#like. you have the critter there and then what?

[thatruerealmwalker]

... why are like

All the boys give sorta okay kinda bad ones

And the girls are given most of the really bad ones?

Fandom can you please answer me this, why are these the consensus we have for them?

Like specifically Picky. Like all of the BBI's didn't do a cannibalism. Hello?

Actually like these are so basic too-

Bubba is smart, nothing wrong with that- heck if you actually try you could make sub-arcs with the character struggling with expressing emotions.

I'm sure everyone is a 'coward' about something, and having a character that can represent that sometimes it's okay not to do something if their scared is good!

Cannibalism bad, but it comes from a context that honestly really doesn't make sense. Hell if you wanted? Make it a one time lapse in judgement, the rest of the time after wards having Picky trying to atone and do better

What does this even mean? Other then being unoriginal

I'm 'annoying' sometimes, I'm sure the OP can be 'annoying' sometimes, but like... hyper fixations man, they will do that and maybe if you had someone engage with Hoppy like she's like that I'm sure you can turn that annoying into something cute and charming! Annoying really just means something you don't want to deal with right?

Yandere? Try someone so starved of love that they would do anything to protect someone who gives it to them. Maybe have a conversation in your writing been Bobby and the character, setting boundaries and trying to steer the character into more healthy expressions of love, despite the abuse she went through

Dogday is not a character who should be held to perfect standards. Let characters have flaws, it makes them like... actually people!

So?

Man I can't believe I ranted to no-one about this I should be writing more critter stuff-

A message from the smiling critters to the nightmare critters(And the fandom kinda)

guess the ref

[quipxotic]

Cannot express how much I, a women without children, who regularly has to deal with people assuming I must have them because of my age, and after all what good am I as a woman if I don’t have kids - hate hate hate the idea that Vax and Keyleth need to have a kid. I know that’s not the point of people who are suggesting it. I know it’s meant to be romantic or pinning or something sweet, but the suggestion is deeply disturbing to me.

Let Keyleth grieve her lost love. Let her live her life healed or healing, just as herself. Let her find a new love who can actually be a part of her life, if that’s something she decides she wants. (Or likely several new loves, given her lifespan.) Let them choose to have kids or not, whatever they decide together.

We already have a Vax Jr., he’s Vex and Percy’s kid. If you want a romantic gesture, there’s oodles of options that do not involve getting someone pregnant.

Let Vax have an end. How about in 2025 Keyleth, Vox Machina, and Critters learn to let Vax go. Please.

[omenarchive]

C3E114 Fight for the Bloody Bridge

Happy Thursday, Critters! What a time for Vox Machina, huh? We have a new superlative for Campaign 3 combat lengths. We’ve also dusted off some Vox Machina superlatives based on CritRoleStats' data (with an assist from the CR Wiki!) from Campaign 1 itself.

Meanwhile, let’s dive into some stats from C3E114. While Vex predictably took the most damage, she also came very close to being the episode’s #1 damage-dealer, coming in with 438 points dealt—only 16 points below Grog’s 454.

105 of those points were radiant damage dealt by the Blessing of the Dawnfather during Ozo Cruth’s Frenzied Wrath barrage, during which he attacked Vex 11 times.

In total, Ozo Cruth had over hit 500 points. He took 495 confirmed damage, plus an unknown additional amount from two Scythe Claw attacks by Scrag, one of which was a nat 20.

Judging by the other Scythe Claw attacks we saw, which each dealt between 11 and 28 points of damage, the total damage Scrag dealt to Ozo Cruth was most likely between 33 and 84 hit points, making Cruth’s approximate total HP somewhere between 528 and 579.

This is at least 93 more hit points than Otohan Thull, whose total was between 400 and 435—although Cruth didn’t have a potion that could heal 66 points in a single round! This episode saw eight player nat 20s as well as seven DM nat 20s—a number we know to be mercifully low thanks to the disadvantage inflicted by Lieve'tel's Holy Aura and blindness from Pike’s Sunburst.

C3E114 also saw eight definitive kills (two by Vex, two by Grog, and one each by Pike, Scanlan, Cerkonos, and Vax), three of which got the coveted “how do you want to do this?”

And, lastly, for some closeups on Matt’s gorgeous battle map, check out https://omenarchive.com/c3/e114/#heading-battlemaps—we’ve captured several dozen.

Check out the rest of our stats for the episode, and see you on Ruidus!

[blueishspace]

(Slay The Watcher route 8 p6)

Mumbo: The world, what are we saving? I don't have any memories of it which is ...sus.

The Narrator: You want me to tell you about the world? ... Like, all of it?

Mumbo: Yes. Right, Scar?

Scar: Uh...sure!

The Narrator: How am I even supposed to do that?

Mumbo: I don't know but that's our condition.

The Narrator: ... The world is... beautiful. There are mountains and lakes and forests and meadows. It's filled with trees and birds and critters and most importantly... People.

Mumbo: ...

The Narrator: People whose life is going to depend on your actions today.

Scar: What are these people like?

The Narrator: Well they are all different! Some live under the sea, some deep in caves or on top of mountains. Some create impressive buildings, some create complex machinery, some are hunters or fighters or scientists.

Scar: That...does sound beautiful.

The Narrator: Is that enough for you?

Prev Next First

[hexbians]

Okay so hear me out. Bizarre Jayvik au…

Subnautica. (Spoilers for both the game and Arcane season 2)

Piltover is kind of the equivalent of Alterra, big greedy-for-progress science corporation that runs a lot of earth and intergalactic travel and junk. (Other nations of runeterra are probably like- competing corporations idk.)

Jayce and Viktor are renowned research partners who contributed a lot of scientific knowledge to the invention of the phase gates (space hexgates) and they’re sent on the Aurora to go scope out planet 4546B. It’s their first field mission they’ve done together. Viktor did some private missions on his own through Singed before he got scouted into Piltover by Heimerdinger, and Jayce and his mother used to live on a colony planet before a natural disaster drove them out and he’s done lots of separate missions once he’d joined Piltover, but they’ve never gotten to run their research on a planet together before. It’s a very exciting prospect.

What they aren’t expecting is for the ship to get shot down by a mysterious alien canon and to crash land on 4546B. They get separated due to a tear in the ship and have to take separate lifepods to escape. Viktor lands in the reefy shallows (where the player lands in the game), while Jayce’s pod winds up landing on the floating island because he’s a lucky fucking duck. Viktor’s resourceful as hell, though, so as soon as he’s able to scrap together a seaglide, his leg isn’t much of an issue.

The plot details are a bit fuzzy, but eventually they do reunite, Jayce has got a whole garden going on the island, Viktor’s gathered tons of resources and has a pretty solid base, and they both are slowly learning more and more about not only the intelligent lives who once inhabited this planet, but also Piltover’s corruption and dubious plans for the planet. (Cue environmentalism win as Jayce and Viktor plot to stop them) also they both get sick and do the whole sea empress cure plot.

