#it’s not explained in the nightmare levels either

[bad-artist-kira]

My headcanons/musings about Caleb, his role as the One that Binds and adjacent stuff:

After defeating Tchernobog, Caleb not only inherited his powers, but also His memories. All of them, starting from the time He first emerged aeons ago. Caleb is afraid that Tchernobog’s essence and memories will overwhelm his own and he will lose himself, becoming merely one of His “masks”. To cope with this Caleb goes into full denial, refusing to use his new powers or acknowledging he has them for a hundred years and lets the world fall apart around him.

There seems to be some sort of condition that needs to be fulfilled for Tchernobog to possess someone, thus the need for a dedicated group of people to choose a new vessel from and the whole dumbass “make your strongest and most loyal follower hate you and make him even stronger” plan. Tchernobog’s skeleton form from the first game might also be a result of a failed attempt to make a more sturdy vessel for His essence, a meat mecha so to speak. It’s also mentioned that some incarnations have altered His personality. It specifically says “altered” and “colored”, not “overwrote” like Caleb did.

My hc for that all the previous incarnations voluntarily let themselves be possessed, preparing themselves for this role for a long time; sometimes the traces of their personalities remained, but it was never enough to completely supersede the One that Binds.

Caleb, on the other hand, absolutely did not want to be possessed. He wanted his old god dead, so he was able to resist the initial flood of Tchernobog’s memories and avoid complete possession, but now he has billions of years worth of memories compared to which his own life is less than a blip, so now he’s not quite sure who he is now and whether he ever was “Caleb” to begin with, or is he Tchernobog that deluded himself into thinking he’s Caleb.

I think that’s how Revelations(Blood 2’s thankfully cancelled expansion) could work: instead of Caleb being possessed the whole time he slowly succumbs to the possession, and by the end his will and personality get entirely overwritten by Tchernobog’s(or he accepts that he is Tchernobog and sheds his “Caleb” identity), maybe have him show cracks as early as the base second game(maybe have a conflict between his desire to just keep doing whatever he was doing for a century in the world that’s falling apart and Tchernobog’s goal to take over the world like He originally intended to).

The whole theme of identity and memories could even be expanded to the other Chosen: Ophelia’s sorority girl memory might be from the body she ended up in, for example, Gabriella is reborn as a woman so the connection is obvious. Not sure how Ishmael ties into it tho.

Thanks for reading my “trying to fix Blood 2 #2837484847” post

[neo--queen--serenity]

This episode really highlighted how close Marcille, Laios, and Chilchuck actually are.

The viewer is used to seeing our main characters behave like coworkers up to this point—even friends—and they express normal, understandable levels of concern and fear when their other party members are in danger. But when the nightmare attacked Marcille, it brought out sides of Laios and Chilchuck that the viewer hadn’t seen before.

Laios immediately notices when something is wrong with Marcille, and he tells the others as soon as he’s sure of the problem. Chilchuck and Senshi then follow Laios’ lead as it becomes clear that he intends to make her get some rest.

We see Chilchuck’s hands lay out the bedroll and Senshi’s hands set up the pillow, working in almost perfect tandem as Laios physically wrangles Marcille into bed.

Senshi is in a similar perspective as the viewer, and mostly sits and watches the ordeal unfold. He doesn’t have a shared history, like these three do, so he helps in little ways, but mostly waits on standby for direction.

From here on out, it’s mostly Laios and Chilchuck who take over in planning how to help her.

It’s uncommon for Chilchuck to openly show such distress and worry for one of his party members. He’s used to Marcille being able to defend herself; he’s used to her being capable and strong. He immediately defers to Laios for instruction, (rightly) assuming he will know what to do.

This actually produces a reaction close to real fear from Chilchuck, who outright SMACKS her in a panic to wake her up before getting any further information.

Laios has to quickly stop him, explaining that he could truly hurt her if he interrupts the attack this way. He tells them how he’s going to wake her, and he doesn’t hesitate. He jumps straight in, explaining what he’s doing for the others so that they (Chilchuck) won’t be afraid.

Chilchuck doesn’t question him once. He just does what he can to hurry along the process. He tucks Laios in with his blanket as soon as he lays onto Marcille—an unnecessary action that betrays how much he cares for both of them.

And Laios succeeds in helping Marcille out of the nightmare’s grasp. While trapped in her mind, he reassures her, protects her, tells her how much she’s valued and appreciated. He isn’t embarrassed or sheepish about it, either; he openly declares these things like it’s the most normal and obvious thing in the world.

He gets her out, he saves her. He did the exact thing he set out to do, even though he’d never done it before, and only had Falin’s secondhand information to work with.

Once he wakes, Chilchuck immediately checks on him to see if he’s alright. Chilchuck is clearly still rattled, displeased with having to wait while both of his close friends were unconscious, fighting a battle neither he nor Senshi could see or help with.

Marcille wakes up shortly after Laios, but Chilchuck is still on edge, worrying that she’ll fall back asleep. Laios, too, has a moment of alarm when he makes sure she won’t close her eyes again.

Once he takes the subdued nightmares out of Marcille’s pillow, only then do Laios and Chilchuck relax.

Laios, for his part, remained calm and collected almost the entire time. He did not show panic or fear when it became clear that Marcille was being attacked, nor when he told the rest of the party what he’d be doing to help her. And once the nightmares had been collected from her bedroll, he gently explained what happened, to everyone else’s horror.

Seeing this, it’s not a huge surprise that the Touden party is so successful. We’ve seen Laios handle danger with a level head; we know he’s capable.

But it’s an entirely different kind of talent to face a threat that’s targeting one of your closest friends—which can make even the most competent fighter sloppy out of fear of losing them—one that requires a high-risk, specific rescue style that none of you have ever tried before. And then pull it off flawlessly. Like damn, these guys are lucky to have him.

[olderthannetfic]

I hear this so often, including from people doing seriously high-level crochet, so there's clearly something going on here.

A youtuber commented recently that she thinks she's cracked it: crochet gets ever more complicated, so crocheters find the first learning curve of knitting hard and assume it's going to be a nightmare from there on out... except knitting isn't like that. It's a little difficult to figure out which hand goes where while you're learning the basic knit and purl stitches, but after that, it's all the same stuff forever. There's another little hump if you're learning stranded colorwork or cables or brioche or whatever, but lots of patterns don't use those, and each is still just that initial little learning curve and then downhill thereafter.

TBH, I don't crochet enough to know if it just gets harder and harder, but that's what this person thought, and it's an interesting theory.

Another issue is that knitting notation varies pattern-to-pattern. There should be a key in the beginning of a decent pattern, and youtube has a lot of tutorials explaining different stitches and techniques.

--

If you want to learn to knit, pull up any youtube tutorial on the basic stitches, then go make this:

Yeah, it's a chunky weight sweater, which I'm not a huge fan of, but seriously, just go make a sweater. It will probably take you a month max if you spend a lot of time on it.

--

If you want to make that dragon cloak everyone's been reblogging from me lately, I haven't given it a try yet, but I remember looking at the description, and the designer says it's technically a lace pattern, but without visible holes. Lace isn't easy, but it isn't all that hard either.

Go knit one of these:

Or one of these:

[rishiguro]

hi rin! i recently came across your blog from an angst scenario and i was wondering if you would be able to do a jjk version of “characters throwing their wedding ring” i live for angst haha and i’m really glad i found your blog! also i’m 20!!

JJK CHARACTERS WHEN THEY THROW THEIR WEDDING RING

feat. nanami; toji; gojo; shoko; getou

a/n: angst rules ngl. thank you for your suggestion, i hope u enjoy this (because i for sure enjoyed writing this)

haikyuu version

arguments usually weren’t heated with NANAMI. the two of you believed in open and honest communication so it was rare that either one of you would start yelling. so to say the least, hearing his voice boom in the living room and seeing him so enraged was shocking. you couldn’t focus on him anymore as he continued his rant, face slightly red from his booming voice. but you couldn’t even lift your head to look at him, eyes fixed on the ring laying on the floor — the ring that was supposed to be on his ring finger as a symbol of your eternal love. that was until one second the yelling stopped. as you looked up you saw your husband frozen, gaze downcast in guilt.

loving TOJI could be hard sometimes. he was argumentative, hot-headed and selfish. he didn’t seem to care what buttons he pushed and just how much hurt he would cause. you were terrified to see just how easy he managed to slip the ring off and throw it carelessly to the side right before slamming the door behind him. what you couldn’t see however was him dropping down right after, his back against the wood, with his head between his knees. his breathing shuddered as he clenched his fists, digging his nails into the skin. there was one thing he was sure of — he loved you. could you love him, regardless of how fallible he was?

GOJO was truly special — in one way or another. yet he always made sure to treat you as his equal, because that’s what you were to him. he loved you more than anything and anyone and he never had any problems admitting that. and you never doubted him because he never gave you a reason to. but now you did. “please,” his voice was muffled behind the door, “please let me in” the second you left the room he was right behind you, his pleads for you cut off by the door slamming into his face. “i love you,” he insisted, his hands outstretched. he wanted nothing more than to step into the room and fall on his knees right in front of you, beg for your forgiveness. and he could — but he couldn’t. he shouldn’t. because this wasn’t about what he needed or wanted but about how he hurt you and what you needed from him.

one of SHOKO’s strengths was being level-headed, no matter how serious or loaded the situation might be. she was always aware of what she was doing and of how it might affect others — which is why this hurt even more. she couldn’t explain to herself why she thought for even just a second that throwing her wedding ring, the one the two of you chose together, at you was the right thing to do. she clenched her jaw, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. she should turn around, go back to you, apologize, beg for your forgiveness. and yet here she was, running away from the one thing she loved and hurt the most — you.

GETOU was aware of his faults. he was a passionate and smug man, going so far as to call himself condescending. and while he was confident that he was able to control his emotions and be a good person and especially a good partner, he soon realized that this wasn’t always the case. his face was pale, a shocked expression etched into it. he looked stunned, shaking his head in disbelief with his eyes staring on his hand. this had to be a dream, there was no way he would do such a thing. he told himself he was going to be good to you, always keep you safe and happy. this couldn’t be true, it had to be a dream, a nightmare. but if it was a dream, why wouldn’t he wake up, safe and secure with your loving arm around him?

reblogs are appreciated

[earlycuntsets]

06/11/2004 equal music interview with gerard by danielle moskowitz

"When Warner Brothers/Reprise invited me to come talk with Gerard from My Chemical Romance about their new album at their record release show, how could I have refused?

The show was in their home state of NJ, packed with 1300 cheering fans. What made the show even cooler for me was featured artist, Nightmare of You was on the bill too! (NOY is still currently unsigned and have been playing with My Chem. Good for them!) I love when Equal Music bands get together!

Is their latest apart of a trilogy? Front man Gerard explains. He also reveals what why it didn't turn out to be the concept record they had planned it to be and what are they doing in Tokyo with The Beastie Boys? (Original interview from Oct. 31, 2003 follows this latest one from June)

DM: When we spoke last you guys were shopping for a producer. Who did you wind up working with and why?

Gerard: We wound up working with Howard Benson. A big reason was because he contacted us which is always very exciting. He was very enthusiastic about the project. It's not so much that he got what world we came from because he's worked with bands like P.O.D. and Blindside which is a completely different universe but he got what we were trying to do with the music and so we connected on a lot of levels.

DM: How was this experience different from working with Alex (Eyeball Records) and Geoff (Thursday [Island/Def Jam]) front man?

Gerard: That whole experience was hanging with friends and having a really fun time. There wasn't a lot of money or pressure. But then this experience didn't have that much pressure either which was weird. It was very a positive experience that had a really good flow. But yeah it was very different.

DM: You said in October that while you were finishing the first record you knew what you wanted the second one to be called (which is their latest, Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge) and at the time since you knew the name for the second one you had an idea for what you wanted the third record to be called, although there's not going to be a trilogy so how do you know? Where's the connection with that?

Gerard: It's the kind of connection where you kind of always have a sense of what you're band is doing and where it's headed. I think we have a good idea of kind of like what the first record should be.It should be fast and dirty and cheap. Then the second one you really up the ante and really go for it with this one. The third one you try to explore new avenues. We ended up doing a lot of that on this record. We actually ended up being way more experiemantal than we thought we were going to be. It sounded good to us so we said let's keep doing it.

DM: To jump ahead, do you know what the next one's going to be called?

Gerard: From this experience I learned I shouldn't do that anymore because it locks you into something. And this record wound up being half a concept record because so much happened in our lives that when it came time to write lyrics I found out that it was less ficiton and more fact. So it's a very loose concept record. I want to see what happens for the third one and actually not plan anything out. I think that will be interesting because- it's not that we're calculated but we always kind of know where we're headed and kind of vibe on it. For the next one I kind of don't want to have that.

DM: What kind of mood do you feel like the new album has?

Gerard: I just started listening to it as a piece now, not just bits here and there it's really about loss. The first record was more about pain, misery and agression and violence. Although the lyrics can be disturbing at points, it's really about loss. In the end that's what it wound up being more about instead of some story. You can pick it out of at least four or five of the songs. Even the performances that everyone gives too makes it feel like it's really about loss.

