#idk if this makes any sense to anyone but me

[reidmania]

a moment | s. reid

summary: two times there was a ‘moment’ between you and spencer, and one time he did something about it.

warnings; best friends to lovers, fem reader, pinning, this based off a lorelai and luke edit i saw, idk if its edited or makes any sense tbh!! sorry! longing, kinda self doubt idk, happy ending yay!!

an; this is for lia. And was written in like an hour so i really dont want the hate guys. If it sucks i cannot be held responsible.

You walk into the bullpen, scanning the usual chaos of the bullpen The day’s already running long, and it’s barely even noon.

"Look who finally decided to join us," Spencer says, glancing up from his desk. His eyes are sharp behind his glasses, but there’s a smirk tugging at his lips. He’s half-hidden behind a wall of case files, as always, but somehow manages to throw his snark with precision.

you and spencer had been best friends since you started together, you got along with anyone but gravitated towards Spencer more than anyone else. Him and Penelope were the easiest for you to be around, you loved everyone but you had your favourites.

While Penelope had been bugging you to either kick up the courage to do something about your friendship with Spencer, or move on, you did neither.

"Oh, save it,," you fire back, tossing your bag on your desk. "I’m fashionably late. It’s a thing."

"Yeah, fashionably late in a profession like this. Very chic. Theres other ways to get here you know — from your house-“

“Don’t even” you cut him off.

“Im just saying if you keep missing the same turn off every time maybe it’s a sign you should be going a different way.” He muttered.

“I didn’t miss the turn off.” You argued. You lied.

“You did.”

“No”

He said your name and you huffed.

You roll your eyes, biting back a grin as you sink into your chair. "Can we pretend, just for today, that you’re not right?"

"Well," Spencer says, leaning back in his chair, "I’m only right about ninety-seven percent of the time. So, technically, you’ve got a three percent chance of being right today. Want to take a gamble?"

You throw a crumpled paper at him. "Your math is annoying."

He catches it, eyes twinkling, and throws it back at you. "Annoying?"

“Yes, annoying. It hurts my head”

It’s easy between the two of you—this banter, this back-and-forth. It always has been, ever since the first case you worked together. Over time, it’s become second nature to tease him, push his buttons, and he always gives it right back. The tension slips away with every joke, but today, there’s something different about the way his eyes linger on you a beat too long, like he’s waiting for you to catch on.

You ignore it. You have to.

"So, what do we have?" you ask, holding out your hand for the file in his lap.

He passes it to you, fingers brushing against yours. It’s brief, but the touch sends a spark up your arm. Your eyes meet for a second longer than necessary, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t know what to say.

Spencer clears his throat, looking back down at the file. "This unsub’s a real charmer. I think he's using manipulation tactics to lure his victims. He’s got a pattern, but it’s subtle. Took me a while to piece it together."

"Took you a while? So, like... five minutes?" You grin, but the edge in your voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

He laughs, a sound that always surprises you because it’s rare, but so genuine. "Try thirty. It was a real struggle."

"Wow. I almost feel bad for you."

His smile fades just a little, and when he looks at you again, there’s that shift. Something hovers between you, just under the surface, where the teasing usually stays. His eyes flicker over your face, and suddenly, you wonder if he’s about to say something else, something that would cross the line you’ve never acknowledged before.

Your heart skips, and before you can stop yourself, you lean forward a little. Your breath catches.

"So..." Spencer starts, but before the sentence can land, your phone buzzes on your desk. The sharp sound breaks the moment like a snapped thread. You jerk back, grabbing your phone.

"Hotch needs us in the conference room," you mutter, more to yourself than him, trying to get a grip on the swirling thoughts in your head. "We’ve got a lead."

Spencer blinks, clearly shaken out of whatever that was, and you stand up quickly, focusing hard on the case and not on the fact that you were about two seconds away from… what? Leaning in? Kissing him?

No. That’s not what this is. This is Spencer.

"Race you to the conference room?" he asks suddenly, the playful lilt back in his voice, but there’s still something lingering behind his eyes, a question neither of you seems ready to ask.

