#oh well blocked and good riddance

[cassowariess]

How the fuck did I not notice I was following and being followed by someone that posted pro hamas shit as well as regularly reblogged from native news and heritageposts? I guess it's because tumblr doesn't show you everything, but I also should have clocked that they have "88" in their name, too.

[cuntess-carmilla]

Apparently I lost a long time mutual (as in blocked) because of the "lesbians aren't necessarily compatible with every single type of multigender person and I'm tired of our attractions being politicized in bad faith by lesbophobes with WHAT IFs" post. 💀

[slytherinshua]

SHUT YOUR PRETTY MOUTH

genre. fluff. warnings. eric's yapping abt furry stuff 😟 reader hates on furries. slight make out. not proofread pairing. eric x fem!reader. wc. 951. request. no. a/n. @hursheys i hope this fulfills your eric delusions ☝️ i kinda hate the ending but whatever we're gonna roll with it. net. @deoboyznet

“So then he was like ‘well that’s totally furry behaviour’, and, obviously, I took offense to that. Cause, like, hello that’s absurd! I’m not a furry. I just bark occasionally—”

You were all too familiar with Eric’s chronic insomnia. Much like a toddler, if he didn’t do enough during the day to exhaust his endless energy, he could easily stay up all night with no sense of time or how tired other people (you) were. You closed your eyes, still half-listening to your boyfriend’s rambling, although you had lost the context of it a long time ago. If you were lucky, you might even be able to fall asleep to his yapping…

As if.

“So I was like, ‘dude, I have a girlfriend, why would you even suggest that’!? They went without me— good riddance— and I blocked them too, so there’s no need to worry. Maybe this is what Kevin meant when he warned me to stop hanging out with random people I meet on the streets. But, I met you on the streets too, so I can’t trust anything Kevin says anymore. Imagine if I hadn’t stopped to get your number at the crosswalk? My life would be so boring now!” Eric continued animatedly, drumming his fingers against the pillow that rested in his lap, picking out the rhythm to one of The Boyz’s songs.

“And I might actually be able to get some sleep…” You interjected with a tired whisper, rolling on your side to face your boyfriend. You opened your eyes with a pointed glare, and Eric’s let out a small “oh”.

“Right. Sorry, baby. You should sleep.” He said quickly, plopping down next to you and planting a quick kiss to your forehead. He was quiet for around 3 minutes, before you heard a small whisper close to your face.

“You don’t ever regret taking my number, do you?” You opened one eye to find Eric staring at you, his eyes wide like a puppy’s. 

“No, I don’t regret it.” You said truthfully, a yawn coming in at the end of your response. Eric smiled slightly, his brain telling him that he should let you finally sleep, but it seemed his mouth had other ideas.

“What if I was a furry? Would you still date me?” You had to hold back a laugh at the question, assuming that it was a reference to his earlier rambling. Although you couldn’t recall how the full conversation had gone, you were pretty sure that even if you did, it wouldn’t help you understand Eric’s brain.

“Who said you weren’t already?” You asked sarcastically, earning a pout from the boy that was almost impossible to resist kissing. 

“What if instead of talking to you I just barked in response?” 

You raised an eyebrow at him, silently judging his train of thought that was getting increasingly more unhinged with every minute that went by. You being extremely tired didn’t help with your patience for his incessant questions. You loved your boyfriend, you really did. But sometimes you just wanted him to shut up and let you sleep.

“What if instead of walking—”

Eric thankfully was not able to finish his sentence, which you could only assume had something to do with crawling on all fours or galloping around like a pony, because you had finally given in to your thoughts and shut up his rambling with your lips. He was shocked at first, frozen in place from your sudden movement. But kissing you was as natural as breathing to him, so he quickly found his rhythm, pulling you closer by your waist and kissing you deeply. 

“Was that a yes?” Came Eric’s first words when you broke off for air. 

“If you mean breaking up if you became a furry, then definitely yes. Now shut your pretty mouth.” You stated clearly before crashing your lips onto his again, giving him no opportunity to protest.

It was surprising how easy it was to get lost in the kiss even when you were exhausted. With Eric eagerly leading, it was simple enough to just let him do most of the work. You tangled your fingers in his blonde hair as he squeezed your waist, letting his tongue slip past your lips gently. 

It seemed your kissing idea worked wonders to exhaust your boyfriend’s energy, as when he broke it off and fell back onto the pillow, he wrapped you up in his arms and let his eyes fall close. You could feel his heart racing, your ear resting over his chest. His cheeks were flushed a pretty pink colour and his lips slightly swollen from the prolonged kiss. As his heartbeat slowed to a regular speed, you naturally matched your breathing with it, and the repetition lulled you to sleep quickly.

Eric held you tightly in his arms, listening to your steady breathing. He was tired, but his mind still raced with thoughts. Rather than meaningless questions he loved to throw at you, they all shifted to thoughts of you. He didn’t deserve your patience at the best of times, and was forever thankful that you truly loved him for himself. 

He knew he could be overbearing and exhausting at times, but he tried his best to balance it with the soft romantic moments that you and him both loved. You were quite similar to each other, the more Eric thought about. Although you were definitely more subdued, which balanced his exuberant energy quite well.

He sniffed, not having realized until now that his eyes had welled up with tears from his thoughts. He sheepishly blinked them away and held you a little closer in his arms, falling into his dreamland with you.

↳ the boyz taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @eternalgyu,, @blossominghunnie,, @cosmicwintr,, @weird-bookworm,, @haecien,,

@lecheugo,, @seunghancore,, @heavenfilm,, @recordsfilm,, @bananabubble,,

@talking-saxy,, @cupidslovearrows,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz

[tiger-moran]

I am kind of sick of stuff like this though, I mean... people run these blogs that rely on strangers following them and interacting with them and reblogging from them to actually exist and function and they're not even the sort of blogs where they follow you back because they're not personal blogs or anything, then they suddenly just... arbitrarily block me?

And I do remember this happening with other blogs too.

All right, so why the fuck did questions-about-blorbos block me

[son1c]

part 2 of my sonic x dungeon meshi crossover is finally here!! read part 1 if you haven't already and please enjoy 🐉

Something was wrong. Even with his eyes closed, Sonic knew that. It felt like something was poking around inside of his head, its ghastly claws sinking into his delicate brain-meat, and it hurt! In fact, the relentless jabbing was more than just painful; it unnerved him, its apparent wrongness causing his stomach to twist and turn as if to say, Get out!

So, Sonic scrunched up his nose and did something. 

What did he do? How did he do it? These questions weren’t important to Sonic. All that mattered to him was that it worked. As soon as he gathered his strength, the intruder retreated. It took Sonic’s soon-to-be migraine headache along with it, leaving Sonic to exhale in relief. 

Good riddance, he thought.

Then, Sonic opened his eyes.

Surrounding him were the rolling fields of Green Hill. The grass swayed in a gentle breeze and the sky was a perfect blue. Sonic looked around, but there didn’t seem to be any Flickies nearby, because he couldn’t hear their telltale song. In fact, other than the wind, it was completely silent, almost like the whole world had just two occupants: him and the creature laying across his legs.

"Well, then," the creature--a winged lion--mused, its voice pleasant. "How did you do that, I wonder?"

Sonic blinked. He realized he couldn't feel his legs and tried to move out from under the lion, but couldn't. Frustrated, he asked, "Mind gettin' off me?"

The lion sighed. "I'm afraid I can't." Sonic opened his mouth to protest, but the lion continued, "A powerful spell has bound us together. But enough about that. I'm much more curious about you."

"Me?"

"Oh, yes. You."

Sonic didn't like the look in the lion's eyes. They sparkled, not unkindly, but not in a way he found particularly trustworthy, either. "First," Sonic said slowly, "you tell me something."

The lion smiled. "Of course," it replied. "Anything."

"What were you doin' in my head?"

The lion's eyes grew wide. "Ah, so the cat’s out of the bag, is it?" When Sonic frowned, the lion went on to say, "I was looking for something. I'm surprised you were able to tell--usually, no one notices." Tilting its head, the lion asked, bemused, "But you're not of the usual sort, are you?"

Sonic's eyes narrowed. Looking for something? He didn't like the sound of that! "Not cool, dude," he said, ignoring the lion's comment about him being weird. "You have a mouth, right? If there's something you wanna know, use it and ask!"

"Fair enough," the lion conceded. Then, it set its large head down on Sonic's chest. "For what it's worth, your mind shut me out quickly. A passing glance is all I managed to capture before you overwhelmed me." The lion paused. "Yes, you're truly unusual."

Sonic bristled. He was liking this guy less and less by the minute. "What, you thought I'd roll over and let you take whatever you wanted? Not a chance!" He tried to shove the lion's head off him and sit up, but couldn't. The lion's skull was like a cinder block that'd been bolted to his rib cage and it refused to budge.

Irritated (and beginning to feel a little claustrophobic), Sonic spat, "Just who are you?"

The lion's smile returned. "Me?" Its yellow eyes flashed. "Hmm. Right now, I suppose I'm you."

The grass stilled as the breeze died. But Sonic wasn't afraid.

"So much for a lion!" Sonic sneered. "You're more like a copycat. All roar, no bite, I'll bet!"

"An imitation has no appeal to me," the lion replied smoothly. "What I'm really after is happiness. Now, it's my turn. So, please, tell me: what do you desire?"

Sonic gritted his teeth. The wall he'd unknowingly constructed to keep the lion out of his mind grew stronger with his determination. Then, with both hands, he grabbed the lion's head and lifted it off of his chest. Finally, he was able to sit up, although his legs still felt tingly.

"Such willpower!" the lion said, delighted.

Sonic furrowed his brow. After a moment, he let go of the lion's head and muttered, "What's with you? First you wanna know about my desires, then you're happy when I fight back?" He shook his head in disbelief. "I don't get you at all."

Chuckling, the lion replied, "The chase sweetens the prize."

Sonic snorted. "If all you want is to make me happy, that's easy. Just get off me!"

Instead, the lion curled up on Sonic's legs and closed its eyes. "I like you," it said, almost absentmindedly. "You're interesting. Indeed, anyone else would've folded to my vast consciousness. But there you are, still here."

Sonic didn't really understand what the lion was saying, but it made him angry anyway. "I'll never fold to you!"

A lazy grin played on the lion's lips. "Then we'll have to share. After all, you won't be going anywhere without my legs." Cracking an eye open, the lion added, "Although, you may find your heart has shifted once you wake. The Lord of the Dungeon's blood flows through it now..."

Sonic squeezed his eyes shut in exasperation. This whole conversation was so confusing!

Suddenly, Green Hill began to fade. Literally--the world around them was melting away into nothing. Before it disappeared completely, the lion said, "Good luck, Sonic."

//

Thistle inspected the gauntlet Sonic had surrendered to him with an impatient sort of fervor. He looked at each finger, the thumb, and the palm, but still didn’t find what he was looking for. So much of his focus was devoted to searching for the inscription he knew to be there–somewhere–that he didn’t notice the lion chimera peering over his shoulder until their faces were practically touching. 

Thistle jumped. “Stay back!” he snapped, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck.

Sonic blinked, surprised by the mage’s outburst. But then he huffed and did as he was told.

"You hurt his feelings," Merlina told Thistle.

"It doesn't have feelings," Thistle replied automatically. Once he was sure Sonic wasn’t going to sneak up on him again, he began prying a screw loose from the gauntlet with his fingernails. Maybe the inscription was hidden underneath the plating?

Merlina put her hands on her hips. "Oh, certainly not the demon. But what of the hedgehog?"

Thistle didn't look up. "What of him?"

Merlina bit her lip. She didn't like how dismissive Thistle was, but it would be suspicious for her to care about Sonic like a friend, when they were supposed to be strangers. Still, when she looked over at the lion chimera, she couldn't help the ache in her chest, because it was her summoning spell that had brought him here in the first place. Though, her plan had gone awry.

In the end, Merlina simply turned away from Sonic and said to Thistle, "Nothing. Have you found the inscription yet?"

Thistle ignored her. But if he’d responded, it probably would've been something along the lines of, No. Or, No, obviously. Or maybe even, No, and you're not helping, so be quiet!

In response to his silence, Merlina turned up her nose. If he was going to be rude, then so be it, but as a member of the King's Court, she was above such petulant behavior! For that reason, Merlina chose to return his silence in kind. 

Truly, the irony was palpable… 

If Sonic had been listening to their conversation, he would’ve rolled his eyes. But he wasn’t listening, because he was more focused on his paws–all four of them. 

Leaning over, Sonic stared down at his two front paws with wide eyes. A strange feeling filled his chest as he watched the moonlight shine through his gray fur. He knew without touching it that his fur was rough, like a nice winter coat, and that his dark claws could tear through even the toughest armor.

He tapped one of his toes. The sensation of his claw scraping against the dirt confirmed that what he was seeing was real, but it didn’t make the strange feeling go away. Like a boulder, or maybe a whole mountain’s worth of cascading rocks, it weighed heavily on Sonic’s chest. And it only grew stronger as he continued to look down at the feet that didn’t feel like his own.

Finally, Sonic looked away from his paws. He couldn't bear to see them anymore, since they were making his head hurt. Was he angry? Was he happy? The strange, seemingly contradictory feelings pounded against his skull like a jackhammer, threatening to split his head in two.

That’s not me, he thought. That can’t be me.

In desperation, Sonic looked this way and that, trying to find something--anything--to ease the pain. But everything he saw only made it worse. The feathers covering his chest and arms, the dragon with a human head, the she-mage Merlina. They all served to further his confusion until eventually, he turned his attention toward the only thing he had left to turn to: Thistle.

Instantly, a wave of calm rushed in. It washed away all other feelings and rid the lion chimera of his headache. He blinked slowly. His strange body didn’t bother him so much now. No, it didn’t bother him at all. His quills relaxed and his feathers laid flat, all because of that wicked glass vial, containing none other than a drop of the mad mage’s blood.

The winged lion had been right about Sonic’s heart. 

Now, Sonic cared only for the Lord of the Dungeon.

“There you are,” Thistle hissed. He’d finally pried the plating off Sonic’s gauntlet. Between his thumb and forefinger, he held up a single iron strip to examine under the light of the moon. The glyphs glinted with an unmistakable power, their carving as masterful as he’d expected, each stroke etched perfectly into the metal. “I knew the Great Wizard Merlin’s work hadn’t been lost. With this, I’ll finally be able to…”

“There are still more fragments to be found,” Merlina interrupted, looking uncomfortable. “Or have you forgotten?”

Scowling, Thistle pocketed the iron strip before discarding the rest of Sonic’s gauntlet. It fell to the grass with a muted thunk.