DM: Do you feel like it's dark?

Gerard: Yeah. It's already been called that by a lot of people. We got a parental advisory without even having more than one curse in it. I think it's dark but I think it's a lot more positive than the first record.

DM: Yeah, I remember you saying that you felt the ups were going to be more up and the downs more down.

Gerard: Yeah and they really ended up being like that. But, there's definitely more moments of positivity and celebration than on the first record.

DM: What are some of difference of working with an indie and working with a major?

Gerard: This record was really painless so I can't truthfully answer that as a band that's in our position. We are really rare case of-- it was very similar to the first record where we did exactly what we wanted and luckily because they knew who we were when they signed us that's exactly what they wanted. There wasn't much of a difference other than the fact that there was obviously a lot more deadlines and a lot more pressure to get things done on time. That was the big difference but that was actually it.

DM: You're going to Tokyo soon for Summer Sonic Fest. You must be excited.

Gerard:Yeah, it's awesome, we get to play with The Beastie Boys and I've never seen them.

DM: What's going on for you guys for the rest of the year?

Gerard: Pretty much straight touring till the record cycle is over. It's usually about eighteen months from the time you start a record until you're done touring on it and should be starting a new one. There's already stuff I really want to write. I want to start immediately. As soon as we finished this I wanted to just do another. We're very much a live band but at the same time you get in the studio and you remember you're very much all songwriters and we had forgotten that part of us. I'm still in that head fix where I want to write more songs.

DM: Maybe you can still do that while you're on the road.

Gerard: Yeah, we plan to do it on Warped Tour. It will be our first time really on a bus so we're going to have more space and we'll be comfortable. Right ater that we're going back to a van so Warped Tour is really going to be the time that we write.

danielle moskowitz october 31, 2003 (2nd interview below)

Juxtaposing raw vocals and a punk edge against riffs suddenly gone melodic, My Chemical Romance takes you from upbeat drumming in one measure to a moment where you find yourself lost in slow, somber guitars the next. Listen closely as their vocalist Gerard reveals glimpses of himself through his brutally honest lyrics that hold traces of darkness around them.

DM: The bands success seems to have come very quickly. How long were you a band before signing to Eyeball Records?

Gerard: Let’s see—January is when we started playing as a band. We signed around our third or fourth show. It’s been quick since the beginning.

DM: What were you doing with your lives before the band took off?

Gerard: I was doing animation in the city [New York]. I was actually doing toy design in Hoboken [New Jersey], and Frankie was going to school, Mikey was going to school, Otter was a mechanic, and Ray was delivering film I believe and interning and stuff like that for film. We all just weren’t happy doing what we were doing, ya know?

DM: Geoff from the band Thursday and Alex from Eyeball [Records] I know played a big part in the recording of your last CD.

Gerard: Yeah, definitely.

DM: Are they going to be playing any part on your CD that will be coming out?

Gerard: I don’t think so. Sometimes you want to use the same people sometimes you want to see what would happen with other people. I’m sure they’ll hear it and we’ll ask their opinions.

DM: So they’re not going to help produce?

Gerard: Nah.

DM: What made you guys decide that a major was the next best move?

Gerard: It was one of those things where everything else was moving really fast but we had been able to keep up with it, ya know? We had been able to keep up with the shows that we were getting which were like going from playing basements to playing in front of 10,000 people with Jimmy Eat World. So it went from that to that, and it seemed like a very natural progression. And although a lot of people think it seemed quick, all that talk and all that nonsense was happening before our record even came out. It was like, we basically not fought them off, but said hey we’re going to be a band and do that, ya know? And then when we’re ready…Actually it was a lot longer process than most bands that are getting signed today.

DM: What made Reprise the best label for you guys?

Gerard: It was the best company. They were very familiar with us. We had a lot of fans at the company before we had signed. We had a lot of people helping out before we had signed.

DM: And they understand where you guys wanted to go musically, as a band?

Gerard: Yeah, exactly. That was the big thing. They knew where we wanted to go, they knew how we wanted to do things, and they were going to let us do it our way. Very low pressure type thing. Just kind of let us be us and you distribute us.

DM: When is the new album due out?

Gerard: We’re hoping it will come out in about in about spring. We’re going to record in January. We don’t have a producer yet. We’re looking at a few people and they’re looking at us. So it’s kind of that whole game right now.

DM: Do you have a title yet?

Gerard: Yeah, it’s called Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge. And it was a title that… we pretty much known the title for the first record before it was finished and as soon as we were done with that I kind of knew what I wanted the title to be for the second. So it’s kind of in the process where I kind of know what I want the third to be too.

DM: Is it a trilogy type thing?

Gerard: No. This one’s different from the last and it’s more fictitious, but it’s still heartfelt. And it’s more of a concept record than the last one, where the last one was more of an autobiography. But the next one’s more of a concept album about a person; the next one after that I don’t what know what it will be.

DM: While you guys have been on tour you’ve been playing new songs live and they seem to be heavier. Would you say that is the direction you guys are going in?

Gerard: Well, yeah. The heavier stuffs heavier. The heavy stuff we did before is definitely heavier now. Those same elements are there; we’re just spending a little more time on the heavy stuff. But at the same time I think there’s way more melody. Maybe not in the stuff we’re playing out live, but it’s more violently happy. But it’s also very ironically bleak ya know, as far as tone goes.

DM: Track seven on your CD [I Brought You My Bullets, You Brought Me Your Love] is called Skylines and Turnstiles. Is it true that it was inspired by September 11?

Gerard: Yeah, and in fact that event happening was a big thing about why we started the band because, I was on my to a meeting with Cartoon Network and then that happened and I was like what the fuck am I doing with my life.

DM: You saw it happen? You were in the city?

Gerard: Yeah, I was in Hoboken, on the way there. I was right across the river and I was on my way in right around that, very close to that area, but more around Canal, and I was like what the fuck am I doing?

DM: It made you feel like life’s too short and you need to go for what you want?

Gerard: Yeah, yeah exactly. Like obviously life is way too short, you don’t know when your numbers coming and I also felt like I wasn’t making a difference at all, ya know what I mean?

DM: There are a couple theories circulating about your repeated mention of vampires in your lyrics. Can you clear that up?

Gerard: It’s a metaphor for being in your twenties and getting sucked into that singles, alcoholic nightlife culture, ya know what I mean? It’s interesting, because you’ll find that a lot of bands use the supernatural as a gimmick, and that’s really all it is, it’s just like horror punk, and that’s all it is. We’re not really into vampires. I like to wear black, but…

Contact Danielle@equalmusic.com for more about My Chemical Romance. Check them out on select Warped Tour Dates later this year

[hxney-lemcn]

Worst to best characters to be friends with if you have anxiety

this is all based off of me and my personal anxiety. Obvi other people are anxious about different things and on different levels (not to mention my biases towards characters).

WORST

Kalim: sorry. As much as I love him I don’t think I could handle it. It’s not just the parties, it’s like…everything. My anxiety stems from a fear of not being in control (haha) so the fact that he’s so carefree would actually kill me.

Floyd: I like him a lot too but he’s a nightmare. I’d be so scared around him 😭 I wouldn’t want to accidentally set him off so I’d always be on edge and once again, his carefree ‘let’s skip class’ nature would kill me.

Rook: he’s scary. Like honestly. If this was real life and he was actually following me I would actually be in a constant panic. No thanks. And when he’s dramatic it brings more attention on him and you by default for being by him so no thanks.

Lilia: I could not handle him. I don’t think our humor would match and I’d get very awkward. Not to mention how outgoing he is, sorry it’s a bit much for me.

Sebek: he’s constantly screaming about his waka-sama. Do you know how embarrassing that would be? To not only be yelled at but by a fanboy?? I think I’d just wither on the spot. I can’t handle all those eyes on me.

Leona: so he’s actually kind of high, but that’s cus he’s so mean if he doesn’t know you 😭 I think I’d actually cry cus I’d feel so anxious if he were to say something to me. I swear I’m not sensitive Leona just kinda doesn’t hold back and I can’t handle all that.

Vil: Gah he’s one of my favs but he’d intimidate me so badly. I’d be so quiet around him hoping he doesn’t notice my existence 😭 I couldn’t handle his criticism either, I do not have the right mindset for that (it would get me stressed so quickly).

Cater: another fav, but sadly, I’d be easily embarrassed if he filmed himself in public. Or if he tried to post stuff of me cus like…he’s got a good amount of followers. Yeah no thanks. I don’t like being perceived. But his bubbly personality would help me calm down.

Azul: idk how to explain this one. Like he pretends to be this nice guy but then swindles you. He’d be on my watch list which means I’ll be more on guard around him. I’d probably just avoid him if anything.

Ruggie: idk, he’s the character I understand the least, so I’d probs just be awkward around him. His humor is different than mine so I would do that awkward laugh and it’s just not a good scenario. No thanks.

Epel: he keeps trying to fight people. No way is that good for my heart 😭 I’d be so embarrassed trying to pretend like I don’t know him 💀

Jade: he’d intimidate me a lot at first, but then we could talk about mushrooms and marine life and I think we could be chill. I can have a more morbid sense of humor so his ‘threats’ (I don’t think he’s actually lethally poisoned anyone) would seem more like jokes to me.

Ace: so he literally insults Yuu right off the bat. He’d probs do the same to me. So yeah, not a fan. Make me feel like shit. But once your friends it’s better, but all the shit he gets into…not my style. (He would be a good friend tho, maybe just a bit dense about anxiety stuff and accidentally say something really mean/condescending)

Jamil: love this guy, but he would scare me at first (ok tbf any person I don’t know scares me…). Like he’s got this responsible aura and I wouldn’t wanna mess him up and he’d probs be a bit cold shouldered. But I think we would get along over time, and he’d be considerate of me so he’s closer to the middle.

Jack: don’t get me wrong, dude is super nice and has a kind heart (reason why he’s closer to the best), but he’s a total tsundere. The quietness and the whole ‘but it’s not cus I like you’ thing would just make me feel awkward.

Idia: ik, surprising he isn’t the best with all the stuff I’ve been writing about him, but let’s be honest. First meeting and neither of us are talking. And it will probs be like that for a while, so he’s a bit high on my list. Ofc once you get to know each other it’s a lot better cus y’all can be emotional support buddies but yeah.

Deuce: bro has a homey vibe. He’s a bit dense and used to be a delinquent, but if I’m meeting him at NRC then I think we’d get along well. He’s a sweetheart and that would make me like him quickly and not be so anxious lol

Riddle: ok so he’s so close to the best BECAUSE!!! My anxiety about not having control? He 100% relates and we’d probably bond over it 😭 plus I love having rules to follow so I know I’m not doing anything wrong…yeah I relate to Riddle a bit too much (just on a much, much lower level. It’s not that bad I swear)

Malleus: why is he so close to best? Well…he is really warm when he first meets Yuu. I think that he is a bit intimidating, but his personality would quickly win me over and make me feel safe with him.

Ortho: hello? The sweetest person at NRC? Need I say more?

Silver: literally the chillest man alive. AND he has animals following him? Say less. Not to mention how nice he’d be if you told him you were anxious. He’d always look out for you and try to find a solution.

Trey: wow. Ngl, I’m not a huge fan of him (nothing wrong with him he just never caught my eye), but even I gotta admit Trey is probably one of the most level headed there is. He handled Riddle really well (for a teen) and ik he’d be a really good person to be friends with. Def a guy you want in your corner if crowds get to be too much.

BEST

Leave a comment about who you think would be best or worst. Just pls don’t start fighting 😭

[fuctacles]

What goes up, needs assistance coming down

For @steddiemicrofic "top" | 510 | G | no cw | established relationship | if you saw me post this earlier and delete it bc i pasted the wrong version, pretend you didn't | Ao3

Sometimes, when Eddie writes a particularly delicious twist in his campaign, he wonders how in hell he had repeated senior year two times.

But then this shit happens.

Because he's been in this exact situation before, and smart people are supposed to learn from their mistakes. Thankfully, Steve is supposed to get back from work any time now. Maybe he loves him too much to make fun of him. After Eddie bears the humiliation of calling out for him because there's no way he'll figure out Eddie's out here.

As soon as he hears the car pull in and the door slam closed, he yells out,

"Steve!"

The steps crunch on the gravel, rounding the house, and his worst nightmare comes true. Because he hears more than one pair of footsteps. Double humiliation it is.

"Eddie?"

Aaand that's Henderson. The last person he'd want to see right now.

"Hey, man. What's up?" he asks nonchalantly his favourite kid, who grins up at him.

"How about you tell me, huh?"

"Oh, because I'm on a tree?" Eddie scoffs at him. "Har har, Henderson, very clever."

His rescuer isn't looking very rescue-y either. He's just standing behind Dustin with a bemused expression, eyeing the ladder lying prone below the tree.

"Why?" is all he asks.

Eddie sighs and points to the coils of fairy lights he had dropped to the ground in his panic after the ladder fell.

"This so doesn't answer my question." Steve raises his eyebrows disapprovingly. "Henderson, put the groceries away, help yourself to the fridge. Your dads need to talk."