"Race? You’re literally taller than me, that’s cheating. I’m wearing heels!!"

"You can run in heels, can’t you?" He shoots you a smirk, the tension easing just enough for you to relax, even if your heart is still racing.

"Could. But i don't want to damage my gorgeous shoes," you huffed, yet already heading for the door.

"Gorgeous shoes?" He repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"Yeah that was actually the name of the shoes when i bought them. They had 'gorgeous shoes' written in big letters across the box." You smiled, tilting your head.

"Really?"

"No."

You make it halfway to the conference room before he catches up, the two of you slipping back into your usual rhythm. But as you walk into the room side by side, the unspoken thing still hangs between you. You don’t talk about it, and maybe you never will, but it’s there.

“Are you still coming over tonight?” He asked, looking down at you, eyes lingering on yours. You nod.

“It’s pizza night. Of course I am.”

And once again, you’re reminded that with Spencer, things have never been as simple as just best friends.

You’re standing in Spencer’s tiny kitchen, flour everywhere. And when you say everywhere, you mean it—on the counters, in your hair, smeared on his cheek where you definitely didn’t mean to slap him with dough earlier.

“This is going really well,” you deadpan, holding up the limp, misshapen pizza dough.

“Um.” He squints as he looks at the mess.

“Well.. you’re the genius who can outsmart anyone but apparently can’t figure out yeast,” you argue, pinning the blame on him. “Is it supposed to look like this?” You muttered, tilting your head.

“I think it’s fighting back. Maybe we’re the victims now.”

You both dissolve into laughter, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. This was supposed to be simple. Homemade pizza sounded like a cute idea, something easy to do on a night off, but it’s turned into chaos. The dough’s not cooperating, the sauce might be too watery, and you’re pretty sure you added way too much garlic. But that’s what makes it fun.

"Okay," Spencer says, hands raised in surrender. "I officially give up. This dough has outsmarted me."

"You’re giving up? Dr Spencer Reid, defeated by pizza dough?" You snatch the rolling pin from him, trying to take over, but the second you press down, the dough tears. "Okay, maybe it’s smarter than both of us."

Spencer steps closer, leaning over your shoulder to inspect the mess you've made. You can feel the warmth of him behind you, and for just a second, everything feels different. The banter pauses. His breath is soft on your neck, his arm brushing against yours as he reaches to touch the dough. Your heart stutters, and you freeze, unsure of what to do next.

But then, with no warning, Spencer flicks flour at you.

"Hey!" you squeal, spinning around to face him, eyes wide. He looks so pleased with himself, a mischievous grin on his face.

"What? You had flour in your hair. I was just trying to help.”

"Sure, you were." You reach for the bag of flour, holding it up threateningly. "I will not hesitate to make this a war, Spencer."

He grins widely, almost daringly.

You grab a handful of flour and toss it at him in retaliation. "You are such a child."

“I’m just helping!” he protests, dodging your attack and grabbing the rolling pin like a shield. His laughter is contagious, and soon you’re both caught up in it, the tension slipping away into something lighter, easier.

You try to swipe more flour at him, but he grabs your wrist, stopping you mid-throw. His fingers wrap around your wrist gently, but the touch sends an unexpected shiver up your arm. You both freeze, the room suddenly too quiet again, his hand lingering on yours for just a second longer than necessary.

His gaze flickers down to where his fingers rest against your skin, and then back up to meet your eyes. There’s a pause, just long enough for the air between you to thicken, something unspoken hanging between you. His thumb brushes your wrist lightly, and you wonder if he feels it too—the tension that’s been simmering all night, just beneath the surface.

You swallow hard, pulling your hand away, but not before you catch the briefest flicker of something in his expression. It’s gone as quickly as it appeared, and just like that, the moment slips away.

His eyes narrow playfully, and for a second, you think he might call your bluff. But instead, he just chuckles and steps back, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Let’s not escalate this. We’re adults, after all."

"Adults who can’t make pizza," you mutter, dumping the ruined dough into the trash. "Guess we’ll have to order in. Again."

