#maybe ill make one with an alternate background

[trixibebe]

Zhao in Kondo's clothes, because I thought it would be fitting.

[auspicioustidings]

https://www.tumblr.com/auspicioustidings/734619885087375360/i-cannot-write-for-shit-right-now-so-any-little

Hmmmm I’m seeing so many x single mom readers and not sure if this is something you’re even interested in BUT

Simon meeting his pretty new neighbor while she’s moving I and realizes she is either a.) heavily pregnant or b.) has a very young baby so Simon goes “hmmmm mine now :)” and helps her out a little? (Alternatively, if you don’t wanna do Simon for this, then maybe Price?)

(Also if you haven’t read @peachesofteal’s Light On fic, Simon x single mom reader, I implore if you to do so!!! It’s so good)

Peaches Light On fics, and I am being so deadass serious, give me such a flood of serotonin any time I see a new one. Everyone get your butt over there because they are the standard for single mother content as far as I am concerned!

That being said, I've put a bit of a twist on this so it's not really what you requested at all, sorry :') I could not do a similar idea to Peaches because there is nothing I can do to improve perfection!

Tactical Action

Words: 1.1k

CWs: mentions of death

“It's not a shame Price, it's fucking ridiculous.”

Simon Riley was furious looking at the paperwork. It wasn't often that TF141 kept tabs on a promising rookie so when they did he expected nothing but excellence. What he did not expect was a large ‘Early Service Leaver’ stamp over an otherwise exemplary record.

“Their brother died in that warship collision, can't blame them for wanting out.”

“My brother was murdered, I kept fucking going.”

He had met you once when Johnny had dragged him. His Sergeant was both excited and annoyed that someone had gotten the new record for the 3rd selection phase. It made sense to get some feel for you then, if you were as good at escape, evasion and tactical questioning as the test scores suggested then the 141 needed to have you on their radar because the PMCs certainly would. 

You were a determined thing, shoulders back and addressing them with just the right amount of respect. Not arrogant, but not a pushover. Soap had been talking about how much he wanted to get his hands on you the whole drive back to base because he was a horny idiot and you were a challenge he found intriguing. Simon had just rolled his eyes and added your record to the small pile in Price's office. 

He knew a little of your background. Both parents gone, one sibling in the navy. Well one sibling now KIA. He could have understood taking leave, but to quit entirely? It made him angry, he thought it was a waste of potential. Price could see how it affected him and he sighed. 

“Go talk to them then. But do not get yourself reported for harassment and intimidation Simon, if they don't want back in then we make our peace with that.”

That was all the permission he needed. He probably should have taken Soap really, someone who could be comforting and coax you back. But fuck it, you were supposed to be good under pressure so he was going to give you some hard damn advice on not bloody giving up.

–

Exhausted didn't even begin to describe how you felt. This was the hardest thing you had ever done, but you were not going to just give up. You couldn't, not with this tiny thing relying on you. 

She had never even got to meet her parents. Your brother died just before the due date in that accident and then his girlfriend had died from complications in childbirth. You had promised her you would look after their baby if anything happened, made an oath that you'd not let her parents anywhere near such an innocent little thing. 

So you were on your own with nothing but grief and exhaustion and an ever dwindling death in service payment. They would pay part of your brother's pension out each month at least for the baby, but you were terrified that it wouldn't be enough to give her a life she deserved. She certainly deserved her parents and not her fathers ill equipped sibling, but you could only do your best even with the knowledge it would never be enough. 

You flinched when there was a hard knock at the door of your flat, freezing but taking a breath when the baby remained sleeping in your arms. You needed to move at one point you knew, a flat in a bit of a rough area was fine for a soldier (ex-soldier you reminded yourself) but not so much for a baby. 

The security you had upgraded as best you could at the moment and you checked the door camera to see Lieutenant Riley. Ghost. You had met him briefly once, but what was a legend like him doing here? Shit. You knew you looked a wreck but it wasn't like you could ignore him so you opened the door, bouncing baby girl gently to keep her sleeping. 

Simon's planned tirade died the moment he saw the situation. You had a baby. Oh that changed his tirade significantly. Your marital status had listed single, so he could only assume you had gotten yourself knocked up by some casual hookup. That was unacceptable in a soldier, so bloody stupid. 

“Shit” you cursed when she woke up, heading back inside and giving him a nod of invite.

You bounced her and tried to coo at her to go back to sleep. To please God go back to sleep. You never knew what she wanted, it felt like whatever you did was always wrong. And of course then she started wailing and the Lieutenant was in your flat closing the door behind him witnessing your absolute failure to take care of a baby. 

“Oh for Christ sake, give her here.”

Simon took the baby and hoisted the little thing up onto his shoulder, rubbing hard at her back. 

“When was the last time you fed her?”

“I- well, just before you got here. 10 minutes ago maybe? Just got her to sleep.”

“Did you burp her?”

“Oh. I…” you replied, straining yourself in an attempt not to cry. “No. I forgot.”

While his eyes were sharp on you his hands and voice were gentle and soothing for the baby. He was good at this. Did he have kids? Fuck was everyone just innately good at caring for babies but you? 

“Didn't stop to think if you could take care of her before having her?” 

“She's not mine. Well I suppose she is. I'm her only living relative, or only decent one at least. I, um… that warship accident from a few months back. My brother died during it and her mum passed during the birth. I'm her legal guardian now. I'm what she has sir, it was the best tactical action given the circumstance” you said, straightening up despite your exhaustion and prolonged terror at being responsible for such an innocent little thing. 

Simon cocked his head to the side as the baby on his shoulder burped and gurgled, now trying to get back to sleep. You were still a soldier he saw then, you were fighting back your emotions to give him a report on the situation. He reevaluated after the sitrep and took a moment to find the best course of action.

“Marry me then.”

“Sir?”

“We can get it done tomorrow. Might take a bit of time to get a decent house but we'll stay in my flat until then, better area. Still going to be out on assignment a lot but any death benefit would go to you and the widows pension would set you up for life. I'm what you have rookie, it's the best tactical action.”

“Yes sir.”

[hatekawa]

Okay this idea regarding the Three Months Au has been floating around in my head for a solid two days now and I NEED to spill it out so. uh. here's my alternative ending for your au (so I guess i made an AU for your AU????) gonna keep it anonymous so I don't out myself as completely cringe LMAO

--okay, so. there's this episode of Doctor Who, right? it's called "A Christmas Carol", and a lot of weird shit happens, but one of the big plot points is this woman called Abigail. Abigail has a terminal illness, and was basically put into some kind of cryogenic chamber, which keeps her alive indefinitely-- but only as a frozen body. She's basically asleep while she's inside. She can leave whenever someone lets her out-- something the boy who loves her does, every single Christmas, so he can spend a day with her once a year--but the countdown to her death only stops ticking when she's asleep and immobile inside the cryo chamber. Eventually, her countdown gets down to one day left to live. And the boy leaves her in there for years. Until he's old and close to death himself, he never lets her out for fear of having to watch her live out her final day.

OK. CONTEXT PROVIDED. STAY WITH ME BRO.

--same situation, but with 3 months Mikey. Draxum and Donnie build something that does manage to "halt" the effects of Mikey's mystics on his body-- but it's something like the cryo chamber, where it only works when he's completely frozen and asleep inside. Mikey's 3-month-long prognosis is still intact (probably a bit shortened by the time the machine is built), but they manage to extend it by keeping him in that stasis chamber until Draxum and Donnie can find a true cure. For special occasions, like birthdays or holidays or really big fights, maybe they'll let him out-- but the countdown is still always in the background.

and, uh. maybe they don't find a cure.

days and months and years of trying, and they never find an actual cure. the only thing they have is whatever original invention Donnie and Draxum made to put Mikey into stasis-- and that countdown gets shorter every time they let him out. soon, it gets down to some miniscule time frame-- two weeks left, maybe. then a week. then five days. then three.

Donnie stops taking Mikey out of stasis.

he tells himself that he can still find a cure, or some way to reverse the effects. Mikey no longer leaves the stasis chamber to celebrate birthdays or Christmas. raph and leo and donnie and april all become adults. splinter or draxum die of old age. april probably gets married. huge universe-ending battles are fought and won. the world keeps turning and shit.

--and mikey sees none of it. asleep in the back of donnie's lab, while his brother spends decades trying to cure him; too scared of watching mikey live out his last day to take him out of stasis.

even as his family lives, and ages, and probably eventually dies-- mikey stays frozen in time. dying, but never dead. forever fifteen years old.

wouldn't that be kinda fucked up? :D

I have never watched Doctor Who so thank you for providing me context also OH MY GOD. YEAH, THAT WOULD BE FUCKED UP.