"Gross." Dustin makes a face but snatches the grocery bag from Steve. He turns back to Eddie while walking away. "Good luck!" He gives him a toothy grin. Eddie flips him off, but his eyes are focused on Steve, who's setting the ladder back up. Soon, they're at eye level, as Steve leans on the top of it.

"Why?" he asks again. "Why would you do that again?"

Eddie looks away, hoping Steve will postpone this interrogation until after his feet are back on the ground.

"I had this, okay? It's not as bad as the roof. If the ladder didn't fall—"

Suddenly, Steve's face appears in his periphery. His eyes are stern.

"You should have waited for me," he points out.

Eddie makes a face. Okay, here he goes.

"I wanted to surprise you. I saw how you liked the lights around the Wheelers' garden," he explains, hoping the heat over his cheeks is imaginary. Henderson was way too close for him to be humiliated like that.

Steve's face softens.

"Baby," he coos, leaning into his space.

"Please don't—"

Steve ignores him, landing a soft kiss on his lips.

"My sweet boy," he murmurs, and now Eddie's positive his face is red.

"Can you put me on the ground first, please?"

Steve gives him a boyish grin but helps him climb down the ladder without further teasing.

"Thank you—" he barely makes out before Steve's on him, peppering his face with kisses.

"The cutest metalhead in Indiana."

[tteokdoroki]

i’m sure i’ve said this before but my favourite personal headcanon is that bakugou kisses the insides of your wrists.

it’s the first thing he does every morning, brushing his lips over the softness of your skin— your warm hand delicately laying in his and he only stills once he feels your slow and steady pulse against the seams of his mouth.

he’ll let out a short exhale, eyes closed in relief and squeeze your hand tight. you always wake up shortly after, your fingers cascading through his mussed up morning hair and a smile as bright as the rising sun twitching up on your sleepy face. “good morning, lover boy,” you’ll say, voice gravelly but full of adoration.

you’re alive, katsuki thinks, you’re alive and you’re okay. “mornin’, beautiful,” he’ll whisper back and lean into your touch— his mismatched red and grey eyes falling to your chest to check the way that it rises and falls. “y’sleep good?”

the sheets shift as you move to sit up, holding balugou’s face between your hands as if you’re holding the entire world. “good. you had a nightmare though,” you press your forehead against his, concern flickering in your eyes. katsuki has seen both sides of life and death— he knows that if he’s not careful, he won’t be able to evade it any longer than he has. he knows that he’d be leaving you behind with the pieces of his mistakes and he can’t do that to you.

but sometimes it’s you who’s died in his dreams and not him. sometimes it’s him cradling your lifeless body, it’s your pulse that’s fading out and thready. it scares bakugou shitless. to know that he could lose you as easily as he’s lost himself in the past.

bakugou closes his eyes to ground himself, listens out for your steady breathing intertwining with his own — kissing your wrist again just to make sure that your heart is still strong and beating.

“it was nothin’, don’t worry your pretty head about it, sweetness.”

he doesn’t see you frown, but can feel your gaze on him. “it’s not nothing, katsuki. you were screaming my name in your sleep. you were scared.” you sit up this time, taking sharp edges of his face into your cushioned palms, the edges of your features softening out from frustration to worry as he looks up at you. “you don’t have to hide things from me when you’re scared.”

you sense when his breathing turns shaky and katsuki’s anxiety takes the reins on him — so you wrap your arms around his bulkier frame and pull his head to rest on your chest. “i get nightmares where i lose you,” he explains quietly. “‘m scared that one day i’ll just wake up ‘n you’ll be gone.”

you don’t like to think of katsuki bakugou’s death. you can’t imagine what thinking of yours would do to him.

“i’m right here,” you say barely above a whisper. “i’m alive, i’m breathing. i’m not going anywhere without you.”

with his ear pressed to your body, katsuki can hear the dull thump of your heart against your chest wall. it’s steady, rhythmic, like horse hooves on cobblestone. you’re alive and you’re strong. he needs to give you more credit, he thinks, tucking himself into you even more to hide from the world.

but you don’t let him, taking his large hand in yours and bringing his wrist up to your lips to feel his life essence pulse just beneath them.

“and you’re right here too.”

the gesture is so small and intimate, but it shows that you understand bakugou on levels that nobody else does. you love him, you live for him — in moments like this when the sun has just made its way into the sky and right down to the first star that twinkles at night.

bakugou shifts to brush his nose against yours, humming.

“and ‘m never goin’ anywhere without you, either.”

[lissomelace]

Ok, I am admittedly kind of obsessed with this right now.

Another embroidered heraldry attempt! This one is different only in the sense that it was not actively created by Tolkien; it's one of Daniel Falconer's elvish heraldry designs based on Tolkien's that were potentially going to be used on the armor in the Fellowship end-of-the-second-age war with Sauron battle scene:

(Photographs come from The Art of The Fellowship of the Ring by Gary Russell, page 129)

It's explained that Gil-Galad's is based on Tolkien's designs for Gil-Galad's heraldry, and Elrond's and Galadriel's are based on those of their respective fathers.

(One could argue that this is not canonical, because neither of Luthien's sigils look anything like either Thingol's or Melian's--not even in color palette--but I really like the concept anyway. And there are sort of similar elements in Finwe's and his sons, even if it's not as clear as these.)

I like these a lot, and they do feel very consistent among themselves and like a development/variant of Tolkien's originals.

(Also, I will admit to being a little disappointed that there is no official heraldry for Elrond who is definitely my favorite character, along with Finrod)

...can I just say, Galadriel's looks SO MUCH EASIER and I will definitely be doing that one soon.

So here are my attempts:

I chose to both do the whole thing and to isolate the lozenge, since that's how all of Tolkien's designs are.

(I also do really love the elements of Earendil's, which my first attempt for can be found here. And the twining branches look so much like the Imladris architecture in the films, and also I feel like it really goes well with Elrond's interconnected nature with...well, just about everyone. I really love it even though that element was SUCH A NIGHTMARE.)

The circular one was my first attempt, and the second one looks much nicer because I cut all of the thread jumps in the crossover line bits as it was going. The blue field needs a bit of correction on both, but I'm pleased with this attempt. I also may attempt them in greyscale (the drawing isn't this blue after all, but I'm limited in my thread options at the moment). And I have some shinier rayon golds, so I may make an attempt at getting the gold parts more golden without them getting too gaudy.

Unfortunately, I can't do easy gradients with the level of software I currently have, but I'll definitely try this again if I ever get something more advanced.

[noxturnalmoth]

What Could Have Been

Summary: Silco, the Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, was first and foremost a son of Zaun who wanted his motherland free. After an altercation in which his adopted daughter shot him in a fit of rage, he is left dying while the world goes on without him. His life's work and ideals soon trampled to nothing as his memory fades from the world. But what if he was saved?

Warnings:

Word Count: 6,397

Masterlist: here

Chapter 2 - Alone

"You have five seconds to explain what happened before I snap your neck."

Was gruffly said in your ear, ragged breath fanning the side of your neck and hair as the wet rag around your throat was pulled tighter. Although you knew very well he could and would kill you if given the opportunity, you refused to give in to your base instinct of attack, fight engraved in each cell in your body instead of flight.

"Can't do much if I can't talk." Was wheezed out as you managed to elbow him in the ribs. The attack could lead to either Slico dropping the rag to cradle his fresh wounds or him dragging you down while the rag choked you further, you were relieved that it was the former. Taking a gulp of fresh air, you turn quickly on the bed and ignoring your ankle's painful straining, straddled the man's waist, your legs hooked around his thighs while you pinned his hands above his hands. His teal eye was narrowed viciously, the teal a biting cold that clawed at you as his disfigured eye burnt you down, charring you to nothing by a simple rageful look. The black of its sclera seeming darker while the orange of the iris was shining bright like an inferno, a a much more different look than the calm yet restless dullness of it when Silco was unconscious. "And if you can't stop trying to kill me I'll have to leave us in this very uncomfortable position for the forseeable future. You're gravely wounded, barely stabilized, and if you try anything not only would it be easy to subdue you but if you managed to escape you'd be dead meat, no matter how strong you are. So can you please not?"

Nightmare fresh on your mind, still appearing behind each blink, exhaustion having sucked up all you had even after a small rest and pain making your voice clipped. His good eye widened slightly in surprise, probably not used to being talked to in such a way or physically handled for quite some time. His lips were pulled back in a sneer but when he tried to escape your grip and blood seeped from his wounds, pain shot through his and cut the action short by making him go limp and groan.

"Fine."

Is huffed from beneath you before you peel yourself away and softly appologizing for your action under your breath, action that also seems to astonish the man as if he had never expected his "captor" to show any ounce of humanity. And you had to rectify that horrible misunderstanding, if not for your pride, for his clarity of mind and relief.

You start the introduction by saying your name as you unwrapped his bandages.

"I found you in a building pretty well hidden between the fringes and the entresol level. I had been there for personal matter regarding a Chem Baron meeting." Silco takes a sharp breath, as sharp as the daggers he had hidden on his person when you first brought him home, aswell as the glare he was currently shooting you while you were cleaning and checking his wounds. "I know, it sounds suspicious, and it was. Those are worse sump rats than I am, because they don't even harbor any loyalty or cause but their own, not even to our people, to Zaun as a whole. I heard from the grape vine that you'd already have an attempt on your life done by Finn, so when I learned he was organizing a little clandestine takeover I had to know what it was about. Plus there's always good extra information to get, they're not careful enough with how they speak and act, it reveals all their cards to the one who actually has a mind and uses it properly."

He scoffs, tensing as your hands touch his skin but biting back any comment or insult he may have for you, knowing better than to bite the hand that heals.

"I was about to hide in the building you were detained in until the meeting started, and heard a whole lot of ruckus. Turns out a family reunion was happening, and i may have not seen anything but I heard enough to know someone got hurt. Even after I saw it was you I couldn't stop myself from running home, I had witnessed manslaughter and I was not about to let a fellow Zaunite die if I could help it. So what if it was you? I would have done it if it was anyone else of our people, even if it was a Piltie. But like hell I, as a trencher, was gonna let one of my own die if I had a say in it."

Your voice resounded in the curtain walled room, the rounded window letting the fluorescent lights filter through the mezzanine, as your hands applied ointment softly to the puckering scars. None had to be restitched but the movements he had performed earlier would make them more sore than they would have been had he not done that. Yet you understood, the man who had all the cards and control in Zaun dying, then finding himself in bed with a stranger was bound to activate fight or flight. And just like you, rebellion was carved deep within his soul.

"What do you want?" His voice had asked so roughly, like angry, rolling thunder hidden behind a curtain of dark, inky clouds.

"Nothing. I want nothing but your health and safety at the moment." Is what you humed back, your hands grazing him gently as you wrapped his chest and stomach. A hiss was heard, and as you looked at Silco you found him analyzing you, mouth downturned as if your mere existence displeased him, and it may have but you couldn't bring yourself to care. You were doing what you thought was right, you were helping one of your own and that's all that mattered.

"I'll ask again." He all but growls out. "What do you want?" Is clipped from behind clenched teeth, his hands going for youe throat. "I don't believe in good samaritans."

"You shouldn't. Everybody has something they want." My hand catches his wrists and his snarl grows deeper, carving his face with a grave expression. "My condition is you taking it easy to not make it any harder on either of us, and to just let me do this. Because I don't know if you've noticed but you've come back from near death Silco. Gone are the Eye of Zaun and the Industrialist, it's been a week and the world goes on without you. You've been old news since you got shot."

His breath hitches and his weak grasp on your throat tightens, eyes looking between each of yours, trying to find something, anything. Turns out, even if you're Silco, near death by the hands of a loved one is enough to make all your walls tumble down like a house of cards. So you bring my other hand up, enclosing both his wrists between your palms.

"I've admired you since I was a kid, Silco." You begin, speaking softly, your eyes looking onto his. "Somewhere along the way you lost yourself and you lost sight of what mattered the most, Zaun. You were obsessed with the idea of it and did all that you did for it, but in the end all you've done was for the semblance of a dream of youth. All you did was for revenge against Piltover, you were fuelled by hatred and now your dream and your empire both have toppled because you've grown overzealous."

"In the pursuit of great, you failed to do good, Silco." His hands clench again, your breathing slightly altered yet not enough to make you take action, his eyes looking at you, drowning and flaying you with their dual violence. "I wanted to save you not for the man you are and what he possesses, but for the man you once were that raised hell to Piltover's enforcers, the man that was a founding member of the Children of Zaun, the idealist who wished for all of his people to finally be free and happy, the child who fought tooth and nail in those mines to survive, the co-founder of the Lanes who helped us generate some of our own profit without Piltover, the man on whom the bridge attack's responsibility fell who then disappeared and came back a monster."

You grab his wrists tighter as he brings his face closer to yours, breath still smelling like tobacco even days after.

"I am not that man anymore, he has died."

"And so have you." You push his wrists away, getting out of the bed and pulling the chair back up from its position on the ground, sitting on it to rewrap your ankle. "So who will you be now Silco?"

Is the last thing uttered from your lips as you take the basin downstairs with your tray on top of it, emptying the cold water and preparing food for two for the first time since you crawled up from the deepest, darkest and most lawless parts of the sump you grew up in. Figments of memories still clinging to you as you hum to occupy the silence, to occupy your busy, loud mind, your gramophone too far for you to want to drag your exhausted body to it. Later, with the tray and basin filled with food and water respectively, you climb back up the stairs, careful not to hurt yourself more.

