system. Despite empty assurances from her father, Mariner is unable to find hope for her mother. So she goes to her anchor, Boimler, to try and find hope where none exists. And here, we see the growth of their bond. Even stuck planetside, they find each other. They're anchors, in a sense. Through Boimler, Mariner is able to find some kind of hope thst she can save her mom. Through Marjner, Boimler finds a new purpose so doesn't waste away at his family's vineyard. Hell, Boimler is so ride or die at this point that he helps Mariner steal a fucking amusement park starship and board a locked down Cerritos!

During the season two finale when Mariner is about to go down in cetacean ops to release the final panel, Rutherford, Tendi, and Boimler all talk sense into Mariner, convincing her to make up with her mom before they all die or never see Captain Freeman again in what I think is a very satisfying intervention. But something I want to point out is what Boimler tells Mariner. Boimler says they'll all either die soon, or Mariner's mom will get promoted and the two may never speak again, and he asks Mariner if this is how she wants things to end. It makes me think that Boimler's talking about when he left. He left without clearing the air, without saying goodbye, without anything. He knows in retrospec how painful that actually was, how much it hurt both of them to never really try and reconcile things until the party, and he doesn't want Mariner to go through that again with her mom.

In 3x5, Boimler tries his best to keep Mariner calm and out of trouble, but he loses it, throttling conspiracy weirdos' necks like Mariner would, despite attempts by Mariner to try and calm him down. And while that is fun, something that really catches my attention is how once people start coming to their tent in genuine interest, impressed by Boimler's confidence and defense of Starfleet, Mariner actually seems genuinely interested in finding ways that people could join Starfleet. It's some kind of inversion of their roles, with Boimler being the impressive act of violence that wows everyone, and Mariner being the eager one to bring it all up to protocol.

Crisis Point 2 comes around, and even without knowing what's up, Mariner still tries to stick things through with Boimler for a while, knowing Tendi and Rutherford are off actually having fun on something with Boimler's holomovie, something she had just been teasing him about earlier. She can easily tell that he's going off his own script, but she still goes with him, not yet realizing that she's watching her friend go through an existential spiral. When she does learn about William's death, Mariner immediately goes to Boimler to be his friend. She tells him that the story may not be a good one, but it is a Starfleet story, so it's worth telling, and so they should try to find the ending they're after. This brings up two ideas: one is that Mariner hopes the holodeck can provide the same kind of therapeutic realization it gave her. The other is that she's telling Boimler that his story, irrevocably a Starfleet story, may not be glamorous or exciting the way others' are or the way he wanted it to be, but it's still important.

When Mariner leaves, things apparently get a little weird. By Rutherford's own admission, Boimler loses grasp of reality without Mariner around. He's lost his anchor, and he's a bit adrift. For Mariner, things are going well. It's honestly a bit like the Titan all over again, with Mariner having her own adventures. But something still feels off. She tries to find reason to distrust Petra and this new purpose, but it's just Mariner trying to find a reason to return. Back to Starfleet, back to the Cerritos, back to her friends and family, back to her mom, back to her anchor. In saving the Cerritos, Mariner brings back every California-class ship. In one act, she demonstrates her faith and trust in Starfleet, or at least the people in it. She finds the others that had been given up on and gives them another chance. Similar I think to the way Boimler did for her in not reporting her that first episode, and again when she welcomed him back to the ship. When she comes back on board, the first thing she does is rush and hug Boimler, finding her anchor. And what Boimler does is own up to his own lack of trust and action, apologizes, and promises to make up for it. Afterward, Mariner changes direction and wants to try her hand at making her way in Starfleet again, finding hope in her purpose in the same way she did when Boimler first decided to trust her.

*edited a bunch of typos and some weird wording

[twd-obsessed-bitch]

Imagining Rick and Michonne finally reuniting.

They're fighting the same horde from opposite sides and as it diminishes they see eachother. Rick sees her first,

Michonnes all decked out in her new armour so Rick doesn't immediately recognize her, just sees her as an ally that moves very familiarly he starts trying to move towards her to see if they can find an exit together,

Michonne see him and freezes. Just for a second, but long enough for a walker to get too close for comfort. He's older, has a beard again and is in something she knows her Rick would never wear if he was back home, but it's him.

She sees him coming closer and knows how he is. He's so sentimental, he hasn't seen any of his family in like 7 to 9 years at this point (after he left we had the 6 year jump and then we had like 3 other month long to year long jumps) she knows that if he realizes she's who she is that it'll get one or both of them killed, so she turns her back in his direction. Keeping herself shielded from him until the fight is over.

