#me @me: just fucking write them together

[lucabyte]

monologue

[limblesstar]

odysseus the line cook au

odysseus is a line cook, 40 years old, hasnt gotten a promotion in the decade hes worked there

coworker is diomedes, fresh(ish) out of culinary school, head chef , 27

odysseus is not very fond of this fact

its a fine dining restaurant, they do not act like it is.

boss is circe who cannot stand any of them,

their manager is hermes, he is chill with everything going on, doesnt really care as long as the kitchen is clean and they get dishes out. too busy smoking weed. could of had his own restaurant but didnt want the responsibility

married to penelope whos a professor in textile materials and technology, busy teaching and grading papers usually.

odysseus and diomedes have a very weird hot work situationship, his wife is very okay with it. odysseus is in love with him

theyre just bros, its not gay to fuck in the walk in freezer

what they do depends on the day and how much they can get away with.

penelope actually wants diomedes to move in so he 1. pays bills 2. she can pawn telemachus onto him 3. wants to know whats up

odysseus chain smokes on his break. he desperately wants to quit because his wife thinks its kind of gross and second hand smoke but he just cant kick the habit

lives in an apartment complex, absolute girlfailure.

poor relationship with father, could of been the greatest nepo baby but dropped out of his degree in commerce to go to culinary school

THIEF AND A LIAR

house is filled with equipment from his work, biggest thing hes stolen is a stand mixer that he convinced circe he threw out because it was broken. everything in his fridge is stored in a stolen quart container

doesnt steal any produce because he thinks its poor quality

ACTIVELY HATES CUSTOMERS

if diomedes wasn't there odysseus would be spitting in peoples food (he does it if the customers piss him off enough and if diomedes isnt looking)

maternal family has mob connections that he doesnt use (he can do it on his own)

on his off day he likes to bbq on his balcony to the displeasure of all his neighbours. hangs out with his son too

[missingn000]

hey all! i wrote a what-if character study & action fic for if king fought sanji instead of zoro during the raid on onigashima. i'd really love if you gave it a read! thanks so much!

link

playlist

happy reading!

[kelocitta]

In honor of the @rw-ship-showdown I wanted to write about Artihunter as someone who jokingly slapped them together pre-downpour and still thinks they are actually very compelling. Just not in the super soft love wins kinda way (Although I get why people like that more) And the only way I know how to do that is talking too much so heres a far too long slug essay-

Obviously the slugcats don't offer a ton of characterization but theres not nothing to work with. Their stories, whether by their roles in it or the overarching themes do provide a backbone to work with. Even gameplay itself can provide a bit. (for some more than others) Hunter, to me, is ultimately a story about selflessness. The goal is to revive Moon, which is very much an act of kindness from both Hunter and NSH. But the weight of that action is much more significant for Hunter- Hunter is deeply sick. They're on the clock, and for all their skill in combat none of that will ultimately help them to survive longer than their body can hold out. Moon is a close friend of NSH but that means little Hunter- Hunter really gets next to nothing out of helping them, and ultimately pays quiet a bit spending their limited time alive fighting to deliver that neuron so that someone else can live.

To spend ones limited days on helping another, in a game that very much stresses the unwavering cruelty of the world and nature- is pretty notable. (And you could even say that Hunter being the Hardmode of Rain World adds another layer to this)

And then we have Artificer. A storyline that very much stands out to people as more… villainous (so to speak) than the other slugcats. Artificer's story covers a lot of things. Trauma, violence, revenge, etc. Revenge is a bit of a selfish desire- That need to see someone hurt as they have hurt you. A punishment that ultimately does not fix whatever harm was done- but feels good to see because you were hurt and now those responsible share that pain.

Artificer's actions are founded in that need for revenge, their pups killed for overstepping boundaries they didn't know existed. Is it not fair for them to be angry at that, to punish the scavengers for their violence with their own? Why should the scavengers ever be forgiven when they and their pups were not? And that's how you get that loop- Harm for harm over and over.