And opening the curtains you're surprised to see the man still awake, yet a part of you isn't, it feels like the coma he was in for the week was the most sleep he's gotten in years, and that saddened you as you knew exactly how it felt. He was sitting up on your bed, back on the wall, legs stretched as his eyes looked in front of him absentmindedly, lost in thoughts you could only guess were dreary.

"I have to work today, I've been gone for six days and people need me." You say as you set the tray on the bed, his eyes snapping to you as if he only just noticed you were there. "I'll be back later on, please don't try anything. If not for my sake, for your own. If there are still things you wish to accomplish in this life, rest." And those were the last words uttered between you that day as you left right after eating your breakfast.

Down in Zaun in this time of year the weather was bitingly cold, the metal storing the cool from the wind, rain and snow and distributing it to the whole of the Undercity, the bite getting worse the lower you got. But that was no matter for you, the forge was always warm, the hearth burning brightly and illuminating the shop in a soft orange glow as you fixed appliances and made tools, day in and day out helping your community. It felt good, cathartic even, to hit something in order to help someone instead of hurting them, and it felt good when people needed you because you were good at fixing and creating, not destroying. And everyday that Janna let you breathe, you'd thank yourself for working so hard towards achieving something worth being proud of with no one's help but your own and your community's. People who had taken you in their arms and offered a new chance at life seven years ago and for whom you worked incessantly for to balance out the ledger, to repay your debt. And as you arrived at your shop, started the flame and opened up, you saw people pouring in, faces old and new, but all of them you could help and you would, for in Zaun everyone knows the one rule: "we never give our own people away".

But everyone forgets its second part: "we always help our brothers and sisters if we can".

You didn't, and it was the one motto you lived by, day by day, muscles flexing and clenching, sweating at the flame's heat as you fixed, as you created, and today wasn't an exception, and neither was the next week. Silco seldom talked to you, his stomach healing slowly but surely as he begrudgingly followed your advice of staying in bed while you wondered what he was thinking about that had his eyes glaze over, staring into the nothingness and his ears deaf until you metaphorically shook him awake. You took on no new mission of your own, your mind not up to sabotaging the Piltie pigs or the Sump leeches while the man you now shared your life with was still healing, although while his stomach was getting along quite well, the rest of his body seemed to degenerate. You had told about him to your landlord, telling him and his family how you've come to have an unwilling roommate and revealing who he was, knowing that you didn't have to plead for them to keep their mouths shut and you couldn't be more glad to be a Zaunite.

News in Zaun could travel as fast as lightning or as slow as the rolling of the clouds bringing it forth. It had taken two weeks for you to hear from a client that Piltover's council building had been attacked the night you saved Silco, and that three councilor had died, Councilor Hoskel, Councilor Kiramman and Councilor Bolbok, aswell as Viktor, a fellow Zaunite and one of the brilliant minds behind hextech which revolutionized technology on topside. Your heart grew heavy as you were revealed the Perpetrator: Jinx, Silco's daughter and the one who nearly killed the man she called her father. The rest of your day was spent pondering how you could break the news to the man, his daughter had probably been so guilt stricken she destroyed the world and herself alongside it, yet you couldn't lie to him, even less if it's about the only person he loves. So that night, you pass by a food stall, getting food that you bring upstairs with you to Silco, stubble had filled his face, the marred side patchy and irregular. His eyes were tired and glossy, and when you sat down on your chair next to your bed and placed the warm bag on the bed, they dragged lazily to you instead of snapping as usual. His shivering curled up form on the bed, his jaw locked tight as if in immeasurable pain, he wrapped himself deeper in your blanket, trying to maintain a cold façade even after everything.

He was ashamed and you knew it, ashamed of his near death at the hands of his daughter, ashamed at his weakness in this whole ordeal, control slipping between his fingers like sand. But it looked like something else was at play, he was flushed, sweaty and sensitive to sound, touch and light since the day he woke up, the condition getting worse as time passed, and you knew you would never be able to get information as to why if you didn't drive a good bargain, so sighing you straighten up.

"I have knews of your daughter." Was what had him sit up, doubling over in pain yet it wasn't his stomach that he held but his eye. "But I will only tell you if you tell me what's going on."

"So you've finally decided to execute your power over me?" His voice wavered as he tried to force it to unleash venom, spittering and acidic against your skin as he got close to your face, his tired eyes looking particularly frenzied, the braziers of hell flickering dangerously in a way that had you narrowing your eyes in confusion.

"No, but there is something you're not telling me that's ailing you and I can't help if you don't let me."

"Why would I?"

"Because you want to know about Jinx." Cut through the fast paced hissing tone he had set for the conversation. "Don't you?" You tilt your head, secretly hoping that in his exhaustion he'll bite, because as much as you wanted him healthy you also knew of how comandeering and stubborn he was. And if his rough sigh, partly sounding like a growl, was anything to go by? You had won your bet against yourself.

"My eye. It's a source of constant pain, migraines, blurry vision at times, others it's depth perception being messed with. Those I can deal with usually, but this.." He stops, taking a deep breath, hand covering his bad eye. "I get episodes. My skin is rotting, so are my nerves, slowly but surely. I usually have a medication for it, but I have not the injector nor the serum."

There it was, and as you observed just how bad his condition was now, you knew he had been hiding his pain better than anyone else could have in his situation. Skin looking so much paler and its flush so much redder, the sweat gleaming all over his flesh, the marring across his left cheek running deeper, the gray flesh looking darker and like it was conquering more of the sickly territory of his face. That's when you realized that the flickering of his eye was a very persistant and visible pulsing of the organ. His flesh had been rotting before your eyes and you have no idea on how to help.

"What serum?" Your voice rushes, eyes looking at him as your hands measured the temperature of his forehead, burning.

"Shimmer." His voice croaked, no longer the energy for an angry growl. You take a sharp breath

"And the injector?"

"Made to deliver the shimmer directly in my pupil, it had a circular tubing around it to help place it around the eye." He pants a bit, closing his good eye to try to focus on anything but the pain. "I normally need one injection per day" And at that you were back up, telling him to eat without you.

"You still havent told me about-" He starts, scrambling on the bed to reach you, his voice breaking, tears clinging to his lower lashes, yet you cut him off.

"I'm not letting you know news about your daughter while you're agonizing, I'm not a monster. But just know that for now, she's a fugitive."

Closing the door behind you, you rush as much as your twisted ankle can permit you, stinging pain eating at every single one of your steps while youcut through town, goin to see an old connection of yours. Samira was a pharmacian, one of the rare ones down here in the Undercity, her pharmacy more akin to an apothecary shop yet her products were proven to help and provided whatever relief you seeked. If anyone had to have proper uncut shimmer, it was her. And you were right, as you explained your conundrum to Samira she nodded and handed you a dozen of vials. "Free of charge" as the eye of Zaun had died, she had said huffing out a laugh at the Irony, but as you shoved them in your coat pockets hurriedly she asked if you were alright.

"I'm managing." Was all you answered before high tailing it for your shop, leaving her in the dust.

The hearth was burning bright as you lit it, pondering how to go about making his injector. You couldn't make one from scratch, it would take too long and you shivered as you thought back of the fact he had hidden the fact his flesh was rotting away. He had been in horrible pain, adding up day after day, effects piling up as he curled up on his own. And you felt for this man, although it was misplaced pride he was still clinging to the last thing allowing him control: himself. And there, in your bed, weak and helpless albeit still fighting for the last shred of his integrity, you had recognized the man you admired as a child, the look in his eyes as you mentionned his daughter had been fiery. Even if he was in pain he was still doing all he could, although he couldn't move, he was still holding on. And as you picked spare parts in the back of the shop and set them on the anvil, you decided that as long as he was with you, you'd provide him with all the help he needed. Even if he never came back to the young revolutionary he once was, even if he remained the stubborn mean bastard he was now, even if he left, what you saw today was a lonely man. His eyes, his voice, you knew that look more than anyone. It's the one you had, surrounded by people yet never truly feeling like you fit in no matter what you did.

So as you heated up the metal parts and assembled them together you allowed yourself to think back to that loneliness. The one that makes everything feels transactional, like you can only be loved if you provide, the crippling pain of seeing others have friends and family while companionship of any kind terrifies you to the core, like it was a starved beast ready to gnaw you alive, from your skin to your flesh and even your bones. It's that loneliness that mixes with the sleepless nights, haunted by visions of horror as if you were in a fancy Piltovan cinema, locked in a theater of your own demons while the film rolled indefinitely. The one that leaves your throat and skin raw as you scream and claw at your skin, hoping to wash and expell away any ounce of pain you feel, but it's never enough, so you never scream again and encase your heart in molted iron, letting it cool into a spiked shell. The look Silco had in his eyes, the tone in his voice, you felt for him because you were the same, and you knew he'd reject you, but you were willing to try to help him. It was selfish, you knew as much, but you had been someone good for others for almost a decade, shaping yourself into someone accepted and beloved yet nothing could bring you close enough to your people no matter how much you loved them and how much they loved you. Because there was always a part of yourself you hid, an ugly past that you didn't wish to unhearth in fear of your house of cards crumbling down. Yet the need for emotional closeness intrinsic to human beings ate at you day after day. And maybe it was foolish to think that by helping Silco you could help yourself too, and it disgusted you to think that you had maybe expected something from him after all even if unknowingly, but you were willing to try, even if he was the only one benefitting from it at the end.

A couple of hours had passed by the time you finished the injector, rushing back home ignoring your own pain again in favor for helping the man in your appartment, as you have done for the past two weeks. Door slamming open and shut as you hurried your limping form upstairs, Silco crumpled on the bed, curled up on himself. And when you touch his shoulder he reels back, as if your touch had branded him. His eyes were angry, confused and pained, cheeks painted with bitter sweat and salty tears as blood dripped from his bitten lips, his arms and ribs marked with half moons. He had been hurting himself, to forget the pain you wager, of his condition and of how in the span of so little time all he has worked towards for crumbled to dust. And as one of your hands goes to your coat pocket to retrieve the injector and one tube of shimmer.

"I did all I could, do you want me to let you do it on your own?" You say softly, hand caressing his before raking some of his sweaty, messy bangs back to the crown of his head and away from his eyes. As my hand leaves his burning face he grabs it and sits up.

"What happened to Jinx?"

"Silc-"

"What happened to her?!" A gasp escapes him at his own raised voice as he falls back on the pillow, writhing in pain yet tensing to not let it appear quite as much, the concern and anger in his tone and mannerisms still very present.

"She..Shot the Council, three councilors dead, a Zaunite civilian aswell, the co-creator of Hextech I believe, she's now considered an enemy of Piltover and will be hunted down. It happened the day you nearly died." I sigh, my hand turning in his, entertwining our fingers and squeezing, hoping to bring any measure of comfort. "Silco you're torturing yourself, take the shi-"

"I need to go back to Jinx, she needs me." His voice cracked, his waning strength pushing you away as he stood up, knees buckling under him before you caught him in your arms, his extra weight making you taste the violent crack in your ankle.

"Haven't you done enough Silco?" You ask gently as you set him back down. "That girl is already haunted enough as it is, don't you think it's better to not appear to her again, that it's time to let her go? You'd be another ghost to her, and in the state you're in now you'd die in front of her again by the time you got to her."

"You don't know what's best for-"

"I may not know what's the best for your daughter but you do, and you know as well as I do that coming back will only hurt her further. You have nothing anymore Silco, how can you expect to be someone she falls back to? How can you expect to be a good father if you're not even the man she knew?" His anger is evident on his face, and you're understanding of why, it wasn't the lack of refusals towards him in the past few years that provoked his rage, no it was that he realized how the little control he believed he still held had been gone, and that the words you uttered were nothing but the unfortunate truth.

"I don't mean to hurt you, all I want is for you to be back up and running, and happy if that's even possible, but let me ask you that. Is your past life really worth you rushing back to? The senseless violence and drugs you dealt to your own people, an empire brought forth by our brothers and sisters you've subdued, greedy, stupid and distrustful collegues that wait for any occasion to stab you in the back no matter how loyal they may seem. We've all heard of Jinx, if we haven't dealt with her first hand, do you really believe a good father would have weaponized his daughter, Silco? Had you been a good father, would she have even been there and done what she's done? You've been the best father you could be, but blinded by your own trauma and ambition you've used the girl's affection to further your own agenda. Look at yourself, alone and destitute, and no one brought it upon you other than yourself, Silco."

"We've grown up in a world were there was never enough for everyone. I was trying to pull us out of the depths Piltover dragged us in but I don't expect you to understand, child." He all but spits.

You sigh, placing the injector and shimmer on your desk, sitting on the bed next to Silco who was shaking, rage and a maelstrom of other feelings emanating from him, swirling like a destructive tornado as his eyes ripped you apart.