He yells at her, and as much as it absolutely rips her heart out to do so she ignores him, knowing she can't look at him fully just yet. He yells again, this time followed by a "there's an exit this way! C'mon"

She turns, keeping her face away from him, by this point he knows this 'mystery woman' is hiding something from him by hiding her face but he can't tell, he assumes its a CRM soldier that knows him. But he's Rick Grimes and at his core, he saves people.

It's alot of blood, guts, gore, and effort, but they make it out, into a building to hide out in, they barricade the door, working in tandem just as they used to, like not a day has passed since they last saw eachother, like nothing's changed, even though everything has.

Rick doesn't even need to get a full sentence out before Michonne is helping him with a cabinet, between the darkness of the building and the helmet on her head he can't make out her face. They aren't safe yet so she doesn't want him too, the moment he realizes she knows they're both going to freeze, to break. The doors boarded, the rooms safe, it's quiet except for their harsh breathing. Michonne is turned away from him. She still can't bring herself to believe its truly him even though she saw him. It was him right?

She takes her helmet off. Rick's breath catches in his throat as he sees her dreads fall out of the helmet, it can't be. Michonne turns, slowly, it's torturous, they're both holding their breaths.

They stand before eachother, facing eachother, both slowly taking the other in, processing that after almost a decade they're reunited.

It's really him.

It's actually her.

Rick's the first to move. Michonne is still struggling to process that he's actually alive, that he's actually in front of her, that he's moving closer, never in her life has she been as frozen as she is right now, except maybe when she looked at RJ for the first time.

Rick's hands are on her face, but it's his lips on hers that break her out of it. It's needy, it's possessive, it's like taking a breath of air after being underwater for a second too long.

It's everything she's needed since that moment she saw him blow himself up all those years ago.

It's hello, I'm sorry, I found you.

She pulls away from him, holding his dace in her hands and then she laughs.

He joins in, holding her back just as delicately, like if they held to hard the other would disappear in their fingertips in a puff of smoke. Like how it has happened in one to many dreams.

"Hi" is all she says, it's soft, softer than she's been able to be in too long.

"Hey," he returns, just as softly, "I've missed you."

That's what starts the next wave of emotions, the tears. Michonne's eyes well up before she can even process what she wants to say. Tears are free falling by the time she chokes out her next sentence mere seconds after the words hit her ears.

They talk, it's about all they do for hours, they settle in for a long night, hearing the dead bang on the doors that are secured. They find something that could have once resembled being comfortable. Rick starts a small fire, just for warmth.

They lay together, entwined in each other's limbs, every possible part of them touching the other, and they talk.

About what Rick's been up to, about Daryl moving into the woods to search for Rick, about how michonne went out everyday for months, searching for him. She conveniently leaves out that she was increasingly pregnant in those months, not knowing how to tell him that he has a son.

She tells him about Judith, how she's grown into a strong young woman, how she's exactly a mix of him and Carl. How brave she is and how she told Michonne to leave to find Rick. She tells him of the time she trusted somebody from the past and they kidnapped Judith, and that her and Daryl went through hell to get Jude back.

How Michonne couldn't bare to lose another piece of Rick.

Rick tells Michonne how he never stopped fighting to get back to them, but everytime he left, everytime he got close, the CRM came and stole him back.

Michonnes seen the soldiers, dead ones anyways. The only breathing one she came across was on his way out. Begging her to put him out of his misery. She did, in return for a map, and any information he could have about Rick.

She didn't get any. Just the map.

Michonne falls asleep first, after so long of being alone. Both back in Alexandria and on the road. The comfort of the man laying next to her, his calm breathing, it lulls her straight to sleep.

Rick kisses her head, promises he's not going anywhere and that they'll see eachother in the morning, and sets up to keep watch.

He's wired. He's overthinking. The CRM are looking for him and this time they might get Michonne too. He can't have that. There's also a voice in the back of his head that's telling him she isn't telling him something.

She stuttered while talking about the kidnapping, when he was listening to her he thought it was just because it was hard to admit she had killed kids. But now, he can't put his finger on it. She also hesitated while talking about looking for him, like she wanted to say something but couldn't bring herself to do so.

A night of overthinking later and he's somehow convinced himself that she moved on. She found Judith a new dad and herself a new person. It's the only thing that makes sense in his head. The trauma of Lori and Shane shaping his mind in a way he didn't want to think about. It happened before.