The original action has been lost in a spiral of violence for violence. And here stands Artificer- their very spirit scarred. Not just because they sought revenge, but because they never ceased trying to scratch that itch for violence as an answer. Artificer only has two paths for their story- killing the scavenger king (Someone who, really, has little to do with the original 'crime' of the scavengers, but represents an important individual to them- as did the slugpups to Artificer), locking themselves as karma one for good and spending the rest of their life chasing creatures that no longer even fight back in a warped sense of closure- or to dissolve themselves in the acids of the void sea because they're too far gone to find any real peace.

They can't meaningfully recover from that state, not alone, twisting in on themselves. Even if they halt their actions, they've been using violence as a feeble defense against their own pain- violence that no longer has any real direction or basis. Artificer gets no real closure from killing the scavenger king. All they can do is continue the cycle, or try to scrub it away. No real peace in a prison of their own making. So you have a creature, who even with a strict timer on their life- a body that will crumble to disease, spends its last bit of time on saving another. And another who was so caught up in the pain of loss that were eaten alive by their own anger, poisoned their own soul on such a deep level even self-proclaimed gods have no solution for them. What peace can they offer each other? For Hunter, its only a fleeting moment of happiness- of selfish love, before their own body fails them. A bit of indulgence in something for themself. For Artificer, its a single, comforting thread to ground them again, something tangible to protect and care about again. But thats a thread that will ultimately be snapped under the cruel indifference of the world. Hunters timer will tick down regardless of if it takes another with it. Its a tragedy- its doomed to end badly. Whatever good it offers to either of them to find each other will only provide the fleeting comfort of a band-aid that will be ripped away too early. But all that can be worth indulging in anyway, if only for the moment. It doesn't change the ending, but the ending was never going to be happy. Its can so yuri

[triglycercule]

mtt therapy moment except dust keeps taking breaks to talk to phantom papyrus and horror just wants this to hurry up so it can get to his turn because he couldn't give two shits about dust and killer's trauma and killer physically cannot discuss his issues and just starts zoning out while crying for some reason during it

and i'm the therapist listening to all of this writing down notes fervently because ITS CANON MATERIAL CANON I NEED TO GET THE CANON MATERIAL

[inkskinned]

this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.

it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?

it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.

as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.

on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.

and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.

and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.

as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.

[dont-offend-the-bees]

If the Shoe Fits, Then I Won’t Try It On

Omg I made it! Threw this one together today, so might not be my best! But thanks to my pal @every-moment-a-different-sound making these gorgeous gifs for my fic Outside Looking In, and also @wordsinhaled writing this lovely little fic inspired by it, I felt compelled to pop back in and give the disguise altar egos a little love! So this one is set pre-canon, about seven years into the boys' friendship/detective agency, and it's the first outing of the disguises (in their very early and imperfect forms! I like to think Charles has been experimenting over the years and the ones we've seen in show are just like, the latest versions!). It can really only be called case fic by the barest technicality but it's the best I got xD There's some nebulous Edwin gender-feelings, I'll leave it up to your personal preferences/interpretation whether it's a bit of transfem/nonbinary/genderqueer joy or just a boy's formative experience with drag, this baby can fit so much gender!! And references to fictionalised alcohol abuse, gambling and infidelity, but it's all just banter and tall tales, really. 2k, T-rated, also available on Ao3. Thanks again, @painlandweek!

"Perhaps we ought to rethink this strategy," Edwin muttered, fussing with his skirts.

"Relax, it'll be fine," said Charles. "No one's gonna suspect anything."

"They may suspect something," said Edwin. His voice sounded different, but the tone was one Charles had heard a thousand times before — pessimistic and haughty. Edwin seemed to pick up extra helpings of poshness when he was rattled. "They needn’t ascertain the exact nature of our ruse to know we're playing one."

"What? You think they're gonna be expecting someone to go in for fake marriage counselling?" Charles laughed.

"Stranger things have happened, Charles." Edwin spread his hand and swept it, gesturing between them and their magical disguises. "Q.E.D."