"We've grown up in a world where there wasn't enough to go 'round for everyone, but have you made it any better? Or have you just capitalized on our pain, profitted on the fear and violence you brought forth? All you've done was make Zaun an enterprise and still saying it was for all of us, but you lost all of that years ago haven't you, you fought for all of us even when you've lost the plot. You're a lonely, terrified and pained man hiding behind a façade of control you've carefully built over the years, but that pain only grew hasn't it? So you tried to make yourself into the monster every Piltie sees in all of us so their attention is diverted to you, you shouldered all of the responsabilities in Zaun, you've raised a child, and you've still failed in all of those! Your façade terrifies even your own people, your empire toppled over and your child's crazy! You make everything worst by clinging to it, trust me, sometimes it's better to just let go. "

You breathe heavily, gulping as your hands gripped the bed, sheets crumpled in between your fingers. A thud resounds through the room and looking behind you, you see Silco sitting up with his back against the wall, his bi colored eyes looking to the copper tool and the glowing purple vial. The rage softening slowly, the chipped teeth showing from his angry snarl now hidden behind the curtain of his lips. He breathes heavy and shivers, pain mixing with emotions he seems too overwhelmed to even try to understand. But then his good eye opened a bit more, no longer hiding the tumultuous ocean within his teal iris as it looks from you to the table on which are placed the objects he needed. A silent invitation, you decypher. And so you nod, your lungs heaving as you bring the shimmer and injector to the poor man beside you. Your eyes meeting his again, all the energy and the fight had left him, there sat Silco in what you surmised was his purest form, tears flowing down his cheeks, eyes so pained you felt like you were about to double over. His jaw was clenched and his lips pulled in a sneer, the usual rage nowhere to be seen, it was something more visceral this time. And as you went to give him the material he shook his head, his arms crossing across his chest, nails digging to the sides of his arms.

So you approached slowly to not agitate him any further, he looked troubled enough as is. You looked at him every step of the preparation, putting the vial in the contraption, unlocking the needle cap, and placing the cylindrical apparatus to his eye to stabilize your hand, giving him a chance to back down everytime. But he never did, and once you injected the product, his form crumpling in pain, you realize just how vulnerable he had allowed himself to be. Your thumb wiping away a purple tear, the same purple tainting the burning orange of his ruined eye, before he slaps it away and turns his back to you, laying down. His body was no longer shivering and from what you had seen neither was the unblinking black and orange gem adorning the left side of his face. Understanding he needed space after that, you left the vials and injector and went downstairs, showering before you crumpled in the couch you've been sleeping in for the past two weeks, curling up on yourself.

The days are long after that, no more words uttered between you two, a tense and overwhelming silence taking over your appartment, he still only ate whenever you were away and you grew more restless but you understood. He needed time, to digest the hard truths, to take a good look at himself and wonder what he was doing to himself, what he had done to himself, and what he would do with himself later on. You knew that confusion better than anyone, and as you remember the feel of your bruised and ruined hands, the sounds of screams and cheering, the stench of corpses, booze and sweat, the taste of blood and tears. You've become someone good, helpful and, you hoped, worth knowing. But in whichever future you imagined it was always lonely, no one waiting for you at home, no friends close enough to you to know everything, a void still ripping your chest apart. He had lost himself for some reason, but you could only imagine the crippling loneliness he felt was why he clung to his dream so hard even after diverging from it, why he clung to the comandeering façade he had created, why he clung to his daughter like a lifeline. Because they were the only thing that reminded him he was alive and human at all. Just like helping people no matter the cost has been what kept you going.

One day after work, your body heavy and dragging as you moved, you brought up his dinner as always, expecting him to barely look at you, chilling eyes sizing you up as you left. But when you began to retire his hand caught your wrist, dragging you to the bed, tray discarded on your desk.

"Would letting her go truly be the only good thing I can do?"

His voice, rough from unuse, breaks the silence. Its low rumbling leaving a crackle of electricity behind it.

"I believe so." Is the simple answer you give.

"I would have nothing left."

You shake your head, freeing your wrist and laying your hand upon it on the bedsheets. "You'd still be alive, there's a chance for you to build something. You've forgotten yourself Silco, you've locked who you truly are away for too long. I think it's time for you to redescover yourself."

"Do you know who you are?" And at that you chuckle and shake your head again a soft "no" escaping your lips, your eyes gently raking over his form which was much healthier now that he had his medicine. "Then how do you-"

You interrupt his angry inquiry. "Because I know what I'm not. Do you?" And he freezes, his scowl softening as do his eyebrows, his eyes looking past you and through you to see something you cannot.

"The Eye of Zaun, the Industrialist, they're gone." He breathes out roughly, one hand dragging through ink black and soft silver, and when arrived at the back of his head the hand tugs as if to bring his focus back. You nod, they had died a month ago, both of them, and as his eyes looked down to your linked hands you feel like that realization finally weighs in on him.

"You asked me when you woke up what I wanted from you. I've said that I only wanted you healthy, but I suppose I can't in good conscience continue to lie." He freezes and his eyes snap back to yours, hand gripping yours in a vice, not in anger, in something deeper, more all consuming. And you know that from the way the air shifts and his face twitches, like a child terrified of getting struck. "I did want your health to return to you, but I suppose I also didn't want to be alone anymore. People suffer in Zaun, that much is a fact for all of us, but I have seen things and done things, I've lived through events that molded me against my will. Events that most would not understand no matter how much they care. So I remain surrounded but alone, never truly myself with anyone. I guess, knowing parts of what happened to you, deep down...I hoped we could be friends. So I decided to be good to you no matter how bad you could be to me, as I always do, and even if you end up leaving I'll be glad if you at least felt cared for. Because I believe that no matter how well you hide it, you feel alone too."

Eyes lock and his hand relaxes, his eyebrows twitch and his eyes flutter around your face, digging for any hidden viciousness, for any burried intentions, but he finds none. You can see it in the drop of his tense shoulders, in the slow breath coming out of you.

"And you think I'd understand?" He drawls softly.

"I know you would, whether you want to or not. But you have a choice to stay or leave, I will never keep you against your will. As soon as you're good to go, feel free to do whatever you want."

"I'm not a good man."

"People can change, the question is whether they're willing to or not."

Silence ticks by, food untouched as you shift on the bed thinking the conversation is over, yet Silco's hand drags you back down.

"And you're willing to try?"

"Of course."

"It would be rotten work." The words spill from his lips before he can even think of a less emotive answer and your head shakes yet again. You set yourself next to him on the bed, enjoying the plushness of the mattress for the first time in weeks.

"Never to me. It's my job to fix things after all, no matter how battered, broken and unusable, no matter if the process is long, complex, or if I get hurt in the end."

Your hand quits his as it and its twin burrow in your pockets, procuring a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. You place two rolls of paper and tobacco between your lips, lighting them with a flick of the thumb, opening the silver rectangle which provided a large flickering flame. You take one cigarette between two fingers and show it to Silco, asking for a truce of sorts. His hand hesitates, yet shivering fingers find your question and accept its terms, the filter that had previously surrounded by your lips now enclosed between his.

"I don't think I ever had a friend." Your voice softly says, expelling smoke as you broke the comfortable silence, eyes looking up at the ceiling. You see him nod from your peripherals, his head leaning back to do the same as you.

Everyone needs to be drunk on something to stay alive.

And albeit differently, for the both of you it was affection.

prev || m.list || next

Taglist: @vicurious28 @midromiell @zorosleftmantit101 @anthy-j-ander @agathasslutt

[murderdogwater]

How I think the Bachelors and Bachelorettes act when their sick:

Haley: A menace. The type to spit medicine at you like a camel, she'd whine about feeling awful but refuse to take any kind of medication. Don't even try to hide pills in things. She will find them and pick them out. Probably also the type to fake being sick when she was younger just to get princess treatment.

Maru: The type to not tell you she doesn't feel well, and you only find out when Harvey has to carry her back to the farm because she passed out at the clinic. She's probably pretty chill about medicine, but she'll get restless and want something to do while she's on bedrest. But keep an eye on her, or she'll be up trying to make another robot ai nurse or something.

Leah: One of the few who's probably being serious when she says she doesn't get sick. If she does, she'll be pretty chill and will stay in bed, probably sketching, until she's better. If she's sick, she won't stay that way for long, unless it's a real injury, then she's also pretty chill.

Penny: She's probably pretty self-sufficient. She can't exactly taste with how stuffed up she is, so she doesn't know how bad her food tastes. She'll probably eat and sleep a lot and explain it away, saying that Pam left her alone a lot as a kid, so she took care of herself. She'll probably cry if you take care of her.

Emily: She says she doesn't get sick, don't listen to her. Maybe worse than Haley about medication, because she insists that she needs natural methods to heal. She probably gets really delirious and tries to fix it with crystals and burning sage. Just make sure she gets what she needs and give her something to do in bed, and she'll wear herself out.

Abigail: Another one who says they don't get sick and is actually right, more likely to get injured or get food poisoning from her weird diet. Either way she’s pretty chill, and the biggest problem she'll have is boredom. Give her some soup, medicine, and attention, and she'll be fine. Probably plays video games until she feels better.

Sebastian: A BABY. Maximum level baby boy. His two favorite things are soup and tea. He gets sick often and stays that way often. And I feel like Robin is the type to baby him to shit, so he's pouty and needy for attention. Honestly, it will probably get worse if you keep him in bed, so it might be better to make him go outside if possible so he can actually get some sun.

Elliott: He's dramatic but very grateful if you take care of him. If he's really bad, then he'll start talking in Limericks that don't make sense until he falls asleep. Not exactly a baby, but certainly a drama queen. Will complain about his hair being messed up while he's in bed. Might feel better if he goes back to his cabin like a dying woman in a Victorian novel.a

Shane: Oh god, if you think Maru is bad about not telling you when she feels bad, then Shane is 10000 times worse. This man will be throwing up, coughing his lungs out, sneezing loud enough to wake the dead, and still tell you he's fine. You gotta call Jas and have her beg him (from a distance) to lay down and take care of himself. After that, he's chill about everything except his diet, is pissed he can't eat pizza all day but will eat soup and some vegetables if you tell him to.

Alex: Doesn't get sick and is right, but if he gets injured, then he wants princess treatment. He needs his pillows fluffed, his meals hot and on time, and DEMANDS cookies and attention. Evelyn probably spoiled him a little bit as a kid because it was so rare for him to get sick. The only bright side is that he'll gladly take medication without complaint as long as it's followed by a cookie.

Sam: Rarely gets sick, when he does he's a self regulater. If he's really sick, he'll sing softly to himself. His colds come with nightmares, and he'll probably wake up a lot. Cuddle him and make sure he's okay after, and he'll be okay.

Harvey: You'd think that either Harvey would be the type to not get sick or be a big baby. And you're wrong either way. Harvey is sickly and is a horrible self regulator, but he's very grateful for you taking care of him and will be the most cooperative patient ever. Will make dad jokes the whole time. Is very sweet.

[lvnleah]

— christmas chaos buddies 🎄

a little Boxing Day treat featuring your two little favourites! written with @scribblesofagoonerr 💗 bit of a long one at 4.2k words

“Alright, Munchkin!” Beth said, hoisting you up onto her hip so you could see what was on offer at the canteen. “What would you like for your Christmas dinner?”

You looked at the food in front of you, wrinkling your nose. There were big dishes of turkey, potatoes, sausages, and vegetables that didn’t look anything like the ones you liked at home. 

You pointed at the rolls right away. “Bread please.”

Beth laughed softly, shaking her head. “You can’t just have bread, Roo. How about some turkey? Or potatoes? You eat the ones me and Mamma make at home!”

You glanced at the turkey and scrunched up your nose. It looked weird. “I don’t like it,” you mumbled.

“You haven’t even tried it,” Beth said, but she wasn’t really mad. “Come on, just a little bit.”

Next to you, Buddy was tugging on Leah’s hand, bouncing on her toes as she scanned the food, protesting about eating any of it, “I don’ want to eat it!” she announced, dramatically pointing ahead at the tray of steaming broccoli, “It smells funny!”

“Bubba, you have to try it,” Leah sighed, her voice already tired and definitely not in the mood to argue with a stubborn three-year-old, “I need you to at least try and eat one vegetable on your plate, okay?”

“Nooo!” Buddy whined, crossing her arms over her chest, “I don’ like it! It’ ugly, Mummy!”

“It might look ugly, but I promise you it tastes good,” Leah began to explain, trying to stifle her own amusement, “Why don’t you just try them?”

“I think she might have a point about the broccoli, Le,” Monkey chimed in, appearing the other side of Leah as she stood on her tiptoes and attempted to peer over her shoulder, “It looks proper rank and disgusting. I don’t blame her for not wanting to eat none of it.”

“See, Mummy! Monks’ said I don’ have to eat it!” Buddy exclaimed, adamant on her decision to not eat any of it, “Ou’ don’t even eat it either. Why do I’ have to?”

“You pair are a nightmare together,” Leah muttered to herself, shaking her head as she crouched down to Buddy’s level, “How about we just try and put a little bit on your plate, okay? Try it for Mummy.”

“No, I don’ wan’ it!” Buddy shot back, stomping her foot in protest, “If ‘ou don’t have it then neither do I!” she added, determined on her own opinion on the matter of broccoli.

Beth nudged you forward, “Okay, turkey for you. Maybe a few potatoes too?”