I just- Okay. I couldn't resist making a fanart of your idea

[pencileraser1]

things i noticed/thoughts about most recent rewatches of dps (plus laserdisk deleted scenes):

whenever theres a group scene i've started watching the characters that the story isn't focusing on to see what they do and i've been having a fun time with that. pitts and cameron specifically seem to almost always be doing something interesting in the background.

hopkins!!!! my favorite minor character who somehow got character development despite having like 2 lines!!!! the last guy to stand on the desk but he did it!!!

sometimes i do like to think about what the rest of the students thought about the dead poets society, esp in alternate timeline neil lives dps keeps meeting universe. like yeah theres this guy in their class whose one of the most credited students in the school and we think he maybe started a cult. idk though. but that group runs out into the woods every few days to do god knows what and one of them keeps talking about "dead poets honor" whatever that means and holy shit welton star student neil perry started a cult.

i watched the movie with headphones. and maybe it's because ive seen this movie Far too many times and mabe i'm listening too hard but it was Really obvious sometimes when audio was added in post production. llke in the sweaty toothed madman scene when you can hear laughing and to be fair the camera is behind their heads. but it does Not look like anyone's laughing. my favorite is at the end of the phone call to chris scene where knox is like i'm gonna seize the day!! and runs up the stairs and the poets are cheering him on and neil is sort of yelling "carpe!!!!" and i could be wrong but i'm like 75% certain that the person singing is Also rsl so now neil is just speaking two times at once somehow. anyways it didn't ruin the experience for me or anything it was maybe just a little bit funny to notice but very sorry if this did ruin anyone's viewing.

people talk a lot about how rsl and ethan hawke really made their characters what they are but i have to add dylan kussman to that list. I get the impression that older versions of the movie didn't really give as much depth to cameron and watching dylan kussmans performance is like. he Knew who his character was so fucking well and it shows!! like the deleted scene of them getting clubs assigned. like i could tell So Much about cameron from that scene

for how little she actually appeared, there is an emphasis put on the fact that neil's mom smokes pretty frequently. and i think that's interesting considering neil is one of two poets shown actively smoking. neil's mom doesn't appear for very long in the movie but during that time it definitely seems like the movie is intentionally making parallels between the two, particularly in the last argument with neil's father. neil and his mother are both sitting for almost the whole time, which contrasts with his father who is standing. they are both almost powerless in this scene. they stand up at almost the same time. anyways there's a couple different possibilities for what this could mean? that i've though of? 1. to show that neil's mother is in a similar situation to the one neil is in in regards to neil's father and 2. maybe a stretch here but the theory that neil inherited his mental illness at least partially from his mother. i'm pretty sure 1 was fully intentional on the directors part, not entirely sure about 2 though

unmanned flying desket scene: it's probably cause he and ethan wrote the scene themselves but the way rsl talks in this scene feels more like the way he talks in general than the rest of the script. like briefly neil perry is talking in rsl's voice. one of my absolute favorite scenes though the sarcastic dialogue is so good.

the light of knowledge at the first shot of the film vs. todd standing on his desk at the last shot of the film paralel

[luvrsbian]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄

A/N: she's finally here!!! this was initially supposed to be a one shot but has kinda turned into a draft up of a pretty plotless, sweet, fluffy mini series. it follows canon for the most part minus eddies death ofc but because im bad with canon lore and science shit, its not heavily mentioned (some minor canon lore was changed but it's not super important.) this is a fem!reader, no use of y/n, set in 1992, 4k words, and i've kept reader pretty vague for inclusivity minus some background lore. this series is not 18+ (yet) but my page is, so please do not follow if you are a minor. thank you sweet baby mona @enam3l for beta-reading for me (ily)

MASTERLIST ✿ PART TWO

Eddie Munson liked his life. He liked his friends, even if a lot of them have now dispersed across the continental United States for school, jobs, general life (minus Robin who has somehow managed to make her way to Australia doing God knows what.) He liked his home, a house on the edge of town – slightly bigger than the old trailer – which he still shared with his uncle. He liked his style and hobbies and taste in music and movies that haven’t really changed much in the last 5 years since his final senior year. 

He really liked his job. 

Which felt odd for him to admit to himself.  It wasn’t anything like what he thought he would be doing. A younger Eddie Munson would imagine himself traveling city to city, adored by fans, living creatively and free spirited.  

But a middle school janitorial gig kept him young. One could argue 26 wasn't even that old, however, compared to his friends (who he'd already been older than) with their careers, relationships and growing families, he felt like a lonely old man. So, yeah, the awkward, funny, and extremely honest pre-teens made him feel young.  

Initially he thought the job would be lonely. It’s a small town with even smaller schools. Besides him, there was only one other night janitor that he alternated weekend cleans with and only really ran into during day-to-night shift changes. Ron was nice enough, older than Wayne, with a far higher patience for children. Unsurprisingly, behaviours from high school died hard and the teachers and administrative staff all kept to their own little cliques. Resulting in Eddie keeping to himself, rarely speaking outside of his custodian duties or the occasional faculty meeting. 

He didn’t even think he’d interact with the students aside from cleaning the odd vomit or getting stuck balls out of the gymnasium rafters. He unintentionally found himself yet again the outcasted mother goose to a small hoard of pre-teen metal heads when their unofficial leader, Matty Sherman, caught site of the various posters Ed keeps hung up on his office (custodial closet) door. The seventh grader quickly forcing himself under Eddies wings and refusing to budge. Matty was a good kid. Reminded Eddie a lot of himself at that age. He was loud, abrasive, and way too confident for such a gangly frame in ill-fitting clothes. Matty had hair though which 13-year-old Eddie couldn’t relate to. 

There was also Ms. Virginia Wagner. The eccentric, nurse who has been working at Hawkins Middle since Eddie was attending. Maybe even before that, he wasn’t quite sure and whenever he asked anything close to finding out her age, she quickly shut him down. She was sweet. She was funny. She was also a mean old hag sometimes, but God did Eddie love that about her. If he was just 20 - or more realistically 40 - years older and wasn’t almost certain she swings the other way, he’d shoot his shot.  

The Summer season was extremely uneventful for Eddie. Due to the kids being out of school, his hours were cut in more than half with only the yearly repairs and deep cleaning needing to be done. He went into work about 3 days a week, spending the extra free time to do some manual labour gigs here and there around town. When he wasn’t working, he was hidden away at home watching movies, listening to music, trying to plan out ongoing and future campaigns for Hellfire meetings that have begun to be fewer and far between now that everyone has dispersed. On some rare occasions when he didn’t feel like a complete shell of a person and was able to leave the house to socialize outside of life obligations, he met up with the few friends that remained in the Hawkins area (which at this point in time was really only Steve Harrington and Gareth Emerson.) 

It was now the Monday of the week before students would return back to these fluorescent lit halls. That meant all other faculty were now gracing the school to prepare for the year ahead. Organizing and prepping and finalizing lesson plans and class rosters.  

Eddie had a slight pep in his step as he walked through the halls, scuffed up sneakers squeaking on the shiny, extra polished tiles. He whistled a silent tune that clashed with the jingles of his keys that he swung around his middle finger. Getting to the janitors closet to put on his navy coverall and put his hair into a low bun. He zips up the stiff material, covering the self-altered muscle tank top that had the logo for some local band down in Indianapolis he saw a few years back before things went to shit. A cracked and stained mirror hanging up over his work sink being used to make sure his hair looked casually messy in the bun. With a final once over, he hooks his keys to the belt loop of his coveralls and preps for the day's work. A glance at his wristwatch, the one that has somehow survived hell and back just like him, reads 7:58. Just 4 hours and 2 minutes until lunch.  

He couldn’t wait. 

Eddie used those 4 hours and 2 minutes to check each stall in all bathrooms were fully stocked with toilet paper and the likes, clean the actual toilets themselves, and make sure the water was running properly in every sink. Once that was taken care of, he began on his biggest task of the week of dragging desks and chairs out of the back storage building to be put into classrooms. Sheryl from the administrative team having left the small packet of papers indicating how many seats each room would need for the coming year.  

He could move the chairs in stacks at a time but could only really stack two - maybe three if he was careful - desks on his hand truck before it became a safety problem. Once moved into the main building, he had to wipe them down, tighten any loose screws that could make them wobble, and make sure they were still in usable condition. Eddie had completed almost 3 of the 32 classrooms before lunch finally rolled around.  

He grabbed his lunch sack from the custodial closet and whistled on his merry way to the nurse's office. He’s been eating lunch with Virginia for as long as he can remember. Of course, there was those 5 years of High School and then the year of recovery following the events of his second senior year, and the summer breaks of course, but besides all those he’s been eating with her for a good 7 years.  

This ritual beginning in his 6th grade, the first year he moved in with Wayne, all sad eyed and past aside due to events outside of his control. Kids he had grown up with suddenly not wanting anything to do with him. He wouldn’t really make any friends again until 7th grade, and his first band of misfits was created, Corroded Coffin. 6th Grade was the worst year of his life until 1986 and now it’s about tied.  

Sadly, in middle school who you ate a meal with or gave the time of day too was so integral into maintaining the hierarchal balance of the ecosystem. It was bullshit. With everything that happened that lead to his father going to jail and him burdening his uncle, the kids of Hawkins middle school decided Eddie wasn’t worth risking their own reputations. He doesn’t remember exactly how it happened, his brain kicking the memory out at some point to make room for more important stuff like D&D lore. But he does remember he went from eating lunch in the bathroom to eating it in Nurse Wagner’s office.  