Spencer wipes his hands on a towel, still smiling. "I’ll let you pick the place this time. As long as it’s not that one with the weird crust you made us try last month."

"Oh come on, that was a bold choice! You just have no sense of adventure."

"I have a very good sense of adventure," he says, leaning casually against the counter, his eyes sparkling in that way that makes you feel like he knows exactly how to get under your skin. "I just like my pizza to taste like pizza."

You roll your eyes, but you’re grinning, too. "Fine. We’ll get the boring pizza this time."

As you both settle into the living room, waiting for the pizza to arrive, you can't help but feel that lingering tension again. The kind that sneaks up on you when things get quiet, when the laughter dies down, and it’s just the two of you sitting side by side, closer than necessary.

You smile, nudging him with your elbow. "Who knew you were such a terrible cook, though?"

"I think we share equal blame here."

"Maybe," you admit, glancing at him. His eyes catch yours, and for just a moment, the playful air between you shifts. It’s small, like the brush of his hand earlier, like the way he’s looking at you now. Your heart skips again, and you wonder—just for a second—if maybe, possibly, you weren’t imagining it. You ignore it, there was too much that could go wrong if you didn’t.

It’s late in the afternoon when you hear the knock at your door. The sun's still out, casting a soft golden light through your living room windows, but it’s the last thing on your mind.

You’re dressed in something more put together than usual because, of course, Penelope had insisted on setting you up on this date tonight. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but she’d been so enthusiastic that you’d caved. You’d said yes to humor her, to get her off your back.

She had insisted that you needed something to get your mind off Spencer. You wondered if that was actually possible.

So when the knock comes, your stomach churns, thinking it might be the guy arriving too early. But when you open the door, it's not your date.

It’s Spencer.

He’s standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, hair slightly disheveled, and there’s a look on his face you can’t quite place. It’s tight, maybe a little frustrated, though he's trying hard to keep his expression neutral.

“Spence?” You lean against the doorframe, arching an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away, eyes scanning you briefly before he looks down, then back up again. There’s tension in his posture, the kind you recognize when he’s overthinking something. “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s fine.”

You don’t buy it for a second. “Uh-huh.”

His face tightens even more, though he tries to hide it with a half-hearted shrug. “Did Penelope set you up with some guy?”

“Yeah?” You squinted trying to figure out how he knew that. You hadn’t mentioned it, you didn’t want to talk about what had caused your sudden date or have to lie to him about why Penelope suddenly set you up when you have shown no intention of being interested in dating.

“Penelope told me. Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, running his hand through his hair as if he was stressed. You didn’t understand, not really. You told Spencer everything so you could understand why he would be annoyed that you didn’t tell him this, but it seemed as if he took it personally.

You squint at him, crossing your arms. “What is your issue? You look like you want to strangle someone.”

He lets out a huff, avoiding your eyes again. “It’s nothing.”

You tilt your head, studying him. There’s something under the surface, and you’re not about to let it go. “Well you’re here so, obviously its not nothing … What’s going on?”

He finally looks up at you, his eyes sharp and filled with something you haven’t seen before. It catches you off guard for a moment. “It’s just—there was a moment.”

You blink, thrown by the sudden shift. “A moment?”

His voice drops, a little rougher now, a little more real. “Last week. When we were making pizza, and the week before that— and during- there was a moment.”

Your heart skips. You know exactly what he’s talking about, but you stay silent, letting him continue.

“I thought there was a moment,” he says, his frustration starting to leak through his words now. “I thought maybe something was… happening.”

Your chest tightens, the air in the room shifting as you meet his eyes. “There was.”

The confession comes out of your mouth before you even realize it, and the tension between you two spikes instantly, filling the space with an electric charge. You can feel it, the way everything has changed with those two words.

Spencer just stares at you, his brow furrowing slightly, like he hadn’t expected you to admit it. He takes a step forward, you step back almost unconsciously, and your heart beats faster in your chest.

“What are you doing?” you ask, your voice low, unsure.