The plot definitely bleeds into Below Zero because I want something to set them apart, like maybe Jayce thinks they can go change Piltover for the better, but Viktor recognizes their corruption for what it is and leaves Jayce. Also he definitely gets severely injured either before or after that and Jayce revives him using the decoded research of the aliens who once lived there, and utilizes their tech, and can you IMAGINE Machine Herald but alien? The hexclaw being one of Al-An’s cool levitating arms? And Jayce going lowkey feral and being like Maida with the battle suit and pet snow stalker?

They make amends at some point, cure the virus once and for all in the big old iced leviathan, and stay on the planet together, warding away visitors who might harm it.

Anyway alien machine herald and feral Jayce with his massive dog and maybe Viktor finds a Rio-adjacent critter friend as well? I need it. They guard 4546B and Viktor lowkey formed that mental connection with Jayce like Al-An so they can mind text. They’re also husbands. Win for environmentalism AND the gays.

That’s all, I’m sleep-deprived at an airport, the end.

[choccy-zefirka]

Hjördis Laidir's Guide to Being Fearless

Fear, you see, comes from overthinking. Thinking in general, even.

The more you turn something that frightens you over and over inside your mind, the more your thoughts begin to drip a very particular black goop. You must have felt it when you were afraid. It bubbles underneath the surface, closing up your throat, filling your lungs, not letting you breathe — sometimes even reaching the backs of your eyes and blinding you. A tiny Blight, if you will, of your very own making.

So to keep yourself from suffocating, just... Don't think. Don't allow yourself those still, quiet moments when your mind stirs and begins playing tricks on you.

Move fast, look ahead, grab on to your very first instinct and let it pull you along — like you are rushing down frothing river rapids astride a giant man-eating raytooth; an even bigger, nastier cousin of the critter that almost shredded Bharv and his team, when yet another of his plans fell apart. Well, when I dealt with that thing, I had no plan, aside from prying a friend's prosthetic arm out of its barbed tunnel of a mouth. And I did just that, with no time wasted on churning thought goop.

We both got our gold and glory in the end, and I landed with an eye-catching new scar: several circles of razor tooth marks right over my shoulder. Beloved by the ladies, the gents, and pretty much everyone else. Would I be getting free drinks in exchange for my scar story if I mulled about on the shore, thinking? I dare say not!

So yes. To be fearless, act like you just grabbed a haul of elven statuettes from some human "collector's" vault and are bolting across his posh gardens, weaving and ducking among the fluttering swan shrubs, the back wall in sight and the guards at your heel. Outrun the guards. Outrun your thoughts.

See a log between two clifftops, bridging a long, narrowing funnel of a drop, with nothing but blue mist at the bottom? Walk it. Walk the damn log. Don't think about what's below. Just keep balance and push ahead.

Catch a glimpse of the cultist you are chasing, a bright-red dot against the city grey, flailing their robed arms and doing their ghastly blood rituals on a rooftop? With the only way to get to them being a zip line? Grab tight, and whizz forth. Over the streets. With the golden windows flickering far below your floating feet; with the moon enormous and bright behind your back; with the rusty smell of your quarry's magic hitting your nose, breaking through the rank mixture of stagnant water and someone's doomed cooking. Don't think. Fly. You will never reach your target if you think.

When someone screams for help from the frothing golden maw of a burning building, be the first to rush in. Give yourself no pause to imagine how the fire will feel, eating at your skin. When the tattoo master offers to ink you, grin and agree to the largest, most outrageous design that would get you banned from entering several Chantries. When you are offered a dare, accept it, and top it up with some extra flourish. To show just how fearless you are.

When your favorite uncle — well, your mothers' best friend, technically, but my first impulse is to call him that, and I never thought twice about it — comes by with an urgent plea to chase down some weird mage he used to know, and stop him from destroying the world... Do not even blink. Follow him into the craziest, upside-down maelstrom of acid-green wild magic and floating rocks. Jump with him into the very Fade. Whatever it takes. No hesitation. No fear.

And somewhere along the way, you may meet another weird mage. Weird — and terrifying. Because he's a necromancer, and you have seen — I have seen — what his kind can do, what horrors they sculpt from the rotting, squelching flesh-clay. You remember — I remember — that night in the old foundry, when Mama Tillie lost her own mother and gained a daughter. I was a tiny, trembling urchin back then; I'd taken a wrong turn on an errand for the creepy mirror man (that story will cost three free drinks), and stumbled into a death mage in the middle of stitching his dead wife back together from matching scraps carved out of other women. Now, that is food for black, goopy thought if there is one.

So. Anyway. Say you do meet a necromancer. And he frightens you to your very core, more than fire or a steep careen off a cliff or the dripping scarlet jaws of a sea monster ever will. What do you do then?

Right. You don't think. You follow your first impulse. Which, since you are — I am — also the daughter of Mama Bela, is to flirt. Relentlessly. Strike a confident pause. Try to stare him down, even if you barely reach his chest. See what will finally make that bookworm stumble over his words; what will finally make a blush creep over his cheeks.

Then, you just might realize that he is not so terrifying after all. That he is courteous and attentive... Which shouldn't matter; Mama Tillie always said that the death mage from the foundry was courteous and attentive with her mother before he took her... He wooed her with white flowers, dammit!

But — but his smile seems so sincere. His eyes seem so kind.

Watch out. You may slip. You may plummet.

Oh.

Oh shit.

[canisbeasts-ooc]

I think I have no idea how ref sheets work..

[qwanderer]

Hello again! This time I'm pulling together a few different ideas from @wordsinhaled @nix-nihili @idliketobeatree and myself to create:

Five brunches that were just for Edwin and Crystal, and one where Niko was invited too!

CW: references to stalking and abuse

1. Cinnamon Swirl Muffins

Years ago

They became aware of each other when they both reviewed the same restaurant.

Edwin could find no fault in the place. The food was technically perfect in every way, precisely plated, the ingredients fresh and the combinations of flavors well reasoned. He had obviously given the place a glowing review.

The comments on that particular entry on his blog included a link to Crystal's vlog, and her review scornfully insisting that the place had no soul at all and that visiting it had been the most stultifyingly boring experience she'd ever had at a place.

Not in so many words. She was brash and casual; she swore freely in her reviews. Overall, she struck him as rude and uncouth, a troll, rather than a serious critic.

Edwin would have dismissed her out of hand, but the popularity of her videos far outstripped his little blog's readership.

He gave into the temptation to disparage her video in the comments. She countered, calling him snooty and snobby.

And thus begun their rivalry.

They argued over restaurants, recipes, techniques; he critiqued her pans and the fact that she kept her knives loose in a drawer! He stood by all his positions, but he kept at it because it was entertaining, and because it drew attention to his own blog. It was mutually beneficial, really.

The cinnamon swirl muffin recipe was the breaking point, however.

He'd once been given some bad milk as a prank by the other boys at school and he'd been wretchedly sick for days. Crystal's position was inexplicable and utterly irresponsible. Food critics were supposed to be advocates for the best of everything, and certainly shouldn't be suggesting people consume anything that had gone off.

Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft, however, was adamant that the best way to make her cinnamon swirl muffins was with sour milk.

After a long back-and-forth, Edwin reluctantly agreed to meet at Crystal's flat for a tasting. She, of course, filmed him with her phone as she set the muffins in front of him.