When Michonne wakes up, she finds him across the room, completely opposite her.

"Just tell me it's not Daryl." he says when he noticed her awake. The bitterness in his voice cut through her. He's completely 180'd and she can't figure out why.

"What's not Daryl?" she asks, cautiously, confusion evident not only on her gave but in her voice.

"your new man." Rick spits.

"I only have you."

"Then what aren't you telling me?"

Michonne's breath catches in her throat, she still doesn't know how to tell him. After years of not seeing him, not knowing if he's alive or dead, she doesn't want one of the first things he hears from her to be that he has a son who doesn't know his father.

She stares at him, no words can come out.

"Well?" Rick asks, his patients thinning,

She cant say anything, she just shakes her head, there's to many emotions in to quick of succession.

"Who's the other man." it's not a question, "it's not like I can blame you for moving on. I mean you thought I was dead for fucks sake. But did you even wait? To see?" he's spiraling, his words are venom but she can see the hurt in his eyes.

"Rick," she starts, finally a word able to escape. Her shaky tone is reminiscent of a person shushing a wild animal.

"it is Daryl isn't it? Who else would get you to mov-"

"Rick Jr." she cuts him off, her voice confident and it silences him, for minutes they sit in agonizing silence while Rick processes her words.

"Excuse me?" he asks, his voice cracking.

"Rick Jr," Michonne repeats, "is the only new man in my life."

It feels like their words are shattering all over again,

Rick, who was so sure she had moved on within a handful of months, and with hsi best friend, his brother. Hearing he has a namesake. A son. His eyes swell with tears, the information completing its route through his brain.

"I have a son?" its barely a whisper, every syllable shaky and hesitant.

"Yes. I found out right after you blew up the bridge." Michonne starts, feeling a weight off her chest as she moves closer to him, she holds his hand while she tells Rick everything she can about RJ.

They spend days holed up on the building, hiding from walkers and the CRM, talking and more. They make a plan. Rick finding out that he no longer has one kid to get back too, but two rejuvenates his energy to fight.

They fight their way all the way back home. Back to Alexandria. Spending months fighting side by side. They fall right back into their banter, Michonne teasing Rick about being an old man whenever he groans climbing on to something. They're happy. They're strong. They're together.

Almost a full year passes by the time they are knocking on the gates of Alexandria. Things have changed, aged, but it still looks like home. It's Aaron who opens the gate

He blurts out a "holy fuck you're alive." Before giving them both a hug.

They all laugh, Rick throwing out a "I could say the same about you." Before brushing past him looking at the community he once called his home. Completely rebuilt for the third (fourth?) time.

"Where's Jude?" he asks

"not here" Aaron says, and before he can continue Rick cuts him off

"what do you mean not here?" he growls out

"she's living with Carol in another community, it's called the commonwealth." he turns to Michonne "you've missed alot." they both laugh at the obvious, "I can take you to her, let me give them a heads up and get Gracie." Aaron states starting to walk away.

"Hey Aaron," Rick yells before Aaron can get too far

"yea?"

"don't tell her. I wanna surprise her." they both smile and Aaron nods before walking off

Three days later and Rick is all but shaking in anticipation, seeing how big Gracie has gotten took his breath away. How big has Judith gotten? How big is RJ? He never met his son before and yet he can't picture him bigger than a toddler.

Michonne grabs his hands when they see the gates. Aaron pulls out his walkie talkie and announces that they're coming in, the gates open and Carol and Ezekiel are waiting on the otherside waiting to greet them. Aaron couldn't hold his tongue telling Zeke, who couldn't hold his tongue and told Carol. They all vowed to secrecy about telling Judith, wanting to respect Rick's wishes.

There's hugs, long ones.

"it's been too long old friend." Ezekiel states after pulling away from Rick.

"that it has king." Rick says with a nod and a chuckle.

"ah, it's Governor now." Ezekiel laughs, the smile on his face unwavering.

Carols barely holding her tears together, she hasn't seen anybody from her original found family in so long and seeing Rick causes her emotional wall to crack. Their hug is long and sweet, before Carol pulls away telling Rick to follow her to the school to see Judith, class is almost over anyways. She links arms with Michonne for the walk, catching up with her old friend.

They get outside the school with minutes to spare. Rick's hands are shaking, he hasn't felt this nervous in a while. Will she recognize him? Will she run to Michonne and then have to be told who he is?