He doesn’t stop moving, closing the gap between you even more, and his voice is soft but firm when he speaks. “Will you just stand still for a minute?”

Before you can say anything, before you can even process what’s happening, his hand comes up to cup the side of your face, and his lips are on yours.

The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, but it’s full of all the unspoken things that have been building between you for so long. You feel the world tilt, your hands instinctively moving to grip the front of his jacket, pulling him closer. For a second, everything else fades away—your date, the case, everything.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you just stare at each other. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, and his eyes search yours, full of something that feels too big to name.

Neither of you says anything for a long moment, the silence thick and heavy with everything that’s just shifted between you.

Then, as if in slow motion, you take a small step forward. It’s your turn now, the tables flipped, and you can see the surprise flicker in his eyes as he instinctively steps back.

“What are you doing?” he asks, echoing your earlier words, his voice low and a little breathless

You give him a small smile, feeling the tension twist tighter in your chest. “Will you just stand still for a minute?” You mirrored his words

His eyes widen slightly, but he doesn’t move, and before he can say another word, you close the space between you and kiss him again.

This time, it’s different. There’s no hesitation, no second-guessing. The kiss is deeper, more insistent, and you feel his hands tighten around your waist, pulling you closer. It’s like everything you’ve both been holding back is finally breaking free, all the tension and the unspoken feelings rushing to the surface.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing heavily, faces inches from each other. Your hands are still gripping the front of his jacket, his fingers still digging into your sides like he’s afraid to let go.

You don’t move, neither of you do. You just stay there, staring at each other, and for the first time in a long time, you’re not thinking about the job, or the cases, or anything else. It’s just him.

He’s the first to break the silence, his voice quiet and almost disbelieving, He exhales, a long, relieved breath, his hand still resting on your waist. “I thought maybe I was imagining it.”

You shake your head, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. “No. You weren’t imagining it.”

Another beat of silence passes, and then his lips quirk up into that small, crooked smile you’ve always liked so much. “Well, I guess we have Penelope to thank for this.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling back. “Yeah, and she doesn’t even know it.”

His thumb brushes your side, a subtle touch, but enough to send a shiver up your spine. “Are you… still going on that date?”

The question hangs in the air between you, and for a moment, you almost laugh. The idea of leaving now, of going out with some guy Penelope set you up with, feels absurd.

“No,” you say, your voice steady and certain. “I’m not.”

His smile widens, just a little. “Good.”

You grin up at him, feeling lighter than you have in weeks. “Yeah? Why’s that good?”

Spencer’s gaze softens, and for the first time, you see the real reason for his frustration, for all of this. He steps even closer, so close that you can feel his breath on your lips, his voice low and sincere.

“Because, there was a moment.”

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you meet his eyes, that familiar warmth spreading through you again. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he says, his lips ghosting yours, and the last bit of tension that’s been sitting between you melts away completely. He smiles, and before either of you can say anything else, he closes the gap and kisses you again.

[mumblesplash]

more behind the scenes :D

so obviously my hgcz comic was a huge learning curve for me (i hadn't previously attempted a project this big EVER), and with this new and exciting experience came the opportunity to try something i'd never really done before: make actual character design refs!

i'm pretty happy with how they turned out, and more importantly they served several key purposes:

for one thing, both suits are specifically designed to make the character's poses as easy as possible to read--scar's leg braces especially don't allow for any visual misinterpretation of foreshortening or odd angles. the holster for grian's escrima sticks serves a similar function by giving a concrete sense of how his shoulders are positioned at a glance

also, crucially, they are both easy to draw. i was VERY aware that i was going to have to draw these guys dozens of times each, and i knew myself well enough to know i'd be adding in more than enough complexity with the posing and anatomy (and boy did i ever). i think i might have ended up with the least complex cuteguy design in the entire zine because of this, but in my defense he spends most of the comic pinned facedown on the floor. (this is also why i ended up simplifying his logo design in the final comic, if anyone was wondering)

more practical considerations included: hotguy's removable light-up vest, cuteguy wearing pants that could be rolled up so as to splint his broken leg, and his main weapon being escrima sticks so cleo had something to splint his leg with

i put arguably MORE effort into body language design (inasmuch as that's an actual thing, idk) but that's its own can of worms

of course, due to my nature the character design process deteriorated rapidly after i locked in my designs for hotguy and cuteguy. my design process for cleo was pretty much me drawing this sketch and going 'yeah that's what she looks like :)'

and my concept art for skizz was uh. this panel

i literally Just Drew Him. i was as surprised to discover what he looks like as you were.