They did smell appealing, but that was no guarantee.

"If I am subjected to food poisoning because of this," he told her and the camera, "I will make you regret it."

"Dude," said Crystal, "you just saw me take them out of the oven. They're still warm. All the little critters are dead. It's just like the yeast in bread. Nothing to be afraid of."

"It is not the same thing as yeast," he objected, but he'd made an agreement, and so he gingerly selected a muffin, breaking off a small piece of it. He sniffed it.

"You're stalling, you coward," Crystal goaded him, but her expression held a humor that the camera couldn't see.

"Excuse me, I am savoring," he told her with raised eyebrows, "or at least attempting to."

"Well, go on, then. Savor away."

Edwin popped the piece of muffin into his mouth.

It had a light, resilient moisture and a buttery taste that formed a marvelous contrast with the flavorful sweetness of the cinnamon swirls. He frowned at the rest of the muffin in consternation, and then took another bite.

It was just as undeniably delightful as the first.

"So," Crystal asked pointedly. "What's the verdict?"

He narrowed his eyes at the camera. He gave a long sigh. And he said, "I am forced to admit that these are delicious."

She laughed at him, and turned the camera on herself. "There you have it, folks!" she crowed. "Even the great Edwin Payne of Deconstructed Palates has to bow to the superiority of my muffin recipe secrets!"

She turned off the recording. "Thanks for humoring me," she said. "That's gonna go viral, just see if it doesn't."

"Yes, well, only time will tell if I suffer any harm from this," he said ruefully.

"Nah," said Crystal. "I mean, I stand by my recipe, it's not dangerous, but also I didn't have any old milk so I just put a little vinegar into some fresh milk instead. It does the trick."

Edwin blinked at her. "That is dishonest," he said.

"Yeah, well." She shrugged. "Sometimes that's show biz."

He had to admit that he felt better knowing he hadn't actually eaten anything rotten.

That was the beginning of regular brunches between the two. These were not for public consumption, but instead showcases of skill at first, showing off and trying to one up the other. That changed fairly quickly; they both had too much respect for the food to use spite as a heavy seasoning. Instead it became for the pure joy of cooking for someone else. After all, breakfast food had always been one of Edwin's particular favorites to indulge in, and having someone to cook for made it even better.

2: Full English

Years ago

Edwin began to worry when Crystal stopped talking about her partner, David, and continued to worry when she stopped inviting Edwin to brunch at hers.

They still traded off cooking each time they met. Her excuse, that "Your kitchen is just better, Edwin," was undoubtedly true, but he could tell that wasn't the full story. He knew very well that she could work wonders in that little kitchen.

Her videos became shorter and more sporadic.

And then came the first time she'd ever cancelled on him.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it, but even over the phone her voice had the barest tremble in it, and it was as if he could hear his younger self in it, the desperate attempts at composure to fend off something worse.

"Crystal," he said carefully, "if you need anything, I am here."

There was silence for a moment.

"We're not even really friends," she said. "We're rivals. Just happen to both be in the business of food." But she didn't sound happy about it.

"We are friends," he told her, "and I mean it. If you need anything, please tell me."

The following silence was longer, and then she said, very quietly, "Can you help me move out?"

—

He came over early the next morning after David had left for work, and helped her pack the essentials, anything she'd need and anything she couldn't bear to part with. A futon and a folding table that just barely fit into her car. The entire contents of her kitchen.

She'd found a place above a butcher's shop that Edwin had never been to, but which was apparently the subject of one of Crystal's videos. The proprietor was frightening, but also sharp and sarcastic in a way that Edwin could appreciate, and he'd gotten distracted while carrying a box of Crystal's things by some educational and visually appealing signage that she had in her shop.

Once they'd gotten all of Crystal's things up to the new flat, she sat down at the folding table with a heavy sigh. "Ugh," she said, putting her hands to her head. "How do I even. Like. Do anything. Just keep doing life things like everything is normal." She looked around the strange kitchen, seeming utterly lost. "And it's my turn to do brunch, and you're supposed to feed people who help you move."

"Not to worry," said Edwin, assessing the tiny kitchen. "I will cook this morning."

"No, hey, it's really my turn to cook," Crystal said, shaking her head. "And I know you always like to have a plan ahead of time."

"I am always prepared to cook a full English breakfast," he told her.

She huffed out a sigh, staring him down. "Edwin Everett Eleazar Payne," she said, "you have done more than enough to help me today."

He did not back down. "Crystal Palace Surname-Von Hoverkraft," he replied, "you are the closest thing to family I have, and you cannot stop me from doing what I can for you when you are going through hardships."

"Oh," she said, her voice small. "Yeah, okay."

"There are some components that are not ready to hand, but I can go out to the shops, it won't take long."

"I don't…" Crystal stopped herself. "No, sorry, it's silly."

"I am sure it is not," Edwin told her.

"I don't want you to leave just yet," she admitted.

He knew there were things more important than the food right now. But his stubborn instinct for serving a proper meal led him to ask, "Would you be all right if I popped downstairs for a bit of bacon? I'll be less than a moment."

Crystal smiled tiredly. "That is gonna be nice, isn't it?" she said. "Yeah, go ahead. I'll go bother you if you take too long."

—

They chatted as Crystal moved things around the flat a bit aimlessly and Edwin familiarized himself with Crystal's new kitchen, putting things in better order as he went, and started the familiar motions of putting together a simple breakfast.

"Hate to say it," Crystal said, "but it's a little sad that I'm the closest thing you have to family when I wasn't even sure you liked me until yesterday."

Edwin gave her a look. "You should know by now that I am brutally honest when I don't enjoy an experience."

"Yeah, unless you can’t come up with some technical explanation to hide behind, so you convince yourself you should like it," she argued.

There was, unfortunately, some truth to that, Edwin knew. "Fair," he said, and turned to face her. "Crystal, I enjoy our brunches immensely."

"Good," she said. "But. So. Really? You don't have anyone else like that? No family?"

"I have relations," Edwin told her. "We are not close."

"No, yeah, I get that," Crystal said, opening up a box and poking through it. "My parents aren't really. Around. They don't really care what I do or what happens to me."

Edwin thought about what that would have been like.

"My parents cared very much what I did, at one point," he offered.

"At least that's something," Crystal sighed.

"Perhaps," Edwin said. "But what they wanted was a son with flawless social graces, not prone to emotional outbursts, heterosexual, and inclined to the study of law."

"God. That explains so much." She shook her head. "I guess we're both screwed up, just in opposite directions."

It was true. And she was his closest friend, and he had seen so many of her vulnerabilities today.

"I can still feel it," Edwin said. "The weight of their eyes on me when I did anything even the slightest bit wrong. Laugh too loudly, eat too eagerly, slouch, complain. Come down to dinner in anything less than perfect dress for the occasion. They would make me leave the table, and I would go hungry."

"Fuck," Crystal said passionately. "Yeah. That doesn't sound better. I mean, yeah, I was ordering my own pizza when I was like, seven, but at least that meant I got to eat whenever I wanted."

"That doesn't make it right," he told her.

"I'm starting to get that," she said. "So, that happened a lot?"