Sonic cocked his head and gave the gauntlet a brief glance, but quickly lost interest. He felt nothing at the sight of its mangled corpse and forgot about it as soon as he looked away. Yawning, the lion chimera closed his eyes and began to think about blueberries…

It was then that the dragon chimera approached. Her heavy footsteps caused the earth itself to tremble as if in warning while her long tail swished behind her, slow and steady. She peered down at Sonic, her bright yellow eyes standing out against the shadows of her face, her expression unreadable.

Sonic cracked one eye open to look at her. Her size failed to intimidate him, and her pinprick pupils drew another yawn from Sonic. If she thought he'd be impressed by her Studio Trigger shading, she had another thing coming! But right as Sonic was about to go back to daydreaming, he noticed the red splatter on her huge dragon hand, and his nose twitched.

Heedless to the danger, Sonic got close enough to her hand to touch the splatter. It was dry and cracking but still smelled familiar, although something about it wasn’t quite right, like a latte with the wrong kind of milk, or a chili dog without the chili.

Just when Sonic was about to take a step back, he found himself being picked up by the human hands of the dragon chimera. At first, he squirmed, his wings flapping uselessly in an attempt to get away. But then he caught sight of the dragon chimera’s face and stopped.

She no longer looked like she belonged in a suspect lineup for the critically acclaimed 2023 game, The Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog. Instead, her features had softened to a more natural state, and Sonic couldn’t help but think that she looked too kind to be a dragon. 

“You’re,” Falin started to say, her voice strained, “just a… child…?”

Sonic wanted to fire back with a witty retort, but when he opened his mouth, he found it hard to say anything. It was like there was a weight pushing against his throat that hadn’t been there before, making even simple sounds difficult. Clearing his throat didn’t solve the problem, which irritated him, but he wasn’t a quitter, so he forced the words out anyway.

“Nnnothin’... ‘just’... about it!”

Then, with his back paws, Sonic pushed off against the dragon chimera’s feathery abdomen and flipped out of her grasp. He landed on the ground with Olympic grace, rubbing his nose with his thumb as he grinned up at her. But his throat was shredded from just those four words, so he let his actions speak for themselves. 

Falin, in all her mid-20s wisdom, knew that Sonic was trying to look cool. So, she clapped her hands together and smiled at him, because who was she to deny him of that? She’d already killed him once. Instead of sulking about what had been, unbeknownst to her at the time, a cold-blooded child murder, she found it much more productive to be supportive.

Now that Sonic smelled like the Lord of the Dungeon, there was no need for Falin to commit double child homicide, anyway.

Hurray!

“Dragon,” Thistle said, commanding both her and Sonic’s attention. “The next artifact awaits. Quickly, now. We mustn’t keep Delgal waiting.”

As the dragon chimera shuffled over to Thistle, Sonic’s keen eyes noticed something. Inside Thistle’s chest, another blueberry had formed, and it sat, radiating warmth right next to the mad mage’s heart. Sonic remembered the irresistible taste of the first blueberry he’d eaten and before he knew it, he was moving, running past the dragon chimera and straight at Thistle.

In turn, Thistle held up one of his hands and demanded, “Stop!”

Sonic skidded to a halt. He barely managed to avoid plowing into Thistle, his nose mere inches away from the mad mage’s outstretched palm. Impatiently, Sonic flicked his tail. The delicious blueberry was so close now. It was making his mouth water.

“You’re more useful to me in this form than as a book,” Thistle said. “But if you start acting as you did before, it won’t matter. I’ll return you to the pages. Understand?”

Sonic didn’t understand. He had no idea what Thistle was talking about. Still, he really wanted that blueberry. So, he flashed Thistle a thumbs up and gave the mad mage a toothy grin. 

At this, Thistle wrinkled his nose. “Perhaps your other head was best,” he muttered. Then, he straightened his face and put his hands on his hips. “I want to gather all the artifacts before two week’s time. The next one isn’t far, but we shall need to…”

To be honest, Sonic stopped listening after Thistle said “I want.” Because when those two words were uttered, the blueberry in the mad mage’s chest grew a little bigger, and with it, the flavor grew a little stronger. In that moment, Sonic figured out how he’d be able to eat that blueberry, as well as every other blueberry that sprouted from Thistle’s heart. 

He’d make sure Thistle got everything he wanted. 

And in exchange, Sonic would eat the blueberries. 

//

Tails wasn’t worried about Sonic. He knew Sonic. Sonic was the coolest guy he’d ever met and stronger than most people could ever dream of. So, when Sonic didn't show up after Tails and the knights finished off the last of the monsters, Tails figured he must still be fighting the dragon.

It was a big dragon, Tails reasoned. In fact, it was huge! And things only got that big if they had several hundred health points, right? By that logic, it made perfect sense that Sonic wasn’t back yet; it could take him all night to fell an enemy as ginormous as the red dragon! 

In the meantime, Tails focused on helping people who’d been hurt from the monster invasion. He pulled up his socks, spun his twin tails, and got to work surveying the area. He’d make sure no one was left alone in the rubble… which there was a lot of.

Tails shook his head. Restoration plans could wait. 

Sonic was counting on him to help these people right now!

It was a little hard to see through the haze of destroyed architecture, but not even the darkness of night could keep Tails from hearing the cries of two kids trapped under a broken food cart. With Percival’s help, Tails was able to pull the kids out from the wreckage and get them standing again. Then, he sent them off toward the castle where the rest of the townsfolk had gathered.

Lancelot wasn’t as content as Tails to simply let Sonic be, however. As Tails and the other knights helped the injured, Lancelot kept looking off toward the horizon until finally he said, “I’m going after him.”

Gawain scowled under his helmet. “You’re needed here, Sir Lancelot. Stay and help the people whose lives you’ve sworn to protect.”

Lancelot bristled. “Their safety is assured,” he said, his voice hard. “Unless I’m wrong to entrust them to your care?”

Gawain rose to his full height, but before he could draw his weapon, Percival moved in between him and Lancelot. “Now’s no time for a quarrel,” she interjected. “There’s much to do.” She spoke confidently, but the echo of her voice through the empty, damaged streets gave her words a more solemn gravitas. “With Prince Tails, that makes four of us. If we each tend to something, we can assure the continued safety of our kingdom and its people. As is our sworn duty.”

Gawain grumbled, knowing she was right.

Tails, meanwhile, blushed at the title Percival had unceremoniously bestowed upon him. If Sonic was uncomfortable being called a king, then Tails was embarrassed to be called a prince! 

“I’m going,” Lancelot said, looking directly at Gawain. “When I return, it will be with the king.”

“Wait,” Tails suddenly said, having regained his composure. “Sha–... um… Sir Lancelot, don’t go. I know you’re worried, but Sonic’ll be fine. He’s beat bigger bad guys than this before! Really.”

Lancelot’s intense stare caused Tails to fidget with his tails. But he had faith in his big bro, so he didn’t back down. “It’s just… Don’t you think we could use your help around here? Those monsters broke a lot of stuff, including the wall! What if more monsters get in? I really think we should fix it first. Before anyone goes anywhere, I mean.”

“The fox is right,” Gawain said. 

Lancelot turned away from Tails and the other two knights. It was impossible to see his face under the visor, but if Tails had to guess based on the hard line of his mouth, he probably didn’t look very happy right now.

“I want to see King Sonic’s return too,” Percival told Lancelot. “And we shall. After securing his people.”

The tension in the square was so thick, it could be sliced with a sword. But as the dust settled, so too did Lancelot’s frustration, and before long, he turned back toward the three of them. Curtly, he said, “One hour. That’s all I can spare.”

True to his word, Lancelot stayed to help Gawain, Percival, and Tails rescue the remaining townsfolk from precarious situations. (One of them had even gotten stuck inside a chimney somehow! After being freed, the man explained that he’d been trying to hide from the monsters, but didn’t realize how narrow a hiding spot he’d chosen until it was too late.) 

By the time half an hour had passed, every last person had been sent to the castle. That left just one thing: fixing the town’s outer wall.

The part of the wall where the red dragon had broken through was nothing more than piles of broken stone. The wall had crumbled completely, leaving a distinctly dragon-shaped hole behind, and creating an unwelcome window out into the dark forest on the other side.

If Tails had more time, he could’ve invented a contraption to fix the wall for them. Maybe some sort of brick flinger? Or a cement spitter? Unfortunately, he was in the Middle Ages, and he had no idea where to find the materials he’d need to build those things. So, that meant Plan B…

“Stand aside,” Lancelot suddenly said, startling Tails out of his reverie. 

Tails looked up at Lancelot, but the knight didn’t seem to be angry. In fact, he seemed determined, and so Tails did as he was asked. Though, his ears were perked in curiosity. The fox didn’t know much about Shadow, so he was interested to see what his doppelganger could do.

As it turned out, “what Lancelot could do” was fix the wall. Not only that, but he fixed the wall without lifting a single cinder block! He just drew a small, detailed circle into the dirt at the foot of the wall, and then burned it into the ground with the bottom of one of his jet shoes. Once the circle was aflame, it sent the stones in motion, seeming to reverse time until they all tumbled back into place, just like they’d been before the dragon had knocked them down.

Gawain rolled his eyes. “Show off,” he grumbled.

“Wow!” Tails said, his eyes sparkling. “That was amazing! How’d you do that?”

Lancelot didn’t look at Tails when he replied tersely, “I learned it from my mother.”

Tails raised an eyebrow, but before he could comment, Percival set a hand on Lancelot’s shoulder. “Thank you for your help, Sir Lancelot,” she said. “Now, I believe you have somewhere else to be. Sir Gawain and I will await your return with King Sonic.”

Gawain looked like he wanted to protest, but thought better of it when Percival shot him a glare so withering, its heat could be felt even through her visor. 

Hmph. Well, he didn’t want to be around Lancelot for any longer than he had to be, anyway.

So, Gawain and Percival left for the castle. Lancelot’s shoes began to spark as they powered up, signaling his impending departure, his body already leaning the same direction he’d seen Sonic and the red dragon disappear into.

“I’m coming too,” Tails said.

Lancelot didn’t want to waste more time arguing. Would he have preferred to go alone? Yes, of course. But he’d kept his king waiting long enough, and wasn’t willing to make him wait any longer, so instead of fighting, he gave Tails a sharp nod.

The dragon’s tracks were large and noticeable, even in the relative darkness of night. Tails and Lancelot followed them out into the forest, taking note of the crushed bramble and torn bark along the way, until they reached the wicked spike field, where they suddenly stopped. 

Tails looked around. The spikes were as plentiful as they were jagged, and he could see a blue quill lodged into one of them. That by itself wasn’t a bad sign–Sonic lost quills during fights all the time–but it was the silence that began to unnerve Tails.

Sonic was loud. If he was around, Tails and Lancelot would’ve already caught one of his quips on the wind. But they hadn’t. Instead, the only sounds in the forest were the quiet rustling of the leaves and an ominous dripping from one of the spikes.

Tails looked at that spike. He saw it, broken in half, the sharp tip hanging horizontally over the ground. There were claw marks at the base from the dragon, so it was clear she had broken it. And there was another blue quill stuck to the side of it, too. But that wasn’t all.

The dripping was forming a puddle on the ground. A very large puddle that made Tails sick to his stomach. It smelled like iron. It was red like Sonic’s shoes. And it was dripping from the tip of the spike.

Lancelot stood beside Tails. He looked at the puddle of blood too.

Tails’ mind was racing. There was no way that blood could belong to Sonic. It must be the dragon’s blood. But if it was the dragon’s blood, then where was the dragon? And, more importantly, where was Sonic?

The puddle of blood stared back at Tails in response to his question.

The silence pressed in on Tails like an omen. It was suffocating, but he couldn’t let himself choke on it. Sure, this looked bad. Really bad. But Sonic had been through worse and made it out. He must’ve made it out of this too. All they needed to do was keep looking, and they’d find him.

Because Sonic wouldn’t die. He wouldn’t leave Tails alone. 

He just wouldn’t do those things.

“Sir Lancelot,” Tails said, his voice small, “let’s–”

Lancelot stopped Tails with a harsh, Shh!

Tails strained his ears. He heard branches cracking as they shifted in the wind. He heard distant voles chattering nervously. And then, far away, he heard the sound of heavy footsteps–heavy enough to belong to the red dragon.

No words were said. Tails and Lancelot simply took off, careful to avoid the pool of blood, in the direction of the sound. Eventually, it led them to the lake where this story began. But Sonic and the dragon weren’t there. As if by magic, everyone who’d been at the lakeside had disappeared. However, they’d left behind three crucial clues: Sonic’s gauntlet, a pair of tattered, bloody white gloves, and a single strand of long red hair.

Tails was horrified at the state of the gloves, but Lancelot was more focused on the hair, because he knew who it belonged to. 

“She was here,” he said, his voice low and filled with barely contained rage. “Merlina the Wizard.”

[dwindlinghaze]

moony's song

(remus lupin x reader)

summary: yours and remus's relationship throughout the years.

contents: the kind of fluffiness that makes me cry, little fighting, getting married at the end, two years age gap, no magic mentioned, lyall lupin (rem's father is not a bad person here), not proofread!!!

　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

"happy birthday!" the whole room cheered and urged you to blow the seven candles. it was your seventh birthday.

remus hugged you tightly, muttering birthday wishes in your ear. "happy seventh birthday. thank you for being my best friend and thank you for being you. i'm so lucky."

you hugged him back, his figure taller than yours. he loved how he can feel like he's protecting you by the tiny height difference.

you glance up at him, looking at his eyes that resembles the starry night. it shines like the stars, the pretty lights.

and remus looked at you too, feeling himself blushing and reddening.

their two fathers were on the room right besides the stairs, the two men looked at each other knowingly at their respective children.

"they're growing up and falling in love," your father joked, earning a laugh from his other companion.

"i wouldn't surprise me if they ended up marrying each other. those two are inseparable since we moved here. glad my son has an amazing best friend that keeps him alive," lyall spoke.

hearing these, hope and your mother smiled as they rolled their eyes playfully, whispering "oh my my. ". it was undeniable that you and remus are destined to be together. whether it was platonic or romantic, you two are soulmates- if there's such things as soulmates.

remus was there when you were struggling to colour a colouring book. he was there to help you. he took your pencil colours and make the plain white and black paper into rainbows.

when you were bored, he lets you draw on his arms with those markers your mother bought. you let him style your hair the way he wants. he picked plants, flowers, and leaves for you when you're running wild in your father's backyard.

you two completes each other.

your friends back at school thought remus would beat you up in every playtime days. judging by the fact that he's two years older than you and he's much tougher. but he never did. he never did.

you know him enough to know that despite his formidable appearance, he's a whole sweet and gentle person behind the facade.

"hi, angel," he calls you angel because he thinks heaven sent you to him to make the small block wide town of his world less lonely.