looking back and comparing i can definitely see *some* benefits to designing character refs ahead of time, though to be more useful i think in the future i'd make sure the references include more closeup detail. or maybe i just refrain from things like putting an extremely distinct crack in a wraparound visor i have to draw over 100 times at every angle imaginable,,,

[ray-winters]

opinions on misha being queer? not only in the context of dating noel but just in general (sorry if uve answered this before..)

I think it's definitely possible and that there are interpretations of it where it makes absolute sense! In terms of my Misha, it was the first time I'd played a character as an adult where I went "oh weird, I think he's straight." bc I tend to make every character I play at least bisexual, but idk. My Misha just very much so came to me very straight.

But one interpretation isn't to speak on the character as a whole/other interpretations. I think he's very easily read and interpreted as queer, I just personally saw him as a very open minded European man who didn't give a fuck about Western ideals like that. Like he's the dude who takes Noel to prom bc Talia's not able to go (bc Ukraine) and he'd rather go with his best friend & give his bestie that experience (and beat up anyone who had anything to say about it.)

The way I rational with that is this:

I personally identify as a gay man. That being said, I have in my life kissed my lady friends, danced with them, hugged them, cuddled up, etc. That doesn't make me inherently bisexual, it doesn't make me inherently straight, I am just a dude who loves his friends & expresses it in those ways. Same w/my personal interpretation of Misha- him dancing w/ or hugging or kissing Noel doesn't make him inherently bi or gay, he's just a love bug. I think that platonic affection between men, specifically between straight men & queer men is incredibly underrepresented, and if it were something more normalized in our society I think that we'd all be better off for it. So I wanted to showcase that w/my Misha- it also felt true to my interpretation of the character.

TL;DR- Misha can be queer, Misha can be hetero, it just comes down to your personal interpretation! Mine was not, for several reasons, but that doesn't make someone else's interpretation any less valid.

[oscconfessions]

i dont understand trans man trophy. im a trans man myself. I don't get why people are picking the most toxic masculinity inflicted character on ii to depict as trans? it doesnt make any sense to me. yeah, transmascs can get caught up in toxic masculinity like anyone else, but its less likely to happen especially not to trophy levels because we've had more experience on the receiving end. trophy is the kind of guy i like to avoid irl because im trans. it also makes me really uncomfortable when people make him trans just so they can go "BOOBA!!!". it feels fetishistic to me. cis men (especially athletic ones) can have large chests, you don't need to shoehorn a trans headcanon onto the cissest object i've ever seen just so you can drool over his chest.

idk i just think theres better characters to headcanon as trans👍

but thats all just my opinion. i cant stop you. have fun or whatever. ill be over here with my other trans headcanons that actually make me feel comfortable and reflect trans experiences in ways i can relate to

(i also don't like/understand trans woman trophy. i just feel like the girls deserve someone better)

.

[glitchxinthematrix]

IRREDEEMABLE

Part 4

Love, a concept so complicated to even grasp and yet, every single soul in the universe end up craving it. I have had my share of the cravings, but, news flash, it all resulted in me being left alone stranded. So the concept is now hid safe inside a box. buried deep down somewhere inside, and at times like these I hear the faint screaming it does from the suffocation, all for some acknowledgement. And now, Geto, Love? The one minute he stared longer? Gojo's words kept replaying in my head on my way to find Suguru.