Even after being integrated back into the Middle school social circle, he couldn’t just leave her to eat lunch by herself. She needed him with his alternative music education and retelling of the fantasy books he’d been reading lately and his strong headedness that could keep up with her dry and sarcastic quips many interpreted as rudeness. Although Eddie would still refuse to admit it, in actuality he probably needed her more than she needed him. 

He doesn’t knock, just moseys his tall frame into the nurse's office, wide dimpled smile on his lips as he hears rummaging coming from the actual office area that was blocked off by a wall. He looks at the two plastic-y beds covered in paper sheets, inhaling that antiseptic smell that can only seem to be found in medical settings. No fluorescent lights were on, only natural light being let it from the two big windows.  

There are curtains on them now which surprises him. Floral pinks and yellows with lace on the edge that really fit the grandma vibes Virginia has but refused to acknowledge. The windows all have blinds, but curtains were deemed a non-necessary commodity by the school board budgeting team, meaning if you wanted curtains, you’re gonna have to fork money out of pocket for them. Eddie had asked Virginia about it once, commenting about how it would help spruce up the place. Make it look a little less sterile. She told him to go to hell, that she’s a nurse not rich. Any out-of-pocket money she spent on work only going towards things that actually matter, like the allergen friendly laundry detergent and the nicer, name brand candy for the candy bowl. 

Putting his lunch on the side table of the first bed, he lays down in a relaxed position. Hands behind his head, legs crossed, eyes closed, he lets out a relaxed sigh. 

“Virginia, dear, I really love what you’ve done with the place,” he calls out to her, hearing the close of the filing cabinet and footsteps soon following, “feels all homey now, dontcha think.” 

The footsteps stop. 

“I'm glad you like them. You feelin’ comfy there?” 

That was most definitely not Virginia Wagners voice. 

Eddie jolts up, eyes wide and cheeks red. He’s not one to get embarrassed easily but since recent events he’s been a bit more reserved in how comfortable he gets around strangers. And you were most definitely a stranger. A pretty stranger. A very pretty stranger in a teddy bear patterned scrub top and an oversized cardigan with embroidered sunflowers. You’re a disorienting mess of patterns and colors but you’re also, like, really pretty and Eddie isn’t sure how to go about this. 

“You’re not Virginia,” is all he can get his voice to come out with. 

“I’m not Virginia.” You give a chuckle. A positive response, Eddie thinks. 

“Where’s Virginia?” 

Eddie is now standing away from the bed and closer to the door, ready to run from the situation if needed (something he’s learned to embrace in the last few years.) You give him a friendly smile, hands in your cardigan pockets, the sleeves bunched up. You look cozy.  

“Florida. She’ll be in the Caribbean by the end of the month,” you supply. He can tell your fingers are fidgeting in your pockets. His hands are fidgeting at his waist, pinching at the material of his coveralls.  

“Why?” 

You shrug your shoulders, “Retirement.” 

“Oh,” Eddie sighs, eyes breaking contact with yours for the first time since standing, shifting to look at your white - almost pristine - sneakers on the tile floor her spent all summer mopping and waxing and removing scuff marks from. “That sucks.” 

You snort. Teeth biting your bottom lip to stop from laughing at him further during this awkwardly endearing meeting. Your own eyes looking him over now that he isn’t completely focused on you. He’s cute. His cheeks stained your favourite shade of pink once he realized you weren’t the now retired nurse he had been so fond of. Hands covered in jewlery. His inability to stay still so natural it makes you think he doesn’t even realize he’s been shifting his body weight back and forth from his toes to his heels this whole time. Tall, lean, maybe with some extra fluff hidden under the baggy attire. He’s got some shadow of hair on his cheeks. And if you weren’t a civil person and he wasn’t a stranger, you’d be begging to kiss at the column of his throat. 

Your gaze moves to look around the waiting part of the office to avoid thinking even more things about this guy. A brown paper bag chicken scratched with the words ‘ED LUNCH’ catches your eye. Before you have a chance to speak yourself, he starts his interrogation again. 

“Who are you?” 

Your attention cuts back to him quickly. With a smile that shows all your teeth and a hand leaving your pocket, held out for him to shake, you give your full name. 

He takes it with his own reserved smile. His hands and rings are warm, but they still tingle your skin from the unfamiliarity of the metal. You enjoy it you think. Before he can introduce himself, you beat him to the punch. 

“You must be Edward, right?” 

He grimaces, “Just Eddie,” your handshake falls. His hand back to his hip and your hand back into your pocket, “Just Eddie is fine. More than fine, actually. Preferred, really.” 

Another chuckle from you. Eddie knows he’s funny when he wants to be but if it’s this easy to make you laugh, he doesn’t ever want to stop. 

“Well, just Eddie,” you smirk at his eye roll, “you can join me for lunch if you’d like. I feel like my presence may have ruined your initial plans,” you let out a huff of a laugh and gesture to the lunch sack by the window. He grimaces again at your wording and shakes his head. 

“It didn’t ruin any plans just was shocking ‘sall,” his hand moves from his hip to rub at his slightly scruffy chin, pretty brown eyes back on yours, “but um, yeah. Yes, I’d love- like to join you for lunch.” 

You smile. He smiles back. 

Eddie has sat in this chair, in this office, and eaten his lunch for years. Today it feels awkward and unfamiliar.  

It might have something to do with you sitting where Virginia used to sit. Same chair, same desk, same office, but completely different. Virginia didn’t decorate her space, leaving it functional and impersonal, if people wanted to know about her life they could ask her. She wasn’t going to flaunt it.  

You were very different. An orange, gaudy looking vase filled with fake flowers. A matching candy bowl with various sugary, little treats. A picture frame of you and what he could only assume was your family based on the similar features shared between each person. A decorated Coke can with the top cut off and trimmed with glued on lace and covered in holographic stickers of vibrant cartoon animals, sparse enough to still see the iconic red drink logo, was now holding an assortment of colorful gel pens.  

Even the chair wasn’t safe from your interior decorating, a purple knitted blanket folded over the top of the rolling seat. The seat itself now adorning a red, white, and black cushion of an ugly faced bulldog with a spiked color and cap with the letter G, the words ‘GEORGIA BULLDOGS’ splayed above him. A sports team he assumed.  

The conversation hadn’t started back up since the introduction in the sick room. Both of you taking your respective seats in the office area, opening your lunch bags and digging in.  

Eddie being a creature of habit brought his usual bag of pretzels, a can of Pepsi, and a sandwich made of whatever he could find in the kitchen. Today it was two slices of whole wheat, mayo, lettuce, the last piece of deli ham, and shredded cheese.  

Your own lunch seemed much more put together. For starters, you had an actual lunchbox, a bulky and vibrant plastic thing with Snoopy sleeping on his dog house on the front. Inside, there was your own ziploc bag of green grapes, a can of Coke, and a sandwich cut into triangles. White bread, crunchy peanut butter, and grape jelly. A Little Debbies Swiss Rolls pack sitting on the corner of your desk for dessert. 

He’s mid chew on the final bite of his sandwich, half his Pepsi left, his pretzels being the first thing devoured, when you speak up. Your own sandwich having on triangle section left, grapes gone, and Coke untouched. 

“Have you always lived in Hawkins?” 

You’re wiping your mouth with a folded paper towel, curious eyes focused on him. You’re very good at that, he’s realized. Eye contact. Focusing on your center of attention. Eddie has never been good at it, having to remind himself to look at the person talking to him. It’s polite, Wayne would say, shows people you’re listening and interested in what they have to say. Eddie gets so worked up in remembering to seem focused, he loses it and doesn’t hear what’s being said. He hasn’t had that problem with you so far. He thinks he could look at and listen to you all day if you let him. 

“Born and bred,” he swallowed his bite and shrugs his shoulders, rubbing his hands together to get the crumbs off, “you’re not though, are you. Feel like I’d remember you,” he raises an eyebrow. Feeling a little more confident in himself, especially with the obvious signs of you not being a local, and gives a playful smirk. 

“You got me,” you hold your hands up in mock surrender, moving your arms back to rest your elbows on the edge of the desk, “I’m from Georgia.” 

Eddie nods, the seat cushion making sense now. It’s your home team for… sports. A sport. Probably football. Eddie mentally pats himself on the back for guessing it was a sports team. Good on him for knowing sports. (Eddie doesn’t know sports.) 

“So,” Eddie lulls, small talk never being his forte. Much more interested in getting into the nitty gritty of conversation when interested in someone but he doesn’t know you yet. He needs to find something to relate with you on and he can’t do that with tidbits he may know from growing up in town like he could other people his age or older here. “You’re like a southern chick,” it was your turn to grimace.  

“You’re really bad at this,” you snort and shake your head, finishing up the last of your own sandwich. Tidying up your desk, throwing away the ziploc bag and sandwich wrapping and paper towels. Opening the coke can and moving the swiss rolls pack to in front of you, looking back to Eddie. With a tilt of your head and saccharine grin you ask, “Splitsies?” 