A bell tolls. Rick's breath catches.

Kids file out if the school, one after one, he doesn't recognize any of them, and it hits him. Will he know who she is?

As he starts to get stuck in his thoughts again he hears a yell. And it takes him back.

"DAD!!" Judith yells, abandoning her post where she waits for RJ and running at the man, her memory of him may have faded but he is so long from forgotten.

Rick bends down as she gets closer, the Impact of her tackling him with a hug knocks the breath out of him and he falls over.

"Judith!" he yells, hugging her tightly and kissing her head. "you're so grown up." he adds as tears start falling freely. He's missed her so much. He's missed so much.

"Judith?" a smaller voice yells from the crowd and it causes the two to separate. "Jude?"

"Over here!" Judith yells, her cheeks wet as she looks at Rick, "I knew mom would bring you back." she states and Ricks heart breaks for his little girl.

"MOM!" a little boy in a sheriffs hat yells as he makes it through the crowd, spotting his mom and running over. Michonne bends down and picks him up in a hug, swinging him around while telling him how much she's missed him.

When they separate RJ stares at Judith and Rick confused, and they all freeze. Time seems to stand still as Rick looks into his sons brown eyes.

Everything starts moving at once as both Judith and Michonne grab RJ's hands and gently pull him towards Rick. Michonne and Rick are both crouched to be at RJ's height and Michonne is the first to speak.

"Baby, this is your dad." she says, her voice soft as she watches the realization cross her sons face.

"Yhe brave man?" RJ asks, remembering the stories Judith would tell him.

"The very one!" Judith pipes up.

"Hi buddy." Rick says shakily.

Without notice RJ jumps onto Rick, hugging him, his right arm catching around Michonne's neck and his left arm catching around Judith's.

When they all pull apart, Rick is staring at his family speechless. He never thought he'd be here again. He thought he had lost them forever and that his kid(s) would grow up without him. Forgetting his existence, and yet. Here they are.

Growing up but not all grown up, remembering him and excited to have him back.

"We're safe here." Judith says, looking at both of her parents. "please don't leave again."

"Never again"

"I'm right here."

They both speak at the same time, their hearts breaking for their daughter. She's grown up so fast in so little time, and they weren't here to help her when she needed it.

But they're here now.

And they're here to stay.

Together.

[pc-specs]

hey,.saw ur af au post and saw the tags ., I do care about the name origin and what the 3 line theory is .,…,,.., ..,,:3

first off, thank you so much!! it makes me so so happy that people are actually remotely interested in my stuff

secondly, i would say some ominous bullshit like 'all will be revealed in due time', but honestly i don't have much reason to do that, especially since overwrite probably won't be as large scale of a project as i had initially envisioned, so i may as well explain everything now

i feel it's a bit important to note that this whole thing absolutely does not take any of the cancelled af3 projects, especially not vain revival, into consideration (or i suppose it could - there would just have to be an awful lot of alternate universe fuckery involved). take this whole thing with a grain of salt if you so wish.

so, the theory in question...

what if cyalm never really 'died' after he was defeated? yes, it's true that remnants of him still remained in the universe after his defeat, but i also feel it wouldn't be entirely out of the question if he had other means of staying alive. if, perhaps, his apparent control over reality allowed for him to reform elsewhere in the world and maybe even try and create a new narrative.

the three lines of dialog that led to the existence of this hellspawn of a hypothetical are as follows;

screenshots from this doc!

the first line of dialog shown isn't nearly as relevant as the other two, but is still important specifically to overwrite for what it establishes; that cyalm can take control of universes that weren't originally his.

as for the other two, i sort of get the impression that with the way cyalm is he could be bringing it up while tip-toeing around the actual facts surrounding the matter, similarly with what he does with celesteal throughout the game. while it is true that at this point he's gone fully mask-off about this at the point in which this is said, it's also worth mentioning that he's sort of went right back to being vague about certain things after stratosfear's symbol is shattered (e.g. "it is because... i am artist. and you are my creations"). to me, it's not hard to believe that he'd want to refrain from completely diminishing the characters' hopes, as well as play his defeat up like it's more grand and meaningful than it really is for the narrative

these concepts ultimately serve as the foundation on which overwrite is built upon - after celesteal is defeated, he reforms elsewhere in a separate universe and, unsatisfied with his creation, makes his narrative anew, effectively 'overwriting' the old one (or i suppose rather each old universe's priority, maybe? also no way it's like the name of the au!!). overwrite itself is the culmination of this process repeating an indefinite amount of times, and each perceived strong suit of each narrative being incorporated into one final, grander narrative. or something like that

[soloavengers]

An attempt to analyze two essential parallel DD2 scenes, heavy spoiler warning.