I wouldnt run my thoughts any deeper into this, i mean why should i? what did he do about this? how long has this been going on, and ,oh fuck , thats a pillar and my head is gonna raamm into-, wait no its soft, wait its a hand, a familiar one, shit-

I slowly raised my head to see geto by the vending machine with one can of his favourite drink and the other hand as a barrier to my head and the wall. and yet he doesnt frickin spare me a look, why te hell is his head stooped so low.

Walls are everywhere these days huh?,the audacity to joke around right now without even meeting my eye.

"So youre not even gonna look at me?" I blurt out, unexpectedly helpless in my delivery.

As I see him lift his head up very reluctantly and struggle, i find myself doubting everything gojo previously said, miutes ago.

"Whats up y/n". THE NERVE.

"Didnt take you to be a fuckboi Suguru Senpai, following your best friend's steps is it?"

With a confounded expression I saw him squint his eyes and , well that should be a question then.

"You never called, Geto".

His eyes bulged a bit like he wasnt expecting me to care about the things that we did yesterday. I saw him mumble something under his breath while maintaining the good old strained eyebrows.

"What, you dont care about how i feel now that you slept w me?"

I see his expression waver into immediate shock that desperately needed to set some things straight.

"Y/n..you don't know what you're talking about.. please".

No amount of strained expression from him is helping this mixed signal facade that's happening to me. He takes a deep breathe noticing my baffled expression.

"I do. i do care, more than I've done for anyone else. its just.. by the time you were asleep in my...in my arms, gojo had texted. Soo..it worked. Everything worked out. As intended. Or it didnt, and he came to his senses maybe,finally,else, it doesnt make sense. it makes zero sense. i mean why the fuck would someone not know how to treat you? to treat you shouldnt come as a chore or a result of some challenge, its as natural as breathing air, and idk what was with him all this while, but im sure he realises now, so give him a chance, he'll treat you better I'm sure."

"Is that what you want?"

"What..why..why would it matter, what I think" he visibly gulps, confused.

"It matters to me geto, if you care about me, to know that you like me, I don't know geto you messed with my head, I can't get you out of it...i broke up with gojo."

"What..wait. what?" His face couldn't contain the emotions that rollercoastered through his mind.

"Just say it geto, fucking say it. Do you or do you not like me. Shit, why am I even doing this? " I steer away on my heel as an attempt to hide the tears that are about ruin my mascara, until I feel an immediate grab on my wrist, the same soft hands.

"y/nnn, y/nn....how do i tell you this...you have no idea. not a thing. the way i have craved for you, to be with you, the way i have literally felt my blood boil seeing the way my bestfreind treated you. you have no ideaaa. please dont torment me any more than this, shit im sorry, i know, its not your fault. hell you had no idea how i felt. its just. all you had to do was exist ynnn. the way you aree, the way you smile, hold the hemm of gojos shirt when he failed to pay you the attention you more than deserve, the way you gently hit shoko on her shoulders when you laugh, the way your eyes crinkle when you smile, the way and fuck the way, the way i saw you yesterday, every inch of you, its etched in my memory, by choice. Fuck, I need some water"

I couldn't contain the happiness that bloomed inside me and I had to do something crazy because he looked just too cute.

" for now i can help you moisten your lips I think", I stand on my toes to reach his open mouth, so confused and wary and place the timid but hungry kiss on it, but within seconds he makes sense of things and grabs me by my waist only to land a kiss that lasted longer than the hourly bell that rang twice or thrice after that.

"Aaargh, this...you're tempting me to do something irredeemable again" he breathes with a glistening red lips messy with the stray tints of my lipstick.

"Let's redeem through it this time then."

The smirk on his lips right then looked more promising than ever.

[dmwrites]

It was… quiet. Unusually quiet, Joel decided, as he buffed a bit of gold on his sky kingdom bridge. True, the harsh wind of Upper Stratos usually blocked out most noise, but Joel could also see into other kingdoms from up here, and it all looked so still. Scott’s kingdom, silly Chromia, was closest, and he couldn’t see the colorful man, or any of his strangely intelligent llamas anywhere.