"hi rem," you said back. "what are you doing after school?"

"um nothing," he said as he took your books off of your hands so he can hold it for you. "i was thinking we can hang out. my mama bought a new plant and she said we can help her gardening."

"oh sure! i'd love that," you smiled. he can get lost in your eyes as simple as sinking ships on water; so inviting.

"hello! no staring!" you joked.

"sorry!" he held his eyebrows up, making a face.

later that afternoon, your mother was walking with you on the way to remus house. "bon aprés-midi hope!" your mother beamed.

"bonjour!" remus replied in a very poor french accent.

his mother laughed, nudging his side, "it's in the afternoon, remmy. bonjour means good morning."

"well, i'm saying good riddance," he replied as your mother chuckled at the boy.

"where's y/n?" remus asked. his eyes looking at every direction.

"boo!" you jumped to his back, making him fell to the ground.

"hey!" he yelled, clutching his stomach in laughter.

"hello," you replied back, unfazed.

then the four went off to gardening. you and remus were on a team, he's the one to shovel out the soil and you were the one to put the plants overtop.

after hours of work, you and remus laid in the grass, facing the sunny sky with your eyes closed and forehead glistening with sweat

"sunny days remind me of you," remus said, still closing his eyes.

you felt your heart tugged at his words. he always has his way into your heart, and you would let the door open for him every time. "hmm? why so."

"because," he paused. "because you're like sunshine. you know, i read a book once and the character told this other person that they reminded them of the sunshine because that person makes days so much brighter and warmer."

"remmy,i'm happy i've met you," you confessed, feeling slight anxious.

"rem..."

"yeah..?"

"i think i'm in love with someone," you said. his heart was jolting.

"who?" he spoke shakily.

"captain america..." you answered, much to his disbelief. "i'm gonna marry captain america."

"you can't marry him. that's impossible." he insisted.

"it is not," you replied playfully.

"yes it is. he doesn't live here and your parents will not approve it because he's as old as your grandfather. he doesn't know you. and he shouldn't too because y-" he stopped.

after few second you said, "because what?"

"nothing, never mind."

"have you ever kissed anyone?" you asked after a long while, feeling anxious at the thought.

"like they do on TV?" he blurted. now his heart was drumming out his chest all of a sudden.

"uh huh."

"no."

"maybe we should. just to see what's the big deal," you said, uncertain but determined.

"but i don't know how," remus said, embarrassed.

"me neither," you replied. "let's try."

"okay.." he lifted himself up from the grass and helped you up too. "like this?" he placed his hands on your shoulders awkwardly.

"i think we should close our eyes," you suggested.

"then i will not be able to see anything."

"just do it."

"okay okay," he said, voice trembling.

"one, two, three?"

the two leaned forward and forward until their lips met in a brief and barely touching kiss. then you two sit back in surprise, breaths unstable.

"say something, it's too quiet," you said, fumbling with your fingers anxiously.

"umm ummm," remus tried to come up with a topic.

and just then your mother called, telling you to go home because it's getting late.

"don't tell this to anyone please?" you said. "it's not that i hated it. i just don't want people to know."

"yes yes i agree uhm definitely okay."

"see you tomorrow then?" you asked, standing awkwardly besides the tree.

"okay, see you!" remus said. you turned your heels to head out the yard and just then, you heard remus calling your name.

"yes.. what rem?" you faced his direction.

"would you think of me?" he asked.

"for what?" you asked cluelessly.

"well, if you don't get to marry captain america," he sent you a sweet adoring smile.

"i would."

the he ran off to the trees, you shaking your head, admiring him as he ran.

just two kids, you and him.

time skip☆

you were now sixteen when suddenly, you weren't that little girl he used to see.

you have moved schools when you were entering middle school, now you're only able to go back to the small town once in every month.

you were now more mature. older and wiser even just in a span of nine years. many differences and maturity have shown as you got older. you held yourself in such grace that leaves remus' thought of you lingering around.

you and remus send each other messages everyday. there's not a day in which there's no message from you nor remus.

although you 'changed', he's still remus lupin. his eyes still looks like the starry night. it shines like the stars. the pretty lights.

"hi rem, i missed you a lot," you said as you reached over to him, kissing both his cheeks.

his hands flew up to the spot where your lips were, blushing underneath. "i missed you too, how is school?"

"other than us not being able to see each other every weekdays, it's going pretty well," you told him.

"well, i'm glad you're back here anyway," he said happily, not having the patience to wait to catch up on each other. "mum! y/n's here!"

"oh! gracious look at you! i just saw you a month ago and you're now like a brand new person!" hope beamed.

"trust me, i'm still the same person that feeds stray cats on the streets," you joked.

"we missed you so!"

"so do i!"

"i'll let you two have your moment," hope grinned as she walked away from the kitchen.

"hi," you whispered, feeling nervous somehow.

"hello."

"are we just gonna say greetings now?" you joked, trying to make the situation less awkward

"well- no. i think there is something, and i need to tell you," remus said.

"yeah? what is it? you can ask or tell me anything."

"is there someone out there?" he questioned, growing uneasy.

"as in..?"

"like boyfriend or girlfriend?" he elaborated.

"no. no one has made me feel things since," you said.

"since what?"

"since you," you sighed, your shoulders felt lighter, like a weight that has been pounding down at you has been lifted in mere seconds.

"oh my god- are you really?" remus asked, the uneasiness now turned into something different.

"well yes."

"well i've been wanting to tell you this for so long and you just made it a hundred times easier. angel, i'm in love with you. i have always been. i know that 'feelings' you mentioned earlier might not be as strong as love but i love you. so much every passing day. and if you're not ready for anything yet, that's fine! i will wait until you are."

"remus- i love you too," you said, crushing yourself to his figure as he wrapped his arms around your frame.

you two stayed quiet, neither one wanting to break the comfortable silence. but then remus started to laugh, shaking his head.

"what's so funny?" your head perked up in interest.

"just- how simple and comforting this is. i have been worrying for so long and you just made my worries go away by saying that you love me too," remus said.

"remus i'm not only 'saying' i love you. i do love you, really!" you clarified.

"i know, angel," remus said, rubbing your back soothingly. "this is the part where we should kiss. like in the TV."

"yeah," you laughed, remembering your first kiss with the boy. "i'm still inexperienced."

"same here," he said. "let's practice then."

"remus!" you laugh, hitting his chest in a joking manner. "i wouldn't mind if we do."

then he kisses you for the second time, nine years apart.

it was tender and uncertain but still giving butterflies.

"was that better than our first?" he asked.

"yes, but we need to improve don't you think?"

"absolutely," he replied before connecting your lips to his again in a soft and gentle but sweet kiss.

on the other room, your father and lyall was looking at the two of you knowingly. "i used to joke about the two of them, growing up and falling in love. i never believed they'd actually be falling in love."

your mother smiled, and roller her eyes. feeling happy for the two because she knew from the start that this will happen one day. and it did.

things seemed to go smoothly in the relationship. he is the best person and a gift. he loves you so much, more than life itself probably. every month you go back, he's there waiting for you at your parents house.

although long distance relationships are hard, you two had made it work. even though there are ups and downs.

at 2 am riding in his car, the atmosphere was different. there's something there that wasn't there before. and shouldn't be.

remus has been acting off these past days and you noticed. even his mum does too.

you worried that his feelings has faded and that he doesn't want this kind of relationship. one where you're constantly gone, leaving him alone on the creek bed of his town while you're back at school three hundred miles away.

"love?" you spoke up, trying not to burst into tears.

"yes?" he said, eyes on the read still, glancing at you for only a mere second.

"is there something you're not telling me?" you asked.

god damn it. you knew remus way too much. you can read him like a magazine. "you shouldn't worry about it."

"okay...," you said. then a ringing silence filled the air "do you still love me? or like even?" you asked in such uncertainty that dropped his heart.

"of course i do!" he scoffed. "why wouldn't i? what leads you to this conclusion, angel?"

"i just feel like there's something off," you admitted "please just tell me about it okay?"

"okay."

"okay," you said. "so are you going to tell me about it?"

"um, yes and no."

"why?"

"i don't want to pressure or worry you," he said nonchalantly.

"i worry about you everyday, this won't change a thing i promise. if it's something that i did, i'm sorry, and i will fix whatever the problem is."

"you want to hear the problem? well, here goes- i sometimes feels like i don't even have someone. you. you're so far away and i'm so lonely and hopeless back here. in this small secluded town. i feel like i have nothing for me on my plate.

"you're out there, discovering things while i'm here waiting for you like a dog. i'm sorry. i'm not jealous or anything. if anything i'm so happy and joyous that you've got the opportunity but what am i doing here? i'm seventeen and has no plans!"

he is now rambling, raising his voice. he has never done this.

"please calm down!" you raised your voice slightly. "you will find something, just trust me!"

"and you know what bothers me too? i have been wanting to have someone to talk to about my problems but i have no one. not even you! every time i tried calling your mobile, you always say you're doing assignments and stuff. all i want is just time to spend with my girlfriend!"

"well i'm sorry! i'm not the one that sets assignments to students!"

"well of course you're not, genius," he scoffed.

"hey what's with you? i don't even know you!"

"no, the real question is: what's wrong with you? you barely have time for me anymore and when you do it's during times like these. way past midnight at two am!"

"remus stop the car!"

"what?!" he hit the breaks abruptly.

"i don't want to be here right now. you know damn well that this is not my fault. i have things to do too! at the end of the day, i always send back your messages. i'm still trying everything to balance my life. please, let me-" you opened the car door and jumped out.

"angel, what are you doing? it's not safe to walk around here at this time!"

"just like you said, this is a small secluded town, nothing will hurt me! my house is near anyways, just don't follow!" you ran straight to your home leaving remus in the dark street.

but he didn't stay there. he isn't going to make things wrong with you. he knows what he had said was just out of stress and you don't deserved to be blamed.

he arrived at your house, knocking on the door. of course no one answered because it's past midnight and your parents are fast asleep, though he knew you're behind that wall and awake.

he didn't come home. he stayed outside on the porch, back against the wall until the morning light. he couldn't bring himself to walk home. he was ashamed. he couldn't even sleep that night.

"remus?" you asked, voice cracking.

remus jolted up from the floor, his back painfully still. "oh angel! i'm so sorry for last night! please let me fix things up! please! hear me out," he said, tears spilling down his cheeks.

"come to my room, we can talk there," you said.

"okay," he entered before following you to your bedroom. "i'm sorry okay. last night was all so stupid! i didn't mean a thing i said. i know you're busy and stuff and i'm no one to tell you what to do. you should focus on yourself and your future, i don't want to be a burden. i just missed you. i missed you so much everyday and i worry with all the things in your life that you're going to forget me one day."

"rem," you spoke softly, pulling his hands to yours. "i love you. i will never forget about you. you're ninety percent of my mind. even one time i almost write your name in my paper test because i was thinking of you. i didn't knew how much i've been pushing myself to the point where you feel neglected. trust me i don't want you to feel that way."

"i know you don't," remus sent her a weak smile. "i'm sorry for putting all that on you."

"there's nothing to be sorry for!" you assured him. "lay down, darling. your back must hurt."

"it is," he groaned.

"just come here, lay in my bed," you insisted, pulling the covers to keep him warm. you kissed his forehead, as you lay down next to him.

"i love you, good night," you said, pressing your lips to his when he closed his eyes.

"you know it's eight am in the morning and i'm not going to sleep," he said.

"did you sleep at all?"

"um i don't remember," he mumbled in your arms before he was off to dreamland.

"right.." you chuckled, pulling him closer to you as he sleep.

time skip☆

a few years has come around. now you were twenty seven and he was twenty nine.

after these years, you have graduated, renting a place near your hometown while also working on your dream job. remus was there all along.

you both were sitting at your favourite place in town. a bench right beside the manmade waterfall.

remus looked at you, searching for something in his pocket before he got down on one knee.

as he pulled out a ring, he shakily spoke. "i have been thanking the gods and whatever's up there for sending me to you. i couldn't imagine a life without you in it. you showed me colours i can't see, and secret languages i can't speak with anyone else.

you make me live. you're the one who taught me how to love myself. i remember how lonely i was back then until you came. you've been my guiding light. i want to do everything, only if i'm doing it with you. if you ask me for the moon then i will pull it to earth and set it in our bedroom. y/n will you marry me?"

"i will," you cried, taking deep breathes shakily. "remus, i love you so much, i can't even-"

"shh no need to explain. i know the feeling too," he pulled your in his arms. the world seems like it's rotating in slow motion, the only people there is the two of you. no one else matters.

the the whole town came to the wedding, though it is a very small town so it's not a lot people. you walked down the aisle with a veil over your head.

you looked perfect. you are perfect.

remus has tears glistening is his eyes as he watched you walk gracefully. your mom and remus' cried.

he said "i do" and you did too.

you reminisced the day you two met, retelling the stories back to your baby daughter while rocking her on the very front porch.

"i met your father when i was really young," you chuckled, your first born daughter in your arms as you peered over to look at your husband who was wiping the table. "we did stupid things, but we did them together."

"you know, i always thought i would marry captain america one day. and sometimes i even cry because i know i couldn't love anyone else more than i do to captain america. but remus- he's something. i love him even more than anyone and i'm glad i didn't marry captain america!"

remus overheard your conversation, a smile on his face. "hey, i should be celebrating the fact that you love me more than usa guard!" he joked as he kissed your head. "look at you! you're so pretty. you've got your mother's eyes!" he tickled the baby on your arms.

"she's got your bone structure i think," you said.

remus laughed as he wrapped his arms around you from the back, his chin resting on top of your shoulder.

seventy years passed, you still looked at remus the same way you did eighty years ago. his eyes still looks like the starry night. the stars that shine in the sky, the pretty lights.

"happy eighty seventh birthday my darling," remus said, kissing your wrinkled cheeks. all your wrinkles and your white hair doesn't matter to the love you and remus have.

he taught you how forever feels like.

and this, this love is so alive even after all these years.