"Regularly." Edwin sighed as he cracked the eggs into the pan. "And even when I learned not to actively disappoint, I still could not be the boy they wanted. Could never bring a nice girl home for them to meet, or pretend to be interested in discussions of law and finance. There was always some pointed remark that made it clear I was falling short."

He frowned down at the pan for a moment before retrieving bread for toast.

"I remember the times when every relative absolutely had to ask where I was planning on going to university. And of course I couldn't answer. I'd applied to the places my parents had most strenuously insisted on, to keep them mollified. But I already knew I wasn't going. I hid the culinary school applications. Hid the whole idea, until I couldn't anymore. And oh, when I told them, how they made their displeasure known. But I had committed, by then. I had made a plan. And it didn't involve them. My life would never involve them again, not really."

Crystal hummed softly, and Edwin became suddenly aware of what Crystal was currently going through.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I'm going on and on about my troubles, and you…"

"No, I don't want to talk about it right now," she interrupted. "Thanks for asking. Your sob story is a nice distraction, actually." She closed the box she'd been looking through and set it back down where it had been. "When you went to school, did things get easier?"

There was something wistful to the tone of her voice.

Edwin remembered that Crystal hadn't gone to university. That Edwin himself had made her very aware of that fact, on multiple occasions, when she hadn't known something that he'd learned in his very most basic classes.

He hadn't known any of it before those classes.

But the fact was that Crystal didn't need a degree in culinary arts to be a very effective food critic, a voice people listened to for a reason. He resolved not to do any more to make her feel as if she might be missing some crucial piece of expertise.

"Some things did get easier," he told her. "I had the space and resources to learn what I wished to learn. There was still homophobia and bullying, still expectations I couldn't possibly live up to. But I am not there anymore, either."

Crystal laughed darkly. "Look at us. Me needing so badly to be looked at that I move in with the first controlling abusive asshole who gives me any attention at all. And you needing so badly not to be looked at that your only friend didn't even know you were friends."

Edwin turned to look her in the eye again. "We're done with that," he told her emphatically. "We've found our way here."

Crystal got up and started towards him, and Edwin glanced at the eggs, turning off the hob before he could be tackled into a desperate, tight hug that he didn't know how to return.

But for Crystal, he would learn.

3. Spiced Onion Crepes

Months Ago

"Woah," Crystal said as soon as she walked into his flat. "Something smells really good."

"Is that so terribly unusual?" Edwin asked lightheartedly.

"Well, no," Crystal said, making her way to the kitchen. "But this is different. What are you making?"

"It's a spiced onion crepe," Edwin told her.

"Never heard of that," Crystal said, going over to peer at the mess on his counter. "Is it a new recipe you found somewhere, or have you been holding out on me?"

"I've been experimenting with some new flavors, if you must know," Edwin said, shooing her away to the table so he could continue cooking.

"Huh. Just out of the blue?" Crystal asked pointedly.

And Edwin wished he had lied, said he found the idea somewhere, because how could he explain that this fresh new burst of experimentation was because of Charles?

Charles, whom he barely knew, but whose smile he just couldn't forget about. Contagious even to think about.

Edwin finished up, plating the crepes and bringing them to the table.

"Okay, I have to try these," Crystal said, grabbing her plate out of his hand and digging in.

He rolled his eyes fondly and set his own plate down properly.

"Oh my god," Crystal said between bites, "I need this one for my recipe box, just so you know."

"I'll be sure to write it up for you," Edwin promised, taking his own first bite.

He'd had an idea of how he wanted it to taste, and he'd tasted some elements while cooking, of course, but, with everything together, as it was meant to be, there was a brightness to it, a liveliness, that surpassed his imagination, and that was unlike anything he had ever cooked before.

And Edwin knew who he owed the thanks for that.

"Ok, something is going on with you," Crystal said, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "What's got you smiling like that? You never smile like that."

"Like what?" Edwin asked.

"With teeth!" she exclaimed. "Come on. Tell me."

Edwin hesitated. It really was embarrassing how little time with Charles it had taken to influence him so much. By all rights there shouldn't be anything to tell, not yet.

"So there is something!"

"Crystal—"

"Don't Crystal me, Edwin—"

"Oh, all right," Edwin said, taking a breath. "It's just... I met someone, not long ago, and he..."

"You what?" Crystal's eyes went huge. "Where? When? You never go out—"

"It is not like that!" he hastened to correct. "It is not like that at all. I. I met him through work. He's. Well. He's the proprietor of an establishment I recently critiqued and I... find myself quite... well. I find I cannot stop thinking of him." Edwin laughed ruefully at himself. "It is rather silly, really, we have only met the once."

"Damn, Edwin. Who is this guy?"

Edwin knew he could never explain the impression Charles Rowland had made on him. But he felt compelled to try.

"When I was taking my nutrition courses," he said, "we read a scientific study which found that people absorb more nutrition from the food they enjoy and prefer, even over food that is nutritionally identical. That meant that joy was important to feeding the body. The pleasure of food is vitally important." He smiled. "At the time, it sounded like utter nonsense."

"It doesn't anymore?" Crystal asked.

Edwin peered down at the magical thing that he'd created. It felt like it had to be doing more for him than simply an average breakfast.

"I knew that I wanted to study the art of food for the joy it could bring," he said. "But somehow it is only now that I think I am beginning to understand exactly how much joy that can be, and how it fits into everything else that food is." He paused, thinking back over what he'd said and cringing. "No, sorry, I'm not making much sense, I'm afraid."

"I'd agree it sounds pretty out there," Crystal said, "but I just ate these amazing crepes? So I guess the proof is in the pudding."

Edwin laughed.

4. Idli, Chutney and Mango Lassi

Weeks Ago

It was just a snatch of unguarded conversation in the comments of an Instagram post that must have done it, Edwin thought in retrospect.

Niko Sasaki: I wouldn't want to get in the way of your brunches. I know they're important.

Crystal Palace: Not a problem. We're just gonna meet there this week. I swear, he spends more time cooking at that place than he does in his own home these days.

—

Edwin was quite proud of his latest batch of chutney. It might have been Aadhya's recipe, but she'd given the compliment of telling him that it tasted exactly right. That if she hadn't known better, she would have thought she'd made it herself.

He was stretching the rules of brunch this week because he hadn't been the one making the idli this morning, but he told himself it really wasn't so different than serving toast made out of storebought bread, which was obviously allowed.

"I'll bring you guys your drinks in a sec," Charles said, watching Edwin contemplate trying to carry everything at once. "So you don't have to be back and forth once you sit down to eat."

"Thank you," Edwin said gratefully, and carried the food to the small table Crystal had claimed where he sat, eager to explain the intricacies of the chutney technique.

They had only gotten a few bites in when Crystal stiffened. A cautious mood came over her that Edwin hadn't seen since…

"Oh my god, how did he find this place," she murmured, trying to hide her face and look casual at the same time.

Since he'd helped her move.

Edwin knew who he would see even before he turned his head.

"Fuck," he said, seeing David by the host station.

"I didn't know you swore," Charles said, coming up to their table with raised eyebrows.

"I do when I see Crystal's horrific ex," Edwin said darkly.