The Dragon speaking in the coronation scene where you speak to Pathfinder has my head hurting, let me compare the two coronation scenes. Don’t expect answers, just thoughts, theories and more questions.

The Dragon:

The Dragon again:

(hey Syllie should’ve taken off the mask!) They aren’t the exact same and I love that, because it’s implying the Arisen did demonstrate their will. Suppose it was by killing the Dragon, then why is the Dragon speaking? Is the bond reserving after death, or did it not die?

The Dragon:

Pathfinder’s parallel:

This was my favorite. I like how they speak.

In the first scene the Dragon basically assigns us to find out the truth, (and change fate.) Pathfinder tries to tell us the truth, and make us believe it.

Then very much offers us the chance to, cast aside our heart and our life both, by giving us the chance to use the Godsbane. I love the moment that follows, the flight was basically our chance to do just that, the way the Dragon says: “It’s too late.” when we arrive. It’s too late for us to use the Godsbane.

I feel like I don’t need to go deeper than this, I feel like this is a very surface level analysis but I don’t care if the things I’ve written down and noticed are very obvious, I enjoy writing my thoughts.

One interesting thing is I don’t notice the Dragon in the first scene ever mentioning our charge, which Pathfinder mentions, the lack of parallels there is something.

It sure mentions it in Melve. OUGH.

Okay, back to the coronation scene (No.2)

A lot of people question what the fuck do they mean by “or through the eyes of another…” I’ve reached an answer I’m way too confident about, and it’s that in case you fail (wake up in the shack,) time turns back to pre-Unmoored World, the another would be the Arisen which failed.

The fucked up thing is, I keep doubting the idea that this was all Pathfinder’s plot, that Pathfinder has a Seneschal like duty and so it was all apart of the test, the dogma 2.0, if you will. Can’t be sure, of anything. Least of all if the Dragon speaking was really the Dragon.

Is Pathfinder a being with an agenda against the Arisen so they push them away from their True fate, gets them attached to the world only to wreck it before their very eyes because they dared listen to the Dragon pretty much begging them to end the Cycle?

I love the messiness of this, I love the ambiguity, the room for us to decide if the first coronation scene truly happened or not. However, it hurts my head and I’d love to learn the truth even more, thank you.

The two scenes could be for the sake of creating a loop, it could be that, your Arisen from the very beginning has already failed.

Failed, turned back in time. But Pathfinder cannot ignore them, so they get to remember, a little. Like the first coronation scene is the second but twisted in memory. The Dragon speaking in the second scene… To make the Arisen think of it and consider the Godsbane? That’s the bit that bothers me the most I think, the bit that had me comparing the scenes. I hope I missed something that would give me an epiphany. Until then, this was all I have to say <3

[mordremrose]

I’m just gonna write a little thing! A little thought for Bloom, nothing too intense, just so I don’t forget it!

1000 words later? Whoops

Writing below the cut, major spoilers for the end of Heart of Thorns and implied End of Dragons spoilers but nothing explicit from EoD :]

Bloom

“Kill me, Commander.” Trahearne could hear his own voice tremble, as horror overtook his dear friend’s face. Around them all, their friends— Rytlock, Caithe, Canach, Marjory, Braham— were exhausted. Worn thin by the fight against the jungle dragon, both physical and within the Dream.

“What? No! Mordremoth is dead. We destroyed its mind from the inside.” The commander protested, their fingers curled around the hilt of Caladbolg.

“But I still hear its voice.” Trahearne looked down at his hands, twisted and blighted as they were. His body was not his— he was corrupted. It was only cruel fate that he had kept his mind this long. Or perhaps something more sinister.

“Mordremoth is alive. One last hateful vestige… a terrible seed, planted deep in my mind.”

Trahearne’s hands curled into fist, as he took a deep steadying breath.

“You must kill me, Commander, before that seed grows. Before… before Mordremoth reclaims what it has lost.”

He reached out now, hands on his friend’s shoulders. The tears streaming down their face broke his heart. He did not want this. He didn’t want to hurt them, to see them suffer so.

Trahearne wished there was another way.

“What is left of me can’t survive on its own, my friend.” He croaked, and felt the Commander tremble beneath his hands. Were they always so small?