[shotmrmiller]

Hello, is this the place anons come to vent about their life? No? Well, here's my current situation. A guy I really liked made me have a situationship with him and I didn't even know, we had been going around with him inviting me over to his house to watch movies or play video games etc. It would always end in sex, even when I was actually looking forward to the movie or video game. As soon as he came, he would go, "Oh God, look at the time! You should go home!" "Well that was great. See ya next time!" I never! In the two years this went on came not even ones!! Sometimes we didn't even had penetration! I just gave him half a blowjob and he would cum. It always made me feel really bad he would always "make it up to me" with taking me out to eat. But either way, it always ended in sex. Fast forward a few days ago he texted me saying he actually wanted to build a friendship with me and get to actually know each other. And that he was very sorry about everything and he wanted to keep talking with me. I said yeah it was fine,but he did actually make me feel like shit. We talked things through, and he agreed to take me out to eat the next day at around 8. He didn't. Didn't answer my calls or texts for the next three days. In fact, he deleted me out of every single social media he had added me in. A couple of days later (this past Thursday), I go to the wedding of a mutual friend we have, and guess what. He has a girlfriend which he already has like 9 months of dating! He had the balls to go the table I was sitting with a couple of mutual friends and introduce her to us! And she's so freaking pretty I feel so horrible. I want to strangle him so bad it's not even a joke anymore i feel like a fool and a complete idiot :'(

and you're not telling her??? that he was cheating??? ohhhh i'd be giving graphic detail of what that pathetic gummy worm looks like just in case she wanna side with that waste of oxygen. i'm saddened for you that it went on for this long. terrible sex, no orgasms and HEAD??? i wouldn't be giving head without reciprocity to NO ONE!! but then again i went through this exact heartbreak back when i was 15 so i saw the light a lot sooner i reckon. (don't) fuck him, fuck the girl he with and focus on ya self. he sounds the type to send you a 2 am wyd text in the middle of the week id block and move on. anytime he wanna slink back like the worm he is you can pretend you don't know the bloke. new phone who dis.

seriously though i'm sorry :( forget what she does or does not look like none of that matters. worthless boys like him will treat you like garbage even if you're beyoncé herself. you nor your looks were the problem here, he was.

wash your hands clean of that filth. good fucking riddance. your broken heart will mend with time but he'll remain someone even his mama grimaces while thinking about. i wish i could give you hugs 🫂 and if i was near you i'd drive around his house with the lights off cuz now it's on sight. hope he ages like milk left out in the sun, that stupid ogre.

much, much love. drink your water, take your meds if you have any and eat well 💗 this too shall pass.

[tereox]

Warmup #13

Rating: T

Summary: Coruscant is haunted. The ghosts aren't bothering the Corries so they just go with the flow. What are they gonna do? Assassinate- oh.. Oh. Good riddance.

~~~

Fox picked up his mug of caff and paused when he realised that it was still warm. He could have sworn he'd put that there hours ago.

He looked around the glorified storage closet that was his office. "Vor'e." He whispered to the empty room.

He went back to work, the mug warming his hand.

~~~

"Kriff, I need-" Thread shoved his arm into the cabinet he knew was empty. He'd checked it several times but he needed that bacta, the vod'ika sprawled on the medical cot wouldn't make it.

Against all odds, his hand caught on something solid. He tugged the item out of the cabinet and spared only a fraction of a second to stare at the bacta. Then he threw himself out of the storage closet and held up the bacta like it would bring them salvation.

It would, for this particular vod'ika.

~~~

"You have no idea what I'm capable of." The senator sneered, tugging their fancy cape away from Grizzer. "I will have that beast put down."

Hound carefully tugged Grizzer back, pushing down the panic rising in him in the same motion. "Sir, she's trained to detect illegal substances and you-"

The senator whirled around to face him and their foot caught on something.

There was an aborted attempt to reach for them, but Hound could only watch as they tumbled off the platform. If there had ever been a good place for a railing on Coruscant, it would have been there.

… he should call that in.

~~~

Thire's patrol route was the same every Taungsday. It was a security risk, but with how scheduling worked it was difficult to change.

He caught a glint out of the corner of his eye and grabbed his patrol buddy's arm, wrenching them behind cover.

Paperclip stayed down. "What did you see?"

"Glint, might have been a sniper."

"Ah."

Thire reached for his comm and called in backup. Better safe than dead.

There ended up being no sniper. However, several blocks further, an ambush had been laid. He should ask Fox to have his patrol route adjusted.

~~~

Fox placed down his stylus and ran a hand down his face. He was dead tired. There were.. way too many things he still had to do before passing out in his bunk for a couple hours. He couldn't allow himself to stop now.

He grabbed one of the more important datapads and reached for his stylus. His fingers touched the empty desk.

Fox frowned and looked over. His stylus wasn't where he'd left it. Maybe his desk had gotten slanted from the constant pressure of hundreds of datapads and pieces of flimsi on top of it.

He leaned over to check and did not find his stylus. That sucked, it had been his favourite stylus. Oh well.

He went to open his desk drawer to get a new one but it wouldn't budge. Something slapped him in the face and that was his stylus!

Fox jumped up in a vain attempt to grab the floating object but he only got a wave of nausea rolling through him.

Maybe.. maybe he should go to sleep.

~~~

"The security cameras show it flew across the room and embedded itself right in the Chancellor's heart. There was no one who could have thrown it. The Chancellor was in his office by himself."

Fox silenced the thought of his floating stylus and nodded dutifully. "We'll keep an eye out for an invisible assailant."