“Just the bread,” you tried again, but it was no use. The turkey and a scoop of mushy potatoes ended up on your plate anyway.

As soon as Leah wrestled some broccoli onto Buddy’s plate, you both made your way to the table. It was big and shiny with decorations, and everyone was already sitting down. You joined Lia, Steph and Monkey. Lia was chatting with Steph, Monkey was looking like she was up to something, and Vic was laughing at something Kyra said from the table beside you. Monkey was in a mood because Leah had banned her from sitting with Kyra as their recent antics had been a bit too much. 

Beth sat you on her lap, your plate in front of you. You poked at the potatoes with your fork. They looked mushy. “I don’t like these,” you whispered.

Beth kissed the top of your head. “Just try a little, Roo.”

Across the table, Buddy was already causing trouble. She was sitting on a chair on her knees, playing with her dinosaurs while Leah tried to get her to eat her dinner. 

“Roar!” Buddy shouted, making her plastic t-rex stomp on the table as it almost landed in her own dinner, “M’ t-rex don’ even wanna eat the smelly trees!”

“Bubba, come on, it’s time to put the dinosaurs away now,” Leah attempted to coax Buddy into eating her own dinner, “You can play with them afterwards, okay?”

Buddy scrunched her nose up in disagreement, “I’ no wan eat them smelly green trees! ‘Ou don’ even eat them yourself!”

Leah’s eyes widened at the sass from her three-year-old, “Buddy!”

Monkey snorted from across the table, “Touche, little Buddy,” she leaned across and high-fived the three-year-old, “Nice one!”

“Don’t encourage her,” Leah shot Monkey a look that could have turned her to stone, however, Monkey just continued to grin in amusement, “Bubba, please just try and eat something. How about the carrots instead?”

“They’ gross as well!” Buddy continued to scrunch her face up in disgust, “I wan’ beige food!”

“Well… She’s definitely your kid, Le,” Beth chimed in, amusedly.

“Unbelievable,” Leah muttered, shaking her head as she practically gave up on the idea of getting Buddy to eat any kind of vegetable at this point.

Meanwhile, you were still sitting on Beth’s lap, poking at your potatoes as if they might come alive. Beth sighed softly, guiding your hand with hers to bring a small forkful to your mouth. “Come on, Roo. Just one bite. I promise it’s not that bad.”

You scrunched up your nose but reluctantly took a nibble. It wasn’t as awful as you thought, but you weren’t about to admit that. “It’s okay,” you said, which for you was practically a five-star review.

Beth beamed, “See? I told you!”

Leah glanced over, noticing your tiny triumph, “Look, Bubba, Roo’s being brave and eating new things. Why don’t you try, and you can be brave as well?”

“Nooo!” Buddy shook her head firmly in disagreement.

“Why don’t you eat the potatoes, little miss? They’re very beige,” Beth attempted to help Leah out as Buddy squinted, looking sceptical at it before proceeding to nod, “There we go, we have some luck!” She joked.

“I’ eat off your plate!” Buddy declared, before prompting to take a spoonful of mashed potato off Leah’s plate, “Mm’ it yummy, Mummy!”

“Well I’m glad you at least like the mashed potato,” Leah chuckled, failing to hide her amusement as she now had no choice but to allow Buddy to eat off her own plate, happy as long as she was eating.

You leaned back against Beth’s chest, deciding you were done with the potatoes. That’s when your eyes wandered to the plate next to you—Steph’s.

You reached out tentatively, but Beth caught your wrist. “Roo,” she whispered, her voice both amused and warning as you tried to steal some peas.

You looked up at her with your best innocent eyes. “Just one?”

“Roo, no,” Beth laughed, “If you want some I’ll go get you some, okay?”

You sighed and leaned against Beth’s chest again as she started talking to Lia who was sitting on the other side of the table. When she wasn’t looking you reached over to Steph’s plate and stole a couple peas.  

“Hey!” Steph suddenly turned, catching you red-handed. “Are you stealing my peas?”

You froze for a second, “Nooo?” you giggled. 

Steph raised an eyebrow, her smile playing at the corners of her lips. “Oh really? Because it sure looks like you’re stealing my peas, little Munchkin.”

“Roo!” Beth gasped dramatically, “Are you being a little pea monster?”

You giggled, shaking your head, “Nooo!”

“You’re a little monster!” Beth said, tickling your sides. You giggled as you squirmed in Beth’s lap, slowly slipping off before you were fully standing. 

“Mummy, I’m bored!” You huffed as you stood beside Beth, “I’m done eating.” 

Beth looked at your half-empty plate and then down at you, her eyebrow raised. “Done already? What about your turkey? Or those potatoes you actually liked a minute ago?”

You crossed your arms and shook your head stubbornly. “I’m done, Mummy.”

“Do you not want any more turkey?”

You scrunched up your nose again and looked back at your plate. “Do I have to?”

Beth leaned down and kissed the top of your head before pulling you back up onto her lap. “Just a couple more bites, Roo. Then you can be officially done, okay?”

You huffed dramatically but picked up your fork, poking at the potatoes one more time. You sat on Beth’s lap and started to munch on some turkey, actually liking it this time. 

It wasn’t all that long before Buddy got bored of eating off Leah’s own plate and decided she was done with sitting on the chair.

“Roar!” Buddy shouted aloud, standing on the chair as she held a dinosaur in each of them before proceeding to make them stomp across the table, “Roaaaar!”

“Buddy, bubba, sit down,” Leah exhaled a sigh and rubbed her temple, “Everyone else around the table is still eating. I’m sure they don’t want to end up with a dinosaur in their dinner, do they?”

“I’ pretending to be a dino’daur, Mummy!” Buddy was eccentric, continuing to make her dinosaurs stomp across the table as one nearly fell directly into a plateful of gravy.

However, as soon as Buddy caught sight that you had nearly finished the last bit of your turkey, she had another bright idea, “Me an’ Roo go see everyone else!”

“Not yet, bubba,” Leah began to say, her tone of voice firm but Buddy had already hopped down from her chair, “Buddy, come back here please.”

“What’s the worst that can happen,” Beth joked with the blonde.

“Be careful,” Leah called over, exhaling a sigh as she went back to eating the remainder of her dinner after Buddy had finished picking at it.

“Just don’t cause too much trouble,” Beth called after you both as you slid down from her lap and immediately followed Buddy. 

“Come on Roo!” Buddy squealed with delight, dragging you toward the next table where Katie, Caitlin and Kyra were seated, “Hi, ‘Ra!”

“Hi, pipsqueak!” Kyra grinned, scooping down to lift the three-year-old onto her lap, “And what’re you two up to?”

“I’ be eatin’ my Mummy’s dinner!” Buddy grinned, proud of herself for eating at least some kind of dinner, before she got restless and proceeded to wriggle over to plonk herself on Katie’s lap, “What ‘ou eating Auntie Katie?”

Katie looked down at her plate, then at Buddy, eyebrows raised. “I’ve got carrots, potatoes, and turkey. Do yer wanna try some?”

Buddy scrunched her nose up, “Nooo! Carrots’ gross! Do ‘ou have chips? Me like them!”

Katie laughed. “Chips? At Christmas dinner? What do yer think this is, a takeaway?”

Buddy crossed her arms over her chest and leant against Katie’s chest dramatically, “It’ be better if there were chips!”

“The green things are smelly!” You added in as you climbed up onto Caitlin’s lap beside Katie. 

Alessia raised an eyebrow, “Green things?”

“The trees!” you explained, your voice filled with mock disgust.

Caitlin laughed, wrapping her arms loosely around your waist to keep you from sliding off her lap. “What’s wrong with broccoli? It’s good for you!”

Buddy shook her head fiercely from where she was perched on Katie’s lap, “Nuh-uh. Broccoli look like smelly trees! Mummy said I’ hav’ to try it, but I’ don’ wan it!”

“You should try it. It’s good for yer’ Tiny,” Katie chuckled.

“Nooo way!” Buddy giggled, turning to Katie, “Do ‘ou like smelly trees?”

Katie smirked, “Love ’em. They’re my favorite part of the meal.”

“You’re lying!” you giggled, narrowing your eyes suspiciously at Katie.

Caitlin laughed so hard she nearly choked on her drink. “Oh, you’ve got her figured out, Roo. Katie’s not fooling anyone!”

“Ou’ no’ lie Auntie Katie! It’ naughty!” Buddy insisted, peering up to look at Katie, “Ou’ can’ lie or Santa won’ come!”

“Course I do!” Katie said with a wink, though the way she quickly reached for her water to wash it down made you and Buddy burst into laughter.

“Ou’ lying!” Buddy declared, her voice triumphant as she threw her hands in the air.

“Lying’s naughty,” you added, leaning back in Caitlin’s arms with a cheeky grin. 

Kyra smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, they’ve got you there, Katie. Imagine being called out by a three and five-year-old. What’s next, them doing a protest outside the canteen?”

“We do that!” Buddy insisted, her eyes lighting up in excitement.

“Oh no, no, no,” Caitlin said quickly, pulling you a little closer to keep you from getting any ideas. 

“We do’ it an’ protest again… against da’ smelly trees!” Buddy was already bouncing on Katie’s lap with a plot in mind, “We’ make signs. Monks’ can help! Roo, ‘ou can yell into the loud thing–”

“A ‘egaphone!” you supplied, giggling.

Katie shook her head, trying not to laugh as she put a hand on Buddy’s shoulder to steady her. “Alright, you two, enough of that. I’m not getting in trouble because you started a riot over vegetables.”

“Ugh,” Buddy sighed dramatically, flopping back against Katie, “Come on, Roo. Let’ go an’ find someone’ else!”

You slid off Caitlin's lap, saying your goodbyes as you grabbed Buddy’s hand. The two of you ran around a few tables before you and Buddy scurried over to Amanda and Vic, who were sitting together with Amanda’s baby, Mila, cradled in Amanda’s arms. Mila was tiny, Amanda had only been back for a few weeks but you had been completely obsessed with her. 

“Hi!” Buddy announced her entrance, loud as predicated, “We ‘ere! We see baby?” She asked eagerly.

“Hello, double trouble!” Vic giggled as she helped Buddy climb onto the seat beside her. 

“Baby Mila!” You squealed as you noticed the baby looking at you from Amanda’s lap. 

Buddy continued to look at Mila in Amanda’s arms, “She so small! Why is she’ like that?” She exclaimed, confused.

“She’s only three months old,” Amanda said softly, smiling as she adjusted Mila in her arms as she looked between you and Buddy. “Babies are very little when they’re first born.”

Buddy continued to tilt her head in confusion, “I’ no like that when I little?”

“Oh, you definitely were,” Leah chimed in, crouching beside Buddy as she wrapped her free arm around the three-year-old to keep her steady, “You were once a little tiny baby just like Mila is now, Bubba.”

“Why does she have no teeth?” you asked, pointing at Mila’s gummy smile.

“Babies don’t get teeth until they’re a bit older,” Vic explained, leaning over to tickle Mila’s belly gently. “She’ll get them when she’s ready.”

Buddy’s curiosity got the better of her, trying to reach her hand out as it stopped short of touching Mila’s face, “Can I’ touch her? She won’ bite me, will she?”

“No biting,” Amanda said with a laugh. “You can touch her gently, though. Be very careful, okay?”

“I’ can do that!” Buddy promptly nodded, seriously as her little fingers brushed over Mila’s hand, “She’ so soft! Why don’ she talk?”

“She’s too little to talk right now,” Amanda explained patiently. “But one day, she’ll learn words just like you and Roo.”

“Can she walk?” you asked, your curiosity endless.

“No, Roo,” Vic said, chuckling. “She can’t walk yet either. Babies have to learn how to crawl and then walk when they get bigger.”

“Does she eat smelly trees?” Buddy questioned, wrinkling her nose dramatically.

“Nope,” Amanda said with a laugh. “Mila only drinks milk right now. No smelly broccoli for her.”

“She lucky, cos’ they be’ gross!” Buddy muttered, crossing her arms and looking at Leah pointedly.

“What does she do?” you asked, leaning closer.

Amanda smiled. “She sleeps, eats, and sometimes cries. And she loves cuddles.”

“I’ show her my dino’daurs?” Buddy didn’t hesitate to wait for an answer before eagerly grabbing it and shoving it directly in front of Mila’s face, “I’ show her the t-rex! It’ be loud like me!”

Amanda shook her head gently. “She’s too little to play right now, Buddy.”

“Why no’ play?” Buddy frowned, clearly unimpressed that Mila didn’t do all that much, “She’ borin’ if she no’ do nothin’!”

“She’s just a baby,” Vic teased, nudging Buddy lightly. “You were the same way once.”

Buddy continued to frown at Mila, a small pout plastered on her face, before attempting to try and win Mila over with her beloved dinosaur in her hand, “Look, Mi’a! Roaaaar!” She shouted, her voice loud and excited.

Mila immediately scrunched up her face, her little bottom lip wobbling before a loud wail escaped her.

“Me’ no like how loud she is!” Buddy exclaimed, dropping her dinosaur from her hand and planting her hands directly over her ears, “Mummy! Turn her off, p’ease. Me no’ like it!”