Flying into Chromia, Joel could tell that something was off. The air felt stale here, still and gritty. Joel strode through the land, calling out for Scott, but there was no answer. Similar were the other kingdoms, quiet and silent, like a tomb. Animals were dull-eyed, buildings seemed less vibrant then usual. Joel called out the name of every friend he had, but there was no one.

Joel flew back to Stratos with his chest squeezing in an uncomfortable kind of way. They must all be somewhere together, Joel decided, and forgotten to invite him. It was a sad reach, but still possible. More possible then the deep paranoia that was clawing it’s way up Joel’s chest, screaming that something was very, very wrong.

“Joel? Joel!”

“Sausage?” Joel almost fell out of the sky, catching sight of a handsome, muscular man, dressed in dusty greens and yellows. Hermes stood beside him, looking at the fountain. Joel landed beside them, a wave of relief flooding his body.

“Joel! I brought Hermes by!” Sausage was smiling. “We wanted to say hi.”

“Sausage. Hermes. Oh my god, you’re both… here.” Joel smiled shakily. He’d been wrong, it was all okay. Everything was okay.

“Yep! We’ve been so busy…” Sausage began going on and on about his adventures with Hermes, but Joel wasn’t listening. Pure relief and adoration for his son was all he could comprehend. “…and of course I’m using a gold pickaxe, as the sexy king of the server demands.” Sausage winked at him.

“Glad to see you obeying.” Joel joked back.

“Oh yeah, and this thing is efficiency five, look-” Sausage swung the pick through the air and accidentally broke a block off the fountain. Water seeped out onto Hermes, and suddenly, there was someone else standing in Hermes’ place.

It looked like Jimmy, almost, small and doll-like, but with a painted-on face, black splotches for eyes, and a dash of red for a mouth.

“You guys are terrible parents.” It said in a mocking, squeaky voice. The creature- Joel couldn’t even begin to think of the thing as his son- flew off, vanishing into the horizon.

“Well, I guess that’s that plot point done.” Sausage turned to Joel with a neutral half-smile, and dissolved into red sand before his eyes.

“What?” Joel asked the open air, taking a step back, staring down in horror at the sand, which was picked up by the wind and scattered.

“You know what they said about the king of Mezalea.” There was a colorful man standing on the fountain before him, picking at something under his nails. “They said he died of sadness. All alone. Kind of pathetic, when you think about it.”

“Scott?” Joel asked, but even as he spoke the name, he knew it wasn’t true. The man who looked at him had dark brown hair and a golden crown. And his face looked… warped. Like the very air around him was melting away. “What’s going on? Who are you?”

“Who do you think I am, stupid demigod?” The man asked, glancing up at him in clear irritation before going back to his nails.

“You’re the King of Mezalea.” Joel guessed. “You’re talking about in the third person for some reason. You died of sadness from being alone, and now you’re here to what, to haunt me? Jealous of my muscles and hordes of adoring followers?”

“Oh please, Joel. I’m clearly talking about you. How you have died from sadness. From being alone. And how it’s happening again. I’m here because you can’t seem to escape this stupid fate, and if anyone’s going to torment you about it, it’s going to be you. Me. Whatever.”

“That’s not me, fella, that’s you you’re talking about!”

“Is it?” Asked the man in a bored drawl. “You know who I am, Joel. I’m you.”

And Joel did know, he could see his own face reflecting back at him.

“Well, maybe you- me of the past- died of sadness, but I am not sad. I am loved, you miserable ghost.”

The king of Mezalea’s eyes flashed in anger. “Loved by who? By the child who preferred the peaceful protector to the absent god? By the other rulers who batted their eyes for a quick hookup? By the citizens who looked up to the sky at a god who never answered their prayers unless they lied? Where are they all, Joel? Where are those who you claim love you?”

Joel reeled back. “They’re- I am loved, I am!”

“Then where are they all? Huh?” The king laughed. It was a cruel, barking laugh. “You’re no god, Joel. You walk among the lands, gold and quartz embellishing your every step, and yet, and yet, you have nothing but a graveyard of a kingdom to show for it. And it’s the end. You know that, don’t you?”