Even a CorSec officer should have caught the sarcasm in that.

~~~

Mando'a vor'e - thanks vod'ika - little sibling

[heartshapedcreaturefromcriptoon]

I can't believe there is a "Cursed Cat Alastor Controversy" and that once again I had to have the evil lepreconartist who lords over the fandom making his gold off of Medrano's despair explain to me in order to understand what the fuck is going in on the fandom, yet again ... But I kind of hate you all so here's my hot take...

It's actual petty bullshit.

It's the equivalent of a fanartist calling out an AMV maker for "art theft" and demanding that a video they worked hard on be taken down because they used a piece of fanart for a character in an AMV tribute to the character that both the fanartist and the AMV maker (who is already an artist in their own right) already do not actually fucking own. Like, regardless if the AMV maker gives the fanartist credit. Instead of being honored by it, when they should know better that neither of them ever actually even own the shit to begin with, yet they still demand "credit" for fanwork.

I once saw a popular Asian artist in the svtfoe fandom demanding a boycott of the popular fan run merch store TheMysteryShack just as the beautiful fan made artbook Tales of Rebel Princess was about to launch exclusively through there because she alleged that the shop owner had stolen one of her friends fanart designs on a goddamn fucking Steven Universe tarot card pack of all things but I still really liked her Star fanart, so when I tried to respectfully explain to her that I wouldn't be boycotting the shop because of Tales of Rebel Princes launching and how I thought it was personally in very poor taste to not just contact the shop owner privately about the matter and instead making a big stink in public about boycotting his shop when she knew that one of her other artist friends that we knew she had also collaborated with in the past was just about to debut another big collaborative art tribute book dedicated to Daron and Star vs. there through this guys shop! And essentially it would be sad to see her knowingly taking business away from her other friend like that and demanding others in her following do the same and over something as small as a deck of Steven Universe cards, especially in understanding how little love svtfoe gets, since she was also a well known svtfoe fanartist ... All I got in response was "Well I'm happy for my friend but I'm Korean and you're just a Filthy American who couldn't possibly understand how disrespectful something like this is in my culture and blah blah blah if you instant on further harassing me about this I'll block you!"

And I was basically like "suit yourself being fake and having a stick up your butt honey I'm still getting my Star vs. artbook!"

And then she blocked me.

Good riddance. As if Miss Heinous would honestly ever head bang to Ruberiot...

But I guess what I'm trying to get here is that like...Oh, I'm sorry? You wanna make fanart for western cartoons? You gotta play by western rules then. Like it's late night here and I'm sorry if that sounds harsh. But it's true.

If Aurelio Voltaire honestly deserves to have a deal be cut in my opinion so he can finally officially own his share of the "Vampair" series after Daria Cohen stole his voice to make it (half dry humor, half serious here, to be quite frank about this) then coma0423 deserves to cut a deal so that Amir Talai can have a bit of financial comprehension and his percentage of whatever kind of (I'm guessing financial) ~"credit'~ that Coma is now demanding from other fanartists who make Cursed Cat Alastor fan merch since Talai , after all, did design the original concept sketch that would become Cursed Cat Alastor that Coma saw and then decided to just runaway with when they made the meme ...

Listen to me... Fanart belongs to everyone and no one by nature of it being made by fans and no one can truly own a "fan concept" expect for the true creator of the thing that it's based on. Unless that thing is already in the public domain. And if it is it becomes Schrodinger's Cheshire Cat.

Schrodinger's Cursed Cat Alastor belongs to everyone and no one, babe. He belongs to The Hazbin Hotel Fandom and The Hazbin Hotel. If he actually becomes canon in the show somehow, then he'll belong to Amir and Viv, actually, maybe Coma will get proper credit then, but the concept won't even really be theirs anymore, just as it even isn't really officially theirs now, even if they officially do get hired.

First you're telling me that I'm not allowed to fuck the radio demon ... Now you're telling me that I'm apparently not even allowed to kiss a cute wittle kitty cat plushie of him between the space on his head between his ears if said plush wasn't crafted by or sold explicitly by the fanartist who again, stole the concept sketch of him from Amir Talai in the first place?

No. This is nonsense.

Stop making all these petty dramas off someone else's work that only feed the evil leprechaun more gold off of someone else's work or start making you're own original work from your own original concept that you can actually claim your own copyright to I'm exhausted.

Ever hear the phrase once something leaves your brain it belongs to everyone, not just you anymore?

This goes triple for anyone making fanart of someone else's work and that's a fact. Especially if it's only ever an extremely memed up version of an already canonically existing character that you were only so lucky went viral.

Stop the bullying. No one fanwork is that special. Just do your best to honor the source material and be flattered by other fanartists imitations of your fanartist imitation... It's the circle of cursed kitties and it feeds us all. *smacks paw down*

[tenebriskukris]

Oshi No Ko Chapter 162 - My Thoughts/Analysis

This chapter finally closes the book on this Hikaru-Aqua confrontation and gave us a shitty cliffhanger that we’re stuck waiting three bloody weeks for a conclusion. At this point I just want to put this manga to rest so that it can let me down one last time.

The chapter starts us off back in the saddle with Aqua and Hikaru.These were a cool couple of panels—with a shot of the backdrop then Aqua trying to strangle Hikaru, but I felt like this first page was largely unnecessary given how the last chapter ended.

I hit my head on a rock. Please imagine me staring at this page with a deadpan look. Aqua has LITERALLY stabbed himself before pushing the two of them down to the ocean. That’s some real good excuse to justify how Hikaru couldn’t have just swam away from Aqua considering that our protagonist is literally bleeding out. The most vexing part of these series of panels is that they just handwaved actually SHOWING them both tumble down the ocean. And while, yes, it probably wouldn’t have been necessary, the fact that the chapter just cuts away to such a halfhearted explanation when the first page was LITERALLY just filler feels too much like a cheap bait and switch for me to feel like this development was anything but an asspull.

Am I going to die in a place like this? Considering how this bitch is responsible for at least two deaths in the series so far—I find it very fitting that Hikaru is going to die Just Like This. Yura died in a similar manner, alone and isolated with her murderer gloating that he’d killed her and now it’s his turn on the chopping block.

Holy crap that shot of Goro’s shadow pulling Hikaru down! And then the one with Aqua floating upward while a bunch of shadowy hands drag Hikaru down…that’s some pretty on the nose symbolism of the people that Hikaru has intentionally or unintentionally ruined with his schemes. I’d have liked to get an actual body count for Hikaru as well as, you know, good fucking characterization that doesn’t rely on a deus ex machena, but we can’t all get what we want.

I felt like I was only alive when I was with Ai. [...] Even if it was the weight of my own sin. I wanted to feel it forever. The Japanese mental health system—or lack thereof—claims another victim. Still a murderer, though.

I could’ve felt you more if I had killed Ruby. Unrepentant to the end, I see. Good fucking riddance to terribly written antagonists. As sad as Hikaru’s backstory is, it falls squarely under the category of “Sad motive! Still murder.” As much as I can sympathize with his sad backstory and the way that his life turned out, that doesn’t excuse the fact that, you know, he literally had a hand in murdering people—but I’m getting ahead of myself, I’ll touch on those thoughts after the chapter.

And now we return to Crow Girl. Are we going to get the deus ex machena now? 

OH HEY I KNOW THIS PANEL FROM THE ANIME OPENING! Whether or not the anime staff knew that this panel was going to happen or the authors took inspiration from it isn’t quite clear but it’s a nice little nod and a wink to the anime. Crossing my fingers that it’ll get to this point and fix up some of the garbage pacing we see during these last two dozen chapters, but considering we just got a season three for the anime I think it’s likely we’ll be getting to this point.

Have you finally found your mission? Oh? Are we going to finally find out why Aqua was reincarnated in the first place? I’d been hypothesizing that it had to do with Ruby for awhile now outside these analyses since that was one of the only constants that Aqua had when he was reincarnated but I’m curious to see how this mess goes.

The reason I lived…was to protect my own sister. That’s—hm. Well. I certainly have Thoughts about That but we’ll get to that after the chapter. The page dealing with Aqua and Ruby’s interactions…as well as that panel of Goro and Sarina…it’s pretty sad, I gotta admit. 

Thank goodness. This time I can die before you. Sad little panel, but considering there is Literally a god watching Aqua and said god is one that is sort of invested in his story at the moment—enough to actually interfere with said story as an actor in the fucking movie at his behest—I think it’s more than likely that Aqua survives this whole ordeal.

This was honestly a bit of a shorter chapter to get through but it’s still one that I have plenty of thoughts about.

There was originally an entire mountain of paragraphs here about Hikaru and his place as an antagonist of the series, but I wrote so much about that topic that I’ve decided to turn it into its own post instead of inserting it here. Expect that analysis to come out hopefully before the next chapter drops. I’ll instead focus on Aqua concluding that he was born to protect Ruby.

I’m honestly torn about the reveal. On the one hand it makes a certain degree of sense—in a messy and half assed sort of way. After Ai’s death he was considerably more protective of his sister—following her into the same high school as well as going so far as to shut down Ruby’s attempts to become an underground idol. This is compounded by the fact that Aqua asked Kana to protect his precious sister when he was persuading her to join B-Komachi, as well as scouted Mem—someone who he’d known and who he’d already grasped her character—into B-Komachi instead of any strangers that could’ve been Ruby’s idol partners.Hell, he’d even done quite a bit of legwork to ensure that his sister’s first performance had gone well by posing as Pieyon.

On the other hand I feel very dissatisfied with Aqua’s conclusion because of everything that had happened in the series ex post facto. If this was a theme that the writers wanted to press for the ending of the series then it should’ve been highlighted a hell of a lot more! The page full of panels detailing scenes where Aqua “protects” Ruby just fall flat because of the fact that these are all completely new panels that the reader hasn’t ever seen! If this was supposed to be A Thing then why weren’t these panels sprinkled into the series beforehand??? Why weren’t there more interactions with Aqua protecting Ruby so that readers could go “Aqua has always been protecting Ruby throughout the series so revealing that Aqua’s purpose was all to protect Ruby makes sense.” Except it doesn’t! The examples that I’d previously mentioned are nice and all but it isn’t substantial enough for me to fully be on board with this reveal as most of said examples were in the earlier part of the series! Where’s Aqua protecting Ruby in the later arcs, huh? Where do we get to see Aqua intentionally going out of his way to keep an eye on Ruby, to make sure she’s protected post Tokyo Blade? One could argue that Akane disguising herself as Ruby sort of counts since Aqua is involved in it, but come the fuck on would it be so hard to actually SHOW that Aqua had a hand in it instead of handwaving that plot thread???

Obviously this reveal needs to be taken into the proper context—the manga’s writing and quality has fallen dramatically below average for the past forty chapters or so. But the fact that the page showing all the times Aqua “protected” Ruby contained completely new panels is just so incredibly egregious. You’d think that such an important reveal—the entire REASON that Aqua was reincarnated in the first place would have been established more during the course of the whole bloody series instead of shoving these completely new panels down our throat without priming the readers for this reveal in the first place!

If I’m giving the manga the benefit of the doubt—which I shouldn’t even be doing because of how objectively bad some of these chapters have been recently—there’s still plenty of room for doubt with regards to Aqua’s conclusion. It wouldn’t be the first time that Aqua was just plain wrong—he assumed his father was dead without making any effort to confirm that. These characters aren’t infallible, though with how the narrative speaks through the characters on occasion it’s easy to forget that. Obviously if the manga doesn’t deign to comment on Aqua’s conclusion again then it’s de facto canon because they’d need to clarify such an important plot beat and not let an incorrect conclusion stand by unchallenged.

The other interpretation of these events is that Aqua was too blinded by revenge to fulfill the reason he was reincarnated, and therefore, there wouldn’t have been many moments where Aqua was able to protect Ruby. But I find that interpretation, for lack of a better term, a hot steaming pile of BULLSHIT. The only reason that Aqua was able to “protect” Ruby here in the first place from Hikaru was because he had gone through his revenge scheme in the first place! If Aqua didn’t spend this much effort trying to catch Hikaru throughout the series and instead decided to become a surgeon like he wanted, then Hikaru would’ve had a free hand to target Ruby whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t have been able to find out Hikaru’s identity, nor would he be able to figure out that he wouldn’t be satisfied with killing Ai, or even that Ruby was at risk in the first place. If Aqua didn’t attempt to find Hikaru to take revenge, then Ruby would’ve been collateral damage in the process.

I do wonder though—disregarding whether or not Aqua is right about why he was reincarnated—what was the reason that Ruby was reincarnated in the first place? The obvious answer is Ruby was reincarnated as a twin to meet AquaGoro again. Aqua’s reason—assuming it’s accurate—for reincarnating was related to Ruby, and it’d make a certain degree of sense for the reverse to be true as well. Of course, that’s all just speculation, but it makes one wonder…

On the whole though, this chapter certainly happened. Hikaru and Aqua’s second confrontation has ended with Hikaru finally biting it and Aqua’s state being unknown for three bloody weeks. And with four bloody chapters remaining for the manga, I don’t expect anything resembling a good ending to wrap up any of the lingering plot threads the manga’s been pushing at us.

[lmanberg]

ik this is a bizarre thing to say but i dont know anyone or anywhere i could say it so: w the recent wilbur soot allegations the one thing i just keep thinking is what if he kills himself? i obviously am not excusing the horrible things hes done but death is always tragic (imo) and well… hes unstable, hes been exposed for every possible thing to make his audience never see him the same way again, hes probably gonna lose friends and his band and the public image / money / fame he clearly cared deeply about. he has a history of mental illness that has not gone away nor been addressed properly. hes totally in the exact spot where an attempt would almost seem rational. i feel like im going insane i hope my gut is dead wrong about this but omfg i just cant shake it

Not bizarre, I had the same thought and even talked about it with modcord a bit in vc right after it happened. I do think it’s possible, and I think his actions after his “apology” really reinforced any desire he may have to do so.

It’s funny because the day before he made that Twitch account and things like that, I was thinking that, while this is bad for his career, I could see him having a comeback. Disappear for 9-12 months, come back with a good apology video (video posted to yt to get as many casual ex-fans to see as possible bc people don’t really block yt channels) and say you’ve changed and have proof, AA coins, therapy notes, medication bottles, things that prove that you’ve been doing something over those whole 9-12 months and not just sitting on ur ass until the last week. Message Shelby personally before making a return to the public eye, give a genuine and heartfelt apology with no expectation to reconnect, but don’t make it public that you did so. Thank her for forcing you to take accountability and being the slap in the face you needed to change. Let her share that interaction or let it stay between you two. Certainly not everyone would go back to him, but casual fans that aren’t on social media probably would. I say this knowing my irl who is one of those—I know that if he did those things that she’d listen to his music again. Of course, he might not have changed at all and just done all of it for selfish reasons, but I wasn’t thinking about it in a “oh I hope he can redeem himself” way, I was thinking of it in a PR way.

But as soon as he started acting like a fool with that Twitch account and the subtle passive aggressiveness, he ruined any chance that he could come back. He showed that he’s not regretful, even a little. After just the apology, he could’ve spun it that he was in the moment and not thinking and called himself an idiot for posting it, but everything after… just stupid. Good riddance I guess

[ryuichirou]

Replies

More replies~

Anonymous asked:

I know that we put a lot of emphasis on ignoring antis but sometimes there are days where I read one of their comments and get so disheartened and tired. I do try to report and block as many as I can but it's just really difficult to pull through when a majority of them are minors who are calling for us to drop dead or be assaulted or kill ourselves.

Anyway, I'm grateful for you and your art! It really brightens my day, especially when I'm going through it.

It could be tough sometimes, Anon, I get it. You’ve said it well – if anything, it’s tiring. Even if you know for a fact that it’s just some kid trying to hurt you because of their own issues, you (and none of us) shouldn’t be forced to tolerate it just because they didn’t figure their shit out yet. And they sound so deranged sometimes that it becomes obvious that they don’t really understand what they’re saying/implying and they don’t care.

Thank you so much for your support! I am happy it makes you feel better. We’ll do our best to keep posting as long as we’re having fun, and I hope you’ll keep having fun too <3

And don’t forget that whatever they do or say, it’s not really about you – it’s about them trying to earn favor with their lame-ass friends who do the same type of shit, because creating meaningful earnest connections is much more difficult than gathering an angry mob, as well as creating actual content that can make other people happy and helps you to express your love for the media.