“Bubba,” Leah groaned, scooping Buddy up into her arms before she could attempt to make any more loud noise, “Remember what I said about using our inside voices, hmm? Mila’s very little right now, and we don’t want to scare her now, do we?”

“But I’ just showin’ her my dino’daurs Mummy!” Buddy protested, feigning her innocence, “I’ no get why she no’ like them though!”

“Baby Mila sad?” you said, your eyes wide as you watched Amanda bounce Mila gently to calm her.

Beth came over and crouched beside you, pulling you closer. “Babies are very sensitive. You have to be extra gentle around them, she’ll be okay in a minute.”

“Do you think you can say sorry to Mila for making her cry, Bubba?” Leah coaxed Buddy to apologise to the tiny baby in Amanda’s arms, “I’m sure if it happened to you then you wouldn’t like it either, would you?”

“I’ sorry, Baby Mila,” Buddy pouted, looking genuinely sorry about scaring her.

Amanda smiled softly, rocking Mila in her arms until she settled. “It’s okay, Buddy. She’ll be alright.”

“Right, come on my little dino, how about we give it another attempt to eat some broccoli, hmm?” Leah tried her luck to wrangle Buddy to eat her own dinner, having the advantage of still having her in her arms, “Even dinos’ need to eat their greens, remember?”

“Fine, if I must,” Buddy huffed dramatically, reluctant to eat but having no choice as she’s set back down in her chair, “But if I’ eat them then so do ‘ou as well, Mummy. It only fair. Deal?”

Leah’s own face fell at her three years old’s words, and knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of that one now, “Deal, Bubba,” She agreed, reluctantly eating a forkful of broccoli and trying to not scrunch her face up in disgust at the taste of it in her mouth, “Mm’ this is really nice, I think you’ll definitely like it, bubba!”

“Ou’ no like it either, Mummy!” Buddy barely even ate a bit of it and screwed her own face up in disgust, “It’ no nice, Mummy. ‘Ou no fool no more! It’ yucky and gross! It’ goes in bin!” No more hesitation to climb down from the table, grab her plate in her hand and toddle over to the bin and toss it in.

“Buddy, you barely touched anything on your plate,” Leah chided, shaking her head in disbelief, “Now what are you going to have to eat instead?”

“I’ eat crisps and chocolate!” Buddy declared, promptly while puffing out her chest, “I’ no where there’s secret snacks! Come on Roo, we’ go find Monks’ locker an’ get snacks out!”

“I… I don’t know what she’s even talking about,” Monkey tried to feign her innocence, holding her hands up in mock surrender, while narrowing her eyes to look dead at Buddy, “I thought you and I had a deal, huh? You little snitch.”

“I’ no stitch, I just hungy now!” Buddy insisted, mispronouncing the word and pouting in disagreement as she proceeded to tug on Monkey’s arm, “‘Elp’ us please, Monks’!”

“I want chocolate as well!” Your eyes lit up in excitement at the prospect of sneaking chocolate out of Monkey’s secret stash in her locker. “Can we eat all of it?”

“You little rascals can’t steal all of my chocolate! What will I eat?” Monkey exaggerated a dramatic sigh, “So unbelievable!”

“Nooo! It’s our chocolate!” You said with determination through fits of giggles, “You have to share it with us, Monkey! Tell her Mummy!” You turned to look at Beth to back you up. “Sharing caring!”

“Before you run off and eat any chocolate, you need to finish eating your dinner first, remember?” Beth joked, tickling your sides which earned another fit of laughter. 

“Even the carrots?” You scrunched your face up in disgust, side-eyeing them on the plate.

“Even the carrots,” Beth chuckled, nodding in agreement, “Sooner you eat them then sooner you can run off and find some chocolate from someone!”

“I don’t like it, but fine, I guess I will try,” You dramatically leaned against Beth’s chest as you ate the smallest mouthful of carrot on your fork, “It’s not that bad, but it’s still gross!”

Just then, you heard a familiar voice behind you, and before you could turn around, you felt a tap on your shoulder. “Guess what, Roo?” Kyra’s playful voice cut through the chatter, and you turned around to see her grinning at you, looking mischievous 

“What?” you asked, genuinely curious.

“I heard there might be some leftover chocolate pudding for dessert,” Kyra said, her grin turning into a wink. “Wanna help me sneak some?”

Your eyes widened. “Chocolate pudding?”

“Uh-huh!” Kyra nodded, then looked around to make sure no one was listening. “You in?”

You looked over at Leah and then at Beth, who were too busy with the rest of the table to notice. With a cheeky grin, you nodded eagerly. “Yes, please!”

Buddy quickly chimed in. “I’ help! Me like chocolate!”

The two of you ran off with Kyra who helped you get some chocolate cake each which the pair of you ate in the corner, giggling away. Soon enough, you and Beth were on your way home. 

“Hi Mamma!” You grinned and Viv’s face popped up on the screen. You held Beth’s phone in front of you as you sat in your car seat.  

“Hi, lieverd!” Viv’s warm smile lit up the screen as she waved at you. “Did you have fun today with Mummy and everyone?”

“Yeah!” you exclaimed, leaning closer to the phone. “We had carrots. They were gross, but I ate some! And then Kyra gave me chocolate cake!”

“Chocolate cake?” Viv raised her eyebrows, feigning surprise. “Was it good?”

“Uh-huh, so yummy!” you nodded enthusiastically, “But Buddy wanted to steal all of Monkey’s chocolate first. She’s a chocolate monster!”

Beth’s laugh rang through the car as she listened to your conversation with Viv, “How’s Manchester?”

“Quiet, compared to your chaos,” Viv teased, but her expression softened. “I miss you both.”

“I miss you too, Mamma,” you said, your voice softening. “Are you coming home soon?”

“I’ll be home in a few days, Roo,” Viv reassured you. “And when I get there, we’ll do something special, just us three. How does that sound?”

“Can we have pancakes?” you asked, your eyes lighting up.

“Pancakes it is,” Viv promised with a nod.

“Baby Mila is cute, Mamma!” You told Viv, “She loud though, Buddy didn’t like her crying and wanted to turn her off! She’s tiny.”

Viv laughed at that, shaking her head. “Oh, Buddy wanted to turn her off, did she? I can imagine her face saying that. Babies can be loud sometimes, Roo.”

“Yeah but Mila still cute!” You nodded, “She has tiny hands! I held her, Mamma, and she grabbed my finger!” you added excitedly.

“She already loves you,” Viv said warmly. “You’re so gentle with babies, Roo.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I’m a big girl now!” you declared proudly.

Beth smiled, glancing at you through the rearview mirror. “That’s right, Roo. You’re so good with little ones.”

“I wish you were here too, Mamma,” you said, your voice softening.

“I know, lieverd,” Viv said, her own tone gentle. “But I’ll be back before you know it. And when I am, we’ll have all the pancakes and chocolate cake you want. Deal?”

“Deal!” you grinned.

“Alright, Roo,” Beth said, taking the phone back gently. “Say bye to Mamma.”

“Bye, Mamma! I love you!” you said, blowing a kiss to the screen.

“I love you too, mijn meisje,” Viv replied, catching your kiss with her hand. “Be good for Mummy, okay? I’ll phone you later.”

“Okay, Mamma!” you grinned, bouncing in your car seat with excitement. 

Beth chuckled, saying her own goodbyes before hanging up the phone and tucking it back into her pocket. She glanced at you, “Ready to go inside, Roo?”

You nodded eagerly, “Yep! And we’re having pancakes when Mamma gets home!”

“That’s right,” Beth said with a smile, “But first, how about we watch a movie before bath time?”

“Yeah!” You nodded as Beth got out of the car to unstrap you, “Only if I can have popcorn though!”

“Deal,” Beth said, opening the car door. “Let’s get inside, then.”

As the two of you walked inside, you chattered away about everything you’d seen and done today, the promise of pancakes and dinosaurs filling your thoughts. Beth smiled as she listened, already looking forward to the next few days when the whole family would be together again.

[cosmicladyy]

New

bowser jr. drabble, implied bowser x gn!reader

Junior has seen how happy you’ve made his dad, ever since he met you a while back.

but now that you were officially living within the castle walls, it felt.. different.

a good different. He can’t explain it, how can he when he doesn’t understand it either.

don’t get him wrong, he really likes you. he likes how you compliment him on his paintings and make up fun games to play with him. he likes how you help tie up his hair in his signature ponytail. he likes how you tell him stories that always seem to keep him on his toes. he especially likes how you’d sneak him a cookie or two when his dad isn’t looking in between meals.

but this was new to him, you sleeping in the castle, in his dad’s room.

where he usually runs to when he’s had a nightmare.

but it’s technically your room now too, and he doesn’t know if you even want him in there when you’re sleeping.

what if you get mad at him?

what if you leave his dad??

what if-

“Junior?” the tiny tyke lets out an undistinguished squeak as he nearly jumps out of his shell, the pillow he dragged with him being used as a fluffy weapon.

It’s you! Hair sticking out, pajamas all jumbled, barely conscious you.

you rub the sleep out of your eyes and suppress a yawn, “what’re you doin’ up? It’s late.”

junior hugs his pillow to his chest and buries his snout in it, mumbling.

“had a bad dream.. wanted t’ see papa.”

the sight instantly makes your heart clench, “but I didn’ know if you’d want me in bed with you guys.”

that alone threatens to send you to an early grave.

“aw jun, of course you can.” you crouch down to his level to meet his eyes, “you’re always welcome inside, you don’t have to ask.”

the soft smile you give him makes his tail wag, he sets the pillow aside and wraps his chubby arms around your neck. you feel him relax in your arms as you bring him in for an embrace. after adjusting your grip on his shell (while also being mindful of his spikes), you stand and trudge back inside.

after managing to close the massive wooden door with your foot, you slowly tip-toe over to the equally massive bed, where a certain koopa king lays; his loud snores filling the silence.

“you want me to wake him up for you?” when you receive no response, you look down and realize you’re the only one awake.

you lay the sleeping prince next to his giant father, making sure his head rests comfortably on a pillow, and tuck him in.

sleep is calling your name as you make yourself comfortable and pull the blanket up to your chin, your eyes fluttering shut.

-extra-

what you didn’t know, was that Junior was content with just being in your arms and pretended to have fallen asleep; he didn’t want to wake his dad up now that he was safe with you.

when he knows you’ve fallen asleep, he snuggles into your warm side and curls himself into a ball.

yea, he can get used to this.

[celaenaeiln]

Okay but you can’t just say “I'm not going to get into their brother relationship because that involves how Alfred treats Dick as a son rather than a grandson and is opening a whole new mansion of stuff so I'm going to wrap this up here” and not follow up with another post because that’s just cruel 😔😞 (aka this is me saying I really like & enjoy reading your interpretations and I need more of them HEHE)

😂😂😂😂😂😂

Thank you!!!! <3333

I love thinking about how Alfred treats Dick more of a son than a grandson because their relationship is different from Alfred's relationship with the other kids. Furthermore, it also explains a bunch of his actions.

First of, I know when everyone saw that Alfred had left Dick his entire inheritance they went "What the fuck." There were a bunch of jokes and questioning about why Alfred would do that and a lot of people have wrote it off as Tom Taylor's writing. But here's the thing. Tom Taylor has done a lot of stupid stuff in terms of characterization but he's done quite a few things right and one of them was adequately explaining Dick and Alfred's relationship.

I don't know how many people can read cursive but it says, "I invested much of this wisely and ethically...In fact, I planned to come to you for advice. Like Bruce, your mind is astonishing. You are a problem-solver and the world is full of problems." (There's actually panel during one of Dick and Slade's fight I have saved so lemme know if you or anyone is interested in Dick's innovativeness and how it makes his a terrifying opponent.)

Let me pause right there. This is Alfred's life savings. It's every piece of penny he's saved and every minute of his life is in that money. On top of what he says about Dick's intellect-and I agree and can prove it-he must've loved and trusted Dick an extraordinary amount to do this.

Alfred goes on to say, "I couldn't think of better hands to leave this fortune in. I believe you will see this, not as a personal gain, but as an opportunity. Because I believe in Dick Grayson."

He continues praising him and- HERE IT IS- "I am so very proud to call you my son."

DICK IS ALFRED'S SON.

This is the cleanest, clearest panel where he explicitly says it.

Hold on-this is the cleanest panel that says it? Wait a minute, let me retract that:

"Master Bruce was my son for a while. And then there was you."

THIS MOMENT HAS BEEN BUILDING UP ON US FOR YEARS. Tom Taylor wasn't doing lip service, he was just writing the inevitable!

I swear there's a panel where Dick refers to Alfred as his dad...

*Record scratch* WHAT DID ALFRED CALL DICK? WHAT DID DICK CALL ALFRED?

THIS IS WHY I LOVE THEM!!! THEY ARE GLORIOUS, BRILLIANT, UNDERRATED, AND NO ONE UNDERSTANDS THE FULL EXTENT OF EITHER OF THEIR ABILITIES, LOVE, OR DEPTH OF EMOTIONS.

THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS ON A DIFFERENT LEVEL.

Take the Ric Grayson arc for another example.