He nods at the opportunity to get a sweet little treat before addressing your initial comment, “Small talk requires talking and I just don’t really do that anymore with people who don’t already know me or just have a preconceived idea of who I am,” he shrugs his shoulders again, voice softer, slight regret in being too real. Eyes watching your fingers open the package, folding another paper towel (which he has now realized are coming from a roll kept in the lowest drawer of your desk), and setting one of the processed roll cakes on the indented paper before placing it in front of Eddie’s seated and slouched body. “Thank you,” He looks back up to you and you’re already looking at him. 

“Virginia told me a lot about you,” you smirk, lifting your own cake to take a bite. Your eyes not leaving his except for split a second to give an appreciative glance and hum to the cream filled ‘pastry.’  

“We’ve been corresponding for months,” you snicker at your own use of the word, making you feel like some sort of 18th century countess or captain, rather than a young nurse taking over the position of an older nurse.  

He looks panicked at this reveal. Which is cute considering he had a bit of white cream on his upper lip. Although he looked so pretty when his brow furrowed, it was clear he was frightened so you were quick to reassure him. 

“All good things, of course. I think she’s just worried about you. It’s cute, really, just really cute.” Another kind smile on your lips and your hand holding out the paper towel - his now eaten roll was sat on - as hint for him to clean his mouth off. 

Eddie knew Virgina wasn’t one to gossip but the prospect of a rare new person in town he’s actually interested in, being privy to all his shit-uations without him telling them himself, scared him. But Virginia did love to meddle and that may be worse. She was a big supporter of Eddie needing friends his own age.  

Letting out a sigh of relief that his tragic history had yet to be exposed, Eddie returned your smile with his own half one. You reach into your desk again, pulling out a letter instead of paper towels this time. ‘Edward’ scrawled in a familiar, loopy handwriting with blue ink on the white envelope caught his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion and intrigue.  

You hold it out for him to take like it was something precious, “This is for you.” From Virginia, is unspoken but recognized between the both of you. Who else would it have been from. Eddie flushing as he realized, Virginia never told him about you. Virginia never even told Eddie she’d be leaving. They didn’t speak much, or really at all, during the summer unless they happened to run into each other outside of these brick walls.  

Callused finger pads grazed your palm when he took the letter from you, he kept his eyes focused on examining the letter. A sad smile on his lips appreciating the loops of the E and W and curves of the D’s. Realistically he knew Virginia probably wasn’t gonna be gone from Hawkins forever, she had roots here. A son. That’s son kid or maybe kids now, he wasn’t sure, hadn’t checked in on Rick since he got out of jail in ‘88. But it still hurt that she was gone, without a word, and was happy enough to talk to her replacement about him but not to him about her. You. 

“I’m gonna read this later,” he mumbles and puts the offending but appreciated letter in his deep pocket. A quick glance at his watch read it’s been about an hour since making his way into the nurses office, lunch was over. He threw his trash out in the bin by your desk and gave you a friendly smile, standing from the seat in front of your desk. 

“Maybe we could do this again sometime,” eyes shifting around the office again, not really taking things in, just needing to not get trapped back into your gaze. “Ya know, with my lunches free now and everything,” he humorlessly chuckles. 

“Eddie,” you spoke softer than you had before, a more sympathetic smile on your lips, “I’d really like that.” 

He looks at you now. You have really shiny eyes. What a weird observation, Eddie thinks, but it’s true. With a quick wave of his hand before retreating them back into his pocket, fingers playing with the paper edges of Virginias letter. He begins his trek out the door.  

“Hey, next time though,” he stumbles in a spin to walk backwards while speaking, “We’ll speak more about you than about me. Feel’s like you know too much about me,” he huffs with a smug smile before spinning back to look forward. “See ya, Peach.” 

Your sweet laughter follows him out into the hall. You call out, “See ya, Eddie,” to his retreating back, watching the door long after he’s left.  

“Peach,” you snort and shake your head, teeth tugging on your bottom lip to stop from smiling too wide. 

the clean up crew (taglist): @avobabe87 @bakugouswh0r3

comment or ask to be added to the clean up crew!

[cripplecharacters]

Hello! Thank you for all your hard work (all of the mods!)

I am considering giving a human version (like in an alternate universe) of a non-human character a cleft lip. as the regular version of him has a similar condition, at least visually, though he is not made of… uh, flesh and blood? And I’m not sure if he was born with the condition or acquired it later. Would it be wrong to give the human version of him a cleft lip in this case? (It’s not framed as tragic or anything, he’s just vibing and going about his business.) If it is something that would be appropriate, I was wondering whether it was realistic for an adult in modern day to have a cleft lip (probably not palate, just lip), when, from what I understand, that is usually corrected* as an infant? If it is not realistic, are there alternative facial differences that may affect one side of the upper lip/mouth? I am trying to avoid another “character experienced The Accident and is now disabled/has a facial difference,” so I was hoping for something congenital, but given this character’s line of work (machinery, chemicals, sharp things, fire) it would not be unreasonable for him to have been injured either.

*I am unsure if “corrected” is the proper term here, please forgive me if it is not

Thank you for your time and for helping me to readjust my thinking in so many matters already. I want to keep learning to do better

Hi!

If the character isn't originally A), an actual monster (obviously bad) or B), a rabbit/hare kind of creature*, I don't see any issue with their human form having a cleft lip! I guess there could be some kind of non-fleshy creature that could be unfortunate as well, but I can't think of any to be honest?

*that's because of the outdated term “hare lip” that was used in the past, which is currently considered offensive. Only applies if you specifically give them a cleft lip, other facial differences are fine.

In places like the US or Western Europe most children will have a surgery on their cleft lip, but that's not necessarily the case for areas where a surgical center (or any kind of medical facility) might be inaccessible or just plain non-existent. There's a ton of adults and children who haven't had anything done about their clefts right now; this claims that “vast majority of [children with cleft lip and/or palate] will never receive [reconstructive surgery]”. So yes, it's certainly realistic for a character to not have had surgery depending on their background. [note: I don't really like how the article talks about facial differences, but medical sources will medical source.]

Other facial differences that could affect the upper mouth could be;

a birthmark (a red port wine stain, or a black and hairy nevus, or one of the other billion combinations),

an overgrowth (like in neurofibromatosis t1 or any other overgrowth syndrome, or even things like lipoma or a cyst),

a scar (could be traumatic, from a surgery, from an illness, many options), it could also have be of different kinds - keloid, hypertrophic, etc!,

facial paralysis (could be that their upper lip doesn't move at all on one side - could be a stroke, congenital, traumatic, brain damage, progressive, infection...)

a burn scar, though it would be very specific to only have it in the upper lip and nowhere else - but I think that something like a boiling or chemical droplet falling on their face would make sense,

a whole bunch of things that I’m forgetting!

With choosing which facial difference you want to give that character, I'd keep in mind that they have symptoms other than just the visuals, and it would be good to consider whether or not you want it to reflect the original version of the character. Many people with cleft lip, especially if it's uncorrected, may have a speech disability or trouble with eating (and, subsequently, might have malnutrition problems). So if the character has very clear speech, it would be good to maybe mention that they were in speech therapy, things like that. If you don't want to get into symptoms and treatments (past or present), going for a birthmark would probably be the easiest.

I hope this helps! Thank you for your willingness to learn :-)

mod Sasza

[basil-does-arttt]

Devil May Cry 2. The pimple-faced teenager of the series, widely regarded as the worst game in the franchise.

While yes i agree with this viewpoint to some degree, and i think all the jokes about it being the worst one are funny... i honestly dont think the game is THAT bad. In fact, i think people give it too much shit.

Ill start out by saying this: no, the game isnt amazing. Its under-developed, rushed, and in no way is it up to the same standard as the other 4 games. Im not saying its this perfect game, but its not as horrible as some make it out to be.

Ive played through the game on the original PS2 version and the remastered version, and although im yet to complete Lucia's campaign, i can confidently say the game is mediocre at worst really.

First the gameplay: Boring? Yes. Definitely. Do you like standing in one place and shooting everything for 15 minutes untill it drops dead? This is the game for you. But you dont have to do that, it just happens to be the easiest option because the controls are so jank. I spent (some) time myself learning the combos, turns out it depends on the way you angle the joystick, and once you get the hang of it, its not that difficult to S rank combat encounters at all. Its annoying, but not impossible, and the combos can honestly look pretty cool imo.

The movement is also another thing, the dodge animation takes way too long to perform but i do like the forward dash. Its a nice alternative to using stinger as a makeshift movement dash, i wish they kept it for furture versions of Dante. (Yes i know theres the trickster dash, but he doesn't do a flip)

I also really love the flying mechanic with aerial heart, and the different kinds of core thingies you could combine as a whole. A unique feature that kinda got combined into other things in Dante's design.