Anonymous asked:

What do you think is the reason for the octatrio visiting the Scalding Sands, is it just a business trip? Or maybe Azul is organizing his wedding, and wants to share his happiness with his old friends by inviting them in person! I'm sure that this isn't also one last ditch effort to get Jamil to reconsider their "relationship" (Oh, but he looks so misty-eyed after hearing the news, is that maybe a tear they see?... Ah, wait... He's just yawning...)

Ohhh, of course Jamil wouldn’t be misty eyed over this loss, Idia basically took the bullet for him… Honestly, good riddance, these two deserve each other 😭 The line between the Mafia AU and the Marriage AU is a bit blurred, but I didn’t think it was the case with this particular sketch; THAT BEING SAID, Azul is absolutely going to invite Jamil (alright, Kalim too) in person. He just HAS to see Jamil’s face when he hears that Azul is getting married! (Jamil’s face: completely unimpressed…)

When I was sketching it, I was thinking that it was a business trip; whether he is a mafia man or just an enterpreneur, Azul always has a lot of business in the Scalding Sands. And if they’re there anyway, why not pay a visit to their dear former classmates? <3 Jade and Floyd are always excited for that lol Poor Jamil.

Anonymous asked:

i love your riddle smut (especially the stuff with trey it’s so good <3) but honestly i find any nsfw of riddle a bit funny bc i can imagine him thinking something as innocent as a kiss is how babies are made. take responsibility trey!

You heard them, Trey! Teach Riddle about the birds and bees! But in general I’m sure Trey feels very responsible and probably even guilty, Anon….

Thank you <3 I love drawing Riddle in smutty situation, he is my ultimate sheltered homeschooled kid at his first party lol I really like the contrast of his innocent easily embarrassed self and his deeply hidden desires.

Anonymous asked:

My sister thought Idia was Aoba, at first…

Gotta love them blue-haired twinks with funky boots and huge-ass jackets and headphones and 10 boyfriends one of which is an AI dog…

Anonymous asked:

I think 'Kalim Overblots' plots should take advantage of their surroundings more often. If Kalim is overblotting in Scarabia, there's no reason why the dorm can't turn into Octavinelle 2.0 thanks to Oasis Maker. Especially if the Octa Trio is involved.

Yeah, using the environment is a great way to make a scene way more engaging. I wonder if Kalim could drown his dorm completely by the time he’s all out of magic and filled with blot; it would be interesting to see underwater Scarabia… lots of space for the fishies to swim in…

Anonymous asked:

If Jamil has a best man/woman in his wedding, it would be Najma because while she is annoying to him at least it is better than any of his school mates. Floyd and Ace are too troublesome to take care of. Ruggie will only just busy with the food than being best man. Kalim, if he isn't who he wed, would feel much more troublesome to take care of and wouldn't care if Kalim wanted to be his best man.

I'm sure if Kalim wasn't wed to Jamil, he will be make him his best man. If not, I'm sure Silver, Cater, or Lilia will. Except Silver, I can picture Lilia and Cater fighting for position. Then again, there will be many weddings for Kalim and they took turns.

I can’t even add anything to that, Anon; I haven’t thought about this scenario at all, but everything that you’re saying makes sense. Honestly, this is just another reason for Jamil to never bother with getting married – the thole thing is going to be so fucking annoying lol but I’m all for Najma being a best woman.

I can also picture Kalim saying stuff like “ah don’t worry, I’ll make you my best man next time!”

Anonymous asked:

I have returned from the trenches of forgetting my password and then finding out I had no access to that email anymore. So now I come back bringing some foods for thought in what can be called a part 4 of my shenanigans.

Ruggie is the campus whore, don't know where the idea came from but I feel like he'd sell his body for some quick cash.

Rook x Idia has been inching its way into my brain, I feel like Rook would find him to be a straight up sexual conquest. Idia would be an unsuspecting deer in his eyes and I don't think Rook has much impulse control lmao

Random story time rabbit hole : Your ranking for their levels of whore inspired to give Divus a pretty bastard son because I feel like Divus wouldn't discriminate on gender in his teen age years. Which made me realize Divus is not dad material, and led me to this conclusion after a friend of mine mentioned it; he would probably sleep with his son on purpose or by mistake. If he's the one to raise the kid on the other hand, its more emotional incest. On that note, my pretty boy deserves justice against his daddy (not, he is used to it by now and probably can't function without it lol)

~ The one and only, 🐩 anon

Welcome back, 🐩 anon! I’m glad to see you again :)

Ruggie would definitely sell his body; I think the only reason he would stop is if he gets himself a deal with Leona and has to protect his exclusive rights and all lol Other than that, Ruggie doesn’t see this whole thing as anything other another business.

100% about the Rook/Idia thing, we love thinking about these two, god it’s such a pity I never finished our sketch with these two LOL but it’s exactly like you described: Idia is such a rare unsuspecting deer that’s so skittish and fearful and difficult to catch. At the same time, whenever they interact, if Rook manages to keep Idia around long enough for his initial scare to pass, he seems to know just the right stuff to say to Idia to keep him invested in a conversation. He’s working on it, he’s working on this deer~

Oh god, the Divus-the-dad scenario was the one I wasn’t expecting lol I’m not even sure which one is more cursed (=better); but I feel like Divus sleeping with his bastard son on accident is more plausable, at least at this point in his life. When he gets older, he might get into the emotional incest thing….

Divus and his emotional incest era…

[sabraeal]

We Seek That Which We Shall Not Find, Chapter 10

[Read on AO3]

Written for @itspotatobee, who won the first ticket of my 1000 Follower raffle!

Clean 2BR/1BA, the listing had said; recently renovated, convenient street parking.

Obi huffs, breath just barely starting to mist in the night air. There’s nothing convenient about having to park two blocks away from the door— oh, he gets his steps in, sure, but last winter the city plowed a drift right against the driver’s side and then charged him a fine for the pleasure, and this summer about half the street lamps blew along his route back— must be the heat, the super had said, old bulbs like that go when you sneeze on them— and three months later, not a single one’s been changed.

The only plus side tonight is that it gives him plenty of time to get up a good froth on his self-loathing. Like that latte machine from the coffee shop he’d worked at that one time— some corporate one trying to pass itself off as a mom and pop, calling the shit pastries mom’s secret recipe and charging an arm and a leg, all while never paying a dime over minimum wage. He’d only lasted two months at that place, shown the door after he let one of the regulars have the run of the back during close, right before taking them into the walk-in and—

Well, he hadn’t much of a leg to stand on when it came to protesting his pink slip. But even though he’d had to give back the apron— good riddance; sky blue had never been his color— they couldn’t take away the four different kinds of latte art he’d learned to seduce Ms Walk-in behind the counter. Or how to make the perfect espresso.

Just the kind of skills that would impress Little Miss Honor Roll, really. Nothing future doctors-slash-rocket-scientists like to think about more than where their coffee comes from. And whether it’s got a cute little cream heart poured into it. Seems like a real good use of their time.

Obi slams the door behind him, dropping his keys into the melted Hard Mike’s bottle that serves as their resting place. Not that he’s supposed to be showing off for Lady Lynet. That’s Beaumains’ job, after all. He’s supposed to keep his hands and smiles to himself, because even if this girl weren’t legal issues level of young, Shirayuki’s still so out of his league he might as well be playing in the pee-wees.

A fact which seems to slip right out of his head whenever there’s just the Honda’s center console to play chaperone. It’d be so easy to just lean over, to put himself right in her orbit and find out if she might lean back. To compress a foot worth of dead space to an inch and let her choose to close that last bit. Really make her grandparents wonder what she could get up to into an idling car for twenty minutes.

Or at least, that’s what he should be thinking— what he always had when it came to picking out the next notch in his bedpost. It’s what makes sense— everything boiling down to some animal attraction that rides rough-shod over common sense; the kind of horny-stupid makes him think that chasing a girl that looks like the larval stage of a librarian is going to lead anywhere besides heartbreak.

But instead, he keeps looking over the cup holders, wondering if her hands are as soft as they look. If her fingers would fit between his like a lock’s tumblers, or if they’d just be as mismatched as their heights made them look. If instead of leaning of leaning up to meet him, she might cup his hands between her palms, as if just him was enough, and—

The door groans beneath his back, matching the one that drags out of his throat. This is worse than wanting to fuck her, isn’t it? Like the start of a mental illness or something. Maybe he should just save them all some time and just—

The lights flick on, blinding him. Takes a minute for everything to resolve into the grin perched on the arm of his couch.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?” Torou drawls, one bare foot swinging just above the balding rug. It’d been shag once, long before they’d picked it up from the curb. “A sad sack.”

“What are you doing?” The boots seemed like a great idea before he left, but now he’s stuck trying to untie his laces while the peanut gallery looks on. “Don’t tell me you waited up.”

“First off, it’s like, eleven. I’m not eighty.” She ticks her point off on her fingers, flashing nails that look more like a color blindness chart than art. “Second, what kind of sister would I be if I didn’t wait up for my dearest, sweetest little—”

“We are not related.”

“By some cosmic clerical error,” she sighs, one hand dramatically pressed to her tank top. “But what was I supposed to do after all those dire texts you sent me?”

Might be awkward to be bent over right in the doorway, all vulnerable and shit, but at least Torou can’t see his face when he mutters, “Those weren’t about me.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You can tell me ‘your friend’” —her fingers flash in a seriously improbable amount of quotes— “needs advice all you want, but I can read between the lines. Hell, I invented writing in the margins, okay, you can’t just— oh my god, did you dress up?”

God, he needs to finish his bachelor degree yesterday. At least then he might be able to afford a one bedroom. “I wear this all the time.”

Torou claps a hand over her mouth— an upgrade, in his opinion— and tilts her head.  “Please don’t tell me that’s what you’ve been saying all night.”

Obi frowns. “I’ve definitely worn all of these clothes before.”

“Together?”

Sure, maybe he picked up the button down at Goodwill like a week ago, after he knew he’d be swinging by Shirayuki’s before the game— but the T-shirt and jeans, definitely. “Don’t you have something better to do? Like I don’t know, binge Love Island until you figure out who you want to fuck the most?”

“Please, I can do that just by looking at the lineup. It’s not like any of those people get better when they open their mouths. Now, come on” —Torou tips off the arm, patting the cushion beside her— “What’s she like? Is she hot? Does she have an even hotter friend? Is she going to slash my tires?”

Impossible; that girl probably doesn’t even dog-ear pages on her own books. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Oh my god, there is a girl.” Torou’s on her feet now, dogging his heels all the way to their postage stamp of a kitchen, getting underfoot like all the worst cats he’s ever known. “Why didn’t you say anything? If I’d know you were trying to pull some ass, I would have cleared out! Listen, next week, just text and I’ll—”

“It’s fine.”

He throws open the fridge, less from any real need to stuff himself, and more to keep himself from picturing it— Shirayuki, here in his place. Shirayuki, letting him herd her back towards his bedroom, breath already coming in those thin, hiccuping gasps, fingers buried in his hair. Shirayuki, curled up on his couch, head resting on his shoulder, the light from the TV washing over her sleeping face forty minutes before the movie’s even over—

“I’m not bringing her here.” Ever. “You don’t need to get gone or whatever.”

“Oh, I get it.” The curl of her smirk says she doesn’t, not even a little. “I shouldn’t wait up. So what’s her place got? Hot tub? Sex dungeon? Memory foam? No roommates?”

“I wish this place had no roommates,” he grunts, grabbing the closest thing to the door. Just his luck, it’s one of Torou’s stupid diet drinks, some kind of carbonated water that has briefly been shown a picture of fruit and then had the flavored label slapped across it. “No, it’s not— we’re not like that. And I’m not trying to.”

“Oh?” Her arms fold across her chest, every angle completely unimpressed. “So, what? You just spent fifteen solid minutes blowing up my phone in a fucking panic about your moves because you want to stay friendly?”

“I wasn’t panicked.” Just doubting his ability to read a room. At least one filled with people whose whole personality couldn’t be summed up as DTF. “Just…wondering. About if I was coming off too, er…”

“Friendly?” His stomach rolls with every waggle of her eyebrows. “Yeah, I know all about coming on too friendly, and then you have to find somewhere to—”

“Cut it out.” It flies out of him, too sharp, too raw, and Torou must hear it too, since her smirk smooths into a line. “Seriously, that’s not…it’s not going to happen.”

“What? Why not?” There’s a defensive set to her arms now, a real stubborn angle in the way her head tilts. “You’re a catch.”

“Sure, as long as you’re fishing in industrial runoff.” Her mouth rucks up, fight ready to spill right out of her— should have known better than to say something like that when she’s already spoiling for one— but he holds her off with a wave and a generous sip of that flavorless diet stuff. “Nah, listen, it’s not like that. She’s just young. Like, way too young.”

That gets an eyebrow up, scrap traded for skepticism. “What? Is this how I’m gonna find out you’re hanging around a middle school or something?”

Diet drink goes down the entirely wrong pipe. “Jesus,” he coughs. “I didn’t say she was a baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She leans on the counter, a smirk already slanted across her smug face. “So how old is your fetus then, you cradle-robber?”

“She’s not my”— it’s terrible, watching her eyebrow tick higher, too knowing— “Seventeen.”

“What?” Torou stares at him, weirdly blank. “That’s it?”

“What do you mean ‘that’s it?’” He hasn’t been questioning his life and choices for whole a week just for this. “If we did anything— I mean, if I did anything—”

“Which clearly you’re thinking about.” The curl at the corner of her smirk digs deep into her cheek. “A lot.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Didn’t have to.” She leans back, shoulders rolling into a lazy shrug. “I don’t see what the big deal is. You’re what? Twenty? You guys could have been in high school together.”

Hah, wouldn’t that be something? Her, an over-achieving little freshman, well on her way to honor roll, and him, a senior who was only good enough at math to figure out how many days he could skip before they’d keep him back. Probably wouldn’t have even looked at each other twice if Wisteria didn’t find some way to put him in her orbit. But if he did…

Well, maybe he would have actually had a reason to show up to class, instead of barely eking out a diploma on a technicality. Maybe he would have even looked at that stupid flier for Senior Prom and thought—

“That’s not the point,” he mutters, scrubbing at a cheek, hoping she can’t see the heat flooding his face. “I’m not a senior and she’s not a freshman. She’s seventeen, and by the time she’s not…”

He’ll be a handful of months away from being able to legally buy that handle of Skol in their fridge.

“Uh-huh,” she hums, taking the gross diet water out of his hands and taking a swig. “So what’s the plan? You’re gonna wait around until she’s eighteen, and then—?”

“What? No. I don’t have some creepy countdown until she’s legal or whatever,” he squawks, hands waving between them. “Besides, it’s not like she’s suddenly not gonna be a high schooler.”

“I don’t know if you know this, but like, there’s this thing that most seniors do: it’s called graduating. It’s the thing where you suddenly aren’t a high schooler anymore.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about.” God, this is why he didn’t want to talk to her about all this; Obi’s never had trouble making bad decisions, the last thing he needs is her helping him make another one. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter. She’s probably not even interested.”

“What, in you?” Torou snorts. “Did you forget to mention this girl is blind or something?”

“No, there’s just…” Wisteria Junior. “Someone else that’s a way better choice.”

“Yeah?” Her mouth twitches, and— god, she is finding this way too funny for his health. “How do you figure?”

He’s her age, for one. Good looking too, if you’re into that clean-cut prep type. Which, if the way she dresses is any indication, it definitely is. “He’s rich.”

“Oh.” Torou settles back with a sigh. “Sucks for you then.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, swiping the water and pouring the rest down the sink. “For real.”

*

Wisteria has a gift— well, many gifts if he believes the tabloids he flips through waiting in line at the grocery store, bestowed on him by a mix of sound generational investments and genetics— for always knowing when it’s Obi’s bucket squeaking down his hall, cleaning up his students’ shit. For a bunch of kids who are meant to be the linchpin of this country’s economy in the next decade or so, it doesn’t bode well that none of them can seem to walk their wrappers to the trash bin. Business majors? More like major pains in his ass.

“Obi.”

That GQ-worthy mug hangs outside of his office, not even a hand raised to flag him down, just relying on the authority in his voice. What’s obnoxious is that it works— Obi perks right up, like a dog to a whistle, head swiveling to where that asshole stands, all casual lean and cashmere. Guy might only be a TA right now, but a few more years of playing prodigal CEO and they’ll probably hand him a PhD for free.

“We should talk.” Now his fingers twitch, the laziest come-here curl. The sort of thing that would look stupid on anyone else, but for him— Obi’s already leaning his mop against the wall. “Come here.”

He turns his back, obedience not only demanded but expected, and well— that gets Obi’s boots to squeak up short, one eyebrow pitched to his hairline.

“Aren’t you rich?” he snorts, checking one hip against the wall. “Would have thought your mama would be able to afford you some manners.”

Now that gets His Majesty to draw up short, craning a neck so elegant it makes Obi wonder if people in his tax bracket breed for them like borzoi.