"Fuck, where?" Charles looked around as if he'd be able to spot David based on nothing but his aura, never having seen a picture of him.

Crystal blew out a breath. "It's been like two years since I dumped his ass, I cannot believe he's still trying to pull this shit," she grumbled.

"Well, maybe he's not here for you?" Charles suggested, although he looked a bit dubious about it himself.

Then David spotted them and strode towards their table. "Crystal! Crystal I'm so glad I ran into you, I really want to talk."

"No," Crystal said loudly.

Charles stepped between them before David could get within two meters of the table.

"Come on, babe," David said, craning his neck to peer around Charles.

"She said no," Charles told him pointedly.

"This isn't your business," David snapped at Charles.

"You are literally standing in my business," Charles countered.

David pushed forward, Charles pushed him back. It may or may not have been accidental that he used the same hand that held a brimming glass of mango lassi.

Which was now streaming down David's front.

"Fuck," David said, looking down at his yogurt soaked clothes.

"Right," Charles said. "Get the fuck out of my restaurant. Now."

David growled at him for a moment.

"Go!" Charles pointed to the door.

Only then did David turn around and leave, dripping as he went.

Charles winced. "Sorry about your drink," he said to Crystal. "I'll get you another."

"No, do not apologize for that," Crystal told him, looking impressed. "That was amazing."

"Well then," said Charles, grinning. "Don't worry. I'll always spill drinks on a raging dick for you."

"Ugh, thanks, you're the best," she told him.

Edwin couldn't help but agree.

5. Apricot Scones

Last Week

"So are you gonna make a move on your boy or not?"

Edwin nearly inhaled scone crumbs.

"Crystal, he is not my boy—"

"Yeah, not yet!" Crystal gestured at him exasperatedly. "Because you won't do anything about it. That's what I'm saying. Are you going to do something about it or not?"

Edwin opened his mouth to answer, wavered, then began, "I cannot simply—no matter what I feel for Charles, I—that is not how one makes decisions, Crystal, simply based on how they are feeling in the moment!"

Crystal gave a judgemental hum, clearly unconvinced.

"This is not…" Edwin sighed. "It's not a question of a bit of self-conciousness I need to be prodded out of. We both know I'm not shy about my interest when the situation calls for it," he pointed out.

"You mean when it's someone you don't really give a rat's ass whether they respect you in the morning or not," she said ruthlessly.

Edwin wanted to be able to argue, but he thought of the obvious example, his longest relationship to date.

Crystal had taken him to the restaurant where that began, as it did, with an overheard, half-joking "I could kiss whoever made this."

Thomas had taken him up on that, taken him home with Crystal's teasing good wishes, and Edwin had thought of the whole thing as fun, a lark, until Thomas had come down with feelings.

Edwin had tried, honestly tried, but it simply wasn't what he wanted.

Charles was what he wanted. But the nature of the relationship was so much less important than the time spent. The trust, the closeness. Everything they already had.

Perhaps this was the first time he truly cared how things might progress. The first person he was both attracted to and wanted to impress. Perhaps Crystal was right that he was brave only when it didn't count.

That weight was no less felt for having been pointed out.

"This is not something I can afford to ruin," he told her. "This show, the restaurant, it's important. To Charles, and to his mother. I could damage our professional relationship. And our friendship."

Edwin thought of how difficult it had been, thinking that Charles did not view their friendship as important enough to confide in Edwin about major events in his life. His mouth went dry.

"I could..." His voice failed. He started over. "I could lose Charles," he managed. "And that is... unthinkable."

"Okay," said Crystal, buttering another scone, "you've clearly already thought about this a lot. Like. Way too much. You do know you're completely gone for him, right?"

"I am entirely aware," Edwin said pointedly.

"And he's clearly pretty damn attached to you. Do you think it's fair to him to keep this secret?"

That—

Crystal might have a point about that. Just possibly.

But it made her a terrible hypocrite to say so.

"Alright, then why haven't you told Niko how you feel yet?" Edwin asked her.

"That's—" Crystal put down her scone in order to glare at him more petulantly. "That's different. She's busy, her career is just taking off—I can't fucking distract her with this." She stared into the jam jar morosely. "Besides, I'm not even sure she likes me like... that."

Edwin recalled vividly every time he had gone to visit Crystal only to find her in Niko's apartment instead, how often their conversations turned to Niko's accomplishments, how Niko looked at Crystal like she'd hung the moon, how when Edwin was helping Crystal move in, Niko had peeked her head out and gone completely still with the most wonderstruck look on her face.

He cleared his throat. "Crystal. I hesitate to criticize in such strong terms, but—"

"Please," she said. "You love to criticize. Don't front."

"Fine. Are you a fucking idiot, Crystal?"

She blinked at him for a moment.

"So you, uh…" She bit her lip. "You're pretty sure she likes me back?"

"I am certain," Edwin said.

She thought about that for a moment, and then shook her head. "Right, okay, and you can't see that Charles is like, way more enthusiastic about you?"

That wasn't a good point of comparison. "Charles is enthusiastic about everything," Edwin argued. "He exudes enthusiasm. It's what he does. Niko… is more selective in what she shows. The moments when she is speechless are most convincing to me."

Crystal looked like she really wanted to believe him.

"I don't know," she said.

"Well, you can certainly understand why I hesitate, then," he concluded, reaching for another scone for himself.

She pointed directly at him. "Buddy. This is more than hesitation."

"Yes," he agreed without reservation. "It is."

"Right. I'm gonna need you to unpack that a little."

He buttered his scone as he thought about how to explain… all of it.

"Sometimes one person admitting that they've come down with feelings is the beginning of the end," he reminded her. "And in some cases that's for the best, but I cannot believe that about Charles and myself. For one, it is about more than Charles and myself. It involves Niko and her project, everyone who works at the restaurant, the community around it…"

"Please, even if you do end up having relationship troubles it's not going to blow up the whole restaurant," Crystal said, rolling her eyes.

"But so much of it rests on Charles and Aadhya."

"Stop," Crystal said, holding up a halting hand. "Stop, nope, please stop and think about what's best for you for a minute, okay? Just for a minute."

Edwin let out a breath, and did.

He thought about the first time he'd been invited to share a meal by Charles and Aadhya not at the restaurant, but at their home.

They had served themselves out of communal dishes, nothing formally plated, and it had felt warm and intimate, like being on the inside of their lives instead of merely brushing up against each other.

That feeling was more important than anything else.

"So much of what makes my life feel worth living right now rests on Charles and Aadhya," he persisted.

A strange expression crossed Crystal's face.

"I'm glad I'm not the closest thing you have to family anymore," she said.

"You are my family," he told her firmly. "And so are they. And now I can say that with confidence because I know without a doubt what family should be."

Crystal blinked, and then wiped her eyes with her sleeve, and then said, "Yeah, okay, I get it." After a moment she gave him a brilliant smile. "Things are pretty great right now, huh?"

"Indeed they are," he agreed.

+1: Raspberry Beignets

Today

Crystal's flat smelled utterly heavenly. Coffee, fried dough, a tang of…raspberries. The scents drifted through the hallway, as she'd left her door open.