Charles looked at him blankly.

"Quod erat demonstrandum."

"Mate. They haven't taught Latin in that school for donkey's years."

Edwin made a noise of frustration — it had a bit of a high pitched, trilling quality with his fancy new vocal chords. "What I mean to say is that you and I are — figuratively speaking — living proof that real life is stranger than fiction."

"Well, yeah. But only to people who know ghosts exist," Charles reasoned. "And if this lady knew that, our client wouldn't've needed to come to us, would she? She'd've haunted the information out of her already."

Edwin exhaled, a quick, nasal huff like a bull, and pinched the bridge of his nose. His fingers bumped the chunky plastic frames of his enchanted glasses. "Pity. If she could see us, there'd be no need of these ridiculous costumes."

"I think we look brills," Charles beamed, proudly straightening out his big red rain mac. Sure, the disguises weren't perfect — he was still getting the hang of tweaking the enchantment. And yeah, he'd ballsed up his own bald spot at first, made it too big and just a little bit sort of... Australia-shaped. But all in all, he thought they looked mint! No one was gonna suspect them of anything, couple of old geezers. Who'd think they were a crack detective team?

Edwin was obviously having a harder time settling into character. He kept on faffing about with his unfamiliar layers of flowy clothing. Kept tugging on his little blue cashmere scarf, changing his mind on the drape of it — getting thrown whenever a tug of the fabric dislodged the waves of hair on his shoulders. Charles really hadn't got the hang of hair, just yet. He'd been aiming for something a bit classic and classy for Edwin, something honey-blonde and neatly coiffed. Instead he'd ended up with straw-like, brittle strands of peroxide white with... maybe just a hint of green. Charles would have to get that sorted out sharpish before they brought these disguises out again. Edwin would never let himself walk around looking less than his best if he had any say in it!

Charles turned to him, properly, grabbing Edwin's restless hands away from his scarf. "Eds. You look fine. Nice, even! Leave it."

Edwin glared at him, brow wrinkled. If Charles was being honest, the weirdest thing about seeing Edwin like this wasn't the fact that he looked blonder or older or, well. Like a woman. No, weirdest thing by far was how much thinner his eyebrows were. Charles had probably made them a bit too thin, he'd have to fix that, too. They were decent eyebrows! Visible, at least. But they were skinny and pale and neatly plucked, no little dusty dark hairs in between. Charles sort of missed them. He'd gotten used to those thick, dark brows scrunching up at him like grumpy caterpillars when Edwin was ticked off about something.

"It hardly matters if I look nice, Charles," he said, with a little belligerent flick of his hair that sent it flying. Charles probably should've made him a hairband or something — all long and loose, Edwin couldn't seem to get his hair off his mind. "But I do need to look convincing."

"You do! It's a good disguise, mate — made it special, didn't I?"

"I never said it wasn't." Edwin sighed, eyes fluttering closed a moment. Charles winced — maybe he'd overdone it a bit with the eyeshadow. There was a bit of colour-clashing going on, but hey-ho. Sort that in the next edit, too. "I am not concerned with the quality of the work, Charles."

"What is it, then?" asked Charles, dropping Edwin's hands to squeeze his shoulders instead. "What's got you all het up?"

Edwin shifted on his feet. His high heels clicked on the concrete porch. "I am merely concerned that I'm not... wearing it well," he said, a little bit through his teeth. "I don't want to compromise the entire investigation because I'm unable to act in a... befitting manner."

"Well, you're not gonna. Mate, you're doing brills." Charles smoothed down the big, floppy collar on Edwin's trenchcoat — he tried to do a Casablanca thing, but he might've gone a bit overboard — and grinned at him. "You're a natural. The way you stand all straight and that. Christ, you could've been walking in them heels for years! You're smashing it. For reals."

Edwin ducked his head, with the smallest smile. It was so Edwin that Charles could almost see the shape of him through the disguise; high, sharp bones under those rouged apple cheeks. Could almost spy that little spot on his chin. Actually, the chin wasn't a million miles off Edwin's own, with that barely noticeable little dimple in the middle. Maybe Charles had been taking some inspiration, subconsciously.