“Come here, please,” he manages after a long moment. “We should talk, thank you.”

Obi sighs. When it comes to people with more money than sense, sometimes you gotta take what you can get.

He ducks into the office, tugging off his work gloves and tucking them around the loop of his belt. It’s not a private one— even Izana Wisteria, CEO, MBA (almost), Esq (at least he assumes, that seems like the sort of thing people with money get for fun) can’t do better than one desk out of four, though the other ones are empty, cleared out for the king to hold court. Or at least office hours, though it’d take bigger balls than his to ask someone on Fortune’s “30 Under 30” for help on ECON 230.

“What’s the problem, my liege?” Obi grins, finding a new wall to lean insolently against. “Got another cute maiden for me to terrorize? Gotta say, I think my schedule’s filled up on that one.”

“No.” His mouth twitches, good as a laugh out of the ice prince — and probably at his expense. “But speaking of Shirayuki…”

Oh boy. Better batten down the hatches for this one. If he thought Torou roasted him, then Wisteria was going to practically cremate—

“I have been informed that I owe you a…apology.”

Well. That wasn’t on his rich boy bingo card today.

“Oh?” Obi shoves off from the wall, dropping into one of the seats across from him. “I didn’t think you were allowed to do that. Don’t you need at least three PR managers to sign off on any statement before you can—?”

“I know you’re under the misapprehension that you’re hilarious,” Wisteria informs him, his dulcet tones pinched as he picks through them. “But I am allowed to handle my own personal liaisons, thank you.”

“Oh,” he gasps, letting the word wallow around in his mouth before letting it loose, if only to see Wisteria flinch. “I’m a liaison. Should I sign an NDA?”

“You’re a liability, that’s what you are,” His Majesty mutters, finger drumming an impatient line on his desk. “And no. I can already tell that litigating you would be a nightmare.”

“Don’t worry, your lordship,” he hums. “If the paps ask, I’ll only give them glowing reviews of your—”

“That” —Wisteria tucks a pen violently into its holder— “is exactly what keeps me up at night.”

Obi gives him his most charming grin. “You know, since you’re allowed to handle liaisons” —he throws around a liberal amount of finger quotes, enough to get some good froth on His Majesty’s glare— “are you gonna try to liaise with that hot chick from the humanities department? You know, the one that’s always hanging around here, trying to get the dean to sign off on things. What’s her name, Ha—?”

“You really are quite practiced in being utterly intolerable, aren’t you.” Wisteria adjusts his glasses, and not for the first time, Obi wonders if they’re actually prescription. “Just because I am allowed to tender my own personal apologies does not mean I take joy in doing it. And I assume from the way you are acting like” —a clown, his frown practically shouts— “this, the feeling is mutual. So let us just forge through the rest of this matter as quickly as possible.”

“Or we could just not and say you did.”

“I have thought of that,” Wisteria admits with a breath light enough to take for a sigh. “But I’m almost certain that she would check.”

He’d almost pay to see that— Little Miss Honor Roll with her hands on her hips, gently hounding Izana Wisteria into acting like a decent human being. “Oh, definitely.”

“So, let’s get down to it shall we. An apology, after all, has three parts.” There’s something like a smile lingering at the corners of his mouth on that last bit, like he’s got fond memories of the scolding that earned him that little taste of manners, but it’s gone before Obi can really appreciate it. “I have come to understand that in asking you to interfere with the natural progression of plot in our current campaign, you were maneuvered into the direct path of my brother’s infatuation.”

Right, rich boy for, I asked you to fuck around, and we found out a little harder than expected.

“I mean, you told me to come run interference between your brother and his girlfriend.” Act as a disruptor, Wisteria had called it. A real nice way to say, be an asshole and we can call the whole thing square. “I knew what I was getting into.”

Long fingers knit, forming a bridge over a spray of unfinished paperwork, and Wisteria sighs. “I’m well aware. But I have been informed that this does not absolve me of your resultant discomfort. Should you have experienced any.”

Which you must have, he doesn’t say, because the whole table had to talk him down from choking you out.

“Well, yeah. Can’t say I love being hated or whatever, but it wasn’t like I was coming to make friends.” Though he somehow managed it anyway, considering how many texts he’s gotten from the Big Guy about properly leveled gear and suggested feats. “Besides, your brother is fun to fire up.”

Another twitch, this time aimed at someone else’s back. “That he is.”

There’s a strange kind of silence that settles in the air between them; not weird, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, but almost…friendly. Just two dudes vibing, because they don’t need to talk to understand each other. The sort of thing that would feel good, if it wasn’t with a guy who wore sweaters worth more zeros than his bank account.

“I forgive you.” It’s a stupid thing to say— the last thing any Wisteria needs is absolution. Not from him at least. “If that’s what you need to hear. Even though I don’t really think there’s anything to apologize for.”

His mouth curls, the smallest flash of teeth peeking out of Wisteria’s smirk. “Thank you, regardless.”

“Anyway.” Obi’s hands itch, dying to do something— anything— besides just sit here and feel companionable toward a man with more letters tacked on to the end of his name than there is alphabet. “I should really—?”

“Of course.” His Majesty doesn’t stand, of course, content to watch the peasants scramble to please him. Or, right now, watch Obi plant his palms and mosey up to standing. “I’d hate to have your supervisor stroll past and take you to task when I’m the one who requested a chat.”

Obi lets a dry laugh saw out of him. “Don’t worry, your frostiness, I get fifteen minute breaks just like everyone else.”

There’s a tightness to his mouth now, a furrow digging itself right above that perfect nose— really, there’s got to be a program or something, people don’t look this good by accident— but it’s gone as quickly as it blew in, leaving only that still-lake smile behind. “Thank you for giving it to me, then.”

“No problem. Anytime, I guess.” He’s the most tolerable person in the department, funny enough. And that’s not just because he stuck his neck out to get Obi in the door in the first place— though he won’t lie: it helps.

“Obi…” The ice prince is on his feet now, one hand delicately braced on the corner of his desk, and Obi wouldn’t quite call this melting, but it’s certainly enough sweat to need a coaster. “Aside from my brother…you are enjoying the game, aren’t you?”

He blinks. “Yeah. It’s” —the most fun he’s ever had sober— “cool. I, uh, like it.”

For reasons that don’t entirely include a little red-headed alchemist and her insistence on handling him. Er, Beaumains.

“Ah. Good.” And just like that, his highness is solid ice again, no puddle to mark he’d ever perspired at all. “I had been under that impression. We’ll be expecting you this Saturday, I presume?”

Obi huffs out something just shy of a laugh. “And miss what trap you’ve set us all up for this week? You better believe it. Maybe this time I’ll take a page from my lady’s book and bring a bribe.”

There’s no missing that flash of teeth now, disappearing quick behind the drawn curtains of his smile. “Your mistress, as you call her, said much the same thing. Minus the bribery. Though she did ask how I felt about raisins.”

“O-oh?” He’d already been dragging out his saunter to the door, but now his boots scuff to a stop, leaning back to ask, so casual, “Did she?”

“Yes. She apparently— how did she put it? Looks forward to cutting through the knot you’ll be trying to convince us to untangle.” Wisteria doesn’t laugh, but he does let out a rusty hah for good measure. “She also inquired as to whether it would be all right to bring along another guest.”

His stomach takes a real tour of the space beneath his rib cage. “Another…guest?”

“Yes. A friend of hers, I gather.” His smile curls up at a corner, content as a cat. “It seems her post-session postmortems have convinced said friend to try their hand at tabletop.”

“Right. Cool.” He clears his throat, totally not desperate as he asks, “So like, is this a friend-friend, or, uh…?”

“Friend…friend?” One elegant eyebrow lifts. “I’m not quite sure what you’re driving at.”

“I mean”— he may not be Wisteria’s brother, blushing at every brush with embarrassment, but god, he’s pushing his tolerance to its limit— “like a lady friend? Or do you think—?”

“Sorry!” A curious head pops around the door, eyes darting between them— and then the hours posted on the door. A student— thankfully not anyone he knows. “Are you guys doing office hours?”

“I am,” Wisteria offers. “Apologies, Obi. It seems that we’ll have to continue this…riveting discussion later.”

“Ah…” He’d really rather die than try to talk about this after common sense has had time to come around. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I, ah, got it.”

His smile widens to an almost wolfish grin. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Obi shrugs, casual. “Totally.”

*

He does not, actually, got this.

In fact, not only is he not in the same neighborhood of getting this, but Obi doubts he’s even in the same zip code. He’d have to get on a transcontinental flight to even get on the same continent as getting it, and even then, he probably couldn’t find it with a map and a mailing address.

It’d actually be kinda funny, if he wasn’t living it. Torou certainly seems to think so.

“Just text her already.” Torou flips the page on her Marie Claire, and oh, she might sound over it— might even look over it, sitting there as her toe nails set or whatever. But Obi can see her watching, spying on him from the corner of her eyes, not even bothering to read which nail trends everyone will be ‘rocking’ this holiday season or which easy fashion looks look best on the three same-bodied models they’ve found to wear them. “You’re driving her, aren’t you? It’s sort of your job to know who you’re picking up.”

“But what if it is a guy?” he moans, half muffled in the pillow. “What if it’s a guy and he’s driving her?”

“What if it’s a girl and they’re making out right now?” Torou deadpans. “What if it’s a girl and they’re making out right now and you’ll have to drive them?”

He’ll admit, that pulls him up a little short. “I mean…I guess that would be…uh…”

Fine, he wants to say. That’s what he would have said if one of his hookups pulled something like that. Hell, he probably would have been fine with a guy too, so long as they were both into it. But he thinks of anyone so much as putting an arm around Shirayuki, having her turn those big eyes up at them, and he—

“Ugh,” he moans. “I think I’m gonna be sick.”

The magazine drops, louder than a gunshot. “Oh my god.” Torou stares at him, white all around her eyes. “You want to d-word her.”

Dick? “We’ve been over this, I’m not—”

“No, no.” Her head shakes, that thick mane of hair flying everywhere. “You want to d-word her because you l-word her!”

Date. She means date. He wants to date her, because he—

“W-what?” A cold sweat prickles just beneath his collar. “Which l-word?”

“Oh my god.” Torou stares at him like he should be behind plate glass and under terrarium lighting, like he’s a sideshow. “You have to ask? Wow, you’re really down bad.”

“No, I…” His teeth snap shut, one big clack that echoes through his ear canals. Yeah, he could deny it, throw out all kinds of protest about how just not happening this whole thing is, but—

Well, it’s not like it’s going to make him seem less down bad. “I’m gonna see if she needs that ride.”

Torou laughs, picking up her magazine. “Yeah, you do that, champ.”

hey, he picks out, giving her a glare over the horizon of his phone screen, u ned ride 2nite? HRM tol me u mite hav 1

A little check mark pops up nearly immediately— she’s read it, oh god— and Obi dies nearly a hundred deaths between then and when the little gray (…) pops up beneath it.

Yes, please! Is it alright if my friend comes with us? I’m sorry, I should have asked days ago.

A three-day old breath shudders out from his lungs, and it’s a good thing he’s already lounging on this chair, because the thing would have taken his knees with it if he’d been on them.

np mi casa es su casa w cars tho

Thank you!! She’s been hearing me talk about the game for weeks. This time she insisted she had to come with me.

She. Obi drops his forehead onto the edge of his screen. The friend is a she. Which isn’t a guarantee it’s all friendly and platonic or whatever, but it’s something. Elbow room, at least.

got it 2 see if were ax murders rite

I don’t think that was specifically a worry, no. She goes to school with Zen and Kiki too.

There’s a long pause before she adds, Though she certainly has an interest in checking some people out.

His fingers hover over the screen, and— just how is he supposed to take that? Anyone else and he’s think she mean him, but—

Also I know this is a little last minute, but… Would you mind coming a little early? Maybe…6?

Ya sure np. His forehead furrows, finger hesitantly adding, n e reason y?

Another one of those long pauses, the kind that leaves him wondering if maybe all this fluttering and  squeezing in his chest area might be the sign of a cardiac event rather than being down so bad it gives him palpitations.

Nothing big, she says, far too casual for the follow up of, My grandparents would like you to come to dinner. If that’s cool with you.

Oh. He presses a hand to his chest. This is what a cardiac feels like.

“TOROU.” Obi doesn’t even wait for her magazine to drop, just barrels straight into, “What does it mean that she wants me to come over?”

Her mouth tilts into that all-too knowing smirk. “Well well well, looks like your fetus doesn’t mind that you’re three steps from the grave, huh? Guess you won’t need me to clear out, unless you guys are going to do a tour of—”

“No, that’s not— that’s not it.” He tips the screen towards her, like somehow she might be able to read eight point font from across the room. “She wants me to have dinner with her grandparents.”

“What”—Torou’s eyes grow wide, pressing deeper into the couch like a cat trying to scramble out of a bath— “the fuck?”

“Oh cool,” he mumbles, numb. “So that was the right reaction.”

[boygiwrites]

Harley D. Dixon 33

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📖Chapter List.

Author's Note.

TW: CHARACTER DEATH. OFF-SCREEN SUICIDE.

This chapter is heavy with a bittersweet/happy ending. As for the intensity level of the death, think back to the chapter where Shane died. If you want to know more, look at the first tag of this post. Please be wary of this before you read!

Through the wire circle, down at the bottom of the hill, the tiny prisoners are being kicked out.

Curling my fingers tighter around the fence, I squint against the sun, watching as the gate is closed in their faces. They're left to stand there, without direction or purpose, in a sort of purgatory. They can either stay there and eat gravel until they starve, or they can face the outside world. If Dale can hear me, I'm sorry for thinking this, but, good riddance. There certainly ain't no phones out there no more, or even any food, and I know they'll die, but, good riddance. We'on know them. If we let them into our cell block, we'd be downright fools.

You don't put foxes in a chicken coop. It's just common sense, and we don't have much, but we have that.

As our group walk off to continue their chores, content with the death sentence, T-Dog lingers by the gate, digging into his pocket.

Surprisingly, he passes them what looks like a granola bar.

"They're gonna need more than that," Carl muses from beside me. "They need weapons. Ammo. Water."

The two prisoners are less than enthusiastic to receive the snack, but pocket it with a nod anyway. Rick went back into their cell block and packed up their half of the food for 'em, because a deal's a deal, but every crumb counts. A snack can save yer life same way a gun can. 

As they turn into the field beyond the prison, I shrug. "Rick'll prolly let them back into their cell block if they come back."

"You think they will?"

If they don't die out there first, then the answer is obvious. "S'like when ya put'cher dog outside when they's naughty!"

He giggles, "They always wanna come back in."

"Them two fellers ain't no wild dogs," I agree. "They's a pair of chihuahuas."

Before Carl and I can watch the two prisoners for any longer, the door to our cell block opens behind us.

Turning around, a smile makes its way onto my face as Herschel shakily plods down the steps, a crutch wedged underneath each of his armpits. Beth and Lori are dutifully fussing over him, ready to catch him if he falls, but he's managing just fine on his own.

"Whoo-hoo, Herschel!" Carl whoops as we walk over, earning a grin from his Momma. "You ready to race me, yet?"

"Give me another day. I'll take you on," He chuckles breathlessly as he breaches the last step, noticing Mouse. "Hey, boy."

I ask him hopefully, "Will ya race me, too?"

"Oh, no," He exclaims as he rests against the rusty railing, the white sunlight curving over his face. "Now, you're a different story."

"You're being silly," Lori smiles to him.

"I hope so."

"Don't worry, Herschel," I knock my elbow into his. "I'll go easy on ya!"

"How generous. Perhaps Carl and I will just have to verse you as a team?"

"Then it'll just be twice as embarrassing when she beats us both," Carl snickers.

Everybody down in the field can be heard shouting cheers up to us, as Herschel lifts his hand off the crutch to give them a wave.

"Come on," Lori says, eyeing his free hand until he grips the crutch again. "What do you say we go rest at that table over there?"

"Well, I'd say I've got no choice."

"You're right about that," Beth says as we guide him across the courtyard. "Carl, what do you think of his new pants? Stylish, huh?"

The boy glances down, only just noticing the change. "Hell yeah."

"Beth was telling us she tailored them herself," Lori says, sounding impressed.

"Well, I didn't do it alone," The girl smiles as we reach the picnic table, carefully sitting Herschel down. "Harley helped me."

"I just held the string," I say shyly.

"No job too small," Herschel muses to me with a smile, before gazing out at the scenery around us, sighing contentedly.

As grey and bleak as this place may be, with its dead walkers and concrete walls, it's a nice day out, which is always a consolation no matter where we are in the world. The sky hangs bright and blue like a polished dome over our heads, painted with smeared, fluffy clouds. If I really wanted to, I could pretend it's just another summer's day back on the farm, but I'on think I do. I don't need peaches and cows to be happy.

"Good to see you up and at 'em again, Greene," My Dad smirks as he comes through the gate, taking the man's shoulder.

As he squeezes and pulls away, Herschel exclaims, "It's good to be up. I couldn't stand to be in that bed a moment longer."

"I bet. You could come help me clear the fence if ya wanted," He jokes as he walks off. "My students are on break."

"We're just leaving the grunt work to the grunt," Carl calls after him.

"Sure you are," Dad says over his shoulder, before drawing his knife and downing one of the many walkers at the fence.

As he gets back to work, Mouse runs up to us with his tennis ball between his slobbery teeth, dropping it at my feet.

Picking it up, I hold it out to Herschel. "Wanna throw it for 'im?"

"Absolutely," He says, taking it.