"Crystal?" Edwin called, not wanting to step in unannounced.

"Hey, Edwin, come on in," she answered, and as Edwin drew closer, he could hear her humming to herself.

That meant she was in a very good mood indeed.

He found her in her kitchen, dusting powdered sugar over red-speckled beignets and grinning from ear to ear.

There were three places set at the table.

Edwin blinked, just to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

"Crystal," he asked carefully, "why are there three place settings?"

"Oh, right," said Crystal, and her grin got impossibly wider. "So. A thing happened."

"A thing happened," Edwin repeated blankly.

"Well you know how it is," she said. "I love to prove you wrong."

"You do, in fact," he admitted. "What is this about, exactly?"

"Well, last week you said you were certain about something," she said. "And, well, I guess it turned out that spite was the thing that finally got me to test your theory?" She laughed, moving the beignets to the table.

Edwin cast his mind back to their conversation the previous week. And saying he was certain did ring a bell. About—

"So I asked Niko on a date," Crystal told him delightedly. "And I am forced to admit," she said, imitating his accent as she echoed the line from that very first brunch, "that you were right."

"Oh!" Edwin said. "She said yes, then?"

"I did," said Niko from the door.

"Hey, babe!" Crystal said.

"Hello, Niko," Edwin greeted her with a smile.

"Are you sure this is okay?" Niko asked, inching her way into the flat. "I don't want to intrude, I know brunch is usually a you two thing."

"I have absolutely no objection," Edwin told her.

And he didn't. Niko had quickly developed from an occasional acquaintance to a close friend over the past months, as they worked on the show together. She was a consummate professional when the situation called for it, and sweetly charming in a more personal setting. If Crystal felt comfortable with her here, then so did Edwin.

Niko squeaked joyfully, and rushed over to kiss Crystal on the cheek before taking her place at the table. "Those smell sooooo good," she said, looking at the heap of beignets.

"So," said Crystal as they also settled into their chairs, "any chance of you following my example anytime soon and confessing your feelings for a certain guy?"

"Crystal!" Edwin hissed.

"Wait, you and Charles still aren't dating?" Niko asked.

"No!" Edwin directed his exasperation at Niko this time.

"Oh," Niko said with wide eyes. "I thought you two had finally figured things out after that awful promo shoot. So Charles was actually staying over because you were actually super sick? Sorry, I totally thought that was code for… something else."

Edwin sighed deeply.

"I was, maybe, possibly, being a bit of an idiot about some things," he admitted, "and we cleared those up, but his friendship is too important to me to destabilize anything by bringing up romance."

Niko and Crystal gave each other a long, meaningful look and then Niko said, "Yeah, but the great thing is, the friendship doesn't disappear just because you get to kiss someone now. None of the good stuff does."

"Yeah, totally," Crystal agreed with an absolutely hopeless, lovestruck smile. Niko giggled in return, and their hands twined together on the table. Then, natural as breathing, they leaned in and kissed, soft and sweet and so, so happy.

Edwin eyed them thoughtfully.

It did give him hope.

3/? - Restaurant owner / chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU - continued!

Hello, lovely folks - the restaurant AU continues and has outgrown its last thread, which is amazing! Here's a new reblog chain to reblog from and continue the journey <3 I'll also be updating the masterpost to add this one!

You can read the AU from the beginning here!

The masterpost for the AU is here!

[canisalbus]

I swapped them around in a silly doodle

.

[sp0o0kylights]

Part Two / Part Three

Ao3

It's 8:45 am. 

The Red Barn, which is neither red nor a barn, has been open since 7, catering to the early morning crowd with rounds of coffee and pancakes.

It was no Benny's, but given the size of Hawkins and the lack of alternatives?

No one was complaining. 

They were all too happy someone had opened up another watering hole for the working class man (or lass, as Foreman Shelly will dutifully remind you) which meant the place was packed with both day and night shift regulars, passing each other in staggered waves. 

It also meant Wayne was sharing the packed breakfast counter with a warehouse worker by the name of John Cheese on one side and Police Chief Jim Hopper on the other.

He doesn't mind it.

Wayne's a man on a budget thinner than his shoelace, but he's also a man who understands that small indulgences need to be made in life or you didn't truly live it.

This is how he convinces himself to get a coffee at the Barn after work everyday, reading the morning newspaper and chatting with the other regulars before he heads home.

Bonus, it gets him out of the rapid-fire franticness that is his nephew in the mornings.

(All the love in the world wouldn't change the fact that all that Eddie came with a lot of noise. 

The kind of noise that was a tried and true recipe for a headache right after a long shift.)

As a trade off, Wayne went to bed early so he could wake up in time for dinner with Eddie.

 It was a nice little system that worked for them. 

A routine Wayne was reminiscing fondly on, when the pager on Chief Hopper started to chirp. With a sad moan, the man fished out a few crumbled bills and threw them on the counter, abandoning his coffee to trudge out to his truck.

This was not unusual.

Particularly recently, given they were but a scant few weeks past that whole mall ordeal. A fact all too easy to remember when one caught sight of the Chief’s still healing face. 

What was unusual, was when he came storming through the doors a minute later, face now a furious shade of red with his hat clenched in his hand. 

The energy in the room shifted, taking on something a little watchful as Hopper swept his gaze from side to side, like a dog on the hunt.

Judging by the way he stilled when he caught sight of Wayne, the latter assumed he found what he was looking for and could only pray it was the person behind him. 

(He liked John, but Wayne had enough trouble this year and he wasn't looking for any more.) 

"Munson." Hopper called, striding over and dashing all his hopes. There was a choked fury emitting off him, and given the way John audibly scooted his chair away, Wayne knew everyone had clocked it. 

"Chief." Wayne greeted, inclining his head towards him.

Idly he wondered what the hell his nephew had done this time.

'So help me if he stole all the town's lawn flamingos and put them in that damn teachers yard again….'

Wayne didn't even get to finish his threat, the Chief was already next to him. 

"Mind if I have a word outside?" 

Dammit Eddie.

"Ah hell, what's he done now?" Wayne asked with a sigh, eyeing the coffee he had left morosely. 

There was still almost half of it left and the pot had tasted fresh for once. 

"What?" Hopper said, and then Wayne got to watch as the man ran through an entire chain of thoughts, each one punctuated by things like; "Oh," and "No. " 

"This is something else." He finished, flushed and fidgeting, anger making him antsy. 

Wayne stared up at him. 

"Something else?" He repeated, not sure he heard.

"Yes, something else." Hopper snapped impatiently, before leaning forward, voice dropping low. "This doesn't involve your nephew, but we both know you owe me for how many times I've let that kid off, Wayne. That's a damn big favor I've been doing you and I'm calling it in." 

If it were any other cop, it'd sound like a threat.

It was Hopper though. The same Hopper who Wayne had gone to school with.

They'd never been friends exactly, but they had been friendly and remained so. Even now, after Wayne had taken Eddie in, who’d gone on to be an undeniable pain in the local PD’s ass. 

Hopper really did let the kid off easy. 

Wayne really did owe him. 