Background context: Dick-Ric-was sleeping on the counter and all of a sudden he was startled out of a nightmare thus accidentally ending up bumping into the guy next to him who was drinking. Of course the guy doesn't mind only because it's Dick but anyways, here Alfred makes his entrance. Another thing I love about about this interaction is this is one of the few times Alfred has ever admitted to being in the military. The only other time I can think of him openly saying that is when he's slapping Bruce around.

The worry in the man's eyes for his wayward son...when Bea is snarking with Dick about his tab Alfred decides to pay for him instead.

LOOK AT HIS EYES AS HE SAYS GOOD NIGHT! THE AMOUNT OF EMOTION HE HAS IN THEM IS PURE PERFECTION. THE MAN JUST WANTS HIS SON TO COME BACK.

Not to mention, Alfred adores Dick in a way he didn't even with Bruce.

"For a long time I would dread coming down to this dark hellhole. But the advent of young Grayson has forced an alteration in my attitude. The masters have made much progress in these few short months. I was opposed initially to the recruitment of the lad in Master Bruce's self-appointed 'War on Crime.' But I am prepared to admit my error. Master Richard has mad a difference for the better to our lives."

This is HUGE. Coming from Alfred, this is massive because Alfred LOATHES Bruce's "War on Crime." How much?

So much that he slapped Bruce bloody for it.

The pseudo-father and son beat each other to pieces over it. So after years of Alfred hating Bruce for what he's done, for him to say he only accepts it because of Dick-because of Dick's personality-is enormous praise and accomplishment.

Alfred loves Dick in a way he doesn't love anyone else. And before I get flamed by people for suggesting Alfred loves Dick more than Bruce, I want to say he loves Dick as much as Bruce but in a different manner. He doesn't see Dick as a grandchild who needs to be coddled and softened, he sees Dick as a son he can spoil and cherish.

Him paying off the tab was not only an act of kindness, but it mimicks the way a rich father gives everything to his youngest son. Bruce was the first born he raised but Dick was the baby of their family. This also ties in with how Bruce doesn't see Dick as just him son like he does with the others. To Bruce, they are just as much brothers as anything else.

When Bruce fires Dick from Robin after two-face, Alfred couldn't take it lightly. Dick wasn't just the light of Bruce's life, he was the fucking sun to Alfred's.

I started crying when I read this because the emotions and the pain he's feeling is so visceral. A man who has been MI5 and SAS (Special Airforce Service), who has fought wars, who has fought his son, lost his best friends, is breaking down alone at the top of the stairs over not having Dick as Robin.

You might think that's not all that sad. Worse things have happened. You're overreacting.

Tears are literally streaming down my face as I'm writing this review. Rudolph nose and ugly bloodstained eyes complete with it.

Can you ever imagine loving someone so much?

Crying in silence with a steady voice to never let them know your sorrow?

But sure, sure, he's cried when others were killed like this so I'll go into other special things.

Some of his best moments are with Dick:

The pure adoration in his eyes as he watches his young son go 'flap' 'flap' 'flap' with his older brother's too big cloathes.

He's laughing! Do you know the only times he laughs or grins like that?

That's right-with Bruce! With his other son.

With Dick, he laughs, gets angry, and actually shows interest in things not related to people's health. Dick humanizes Alfred.

Who is the only other person Alfred has gotten mad at? Oh yeah. Bruce.

There's another panel where Alfred just sits by his bedside holding his hand.

It's the little things that matter is a lie. When it comes to Dick, Alfred does things in fighter jet air shows level of affection which he learned just for this during his SAS days.

Their shared interests & mutual understanding

People always think Dick and Alfred have nothing in common between them. Dick is excitable, bouncy, and some other adjective while Alfred is calming, stoic, and butler-y. They actually forget that Dick and Alfred canonically bond of plays. Dick, as I said before, is a massive theater nerd. He loves plays. He really wanted to see that shakespeare play and Alfred said he would take him because he knows people there and then went on to complain about how his brother didn't even drop by to see him. I love their interactions because Dick brings out a different side to Alfred.

Das Rheingold was a German musical drama that was performed as a single opera at the National Theatre Munich. This is the link if you're interested in reading a short synopsis of this complicated play by the Metropolitan Opera. It's like a mix of "The Lord of the Rings" and "The Rings of Power."

Also the fact that Alfred is tying his tie like a father would tie his son's.

I know they make a crack out of it by using Bugs Bunny (Bugs Bunny is a fantastic cartoon! I grew up on it!) but Alfred knows that Dick loves opera and theater and is only asking if this particular play will suit his interests. Okay, great, we know Dick likes theater. You've said that and posted about it before. But how do we know Alfred likes it too and not just because he's British and posh and whatnot?

He has preformed at the London Theater, and this is another way he connects to Dick emotionally. When Dick complains about being Batman, Alfred is the one that tells him:

This is something Alfred understands about Dick that absolutely no one in the family does.

The two of them are show people. They know how to play the role they were given, and they know how to play it well. No one suspects Alfred the Butler of ruthlessly using firearms and no one suspects Dick the Light of the Universe to ruthlessly to manipulate allies.

Dick knows this about Alfred too and never presses for any answers. When Alfred's pulling out a bullet from Dick and performing high level medical techniques he should know nothing about, Dick asks him, "Where did you learn all this, Alfred." To which Alfred responds, "You would be amazed at what you can pick up by watching the Discovery Channel." Dick just gives a pained laugh retorts about his wonderful bedside manners.

They know.

What Alfred sees in Dick is a pure goodness that can't be emulated. He loves his son for how absolutely good he is and is devastated when Dick can't be with him. Of everyone, Dick is the one Alfred is closest to. Other members have their moments with him but no one continually seeks out his presence just for the fact they like him aside from Dick. The rest treat him as an important side character, not a parent. And Alfred responds to that devotion with overwhelming love of his own.

Alfred and Bruce's optimism comes bundled up in the form of Dick. It's stunning how it's always Alfred of all people who admits this. Alfred who isn't supposed to show favoritism or bias is the one that consistently acknowledges how important Dick is to the family and him. This solidifies the fact that Dick is Alfred's favorite.

Other moments that differentiate Dick and Alfred's relationship:

We're pretty familiar with this and many of us have laughed it off when Alfred scolded Dick (also Dick looks hot af here). But can you imagine even anyone else playfully mocking Alfred? THIS. BOY. IS. SPECIAL. Alfred doesn't even blink twice at the address, indicating how typical it is for Dick to act that way with him. You only do that to people you're best friends with.

Casual comfort, the two of them.

Dick and Bruce were brothers and how that ties into Alfred:

Adding to my "Light of Bruce's life" Robin Dick canon, Alfred told Dick that Bruce "would have self-distructed if he hadn't met me and learned responsibility. I made him laugh, and he was like the greatest big brother you could ever imagine...it was our town."

Bruce and Dick are so damn codependent.

Bruce would not have survived without Dick. That's all there is to it.

Robin Dick was the light shining through rain clouds, the glitter in the air, the angel with golden wings, the giggling sweetheart to Alfred and Bruce. He was sunshine, love, and joy and the men both adored, thrived, and cherished him for it.

And if Dick and Bruce were brothers then Alfred was Dick's father and he was Alfred's son.

[480pfootage]

Something I haven't seen talked about a lot in CRP or Slenderverse spaces was the prevalence of fire in relation to the Slenderman (who, for brevity sake, will be referred to as the Operator in this post)..

What really made it click in my head was finally playing the extra level, Nightmare, in Slender: The Arrival (and also my gorgeous @pechadream pointing out the specifics to me ehe..)

Under cut will be a sort of analysis moreso long winded talk on fire in the story of Marble Hornets, JTK, STA, and Toby's...

It is to be noted that Joseph, Troy, and Tim S. all worked on STA -- not sure to what extent, but they are credited. This is important as there are two instances in MH wherein a fire happened. Linking that with the whole "Cleanse with fire" message that STA was going for, it could explain why people like Alex, CR, Toby, or perhaps Tim W. chose the option of burning in an attempt to kill/cover up tracks instead of anything easier.

Talks of purification are laden in this level of STA which reminds me of the biblical motifs of Marble Hornets. The major cleanses with fire in the Bible (Sodom and Gomorrah, Revelations) all refer to God using fire to cleanse a place of its sinners. Alex himself is often seen with stigmata's and imagery of Christ, of a savior; therefore he sees himself doing a favor by not merely attempting to kill Tim (at first at least lol), the root of it all, by typical means, but to purify him in a sense by letting him die by flame. (CR's plan is similar -- basically the same -- to Alex's so I won't talk about him and Kate ;()

Now it's not really confirmed how Tim's psychiatric institute burnt down, but I think it started in his hospital room? Either way, I think it's an interesting link if it was kid Tim who started it: trying to cleanse himself and everyone he affected, but in turn not doing anything useful.

Creepypasta-wise I think it is extra interesting as we never got a reason as to why Toby would choose to light his entire neighborhood on fire. @pechadream pointed it out that the Operator's influence could play into why Toby would do that.. Whether it be as a last ditch effort to cover up his tracks or deluded empathy trying to free everyone (especially his mother) from the Operator's influence.

Now Jeff (talking about Woods here) is a bit more.. farfetched. This is also if he was in the same universe as the Operator. Story goes that he gets set on fire and he comes out fucked up, why the bullies burnt him? Could be related to the Operator could not be. ANYWAYS. Purifying in the Bible is not only limited to fires, of course. I'd like to think of Woods's burning as a sort of baptism for him.. He was born anew and all that and come to think of it this could refer to Toby too

I think what m trying to say is that cleansing with fire should be explored more when talking about slender.. okay thanks

[mothiepixie]

I’m really curious because a lot of the Sanses have a jealous/possessive streak to them, and Motti seems so free-spirited and kind to everyone… does that ever cause conflict in their everyday life? Whether it’s from her hanging out with or getting hit on by other attractive people or monsters or, I guess in terms of “the bad Sanses”, would they ever try to get back at one another at all for hogging extra time with her behind the scenes? And does Motti ever feel stifled or is she appreciative and see it as them looking out for her?

I guess in general what I’m trying to ask is: To what extent are each of the Sanses with that quality jealous/possessive over Motti and how might she react to their behavior based on whatever level they happen to be at?

A lot of it really depends on who openly displays jealousy versus who is seething on the inside. Many of the Sanses lean towards redirecting her attention back to them or even asserting themselves so the person who is flirting or getting too close to her will sense the tension and back off. 

Others will openly show aggression and rudely call out the person which will embarrass Motti. Motti doesn’t perceive people flirting with her quite a lot because she gives the benefit of the doubt that they’re just being friendly since that is the energy she gives. So it will come off unexpected and unwarranted if one of the Sanses reacts boorishly.  While Motti is generally really easy going she doesn’t stand for rudeness and will reprimand if need be. 

Boysen, Big Red, the Bad Time Trio, and Nightmare are perhaps THE worst of the bunch. They don’t hold back or care to be couth and it will cause a lot of arguments.

Boysen is 50/50 with either showing or keeping his jealousy to himself. He has a three strike system he follows and while he does feel secure in himself, he does not like sharing and doesn't like someone lesser than him to even dream of thinking they have a chance. His methods are more insulting the person's intelligence, or attributes before his mask slips and threatens them. Motti will wait until they're home to have a heated discussion. A lot of it will be Boysen pointing out things about their character and that they annoyed him which will make Motti so frustrated she can't explain other then huffing.

Big Red and Motti will butt heads and while she would like to have a proper discussion when they get back home, he does test her patience and sometimes her hot headedness wins. They will have it out right then and there.

The Bad Time Trio see Motti like a cute kitten when she is upset and reprimanding them. It really doesn’t phase them in the slightest (mostly Dust and Horror), Killer likes to act like a kick puppy and try to use cuteness for her to forgive him (he’ll just learn to be more discreet and take care of the person out of view). If jealousy is amongst the three, then it’s one upping the other, smacking the other when Motti isn't looking, or even full on brawls. 

Nightmare doesn’t care in the slightest how upset or long Motti goes on a tangent about how he should act. He has made his claim on Motti and he’ll be DAMNED if he lets some nobody even think they can breathe her air. 

Other Sanses that keep to themselves when they are jealous try not to let it affect the quality of her life. Many of them genuinely know that their jealousy is indicative of their own personal gripes about the fear of losing her. 

Sans, Farmer, and Passive will simmer on the inside then be the kind to redirect Motti back to them, or display affection more so they feel more secure with her. 

Blue cares for Motti so much that if she chose another he would not stand in that person’s way because he cares for Motti’s happiness over his own. He will be the shoulder for her to lean on, but he will always pine for her. 

Dream is a conflicted and complicated fellow. He spends so much of his time giving every piece of himself to others, but also keeping everyone at arm’s length. So when he finally allows himself to love Motti, there are times he doesn’t want her to get too close because he struggles to accept her love for him isn’t due to his powers. However, when someone else gives Motti attention he may feel malcontent and unwilling to share her attention. He won’t ever admit he feels a sense of possessiveness, and will try to ignore his own feelings to make her happy. Lots of forced smiles. He could only share or allow someone to flirt with her if he has complete trust in them not taking her fully away from him. -cough- maybe someone like Blue-cough-