A few of the bosses, if they had been fleshed out and maybe balanced a bit better, could've been just amazing too. Furiataurus for example. One boss i feel was done well though was The Despair Embodied, and although you can just stand around and shoot it to death like everything else, you do actually have to put effort in to not get hit and die. (Trismalga is also kinda in that boat too, a well(ish) done fight you actually have to put effort into, but i personally didn't like it.)

Next, level design: You have to admit they did some cool things with the level design. *some*. The whole "grungy city" vibe is something i found very interesting, and the trippy purple iteration of lower town was, while infuriating to navigate thanks to the camera and graphics (esp on the ps2 version), was actually quite neat. I also really liked the clock tower in Lucia's campaign.

And also, the music. Can i just say, i think dmc 2's soundtrack is my favorite one out of all 5 games. The ambient background tracks are almost dreamy, especially Lucia's ones, the boss themes honestly go hard and the piano track that's repeated throughout the whole soundtrack just sounds good. If you take anything away from this post, its that you should listen to the soundtrack. (I reccomend the tracks "Unholy Relics", "Cry for the Moon", and "Shoot the Works")

The character designs are another thing i think they did well in this game. In my humble opinion, Dante's dmc 2 style is the best looking one in the whole series. Lucia also looks quite cool, her devil trigger form especially.

The characters themselves, Dante especially, need work, but might i remind you the developers were rushed when making this game. They didn't have enough time to do everything they wanted to do, 6 months before the game was supposed to release they didn't even have it in working condition. It was only thanks to Itsuno stepping in as the director that we got this game in the first place, and all he could do was salvage what the team had already created and get it in a releasable state before launch.

If only they had a bit more time (and maybe resources), dmc 2 couldve been quite the cool game. Though, on that note, if it werent for dmc 2's catastrophic faliure and Itsuno's prompt pestering for a sequel so the franchise didn't die outright, we wouldn't have gotten dmc 3. Though i think Capcom would've made a 3rd game regardless of the scenario.

All in all, i dont think dmc 2 is that horrible of a game. If you have the remaster collection, or even the original PS2 version, at least try it. Give it a go, play through the first few missions and kill one or two of the bosses.

Don't take it seriously, just have fun and enjoy the game in all its janky half-finished glory. If you look at dmc 2 that way, i think you'll enjoy it a whole lot more.

Or dont. Yknow, its your choice.

[almostyours]

hi have you considered any other fcs for the girls ? the lineup is exquisite don't get me wrong i'm just curious

oooooo of course i have!  and maybe u just wanted a normal response from me,  but i am going to make this reply a bit more visual and fun  (for me)  because i am going to explain what i was looking out for in my girls and why i decided not to choose ___ and ___ and yada yada because i'm feeling crazy!  also because i’m taking inspiration from @/pureun because they did something like this before and i thought it was really fun  <3  but trust me,  it will be really hard to get sana,  jisoo,  and yuqi out of my hands.  they are set on stone at this point!

first off,  we are starting with my darling kaia.  for her i wanted someone to bring the fun to the group and,  for lack of better words,  friendly-looking.  approachable,  lighthearted,  someone who exudes comfort to even those she’s not close to,  someone very fun to look at when on stage,  and someone who is known to be a wonder to be around with.  a mom friend,  basically.  but i also wanted someone no one would ever suspect of doing anything wrong,  which is why it was such a shock to fans when rumors circulated that kaia mistreated a stylist and that she is known by her inner circle to have anger issues  🙈  

i immediately thought of sana minatozaki when i came up with her because hellooooooooooooo!  and she was perfect because i actually wanted a japanese fc as i wanted kaia to be a member of akb48.  i also really liked the idea of kaia pulling a xg’s cocona and going viral for flawlessly rapping in three languages 😮‍💨 and idk just the thought of the face of baby girlism sana having anger issues and rapping in the levels of soyeon will always be funnie to me

i consider and think about nana komatsu as kaia every now and then,  though.  there was a time that i actually wanted her to be the oldest out of the three and in a way i could see nana fitting her background,  especially as an idol who likes to stay low-key with her own endeavors,  but i just don’t see her as kaia.  maybe as idol!kaia,  but not kaia,  yknow?    i also think that the vibes of nana!kaia would have been a little bit too similar to yvan’s,  and the thing about hiraeth is that the three of them are different from each other

mina myoi also crossed my mind because madre!  but it’s the opposite of nana’s situation.  i see her as kaia,  sure,  but not as idol!kaia  D:

for poppy, i wanted someone who gave off princess-y,  royalty like vibes with a dash of cunt,  especially as she’s the group's representation of elegance and maturity.  miss little pretty face,  a reserved woman with a big mouth and an open mind,  devoted to her craft as an idol and as a producer,   someone people and other idols look up to,  usually kept under a microscope by knetizens because there’s no way anyone could be that nice  (and she’s not even that nice,  she just minds her business!),  if her face is involved,  the brand’s stocks are sure to rise,  and she’s not that intimidating,  but there’s something about her that makes people hesitate to approach—not just because of her beauty or her monotone-like attitude,  but because she’s poppy.  i also wanted someone who seemed really put together on the outside,  but in reality they are not as poppy is chronically ill and kinda insane ngl  😔

i think out of the three, poppy’s main fc is the one i don’t think i’d ever change. i’m really attached to jisoo as miss pawppy—  like,  there’s so much history in here friendsies!!  poppy is jisoo,  just with some alterations that i’d love to talk about eventually,  but i’d be lying if i said i haven’t thought of other people as poppy.  not because i don’t see her in jisoo anymore,  but because i’m so attached to poppy as a character that i see her everywhere,  either as a concept or as someone else.

eunbi never never neeeever fails to remind me of her…  she’s genuinely the perfect alternate fc,  especially since she’s the same age as jisoo so if i did the change, i wouldn’t need to adjust anything!  but i have a really strong bias,  and i know that if i ever changed her fc to eunbi,  i’d end up switching back  😭 

and here’s where i admit that each girl is inspired by current or former idols,  and poppy is lowkey inspired by hirai momo who has always reminded me of her—  in terms of her personality,  stage presence and her looks.  like that one picture she posted during the miumiu fashion show…  where she was sitting and looking back at the camera with her bare back,  like yall,  that's poppy!  😵‍😵‍😵‍  but again,  i have a bias.  plus i also want kaia to be the only japanese woman in the group

now heejin would have been the perfect candidate to be poppy’s fc if only poppy wasn't a hag,  so yeah.  that’s never gonna happen unless i make an alt universe where they are younger…  :p

for yvan,  i wanted someone with the it factor—  someone who graduated from servington university with a degree in serving!!!  😝  i wanted someone approachable and relatable,  THEY/THEM realness fr, a best friend or at least a friend to many,  admired for their genuine love for their job and their talents,  fun and quirky with a dash of chaoticness that usually keeps everyone on their toes,  so big-mouthed it often lands them in trouble but usually works out in their favor,  and despite doing absolutely nothing  (they absolutely did or said something btw),  their name is always on everyone’s mouths.  i also wanted someone who could “snatch” the golden maknae title from j*ngkook,  which is the reason why armys fucking hates them and keep making up stuff about someone who’s not only globally liked but also j*ngkook’s number one wingman!  🙄

yvan actually went through a lot of fc changes until i started to pay attention to g-idle during the queencard era.  when i say everything clicked when i watched this yuqi fancam…  yeah.  since then i’ve never considered changing their fc.  yuqi is literally everything i envisioned for yvan  <3

xiaoting was one of their initial fcs and the one who stuck around the longest  (i even have old edits with her face and everything),  but i couldn’t quite see yvan in her as much as i wanted to  ):  

now ningning…   siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighs.  it’s similar to poppy’s situation with heejin—  though she’s the perfect candidate to be yvan’s face claim,  she was too young to be in a group with ’95 liners,  and i wasn’t going to age-bend anyone for that.  maybe in another universe…

i initially created the idea of yvan with yves in mind  (catch the “y” at the beginning of their stage names?  not really a coincidence lmao),  but due to some plot changes to fit the narrative of my friend’s and my ideas,  i decided to switch their ethnicity.

but wait.  alternate faceclaims but instead they are younger and have just debuted recently…  wait!

[lilac-hecox]

Omg so excited ur writing prompts again I literally love everything you write ❤️

I’d love a fluffy ass one of Ian and Anthony where Ian gets sick and clingy. Just love sick fics.

Ian/Anthony - Sick Fic

--

Ian sniffles and tugs the blanket further up his body, leaving it just under his chin. He’s alternating between too hot and too cold, but right now he’s cold, his body shivering on his couch even with the cozy blanket.

He’d caught a stupid cold and usually his immune system is a little stronger, but this one is kicking Ian’s ass to the point that he stayed home from the office today. There’s a history documentary playing on YouTube and Ian has his eyes closed as he half-heartedly listens to the video, it’s just background noise at this point, something to try and help to lull him to sleep. 

Ian might doze off. He’s not sure for how long, but he rouses when he hears the jangle of keys turning in the front door of his home. The list of people who have a spare key to his place is small and so Ian has a feeling he knows exactly who it is. 