“Strike now or—“

Against his will, a rage rose up. A sick bile that boiled in his stomach and burned through his chest as his mind lurched.

Through his mouth, Mordremoth spoke.

“I am the future! I am this world! You cannot destroy me!” The dragon roared, hands tightening around the commander.

“Run while you can!” It took everything he had left to force his fingers to uncurl, to release the commander even as the dragon wanted to tear them to shreds to be remade anew.

Caladbolg flashed in the corner of his eye.

“No!” The commander yelled. Strike true my friend! Trahearne wanted to yell. But he couldn’t, and his mind went dark.

There was no great explosion. There was no dying scream.

If you asked those present what happened, none of them gave any concrete answer.

Canach hesitated to answer, but would confirm that Mordremoth was no longer hounding his mind, or any of the sylvari.

All Rytlock would say was that the confrontation wasn’t pretty.

Caithe mourned Trahearne, in her quiet and melancholic manner, and asked not to push the matter further.

Braham would scowl, shake his head, and shove his way past, unwilling or perhaps unable to describe that final blow.

Marjory Delaqua, normally so elegant and clever with her words, who could see the twists of a plot before anyone else— when she was asked, she could only shake her head and reply ‘I don’t know’.

The Commander didn’t answer at all, because no one was able to find them to ask.

Eventually, researchers at the newly established lab of Rata Novus confirmed what the entire world held its breath to hear.

Mordremoth was dead. He had to be, to explain the slow steady trickle of magic escaping the jungle, supposedly as the dragon… decayed wasn’t the right word, but it conveyed the idea well enough. It was a slow death, they said, not quite the explosive reaction from Zhaitan, who had gorged itself on magic before its death, but a gradual decay. It changed things, about magic, about how the people of Tyria and the soon to be established Dragon’s Watch understood the flow of magic around and through the Elder Dragons. But it was dead.

It had to be.

He woke up. His body ached, as it always did, as he woke. A consequence of being too bigsmall. He stirred slowly, limbs stretching out and tail dragging behind. He had buried himself beneath massive vines this time, the weight of them both familiar and restricting. These conflicting sensations, the constant disagreement with himself… it was the only thing he could rely on. Even his name escaped his memory, although he could hear whispers of it on the edges of his mind.

Traherdremaneth.

It didn’t matter, really.

He moved slowly, not truly wanting to rise, but knowing he must.

He was something in between, and there was no stillness for him. No place of his own.

His one companion, if you could call it that, would be upon him soon. A dogged purserer, both a thorn in his side and a trusted ally, trailed behind him. For a time he thought they left him— and the feelings that had wrought left him stationary in a deep cave for nearly a week before they had reappeared.

He didn’t want them close, he knew that much, but they were one of the few things he had, a consistency. He couldn’t see them well, not with the distance between them, but he could always make out the broken blade at their hip. The one that made the scar across his chest ache.

He wondered what would happen if he let them get closer. Would they strike? Would they know him?

They were his enemyfriend. What would they make of him? Caution kept him at a distance from them.

The longer he was awake, the more memories he could half-remember.

The Orrian landscape stretches out before him and it reeks of his sibling, twisting beneath the dirt. The undead don’t notice him, not yet, and he can take a moment to look closer at the coral. It was neither alive nor dead. Not unlike himself and yet so different to him or anything he had ever encountered before.

He missed his siblings, their quiet talks among the then empty roots, among safe coils with their constant presence around him. They were too distant to feel or simply gone now and it unnerved him. This was wrong. Perhaps they could help him make it right.

There was one other thing, other than his sort-of companion and his unsteady roiling mind, that remained constant. And this was the true constant. A steady beacon, that he could not see or hear, but simply felt in a way that he could not describe. A magnetic sort of pull that had him orbiting closer and closer.

It drew him in, out of the depths and dark underbelly of the jungle and the cave systems, towards the strange golden stones, the elegant walls meant to keep out creatures that wished to destroy the beacon. He was not welcome there, not yet, even though he meant no harm. He just needed to be closer.

He didn’t know how he knew that. He just knew it.

[bunnihearted]

🧸🧃⛈️

[foreignobjecticus]

Hoping to take it easy after the show finished and it's just been 2 weeks of solid main work (all "urgent" suddenly) and brochure after brochure after brochure after logo design after fucking brochure every damned night for two weeks. I have proper solid time off in two weeks, but don't it always seem to go that you end up getting 16 motherfucking hours of work a day every day when it leads up to it ughhh