"I don't come across... peculiar?" asked Edwin.

"No. 'Course not." Charles sighed and patted his shoulders. "But look. If it's too weird for you, I can be the girl."

Edwin's brow twitched.

Alright. So maybe Charles could've worded that better. He coughed and took a step back, shoving hands in his pockets. "I mean, y'know. Bet I can manage it. How hard can it be? Probably won't be as like, chic as you, but I could give it a go."

Edwin pursed his lips, looking off to the side. He was fiddling with the rings on his fingers — maybe Charles had overdone them too, a bit.

"It... doesn't feel strange," said Edwin, quiet as a mouse. He couldn't seem to look Charles in the eyes. "It doesn't feel strange at all."

Charles smiled, all warm in the chest. Edwin had been a closed-off, buttoned-up sort of chap as long as Charles had known him — seven years and counting. Every time he offered up something of himself, Charles wanted to cup it in his hands.

"Oi," he said, gently, waiting for Edwin to look at him. "Suits you, mate."

Edwin smiled again, a barely-there twitch of his tinted lips. But he gathered himself quickly, clearing his throat and adjusting his scarf. "Well. We'd best be be getting on. We're due for our 'appointment' any minute now."

"Right."

"Shall we walk through the plan once more?"

"Go in, introduce ourselves, spin a backstory for a bit, make her think we're legit," said Charles. "Angle for a bit of one-on-one time. I keep talking, see if I can get her to slip up, drop us a hint — while you sneak off, search the office."

"Spot on," said Edwin, with a brisk nod. "According to our client, this woman writes down everything. No doubt she stores her more sensitive journals somewhere apart from the rest, somewhere discreet. Find the journals..."

"Find the body," Charles agreed, tilting his head side to side to crack his neck. "She'll have written down what she did with it for sure."

"Precisely. Right. That's the aim." Edwin steepled his fingers. "And we are...?"

"Edie and Colin Cromley," Charles replied, automatic. He should bloody well hope he knew that one — he'd had to put up with Edwin calling him Colin all night, trying to get him into character.

"Correct. And we are here because of discord in our marriage, resulting in my alcohol dependence and your extramarital affair."

Charles frowned. "Right..."

Edwin cocked his head a little. "Is there a problem?"

"You, uh. You ever actually been drunk before, mate?"

"Not as such, no," said Edwin, primly. "But, as we've quite thoroughly ascertained, I've never been a woman before, either."

Charles snorted. "Yeah, yeah. Fair point."

Edwin's manicured finger hovered over the doorbell. "Right. Are we quite ready?"

"Yeah," Charles mumbled, fidgeting on his feet. "Yeah, s'pose."

Slowly, Edwin lowered his hand. "Charles. We must be on the same page if we're to go inside and sell a convincing fiction."

"Just... feels a bit weird, is all."

"Why? You've always enjoyed undercover work in the past."

Charles shrugged. "Just... feels off. I wouldn't do that to you, y'know? Cheat, I mean. If we were married."

Edwin stared at him. "But we're... not married."

"Yeah, obviously." Charles felt all hot in the face, embarrassed. He should've just kept his big mouth shut. "Just saying, like — I wouldn't mess around on you like that. Or anyone," he added, quickly, because he was making things weird again, fuck's sake —

"Charles," said Edwin, amused. "Are you having ethical qualms about the character you're playing in this scenario?"

And alright, yeah. It sounded bloody ridiculous when you put it like that. Charles huffed out a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Just — it's hard, yeah? Dunno how I'd even pretend I'd screw you around like that."

Edwin hummed, toying thoughtfully with the dangly end of his scarf. "Perhaps... I could play the unfaithful partner?"

"You want to?"

"... No. No, not particularly." He pressed his fists together. "Hm. Perhaps infidelity is the wrong narrative for Mr. and Mrs. Cromley."

"Not believable, is it?"