There are footsteps and the rustling of a paper bag, and Ian can hear those footsteps getting closer and closer to where he’s resting. Then they stop and there is a quiet stillness before Ian hears a familiar voice. 

“Ian? You awake, buddy?” 

“Yeah,” Ian says from his spot on the couch. His throat feels sore even with the one word he spoke. 

Then Anthony rounds the back of the couch and comes into focus. He’s got a mask on - probably because they can’t afford for him to get sick as well and Ale and Kiana would kill them- but his eyes are the same warm and affectionate brown that Ian’s always known. 

He’s sick and maybe that’s the reason that Ian feels extra happy to see Anthony. 

“How you feeling?” Anthony asks, leaning in and pressing the back of his hand to Ian’s damp forehead. 

“You shouldn’t touch me,” Ian says, “you’ll get sick.” and if he sounds just a tad more pathetic than he might otherwise, well, that’s his business. 

“I assumed the risks the moment I stepped in the door,” Anthony says. “Are you hungry? I brought you soup.” 

Ian opens his mouth but Anthony must sense the question because he barrels on. 

“It’s that good kind you like, the fancy one.” 

Ian smiles despite feeling so ill. God, he’s happy to see Anthony. 

“I got you popsicles too. I remember you used to eat them when you didn’t feel good as a kid.” 

Damn Anthony and his steel-trap memory. 

Ian sits himself up, tugging his blanket to wrap around his shoulders like a makeshift cape. 

“A popsicle sounds good.” 

Anthony nods and pads into the kitchen, Ian trailing along. 

Anthony digs into the freezer and produces the bright yellow popsicle box, popping open the sealed edge. 

Ian doesn’t have to tell him which color he wants. He watches as Anthony digs around for a red popsicle and hands it over to Ian. 

Ian takes the popsicle and sits at the stool at the island of his kitchen. Anthony turns to the paper bag and starts putting the cans of soup he bought away. 

“How was the office?” Ian asks, wrapped in his blanket and sucking at his popsicle. 

“Fine, everyone says hi,” Anthony says as he closes the cupboard and turns to face Ian. He smiles, which Ian can manage to see through the mask. “If I’m honest. It was boring as hell without you.” 

Ian smiles and he feels a little blip of affection pulse through him. 

“I’ll be back soon.” 

“I know,” Anthony says. “It’s just weird without you.” 

“Your turn to be a single parent,” Ian teases. 

Anthony laughs, “Okay, fair.” 

Anthony turns back to the bag and pulls out some medicine, setting it on the island in front of Ian. 

“I got you a couple different things. A syrup and a pill form, and some cough drops.” 

“Thanks,” Ian says. 

He pictures Anthony at the grocery store close to the office, walking through the aisles and picking out what he thought Ian might want or need. It makes his chest feel warm. That Anthony thought about him. That Anthony cares about him enough to come over, to bring soup, to bring medicine. 

“Of course,” Anthony says, “you’re my best friend, Ian.” 

Ian is quickly realizing he’s a sap when he’s sick and the words hit him harder than they might have otherwise. Anthony is his best friend. Anthony cares about him. Ian is glad for that. 

“For real,” Ian says again, “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

Ian knows he sound sickeningly sincere and if he weren’t sick he might be blushing. 

Anthony, he smiles, and Ian can see where the edges of his eyes get all misty. 

“Now I know you’re sick because you’re being really sweet.” 

“Shut up,” Ian whines. He has a tendency to be ‘baby girl’ as Erin likes to put it, around Anthony, and being sick only makes Ian want to slide into that role even further. 

He likes Anthony taking care of him, bringing him soup, smiling at him. 

“So,” Anthony says, “what were you watching?” 

Ian shrugs as he finishes off his popsicle, his mouth tasting of artificial cherries and childhood. 

“Just some history thing.” 

Ian slides off his stool and uses his foot to press down on the lever of his trash can, opening the lid up and tossing the stick inside. 

Anthony stretches and Ian thinks maybe he’ll decide to leave. After all, his job here is done for the most part. Ian is surprised at himself that he doesn’t want Anthony to go. 

“Sounds cool, let’s go watch it.” 

Then Anthony leads Ian into the living room and Ian settles on the couch, tugging his blanket back over him. Anthony sits in a recliner off to the side, a safe distance from Ian. 

Ian is comfortable, happy, as he chooses a brand new documentary to watch so Anthony can get the gist from the beginning. Anthony happily interjects his thoughts as they watch. Ian still feels like crap, but with Anthony over, the illness is a little more manageable.

[heroicleader2763]

Coiny do you want this parrotfish

i really don't know how this whole parrotfish thing started, and why exactly you guys keep bringing it up every time im here. im assuming it's to do with my twin, and that reminds me of something ive been meaning to tell to you all for a while mow. ill get on my "smart mode" for a bit here:

i am not my twin brother, and thus i am not a substitute for him — neither is he! i know we're both "coiny"; yeah, so cool! awesome, there's two of us! but you gotta remember we are our own objects. i am my own object. i am not a clone, i do not share the same experiences as the other coiny. we both share the same name, and core appearance, and just plain ol' essence, but all in all i am totally different from him in many, many ways. so many measly details... every one of which make up aspects of the "self". we come from totally different backgrounds; who knows, maybe he has had a strikingly different path than mine! does that coiny have the same relationship with pin as i have? i don't think so. what about firey's? snowball's? we probably went through some same-y situations, anyways. intricate little tiny attributes woven onto our object fabric. it's what makes us so similar, yet still not the same. hell, even minor stuff such as our gender identities are still vastly different from each other! that makes me wonder about other things. there must be many, many other coinyies out there. im not exactly sure how to feel about that — it's extremely curious and interesting! but at the same time rather scary. what the hell are my alternate versions doing out there? being nice? being the worst living beings ever? it makes me question myself a bit, but at the same time make me realize lots of stuff about my own self. i am, undoubtedly, a unique object; and so is everyobject else. i am glad to be in this specific timeline, even when there's the possibility of other completely perfect universes existing... but what's the fun in being perfect, any ways? all the hills and bumps that shape our path, that's what makes it worth it.

so, finally, to answer the question... yes. absolutely yes, i do want a parrotfish!

[djsadbean]

do you have any advice for making stickers? your designs are all so pretty!!

ahh thank u sm!! yessir here's some tips i keep in mind when i design/make stickers (mostly from the perspective of someone selling stickers but these can be for personal sticker making too):

design:

try to use the same brush size/type if youd like all of your stickers to look similar. i personally have two i like to alternate between whether I'd like a smooth vs sketch look

also try to use the same size canvas if youre gonna make a lot of 3 inch stickers or 4x6 in sticker sheets (for example) to keep everything looking consistent

find artists you're inspired by and that'll be very helpful to avoid art block. for me, i adore artists who have similar taste and it helps me feel so happy and inspired to make my own art.

people like stickers that are all kinda the same vibe! i like to design stickers that are cute and vibrant and either feature characters i like or aesthetics i like. you gotta like what you make! (they dont all have to have the exact same vibe of course. but ive found that people will like getting all my cute fandom stickers bc they look like they all go together for example)

printing:

if youre cutting these out yourself, rotate the paper, not the scissors for better control. take breaks too! you don't wanna strain your hand! also its worth it to have big girl scissors (i am a big girl with big girl scissors btw ahahaha)

if youre using a cricut or silhouette machine to cut, please consider making all of your stickers easy peel (basically making the sticker its own mini sticker sheet so you remove the outer border so it's easier to peel) because this helps make sure that people from many backgrounds and lives can enjoy your work! It would break my heart to find that someone who has joint pain, for example, can't use the stickers they bought from me because they're too difficult to peel. (If you're hand cutting your stickers, I have no idea how you'd do this so don't worry! Maybe in the future if you decide to invest in a machine, this is something to think about)

if you're using a cutting machine, yes it will take up a lot of time and supplies running tests to see what works with your stickers! and yes you will have to readjust how you do things with the life cycle of the machine's blades. augh........ such a hassle sdjfhksd

when printing for the first time, you may need to spend time running tests and adjusting the colors. some printers need help with the vibrancy and stuff!

when printing your stickers, please only have a few pages loaded in your printer if you're still testing (or in general! i have my paper loaded in one at a time JUST in case I forgot a setting)

if you're printing at a print shop, make sure your file is PDF and that they're printing "actual size" bc otherwise it may change. this would be bad especially if you're planning on using your machine to cut later.

i personally would not recommend ordering your first several stickers outsourced bc you may end up with stock that never sells.

i hope these helped! some may not apply bc theyre for like,,, a sticker biz but maybe someone out there wants this info too :3 ill leave my current supply list in the tags so i can change it if i find that something changes and i dont wanna recommend it anymore

basically read op tags for recommendations :3

[thee-morrigan]

now that I've had a couple of days to go through SEVERAL stages of mental illness about book 3, I have…Some Thoughts. about the book in general and specifically about N's route, as so far that's the only one in which I've gone through most (if not all) of the interaction variations (yes, I have approximately 83253 tabs open rn. I told y'all I'm being very unwell about this). I've played through M's route several times so far too, but there were fewer standout "wait, what?" moments for me in that route tbh 🥴

below the cut: the peer review nobody asked for! (and my sincerest apologies lmao)