Joel looked around, at Lower Stratos below him, at the dulling Chromia. “This can’t be real. I- we’ve all been having so much fun. It’s not the end- you’re trying to trick me into thinking… something else.” Joel finished lamely. “And I am a god, more powerful then a king!” He added, trying to sound triumphant.

The king of Mezalea snorted. “If you’re really a god, then you don’t need these wings to fly. If this isn’t real, then jumping off of here will mean nothing. Let’s find out if you’re a god, if you’re going to live forever, wandering a land that never loved you. And if you’re not…” the king chuckled. “Well, you won’t need to worry about anything anymore.”

Joel shucked off his elytra with a brevity he did not feel inside. “I will figure out who is trying to trick me, and I will kill them. You go and tell your master, whenever created you, that I will not fall for this stupid plot. I know I am happy and loved and not alone. I will fall, and I will wake up and it’ll all be fine!” His voice broke on the last word, and he gritted his teeth to keep any fear from forcing its way out of his mouth.

“What’s worse?” The king of Mezalea asked, coming to stand beside him, looking out over the still and silent world. “Thinking that this might be all in your head… or knowing that this is all very, very real?”

Joel stood beside his past, looking down at the ground. The king of Mezalea wasn’t laughing anymore- he was crying, and it was that miserable howl that Joel heard as he jumped.

[claraoswalds]

So what's wrong with Clara, then? There's nothing wrong with her. Why haven't you made her immortal? Well, look how you turned out.

[stuckinapril]

I really did go through a phase where I thought I had to curate everything to fit a certain image aesthetic vibe etc……. Whenever I’d like something outside of the scope I set for myself I’d be confused because how does that fit into my lore?? But like it just does. My vibe is that I like what I like. My aesthetic is that I’m a girl who’s ever growing ever evolving ever changing. Not everything has to be cohesive or to make sense I really don’t understand why this is a big deal in my brain

[agentark]

do you ever think about how in the literal very first scene with Rebecca, we learn that Unit Bravo had no idea she even had a kid

she chose UB and The Agency over the detective so consistently, so frequently, that her team didn't even consider that she had some kind of life outside of them, with someone waiting for her at home

[sketchy-tour]

A wilting flower is not always beyond healing. It'll just take time.

[marsbotz]

whats ur fucking deal

[2dieavirgin]

is this anything. or comprehensible in the slightest.

[only-god-canstopme]

aaron forgiving andrew for killing tilda when he has children of his own because he thinks that if she were around he never would’ve let her meet them.

(and if he didn’t want his children near her, or any children near her, that means that he, as a child, should’ve never been near her. and he gets what andrew did bc he would kill to keep these children safe too.)

[temporarypurple]

I love Dead Boy Detectives but one thing that’s interesting to me is our first introduction to Crystal through Emma (the ghost girl) doesn’t align in the SLIGHTEST with what we see through her stolen memories later in the show. Why is it that Emma has this relationship with Crystal that paints her in this light of being caring and willingly having these very bestie hangouts and the reason something seems off is because she’s all of a sudden mean essentially. And yet later in the season when we look at her memories she doesn’t seem to care about a single person around her and is even quite cruel. Nothing seems to point to her having sympathy of any kind why would it extend to this one random ghost girl.

I don’t think it’s impossible that it happened just based on all we know it’s HIGHLY improbable and even strange that at that point in time she really had a shred of niceness and consideration for others.

[silusvesuius]

n*loth not being able to bag anyone over the (human term) age of 25-30 at most is the only logical and real conclusion to me because it can be just explained away as him wanting to prove and control everything and anyone (Cus he's a man!) but being stuck in that demographic because his unbearable and vile personality is a force that nobody can look past once they've outgrown the possible fear and idolization period of anyone but also n*loth in particular.

[flyingnightmouse]

i scale my (finnish) exclamations after doing smth stupid by level of silliness

not very silly, maybe actually just Bad: oho

so stupid its mostly sad but a bit silly: hups

we getting sillier in here: hupsis

maximum silly mode, how did i even: huppista keikkaa / hupsista keikkaa