Edwin chuckled. "No. No, I suppose not. Hm. Back to the drawing board..."

Charles mulled it over, tugging on his earlobe. "How about... right, okay, how about, yeah, if I have a secret gambling problem?"

"That does feel more authentic — we've had plenty of words about your impulsive decision-making," Edwin teased. He nodded, eyes sharp as he formulated the new story in that big brain of his. "Very well, a gambling problem is it. You've been losing money at the races —"

"Reckon I'm more of a footie bloke. Big bets on the big games."

"You've been losing money at various sporting events," Edwin corrected, rolling his eyes. "And the extent of your debt has recently come to my attention."

"You should see how much I lost on the cricket world cup," said Charles, seriously.

"Oh, believe you me, I did. Hence, marriage counselling."

"And boozing."

"Indeed. I knew the problem needed addressing a month ago," said Edwin, fingers gesticulating as he spun his little yarn. "When I visited our local public house for a consolatory tipple and became positively sozzled on sherry."

Charles chuckled. "Sure you wanna go with sherry?"

"Is it not appropriate?"

"I mean. It's fine," said Charles, raising his hands. "Nothing wrong with it! Just doesn't sound like your usual sort of, uh, blackout drunk sort of booze. Never heard of anyone going on a sherry bender."

"Well, what would be your suggestion?" Edwin challenged.

Charles wasn't actually sure, come to think of it. What did middle-aged classy ladies drink to get sloshed? "Um... well. Me and the lads used to get pissed on White Lightning after school."

"Very well, then. I overindulged on White Lightning. Happy?"

"Aces."

"Right. Well, now that's all straightened out..." Edwin lifted his finger to the bell again. "Shall we?"

"Go for it."

Edwin rang the bell — and when he dropped his hand, Charles picked it up. Edwin looked at him, quizzical.

"What?" said Charles. "Meant to be a couple, in't we?"

"One in the throes of marital strife," said Edwin, a little smile on his lips. "I doubt we'll be expected to be affectionate."

"Right. 'Course not," Charles agreed — but he didn't let go.

Edwin chuckled, and stayed put. His hand felt small, smaller than it ever had the few times Charles had held it — usually when he was hauling Edwin out of harm's way. Small and bony, lined with soft wrinkles, dotted in sun spots. Couldn't be much further from Edwin's long, lean, smooth hands if it tried.

But it fit in Charles' hand just the same.

~~

Hope you liked it! Probs won't be one tomorrow unless I can whip up something suuuuper short/quick or I find an existing WIP to polish off, but there'll defo be fic on Sunday! Thank you so much for all your love and comments I seriously appreciate them beyond words 💛💛💛💛💛💛

[justbrothings]

Concept: a family with three brothers, the older two are a bit closer in age to each other and have this complicated codependent incestuous hate-love relationship going on, they are either bitterly fighting or deeply in love at any given time; any chance they get they either beat the shit out of each other or make out passionately

But that is strictly between those two: they treat their little brother completely normal and see him as nothing but a sometimes annoying younger sibling; absolutely nothing romantic or homoerotic going on between them and him

Meanwhile the younger brother is deeply and desperately in unrequited love with them, pining his fucking heart out (and probably catches them at some point together and then has to pretend nothing is wrong while the jealousy is eating him up)

[frobby]

I think it would be really funny if rin was the more helpful one around his house. Like u would think rin would be the disrespectful one who always bails on housework or mass but its actually yukio who would always have an excuse not to go or forget about chores to the point that rin just does them instinctively now

[shiraoyagi]

name one heterosexual explanation for this fucking thing

[feroluce]

For reasons to be expanded upon at a later date (because I love the little bits about Boothill and possible paranoia/betrayal canon gives us so very dearly HNGH) I think Boothill like... He won't let himself fall into disrepair or anything of course, but he reeeeeeeeeeally does not like letting other people poke around at his body. It's a necessary evil to him. He does whatever maintenance and repairs he can himself. He started out with a massive knowledge deficit, simply because he didn't really have any exposure to that kind of technology until he left Aeragan-Epharshal, but he's taught himself a lot since then, he worked really hard at it!