I really need Mishka to hire professional copy editors for these books, y'all. There are grammar/syntax errors that just. shouldn't be there. (and I don't even mean the nitpicky ones that I'm super anal about! I mean ones like using 'stationary' when you mean 'stationery'.)

somewhat related to the above bullet, I hope the testing period for book 4 is a lot longer than it was for book 3. there are some inconsistencies in the narrative that I suspect would have been caught if there'd been more time between the beta testing and the book being sent to HG.

for example, if you trigger the sex scene options in N's combat route, there is at least one errant reference to the feel of denim when like. you're both in workout clothes (and there is significant time spent describing both N's and the MC's outfits!). ALSO, when you go back inside for the debriefing with UB, F & M tease N about their jeans being unzipped when, again: there were no jeans or zippers involved. It's a funny scene after the equivalent research options, but it makes no sense post-combat ones without editing for attire differences.

while I'm thinking about the research scene on N's route, the fact that the MC can confess their love and N flat out says NOTHING in response??? just immediately jumps to gettin' busy despite the MC explicitly asking them to say something in response??? what will probably be Holland's canon route is fine, because the combat path has a "scared by own feelings" choice and you know homegirl immediately tried to yeet herself out of that potential conversation bc they've been dating for all of 30 seconds at this point. BUT knowing that that path was fine bc it happened to fit my OC honestly just made me more annoyed for anyone playing with a different/more emotionally mature/open detective. because going through the "i love you" options in the research scene especially were disappointing.

again, related to the above, the narrative inconsistencies (and the bulky plot) made the pacing often feel inconsistent. there were so many moving pieces and story beats that a lot of scenes felt either rushed (without seeming like that pace was tonally/narratively appropriate) or unnecessarily truncated. I also felt like there were a lot of points of abrupt info-dumping that was clearly meant to give background info on UB/other characters/plotpoints but ended up feeling inorganic/unnatural in terms of actual relationship-building. or, alternatively, like it was meant to build to a resolution point later in the book that just never happened.

for example: the whole post-Unit Victor scene where your LI shares some of their past with you. It didn't feel quite as abrupt/odd in my M route playthroughs, but the flow was JARRING for me in N's. And the abrupt end to that scene is never revisited. like, I understand the conversation maybe not coming up again, but for neither of them to even linger on what were presumably heavy emotional topics or think about it again at what could have been relevant points throughout the book seemed to dilute what I assume was meant to be an important scene.

speaking of things that are basically not revisited when they really should be, if N's overprotectiveness is going to continue to be a defining trait and the MC can continue to be explicitly bothered by it, I am begging for book 4 to let them have an uninterrupted, private conversation about it - particularly after the whole "I don't know how this is going to work" scene after the auction. because if this is how it already is and there are 4 more books, their relationship is going to be so (much more) unhealthy.

a more positive note! I did think it was ~interesting to see the juxtaposition of N's constant over-the-top "romantic gestures/sentiments" schtick against the responses you can get when you invite them to dinner but choose either the "you don't have to go if you would be uncomfortable" or "I'll call it off if you're not feeling it" option. with the former, N's response is that relationships are doing things for the other person/doing things they want to do, and they seem genuinely baffled when the detective immediately disagrees. with the latter, they seem equally surprised at the detective's willingness to ditch dinner for them. it's a brief thing, but both of their potential responses give the impression that N's perception of those statements is disproportionate to their actual significance. I mean. it's a dinner party that the detective almost forgot about entirely. clearly they don't give a shit about rescheduling/going alone. moreover, towards the end of the book, N explicitly worries about not "being enough" for the MC. for whatever reason, N clearly seems to think they're like, constantly on the verge of losing the detective in a different way than they worry about losing them to the neverending string of external threats, and I do hope it's meant to be the foreshadowing I think it is.

[anxietywriter]

Characters with a Bad Childhood

Is your character meant to be traumatized? Wanna spice it up a little to give their backstory a bit more depth??? Here's a list of things that a character could have if they come from a family that was abusive (emotionally or physically) or maybe they just didn't have parents that were emotionally invested in them and the effects of that when they grow up. Just a few things! If you really wanna go in depth about it then, as always, do your research and fall into a rabbit hole of google searches!

TW: Abuse, Trauma, & Mental Illness

Not knowing basic self-care or things about how to properly take care of their body (specifically for women, maybe they don't know how to exfoliate after shaving/waxing, maybe they don't know how to effectively deal with period cramps. For men, maybe they were never taught how to shave their face or how to deal with their emotions, good or bad)

their life revolves around wanting to do things that should be within their control. Like cooking a new dish they saw on the internet or decorating their room the way they want or how they want to dress/do their hair. It's a constant battle of what they want to do versus what everyone wants of them or expects of them.

See them? They hold so much rejection anxiety. So much. They will never make the first move ever. Whether that's asking a friend for their number or asking to hang out or even texting first, a lot of the time they will wait. Because they'd rather not do anything than face rejection from a person they tried to reach out to.

Learning how to cope with whatever trauma or other mental illness they have from their experiences. And doing it badly or slipping up sometimes but still trying. Whether that is repeating positive affirmations to themselves or listening to music or writing in a journal or fidgeting. They are trying to heal.

They will flinch more than a regular person at any sudden movements near them if they've been physically abused. It's not even something that they necessarily notice that they do until someone points it out.

Struggling to speak up or be assertive. Like not even just when having to order food but just in their normal speech always being kind of quiet. It can definitely be a bit of an issue if they're doing a speech or if they just need to speak to a larger group in general. They just tend to be a quiet person. It's part of why they always seem so calm or timid. They hardly, if ever, raise their voice let alone yell.

They are so starved for touch or attention. They absolutely plaster themselves against someone or are constantly wearing something warm or fuzzy. Anytime they do get attention from another living being, absolutely happy. Little puppy moment, might even start blabbering on about whatever they're doing that day. If that living thing is their pet? Does not matter that the pet can't understand, they're happily chatting about what they're going to do and all of their feelings.

They hate anger. Like not just being angry but also hearing other people being angry. Not just yelling but also the kind of terse mumbling and swears. It makes them instantly uneasy. Uncomfortable. They may not look for an exit necessarily, but they will look away and seem small and try to avoid engaging with that person for the moment.

Alternatively, silence can be uncomfortable for them. Too many memories of a quiet dinner table populated with warning glares and the ugly sound of silverware against plates. Of a quiet house with no one but then in it. So they always have something playing, whether that be music or a video. Something's always playing, just some background noise. To make them feel less alone and also to remind them that they're okay now.

Especially for emotional abuse, questioning if it was ever *really* abuse. Being gaslighted and told "Well, you never got hit" as a way to discount that experience. Doubting themselves because even though people talk about abuse and everything like it's always different. Sometimes it's the "I'm so sorry, I promise to never do it again. I was just angry." or it's the way no one knows what goes on behind closed doors and continually praises the other person for being such a "hard worker" and "good person" and how you should be "grateful." it's not as obvious sometimes as everyone makes it seem.

[sarcastic-halfling-princess]

Suspicious Minds - Halbrand (AU) x Reader x Aragorn - Chapter III

Pairing: Halbrand (AU) x Female Ranger!Reader x Aragorn

summary: In an alternative universe, Halbrand was never Sauron. He was the secondborn son of Arathorn II and Gilgraen. Unborn by the time of his father's death his mother, along with a two-year old Aragorn, flees to Rivendell. This fic means to explore both a love-triangle scenario between the two brothers, as well as their relationship and how this would affect Aragorn's character. Basically this is a very self-indulgent fanfic so bear with me.

Word count: 938

Warnings: none

A/N: so this chapter is from the pov of our leading lady. We delve a bit into her background (just a tad) and into her feelings about everything. After this chapter I'll probably make two more. We'll get a Halbrand ending and an Aragorn ending (and maybe third secret ending?? shhh) but I wanted to let ya'll know! Thanks again for all the support!

Previous chapter

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Chapter III - Reader

Her heart raced.

She could still feel the phantom of Halbrand’s touch upon her, see the way he had stared at her. Frankly, It brought a flush to her cheeks and made her palms feel clammy. How had she found herself in such a situation?

The young Ranger had always felt certain of herself and her place in the world. She was one of the Dúnedain, her purpose to protect and serve in need of others. She cared deeply for those around her which included the last heirs of the House of Elendil.

Perhaps she cared for them too deeply.

She could still recall first laying eyes upon them. Aragorn had stood out to her the most then; tall, strong and very handsome even with grime upon his cheeks and grease in his hair. It had not mattered to her for she had been positively captivated by him.

Then came the first meeting with Halbrand, the second son of Arathorn.

By all accounts, she should have despised him.

Loathed him even.