So he put down his coffee with a sigh, passed his newspaper over to John and stood up, motioning for Hopper to lead the way. Got into the Chief’s truck when he waved him in, and didn’t make a big fuss when Hopper tore out of the parking lot like hell was about to open up under them. 

"Not a lot of the kids involved in the mall fire could be identified, but a few of them were." Hopper started, which felt nonsensical given the utter lack of context. 

Wayne hummed to show he’d heard. 

“Some of them got banged up more than others, and a lot of people wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t make it.” 

A pause, Hopper white knuckling the steering wheel as he swung the truck hard around a turn. 

“For certain people, those kids dying is the preferred outcome.” 

A mix of fear and warning swopped low in Wayne’s gut. 

"Jim." Wayne said, dropping the use of a last name because if any situation called for it, it was this one. "What exactly are you saying here?" 

The Chief chewed on his split lip. 

"I know you're smart, Munson. I know you, and plenty of others are aware that something's happening, been happening in this town." 

Which was a hell of an understatement if you asked Wayne. Plenty of the upper classes might be able to bury their heads when it came to the military parading about and the flow of “accidents” they brought in their wake, but then, they didn't see all the other signs of trouble. 

The absolute oddity that was Starcourt’s construction. 

How it had been built using primarily outside crews and anyone who'd taken a singular look at the site could tell you they were building it weird. 

Weird as in it looked like it would have a multi-level basement, and not what a mall should have. 

Then there were the constant electrical problems. The backups upon backups that failed. The late night delivery vans headed out to the Hawkins Lab. 

The things in the woods that kept spooking all the deer and the weird markings they left behind that unnerved even the hardest of hunters. 

This didn’t even touch the Russian military that more than one reputable person swore was hanging around. 

The very same Wayne himself had seen, on more than one occasion. 

(And you couldn’t deny it; those boys were military. Past or present, it didn’t matter. They moved like a threat, and Wayne treated them like one, staying well clear.)

"Yeah." Wayne admitted. "I also know better than to stick my nose in it." 

"That makes you a smarter man than me.' Hop complained under his breath, but the anger was self directed. 

"The point is, there are some government types crawling around, doing shit they shouldn't be doing, and more than a few of them are in the business of making people disappear.” 

This was absolutely not where Wayne had thought this was going. 

Hopper took a breath. Than another.

A third.

It was starting to make Wayne nervous, in a way he hadn’t felt since a social worker had brought Eddie to him for the last time and final time. It was the feeling that things were about to shift in a way that would change the course of his life. 

"Steve Harrington is sitting in my office right now, beat to absolute shit.” Hopper admitted.

Wayne gave him the floor to talk, letting him go at his own pace without interruptions. 

“He's there because some of those government types finally figured out his parents are never fucking home.” 

Wayne sucked in a breath. 

"We both know his parents, Wayne. Harassing them to come back and take care of their kid won't work, and frankly, I’m beginning to think all the phone lines are tapped anyway.” He winced here, like voicing such a thing pained him, and Wayne understood.

It sounded a little too out there, a little like he was buying into a conspiracy. 

Except he wasn’t. Wayne knew he wasn’t. 

Jim Hopper might have been an alcoholic, a man living in pain and unconcerned with his own life, but if there was one thing he was solid for, it was shit like this.

He didn’t jump to conclusions. Didn’t believe the first thing people told him. Even at his worst, he did the work to see what was really happening, and made his decisions from there. 

(Even if that decision was to accept the occasional bribe, or drive an intoxicated 13 year old Eddie home instead of hauling his ass into the drunk tank.) 

“Harrington won’t admit it, but he’s got a hell of a concussion if not a full blown brain injury and he’s not reacting as well as he should to Suites trying to run him off the road.” Hopper continued. Angrily, he added, “Damn kid didn’t even come to me until they tried to break into his house last night.” 

His fingers squeezed the wheel so hard Wayne heard the leather creak in protest. 

“I’d take him, but my cabin is being renovated from…” He trailed off, heaving a sigh.

 “A storm, so me and my kid are bunked with the Byers right now and we’re full up.” 

Hawkins hadn't had a storm like that in years, but Wayne wasn't going to call him out on the blatant lie. 

“I need a place to stash him for the next few weeks, until I can work with some of the higher ups sniffing around, and get them to call off their attack dogs.” 

“And you want to stuff him with me.” Wayne finished. 

“I know you don’t have the room.” Hopper admitted easily, stopping his truck at a red light and locking eyes with the other man. “But I also know you’ll be the last place anyone would look for him.” 

'Ain’t that the damn truth.'

“You’re really gonna go this far for a Harrington?” Wayne asked, instead of the million of other questions leaping to the forefront of his mind. 

This one, he figured, was the most important. 

“He’s not his dad.” Hopper said, as firm as Wayne had ever heard him. “He’s not either of his parents, and he saved my little girl.” 

Wayne hadn’t even known Hopper had another little girl, but he also knew better than to ask where the guy had found one. 

It wasn’t his business, just as nothing else Jim was involved in, was his business.

Except, apparently, Steve Harrington. 

“I’m gonna need my own truck if I’m takin' Harrington home.” Wayne said easily, instead of bothering to ask anything else.

If Jim said the kid was different than his daddy, then he was--because when it came to things like that, Jim didn't lie.

No point in it. 

“I know. Just needed to talk to you first, without anyone overhearing.” Jim said, before swinging the police truck around and heading back to the Barn. 

“I’ll stay in contact with you, and I’ll make sure Harrington pays you for the pleasure of your hospitality. Just--” Here Jim cut himself off, looking like he was struggling an awful lot with the next thing he wanted to say. 

Once again, Wayne waited him out.

“Don’t let Steve fool you. He’s good at fooling people, letting them think he’s okay. Too good at it, and between the two of us, I have a real good idea of the reason why.” 

A memory came to Wayne unbidden, of Richard Harrington and Chet Hagan, beating some poor kid in the highschool bathroom bloody. The grins on their faces as the poor guy wailed for them to stop.

How they almost hadn’t. 

“Alright.” Wayne agreed.

Hopper swung back into the Barn's parking lot, and Wayne moved right to his own beat to shit truck, ready to follow Jim back to the police station.

He wasn’t a praying man, not anymore, but Catholisim wasn’t a thing that let you go easy. 

He found himself sending up a quick prayer, fingers flicking in a kind of miniature version of the sign of the cross. 

Considering his own kid’s history with Harrington, and the sheer small space of the trailer? 

Wayne had a feeling it was needed.

[rewiredmind]

they're crittering again❗️❗️

I love the D1 Core 4 when they're fresh into Auradon so I went with those outfits🔥 (or at least I think that's Jay's? I can't remember. I'm sure it is. It's fine, he's still Jay)

[scoriarose]

The Language of Love

If you are already convinced snakes are incapable of love, this post is not for you. But if you are open to the possibility that maybe they do, and maybe they love us too, this post explores that thought. Perhaps snakes feel it differently, perhaps they feel it the same humans do- though even humans experience love, be it platonic or romantic, differently from individual to individual. Different people also show their love in different ways as well! Yet still even with a divide between species most of us have felt love from our furry and feathered friends. Perhaps our scaly friends are also telling us they love us, we just might not understand.