Anyway, the point being, Boothill generally isn't super trusting of people.

But I think he would come to make an exception for Himeko, since he trusts Dan Heng a lot, and Himeko is one of Dan Heng's once-in-a-lifetime dearly beloved companions.

Himeko is so unflappable, I don't think she would even bat an eye about anything he throws at her, either. Like she enters the Parlor Car one morning (she's always the first one up) and Boothill is already there, waiting for her.

"Mornin', Madam Navigator."

"Good morning, Mr. Boothill."

And despite the fact that he blatantly broke into the Express (Pom-Pom is NOT happy about this JDKSAJDSKL), Boothill tips his hat, greets her politely, and is nothing but respectful when he says he has a favor to ask of her. Except it won't stay a favor long, of course- he has every intention of paying it back.

Himeko never agrees to things blindly, but she does bring up that all the knowledge Boothill contributed during the Charmony Festival was essential to preventing the universe from being pulled into Ena's Dream. And they were able to hold onto the Jade Abacus because Boothill used Tiernan's burial relic to summon the Galaxy Rangers instead. The Astral Express owes him a debt of gratitude, and besides, he's a friend of Dan Heng's. Of course she'll try to help him.

Boothill fidgets a bit, quickly brushes off the thanks, and tells Himeko he's having a problem with error codes. He keeps getting the same one, seemingly at random times, but the darn thing has no obvious cause. Dan Heng mentioned Himeko had been the one to rebuild the Astral Express. He knows it ain't the same, but it's not like he's askin' for any major repairs or nothin'. He was wonderin' if she could just take a look, maybe offer him some insight, since she seems to be somethin' of a mechanical wonder.

So Himeko walks him back to a another car, where she goes to tinker with machines without them crowding her bedroom. It's all neatly laid out and organized, and it only takes a second for Himeko to locate some specific device with a long cord. Instead of plugging it in herself, she holds the end of it out to him, like an offer rather than a demand, and Boothill visibly relaxes a bit. He still eyes it just a little warily for a second, but he accepts and plugs it into the port on his side.

Himeko pulls up the list of all recent errors, and they really are all the same. Boothill has had multiple temperature alarms over the past couple of weeks since the Charmony Festival, and they know it's not the environment, because Penacony is mostly dreamscape and kept mild year-round. The long-forgotten natural deserts are too far away.

Boothill is staring from the corner of his one good eye, so Himeko turns the hologram to let him see what she's doing easier. They don't appear to be false alarms. His internal temperature spikes and then slowly lowers again, high enough that if it lasted it would eventually cause damage.

One option is for her to start rooting through personal data, figuring out what he was doing at the time of each code, and tracing cause and correlation.

Instead, Himeko reads out the timestamps, and asks Boothill if he minds sharing what was happening around him when it occured.

Two weeks ago: He and Dan Heng went to explore Dreamflux Reef and found a bar- nice place, good atmosphere. Woman runnin’ it was a doll. Boothill left fer not even two minutes to get them drinks (Dan Heng knows like nothin’ about liquor, Madam Navigator, can you believe this guy) and when he came back, someone had already stolen his seat and was hittin’ on Dan Heng! Dan Heng didn't even care, just shooed ‘em off. Boothill laughed and said not to let him get in his way if he wanted to meet someone. Dan Heng looked at him like he'd grown a second head. Why would he want to leave with someone else, when he came here to be with Boothill?

Twelve days ago: While laying low- er, just rustlin’ up some grub- in the Moment of Blue, Boothill passed Dan Heng with March and Caelus playin’ on the beach, buildin’ sandcastles and the like. When he passed by again almost two hours later, they were still out there, with Dan Heng pullin’ March through the water on her inner tube and Caelus hangin’ off the back of it. He swam so fast! You'd think he was part water snake or somethin’. He looked happier ‘n a cat in a sunbeam… He has a nice smile, doesn't he?