For Halbrand was an arrogant and impetuous man. Reckless and mischievous. He had an eye for chaos; one she had mayhaps foolishly thought would spill over into reprehensible behavior.

Gods, she felt stupid now.

Barging into his study demanding whether or not he had joined Sauron. She knew better; she knew he loved his brother. She knew he would not abandon them; would not abandon her.

She shook these thoughts off of her and decided to prepare herself for supper that evening. Changing out of her silvery dress she dressed her body in a velvety green gown with golden embroidery. Her hair she braided out of her face and once she was done, dusk had begun to approach.

With it, came a knock at her door revealing a smiling Aragorn. She approached dear friend with the same smile; taking his extended arm all too gladly.

‘You look wonderful tonight, little one’, the taller Ranger almost seemed to coo causing pleasant chills to run up her back. Though, internally she prayed for him to cease his compliments. She had already been made a flustered mess by one brother, she did not need the other to chime in too.

‘Thank you, Aragorn’, she nodded in return as her mind recalled how they had bumped into one another earlier; ‘I hope you were not too rough on your brother-’

‘I did not dare after the lashing you gave him’, he gently stopped her as his amusement on the matter made the corners of his eyes crinkle.

At the jest, she felt herself grow a bit embarrassed; minding her footing as she stepped over a root in their path. ‘I did not mean to be so harsh-I judged him unfairly’, she tried but he patted the back of her hand.

‘He was in need to have an earful. Yet he meant no ill intent’, he assured her and she nodded in agreement.

‘I know’, she answered then met his azure gaze with a certain level of uncertainty; ‘I believe he fears to lose you’, as I fear to lose you, she added mentally.

At this, he gave her a burdened, pained glance. She did not know whether he could read the truth from her face but even if he did, he gave no comment on it. Instead he gave her hand a light squeeze.

‘Come. We must not act with such despair as the Fellowship has yet to depart’, he urged.

And though she feigned another smile, deep down she feared to never see him again. To never solve the uncertainty within her heart; to never know whether her heart ached truly for him or not.

These confusing feelings had plagued her so and Halbrand’s affectionate gesture had only worsened things. Truly, she did not wish for her heart to be so fickle as she felt she could lead both of them to believe she had feelings for them.

Yet her stupid, lovestruck heart…

She had drowned her sorrows with Elvish mead that night hoping to dull the ache in both her soul and her head. She had sung and danced to her hearts content, unaware of the two pairs of eyes which followed her delicate moves with affectionate and longing intend.

Halbrand, the bold man he was had even offered to dance with her at some point. And oh he was wicked; making her trip over her feel and fall into chest. And due to all the mead and ale, she had so stupidly giggled into him, chastised him for his deception which he then fiercely denied and blamed solely on her supposed bad footwork.

Gods, she could scold him.

Aragorn eventually asked to have his turn to dance with her. She willfully chose not to see the tension between the two men; all lovestruck smiles as the older Ranger twirled her about. And though her dancing partner had changed, so hadn’t the pounding in her chest; the fluttering of her stomach.

Once again, she felt enamored and spellbound. Wishing for the joining of mouths, lips upon bare skin and the sighs of pleasure fading into the night. Wishing for words of promise and love to be whispered to her and only her.

For a while she could delude herself into thinking all had been as is once was and that no war loomed beyond the horizon. For a while, she could imagine herself a carefree young maiden untethered by the burden of responsibilities; free to bare her heart to not one, but two men he very much harbored feelings for.

But who was she to choose?

Could she choose?

Taglist: @jack-napier-2008 @ofheroesandvillains @actualhawkesworld @woodyrubster @queen-ilmaree @northlilies @faithfire

[stuckinapril]

Basically the person I bullied said some stuff about mental health/trauma recovery which I felt was victim blamy so I was like “hey actually you had the privilege of mental health treatment and therapy for years lol” and they went on this rant about how I obviously choose to be ill and they experienced severe trauma which I would not understand and basically said in such a way in which whatever I experienced must be insignificant in comparison so I was like? I wanna see you suffer for real. Btw I was severely abused in my childhood and suffered my whole life and I have a very severe trauma disorder because of it (the “famous” one in horror films) and I cannot stand the invalidation. Also? I feel like I have a sadistic streak I learned from the abuse, something to do with retaliation/punishment which I wanna kick but my illness makes it complicated. I was an older teen/legal adult when this happened btw

OH MY GOSH okay your friend was so fucked up for invalidating your trauma. Not saying what you did in retaliation was okay, but all around this story really sounds like it has no heroes. What I’ve learned recently is you don’t owe people forgiveness, and no one owes us forgiveness either, but that doesn’t mean we can’t forgive ourselves and move on.

They don’t want to forgive you? Respect their decision and move on. What’s the alternative? Lying down and dying on command? We can’t base our self-perception on how other people feel. The best we can do is live by good values, act according to these values, and just do the best we can. You’re trying to be better. You can’t punish yourself forever. You can’t put your life on pause because someone else doesn’t want you in theirs anymore. Your forgiveness should be your #1 priority. Focus on that—on proving to yourself you’re trying to do better. You also clearly came from a hard background, so you should give yourself some grace. You’re human. Neither of you sounds like they’re good for the other honestly. Maybe in the end staying apart is the best decision for both parties involved.

Feeling no negative feelings, doing right always, making no mistakes, basically being perfect??? That is only sustainable to Disney characters. We are not Disney characters. Sometimes accepting that and moving on is all we can really do.

[themediummultiverseau]

Will papyrus ever be included in the storyline, maybe sans opening up to him about it, or he gets suspicious about sans's behavior and corners him or something?

Aaaand are there any prominent side characters that we'll see?

Papyrus notices that his brother has been leaving the house more, and at first, hes overjoyed! Sans was finally leaving the house! But, he realised after a while, that he always dodged the question as to where he was going. (Sans, being the secretive little fuck that he is, refuses to tell anyone about the ghosts.) Worried, Papyrus follows him one day, only to find him walking al the way to the park. And then he just stops, and starts talking to air.

Papyrus is CONCERNED (tm,) and goes back home to wait for Sans to come home. It takes him HOURS to come back, (he visits everyone he can,) and, when confronted, he once again try to avoid the questions.

Papyrus says he followed him, saw him talking to air, and was considering getting him professional help, his depression had been bad before, and if he was starting to see things now as well...

Sans is forced to tell the truth.

And he does. For the next few hours they sit and talk about the ghosts. Papyrus want to believe him, really, he does! But he cant help but still be worried, so says takes his phone out and googles "Nightmare - Prince" and shows him the results. He then goes through the lot of them, showing death reports, news articles, anything that appears really, and Papyrus finally believes him.

From then on, he insists Sans takes something for them every time he visits, and often makes them food to give (more often that not, its spaghetti,) and asks how they're doing. Sometimes, they go and Sans acts as a medium, for them, so Papyrus and the ghosts can talk directly.

Killer and Dream especially take a liking to him, while Dust is pretty scared of him (he looks way to much like his won brother its actually scary,) and always ask how he is when Sans comes without him.

Side characters.. It depends what you mean by that.

Every Sans you could ever want can exist here, they just might not haunt the town,

(i got lazy when drawing here, so its just a messy sketch but yk)

(Red - shot, epic - shrapnel, Fresh - car crash, Outer - fell)

Alternatively, most of the ghosts had family members, most of them had a Papyrus look alike, (Papyrus isn't reincarnated here, but every Sans deserves a Papyrus, even fate believes it so)

(Nim (Dream and Nightmares mother, Queen), Phantom (Dusts brother,) Horror had lots of siblings, ect...)

Buuut, while many of the original Undertale cast have been spread out throughout the years, Toriel, Chara and Frisk are all based in the present time.

Toriel, after the death of her son, adopts two kids, twins, who were considered "difficult" children, (really there were disabled, but why would they care about that, - Chara has some mental issues, and Frist is mute and has sight problems.) They're lovely kids , and they visit quite regularly, typically with their mother. Sans was named their Godfather (Papyrus was considered, but he told them Sans was a better choice, ) because Toriel knew he'd love them.

Sans and Toriel met at a comedy gig, both preforming on the same day, and became friends instantly over their shared love of stupid puns. (They're not together, this universe has no canonical relationships, everyting's platonic here, but ships are totally allowed and welcome if you wanted lol.)

Holy moly, that was a lot of work lmao, would you believe it, i dont think ive ever actually drawn Papyrus before? I have no idea why, just havent, ill have to do more so in the future cus hes fun.

Ive also never tried to draw anyone from the angle Sans is at in the first drawing, think it looks fine as long as you ignore the feet lol.

No, i didnt get lazy drawing the ghost in the first, it was a stylistic choice! /j /sarcasm, also, Hi, im Whisp, i hate backgrounds!)

Please excuse me attempt at drawing a wimple for Nim and the tricorned hat for Phantom, they're very difficult!

All of Horrors siblings there don't have names, they were just designed on the spot really, so if anyone has and names for them, ill take them on board!

But hope it all looks okay, this is all full of firsts lol. Have a lovely day everyone! :)