When I first got my girl Scoria, if I could tell her only one thing it would be, "I love you." When I held her, I wondered if she understood how much I cared about her, and would do anything to protect her. When I pet her, I wondered if she knew how amazing I thought she was and enjoyed spending time with her.

And then I started watching livestreams of wild snakes, and how they act toward each other. (The above still is from Project Rattle Cam!) When the babies see a trusted adult, they slither all over them! How many times had my girl happily slithered all over me going no where in particular? I imagine that my finger petting her soft as a feather was probably quite similar to another snake greeting her in such a way.

Sakura is much more shy, yet wants to form a bond with me. I see it when she fights her fear to vibe with me. Sometimes she'll sit for hours at the edge of her tank nearest me, not wanting to come out, but just be near me.

Snakes like rattlesnakes and garter snakes will vibe peacefully with each other, with baby rattlesnakes sleeping near the adult rattlesnakes they trust to keep them safe.

Perhaps, when our shy snakes sits with us, facing their fears they're saying, "I'm scared, but I want to be closer with you." And maybe when our snakes slither all over us, going nowhere in particular, like their wild counterparts do with each other they're saying, "I'm so happy to see you! You're my favorite to be with!" I wonder if they could tell us one thing it would be "I love you, best friend!" And it's okay, best friend. I love you too, and already know. <3

[whencartoonsruletheworld]

What are your thoughts on Poppy Playtime?

chapter one: seems like a cashgrab but they've got some ideas here

chapter two: oh this is absolutely a soulless cashgrab. bye

chapter three: wow this looks really impressive and was written and acted really well. shame that all the good things about it are obviously stolen from other mascot horror and holy shit did they actually put the fucking banban elevators in here

[robbie-lee-zombie]

mini ficlet I got inspired to do ( @fluffymary )

When the gang of smiling critters have a sleepover, you better believe they go big or go home.

Kickin was the first to pass out after the movie, hanging halfway off the couch at the start, but eventually slumped to the floor at an odd angle and still hadn't stirred. Crafty and Bearhug aren't far behind as they both yawn, drifting off on the far left of the couch, holding onto one another. Hoppy, Bubba and Piggy were huddled in their own pile on the other end, looking uncomfortable to anyone else but snoring all the while.

What about our final two?

One of our sweet little friends was having a horrible dream. Horrible enough to leave him panting when he awoke, checking around the living room frantically for any monsters that might still be lurking in the dark. Dogday knew he was being silly, but it still got to him, he just knew something was coming for him! Something waiting to come out and grab him, something to steal him away and no one would ever find him again-

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Look at me. Just keep your eyes on me, okay, pup?"

One, a night owl, someone who sleeps in the day because he guards the night. He protects his family, his friends, while they're vulnerable, so they have nothing to fear. Right now, his closest friend - his partner - had something to fear. Catnap couldn't have that.

"I couldn't run away- it hurt so much, Catnap-"

"Shh, shshh I know sunspot, you don't have to explain. I'm here. You're safe here."

A few beats of silence pass. Then, Catnap got an idea.

"I got it." Catnap lifts Dogday's chin to look him in the eyes more clearly. Smiling, sweetly, he whispers. "You want to hear a lullaby?"

Immediately Dogday's face starts to feel hot and he's pulling on his right ear, twirling and picking at the fur in a nervous fidget. His tail starts thumping behind him. "You- What if- You don't have to, I'll be-" Dogday whines a little. Embarrassed. Excited. Eager.

"Let me try that again."

Dogday's sputtering was immediately halted by Catnap's purring. He could feel it in his touch, in his paws any time he held Dogday's cheeks in his hands, it was a soft rumbling under the skin. It was soothing. "May I sing you a lullaby, sweet pup?"

Dogday willed his tail to stop wagging for a moment to respond seriously. He nodded. "Yes. Please."

Their positions are shifted to have Dogday leaning on Catnap's chest, slouching comfortably in case he were to fall asleep sooner than anticipated, which Cat had already dubbed in his mind would be no time at all. Dogday's tail wags without his permission, but neither of them mention it.

Catnap's claws make quick work of Dogday's ears, scratching at the base. Enough to tickle, enough to squirm and smile so wide Dogday's cheeks start to hurt, but not enough to laugh. Meanwhile, Catnap's tail traces along each of Dogday's toes that are tucked under the blankets. "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star~"

Dogday knew what lullaby this was. It's kept between them purely for Dogday's dignity and from dying of embarrassment. Not because they'd tickle the life out of him.

"How I wonder what you are~"

But because of how well it works. Plus, Catnap isn't the first one to go around bragging about his own singing voice as it is, he'd never hear the end of it.

"Up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky~"

"Wahahait!!"

"Dogday, you made me mess up the song, now I'll have to start over..."

"No! Nonononohoho don't stahahart over, please-" "Well, maybe I won't have to start over... If you can tell me where my tail left off?"

"Y-Your tahahail?"

"Yes, giggle pup, I need to know where my tail was on the last verse, so I can pick up where it left off. I can't recall..."

As Catnap whispers aloud, his tail sweeps up and down Dogday's soles. Dogday throws his head side to side, trying his best to keep his giggling to a minimum, but the faster that appendage swipes, the more restless Dogday gets.

"Was it along your soles, those bright suns on your feet? While we said "Up above the world" or was it-" His tail switches to sliding between his toes. "Between your poor little toes, as we said "Like a diamond in the sky"?"

Catnap knows this. Catnap loves this.

Dogday could hardly pay attention as Catnap's tail was sawing between his toes. Before he was even aware of his own actions, Dogday was squeezing one of Catnap's hands in his own, bracing himself on whatever willpower he had to not fight Catnap's attack. The other hand was frantic, pawing at the ground, his own torso in a self hug, hiding his face, he couldn't decide what made it better worse.

"Dihihiamond!! You were on diamohohohond!!!"

"Ah, that's right! Thank you so much, my little tickle pup, I knew I could count on you~"

As much as the lullaby felt like it droned on for hours, it really was helping. It was quiet enough between the two of them that this moment never had to be seen by anyone else, it was a special time that let them hold onto one another, to laugh away the nightmares. Catnap's song was eventually interjected with his red smoke - with Dogday's consent being the agreement to the lullaby in the first place, they established that ages ago.

That's what really knocks Dogday out, but Catnap likes to wait as long as he can to use it, just to savor in Dogday's bright smile and pink face just a little while longer.

"A pretty orange and pink sunrise, just for me alone."

As the sun rises in the windows through the curtains, Catnap finally falls asleep.

[1singulargrape]

Idk where the story of the frog turning into a prince after getting a kiss comes from but yk... This with Yuuji and Blobkuna

[sleepinglionhearts]

Love when people come in with exotic animals and then get upset about other people coming over to interact with them and their exotic animals. Like. Ma'am. You are wandering around a bookstore in Central Texas with a BABY KANGAROO IN YOUR BAG. PEOPLE ARE GOING TO ASK YOU QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR NON-NATIVE SPECIES ANIMAL THAT YOU ARE CARRYING WITH YOU. IN PUBLIC.