Eleven days ago: Boothill was killin’ time in Dreamflux Reef when he turned the corner down a shady alley and saw Dan Heng, surrounded by three men demandin’ “protection money.” None of ‘em stood a chance, they were all on the ground before Boothill even blinked! So cool! Boothill wants to see that spear of his closeup- Anyway, Dan Heng stepped on one of ‘em on his way out, hahaha! Boothill stepped on the same guy a second time as he hurried to catch up.

Eight days ago: Here on the Express, actually. Boothill had mentioned bein’ curious about the archives, and Dan Heng personally invited him.

(“I remember that day, I saw you in the hall.” “Was there any problem with the heating that day?” “No, none. I don't think the temperature has anything to do with these error codes. I have a different theory, keep going.” “If ya say so.”)

Boothill was fascinated by an entry on aeons, and from a single question he asked about Lan, the two of ‘em ended up talkin’ fer hours. About aeons and Paths and Emanators, Acheron and Self-Annihilators, the Sea of Nihility, Tiernan, the Nameless and the Galaxy Rangers, their burial relics and their customs. Dan Heng finally just started writin’ and editin’ the entries in real time, with Boothill pointin’ things out and tellin’ him what to add in. They were at it so late that Boothill ended up sleepin' on a couch in one of the cars.

He'd figured there had to be something to make Dan Heng chatty- he'd caught just a glimpse of it that first night they met, sittin’ at the bar in the Reverie together. He'll have to ask about the archives more often, if it gets him all revved up like that.

One week ago: After that night of energetic discussion, Dan Heng was apparently hyped up, because after he'd downed some of Himeko's coffee (“You had some too, right? What did you think of it?” “It was great, even better'n chewin’ bullets!” "Thank you! That was my newest brew, I can't wait for everyone else to try it.") he actually asked Boothill to go hunting with him. Boothill asked who their target was, and was surprised when Dan Heng pulled out photos that looked like they were from March's camera, of all things, instead of a bounty or wanted poster.

And as he sat there, studying these pictures, Dan Heng explained that he wanted to hunt down these specific memory zone memes to record them into the archives. Planets with so much memoria are a rarity, especially with the Stellaron's activity thrown into the mix, which has surely affected the local “wildlife.” He might not get another opportunity like this for a long time. And Boothill had talked last night about his extensive expertise in tracking and hunting, so he should have plenty to offer here, Dan Heng would like to learn from his experience and see how he does things!

And oh, Madam Navigator, by the time Dan Heng was done speakin', his eyes were practically sparklin'! Just lit up like the sun! Boothill could scarcely believe it! The two of them couldn't even wait another day, they set out that very morning. It had been a long, long while since Boothill had tracked someone- er, somethin’- without the intent to capture or kill. It was…actually really nice. Nostalgic, but in a good way. It might even have been his favorite day on Penacony…so…far…

Boothill trails off as a couple of realizations crash into him. All the temperature alarms he's spoken about thus far- they've all happened in the company of Dan Heng. And now that he's thinking about it, he's pretty sure even the ones he hasn't yet talked about were with him, too. Dan Heng has been responsible for all of his error codes, every. single. one.

The screen in front of Himeko suddenly refreshes to the top of the list, displaying a new notification for the current time. Alert! Core temperature above normal range.

Himeko's knowing smile is sly as a snake.

Wwwwwelp, would ya look at the time, Boothill has some errands to meet, people to run, y’know how it is, he should really get goin'-

“Oh, Mr. Boothill? About that favor.” And Boothill jolts to a stop in the doorway because fudge, he can't just leave without hearing her out. He'd given his word. He has no problem running out on someone he thinks deserves it, but Himeko really had been kind to him to try and help him out. Her voice is just as knowing as her smile, Boothill can't turn around to look at her, or else he knows he won't be able to disguise the sound of his cooling fans kicking on.

“Don't make Dan Heng wait too long, ok~?”

“Y-Yes, ma'am.”

[butterflysonnets]

yes i'm rooting for m*leven breakup because byler is neat but mostly? i'm rooting for m*leven breakup for the sake of el and mike.

to me, their romance was always a puppy love born out of a combination of social pressures, naïve curiosity, and a lack of true understanding regarding intimacy and romantic love and what it really is. it was real in that they do truly, deeply care about each other and they are close friends, maybe even shared an attraction, but a maturing romance is so much more than that. they've grown up and out of being boyfriend/girlfriend, and that's okay! i think television/film needs to show more often that most of us don't have definite "soulmates" or first childhood loves that we spend our whole lives with. it doesn't mean these relationships meant nothing and didn't impact us, it just means they've run their course and that something else is in the cards, and this is part of life!

i've always felt el was at her best and most confident self when broken up with mike, discovering who she was and what she liked alongside another girl her age instead of just relying on mike for mentorship on how to live in the real world. she deserves more of an opportunity to find herself, her autonomy, and her independence, and to love who she is, and she's made it clear she's felt insecure in the relationship with mike because she isn't being loved and understood the way she wants, needs, and deserves from someone who is her partner.

also, it's okay if mike doesn't love her in "the way he should". he is not obligated to love her romantically and stay in a relationship with her just because she's a girl, because she "needed someone", or because he cares about her a lot. he shouldn't be pressured into a romance if it's not truly coming from his heart. he deserves freedom to find out and honour who he is, too, instead of just staying in his non-functional first relationship — one he got into as a child, essentially — and defining himself that way because it's what's expected when a boy and a girl are close. he loves her in some way, yes, but it's okay if he doesn't feel comfortable or secure being her boyfriend anymore, for whatever reason that is. he's felt insecure too, and that's valid and it matters.

they are their own people and are steadily growing and changing every day. they need time to figure out who those people are, and it's become clear (at least in my opinion) that those people aren't meant to be a couple at this stage.

they deserve freedom. they deserve to grow up and be authentic to themselves and not feel like they need to lie for the sake of a relationship. they deserve to move on from this version of their relationship that isn't making them happy and rekindle the best part of their bond: their strong, beautiful friendship. they don't have to be a couple if it doesn't make them stronger and better and happier people.

i think it would be healthy and wonderful for a show, especially one consumed frequently by young adults, to show a relationship starting, progressing, and ending on good terms in this way. sometimes things don't work out, and that is okay.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[leatherjacketed]

Sam and Dean don't work with so many fan fiction tropes because they're just too weird. If Sam and Dean woke up handcuffed together, they already stand so close they probably wouldn't even notice. If there was 'only one bed' left in the motel room, they would probably fight obnoxiously over who would take the floor/couch for fifteen minutes before agreeing to just share the bed. And the whole time they'd be trying to give the other more of the blanket/space on the bed because they're just so weird. In a fuck or die situation, Sam and Dean would have no qualms about it whatsoever. Honestly they would probably pop a stiffy from being able to lend their body to ensure the other's survival at their own expense. Like, that's just how they are in the show. Fake dating? These two already act like an old married couple. If they started acting like they were dating, they would barely have to play anything up or do anything different. They're just that weird. Like, I'm telling you. Fan fiction tropes and Sam and Dean don't work. Because they're just so, so weird.

[eastbluecrewed]

things you can't get back

aka i've been waiting so patiently to see kidd get his ass beat by shanks (affectionate)

[dukeofthomas]

I need people to realize how horrible 'stalking/constant surveillance/breaking into each other's homes is how the Batfamily show love' is. Like i really need someone to just acknowledge how horrific saying this bullshit is.

Like even fics where they're shown as happy and healthy and with good ties, you've always got this thing where none of them have privacy or any boundaries with each other. Which is directly antithetical to actually having good relationships. And this invasion via hacking and stalking and breaking into homes is portrayed as a positive, good thing; it's just how they show love and care to each other, after all. But for some reason I just personally don't find stalking, lack of privacy or boundaries, and emotional manipulation funny, endearing, or healthy, and just end up disgusted at the attempt to sweep it all under the rug.