He throws the ball across the courtyard, sending Mouse scrambling after it like it's a little animal he's gotta catch. It's nice watching Herschel play fetch with Mouse like this, spending the morning chatting with each other about useless things like the weather and seasonal crops. 

After about ten minutes, when he gives me the ball to throw, it skips like a stone into a pile of trash near the dumpsters. Whoops!

"Ohhh," Carl exclaims dramatically, watching Mouse nose through the junk. "Foul ball."

Giving him a bit of a shove on the shoulder, I laugh, "Shut up, Carl!"

"She never claimed to be a pitcher," Beth giggles. "She's more of a kicker."

"Yeah, I'm a kicker," I agree, with twinkle-toes Carl dodging me as I try landing a kick to his ankle, "Lemme show ya!"

"She's attacking me!"

"I'm a biter, too!"

"Kids will be kids," Herschel chuckles heartily to the girls, shaking his head. After a short pause, I hear him utter, "What—...?"

It takes me and Carl a moment to settle down, pushing at each other and swallowing down our giggles, before we look in the direction of the dumpsters, where everyone has pinned their attention. The laughter dies in my throat just as quickly as it had come alive. Mouse has completely abandoned his search for the ball — My first clue something's wrong —, staring unflinchingly around the corner.

He starts growling lowly, making my Dad turn around just before a rotten foot steps out into the open.

A face peeks out, melted and dripping.

A walker?

Out here?

Then there's a second, and a third, and a suddenly obvious cacophony of groans that could only come from a mob.

As another walker appears on the opposite side of the courtyard, sandwiching us in, Lori gasps.

I exclaim, "What the Hell?"

Where'd they come from?

"Get inside!" My Dad shouts at us, drawing his crossbow, shooting, killing the closest corpse. "Get inside, quick!"

"Come on," Lori grunts as she and Beth haul Herschel onto his crutches. "Come on, we have to go. We have to go!"

The rest of the group are running up the road, screaming our names and fumbling with keys and guns, ripping the gate to the courtyard open, but it's total and sudden chaos, walkers scattered everywhere. Rick rears his axe back, slamming it into a rotting forehead. The blood spurts. The body falls. We can't take this many on, not like this. Dad was right. We have to run. I unsheathe my knife as Herschel and the girls hobble across the courtyard, my eyes darting from face to face, from yellowed mouth to cloudy eyes to melted skin.

"Mouse?" I call out, feeling almost guilty for wanting to run off and save him. "Oh, my God!"

A body breaks apart from all the others. It reaches out for us, its fingers curved like scythes.

Beth squeals, terrified. "Get away from us!"

There's a disgusting SQUELCH as I drive my knife into its knee, the cold blood splattering my cheek. Twist. Pop. Its knee buckles.

Herschel and Beth scurry up the steps as I pull my knife out — I don't have to kill it. It'll only waste time — shouting coming from all directions as I watch another walker lunge for Herschel and Beth. He raises his crutch, bracing the rubber stub on its chest.

I stand up, ready to help.

As soon as I'm back on my feet, a loud alarm rings out, freezing me to the spot. Who turned those on?

"Harley!" My Dad's voice roars from across the courtyard. "Come here!"

"Let's go, girl!"

T-Dog takes my arm. I'm being dragged toward Dad, tryna spot everybody else. Rick, he's with Lori, Maggie, Carol, and Carl, shoving them all into a big, red cage, closing the door, and fending off more walkers with Glenn. Maggie shoots the lock. They huddle through the door to the prison. They're out. They're safe. Herschel and Beth, they're gone. I think — I hope — they managed to escape, too.

Where did all these walkers come from? We blocked the courtyard off, didn't we?

We reach the back of the courtyard. There's my Dad. He lowers his crossbow, a walker collapsing to the ground in front of him.

"Daddy!"

"Get over here!" He shouts, using his bow to bludgeon walker about to bite into his arm. "We gotta go! Gimme 'er!"

T-Dog shoves me forward.

Dad grabs my hand, his grip turning my skin a pure white, and we're running past walkers again, approaching a big, metal door.

He unholsters his gun and — BANG — shoots the lock off.

"Come on!"

"We can't close this behind us, man!" T worries as we run into the dark corridor, walkers following after us. "What we gonna do?"

Without answering, my Dad leads around a corner, cussing under his breath as he frantically looks around for another door.

After he takes us down what feels like a hundred more corridors, he finds one. "In 'ere! Quick!"

We slip inside. He slams the door shut, taking a step back, staring at it for a moment before it starts to shudder under the weight of the walkers pawing at it on the other side. No more running. God. We've trapped ourselves in here, but at least we're safe, at least we're alive. I wasn't so sure at first, but I can feel the blood pulsing through my muscles now, my breath leaving me in short, panicked bursts.

"Shit," My Dad pants hotly, his sweaty brow glistening even in the dark. "We okay? Baby, you okay?"

"I—I'm fine," I nod shakily, the blaring alarms suddenly cutting out. "W-What happened to everyone else?"

I think I managed to help Herschel and Beth get out safe, but we got separated before I could catch up to them. 

"I'on know," He admits, "I'on know. Seemed like we all scattered, but they'll look after each other. Least we're together."

The walker's shadows twitch and warp in black shapes against the grey of the floor, their fingers curling up underneath the bottom of the door like rotten little shrimps, tickling the metal with their chipped nails. They're wild dogs clawing at a rabbits' burrow, thirsting for blood.

When T-Dog doesn't respond, the only noise in this small, dusty room the snarls from outside, Dad asks, "T, man? You okay?"

I turn to look at him, the lack of sunlight making my eyes hurt.

T-Dog is staring at his feet like there's an interesting bug crawling on his ankle, wordless, looking up at us with wide eyes.

"Oh, my God," I breathe, watching the blood pour out.

There ain't no bug on his ankle.

There's a gaping bite.

"My sister used to babysit our neighbour's dog from time to time," T-Dog chuckles to himself, sat up against the wall opposite us. His legs are kicked out lazily in front of him, his smile plump and warm, like he's relaxing on his porch. The only thing missing is a cigarette between his fingers. I'on think he realizes that me and Dad ain't fully listening, or maybe he doesn't care. "Man, he was an ugly thing."

Already, this room smells like death, and there's nothing we can do except stew in it.

The door shudders violently in the background. 

"A lil' Scottish breed, or sum. One of them dogs with the big moustache and the angry eyes. Anyway," He sighs. It's difficult to look at him, in a way that makes me feel an aching sense of guilt for averting my eyes like this, but I just have to. I can't look at his smile anymore, or at the puddle of blood, or at the bite, or even at the walls, my gaze stuck unwaveringly on my boots. "There was this one weekend. She'd just got done takin' the lil' guy for a walk, and she was on the phone with her friend, talkin' about a party. 'Course, I was eavesdroppin'."

He wheezes a laugh to himself as my Dad continues to stare emptily at him, not entertained in the slightest.

"I thought to myself, 'Girl. Our parents are gonna kill you if they find out.' She was never the bookworm type, or anythin' like that. She was a bit of a bully, mind. Used to invite me to get ice-cream with her and her friends and make fun of me the whole time-type stuff."

Shut up, I wish I could shout in his face without angering the walkers outside, It doesn't matter now. You're bit!

When I thought I'd gotten scratched back at the quarry, I spent all night thinking of things that didn't matter, so maybe I can't blame him.

"I just got so jealous," He whispers, his smile fading, a sad look in his eyes. "I'on even know what pushed me to do it, but I went into the backyard and I opened the gate. Let the dog out. I knew I'd done the wrong thing when I saw the look on 'er face. I even went with her when she was puttin' up missin' posters all over our neighbourhood, shoutin' his name. Pepper, pepper. We ain't never found him."

"Don't you just sound like a pair'a angels," My Dad dares to joke.

He laughs. "That's what Grimes said."

That was back on the farm, when T was tryna make me feel better 'bout my fight with Carl by telling me a story 'bout his sisters stealing from him. He's always had the most ridiculous stories that make us all laugh, and he would let us, even if it was at his expense.

If I were to think about useless things, too, I'd think of him nicknaming me and Carl, little nerds, him sharing his pretzels with me while I was unwell, how he went with Rick and Dad to save me from Shane, those stupid shirts we got him and Glenn for Christmas.

"Well, ya know what they say about great minds," Dad mutters non-committedly, before there's another thud on the door.

"Daddy?"

"Hm?" He grunts, leaning toward me.

Into the shell of his ear, I shyly whisper, knowing he can't do nothin' about it, "I'on wanna be in here, no more. I wanna leave. Please."

"I know, chicken. I know," He soothes, putting his arm around my shoulders, cradling my head against his side. "M'sorry."

T-Dog asks, "What'd she say?"

"She don't like it in 'ere."

"Well, I'm sorry, too. I'm gonna die," He chuckles incredulously, his belly shuddering. "And all I can think about is that damn dog."

"How you feelin', man?"

"Like ten pounds of shit in a five-pound sack," T-Dog slurs, his head lolled onto his shoulder. "Thanks for askin'."

It's been hours since we trapped ourselves in this room. I can tell, not only because of the way my stomach has begun to roil with hunger and my mouth has gone dry like two pieces of sandpaper rubbing against each other, but because of poor T-Dog. His bald head is slathered in sweat, the droplets sliding down his face as if he's sitting under a showerhead, but I know it's the work of the germs inside his body.

Dad, Merle, and I saw this hitch-hiker get bitten back in the beginning, while we were staying with this group of people whose supplies we ended up stealing. They was the types to pick up needy travellers on the side of the road, even if they'd just been bitten.

Merle wanted to kill the guy when he found out, but it only took half a day for the bite on the man's leg to do it for him.

"I think we gotta start thinkin' about—," My Dad cuts himself off, before muttering, "What we gon' do."

"We wait here until somebody finds us," T-Dog insists, repeating the plan they had came up with hours ago. The walkers won't leave us alone with him bleeding all over the floor the way he is, and to go out there would be suicide. "It can't be much longer, now."

"I'm—," Dad sighs. "I ain't talkin' about the walkers, T. You know I ain't."

He nods his head in jerky movements.

"I-I know," He says.

"I'on think they're gonna find us before it matters." His way of saying, Before you turn. "I— I can't have you in here with Harley."

When T-Dog doesn't have anything to say in reply, Dad forces himself to continue. "So... I got a bullet or a bolt. That's where we're at."

"No." He adjusts himself against the wall, lifting his head to look him in the eye. "I don't want you to."

"I know," He placates. "I'm sor—"

"I'mma do it myself," He says matter-of-factly. "I'm a man of God. It might be a sin to take myself out, but I'll be damned if I fought this hard and got this far, only to let another man kill me. Even if he's my brother. So, I'm doin' this on my own terms. It has to be me."

Stomaching his words, my Dad slowly nods to himself, before he sends me a sympathetic look.

T-Dog bides his time for a couple more hours by telling us what must be every story he has, but it's after he throws up into the corner of the room that it becomes obvious to us that we just can't afford to wait any longer for the group to find us.

"We ain't gonna be sappy about this," T-Dog warns us as he sits back down, wiping his mouth.

"C'mon. You're one'a the sappiest bastards I know," Dad deadpans. "And I know a lotta sappy bastards."

"I guess I just always wanted to go out in a blaze of glory, if I had to."

"You don't want yer last moments to be with us?"

Coughing up a laugh, T-Dog jokes, "I didn't say that."

I almost want to ask him to wait just one more minute — That's not a long time. He could do it — and after that minute passes, I'd ask him again. I know it wouldn't save his life if the group found us right now, but I wouldn't be asking for them, or even for him. I'd be asking for myself. Selfishly, I want just one more minute with him. What if—? What if he didn't get any sicker? What if he turns out fine?

It's a question only a fool would ask, and I know all I can do now is appreciate all the thousands of minutes he had before this.

"Okay," He sighs, reaching behind him, pulling out his gun and resting it in his lap, staring down at it. "This is it."

It ain't how my Momma did it, but it's just as awful.

"We could still wait," My Dad suggests, giving him an out I know he won't take. "If they find us, they find us. If they don't—..."

"You heard me, man. Blaze of glory." He looks up at us, his sweaty fingers gently curled around the gun. For the first time since the door closed, he meets my gaze, but he just looks tired, like he could use a long, peaceful sleep. "This is gonna be hard. I'm sorry."

I watched Shane die in front of me, watched him bleed much the same way. At least this time, I'll get the chance to close my eyes.

"You're a tough girl," He gulps. "You been through more shit than most."

"Thought'chu said we wasn't gonna be sappy," I complain, just to get him to stop.

"The first time I saw you, I just knew you were gonna be a lil' terror." He continues, anyway. "Dale, too. Said he knew you'd make it."

Dale always did say the darndest things. The only reason I've made it this far is because of other people. I ain't no clueless airhead can't skin no animal or kill no walker, but my beatin' heart can be accredited to a small group of people, one that includes T-Dog. There's been countless times where I should'a died and didn't, and this is one of them times that somebody else shouldn't be dying, but is.

I ain't special. Just because I ain't died yet don't mean everybody else can't still be alive, too. My Dad says, Ain't no such thing as good or bad luck. Just strong people, but T-Dog ain't weak and there is such a thing as bad luck.

"I thought you would, too," I tell him, hoping it's some sorta comfort.

"C'mere," Dad mumbles, helping me climb into his lap and rubbing his big hand between my shoulder blades as I press my brow to his neck, squeezing my eyes shut. He takes out my hearing aids, and after that, I don't open my eyes for the next few hours.

Like this, I can pretend it didn't happen.

But I can still smell the gunpowder in the air.

"Hush little baby, don't say a word," My Dad's voice rasps quietly in my ear, "Daddy's gonna buy you a mockingbird."

I've never wanted to leave a room more than I want to leave this one in my entire life. If I could, I think I'd claw my way out.

"And if that mockingbird don't sing, Daddy's gonna buy you a diamond ring."

The singing helps. It don't make the smell any more bearable, but it helps.

"And if that diamond ring turns brass, Daddy's gonna buy you a looking glass."

One more minute, I tell myself just like I wanted to tell T-Dog, one more minute, and then another after that. The others have an entire prison to search for us in, with twists and turns every few feet, dust in the air and walkers lining the corridors, and I can't even guarantee they ain't already dealing with the deaths of any of our other people, but I know they'll refuse to stop until they find us.

I keep replaying the scene of the courtyard in my head, remembering everyone who I saw made it out.

"And if that looking glass gets broke," He sings, "Daddy's gonna buy you a billy goat."

Sometime later, I realize I've managed to block out the sound of the incessant groaning because there's suddenly another noise amongst it all — A grunt too pronounced to come from a walker, then a squelch and a dull thud, like a sack of flour dropping to the floor.

Lifting my head from Dad's shoulder, I look at the door as the groaning becomes lesser and lesser until it disappears.

"They're here. They're here," I say in shock, climbing off Dad's lap just as the door is opened.

"Holy shit," Glenn exclaims as Maggie wraps her arms around me, returning my brutal hug. "You're here."

"We drew them away," She says, pressing a kiss to my cheek. "Oh, I can't believe it. We searched everywhere for y'all."

It's when she pulls away that I make the mistake of following her and Glenn's gazes into the corner of the room, where T lay exactly where I last saw him, the only difference being that his brains are now plastered against the wall in the shape of a flower.

"Don't look," Dad gently scolds me, turning me back around so I'm facing the door.

She stares at the carnage, her lips slightly parted without knowing what to say, before she has to look away, too. "What happened?"

"He got bit," Dad mutters. It's impossible to recount what we just went through in any poetic way, and the rest, they can guess.

"Horrible," She croaks.

"We can come back for him later," Glenn struggles to say, urging all of us outta the room. "Let's get you two back to the cell block."

"Is everyone okay?" I ask him desperately.

As the door closes on T-Dog, Glenn gazes down at me, his face just as exhausted-looking as Dad's, but with a slight glint in his eyes.

"Everyone's okay," He manages to smile, glancing at Maggie before he adds, "Even the new baby."

I look up at my Dad, his shock mirroring mine. "Lori had her baby?"

And that right there is good luck.

Glenn steps over a body. "Come on."

Author's Note.

In exchange for T-Dog's especially intense death, Lori lives.

I went over SO many iterations for this chapter after receiving a comment suggesting I consider letting Lori and T-Dog live, and honestly, this version was the most suitable one. I decided the other versions were either just too indulgent or didn't fit with the story, but I liked them, too 😭

Thank you to ermynee, because without them/you, Lori would also be dead right now!

I hated doing that to T-Dog, but I thought it would make for an interesting non-canon scene and wanted to balance out the fact that Lori lives. You'll see also that Carol doesn't get lost, so the whole 'getting stuck and being found' situation was given to these guys instead. RIP T-Dog.

Thank you for reading. Always appreciate you! 💙

@poetoflawed

[2500ji]

3 and 5 :)

screenshot or description of the worst take you’ve seen on tumblr

jesus christ. “oh well ena and saki are basically just the female versions of their brothers so just focus on them instead of trying to make the guys into girls!!” also calling people yaoi brained for making the characters into girls???? what the fuck????

op deleted the post and honestly GOOD RIDDANCE. i blocked this guy after this

worst discord server?

ohoho. there was this server i was in. it was a hangout server for plurals and jesus christ. it was like a manipulative echo chamber dude it seemed like everyone secretly hated everyone and people were transphobic, racist, suicide baiting, i could go on and on

[echantedtoon]

Monster Bride Part 1 Prologue

(Btw the guy that gets splashed with water is Mitsuri's old fiance because SCREW THAT HEARTLESS JERK!!)

Beware the blood moon that comes but once a year.

Beware the monsters who lurk and live amongst the world.

Beware of those who seek courtship from maidens.

For every one hundred years a blood moon appears red in the sky. Red like the maiden blood monsters seek out. Widows never remarry. Young women accept no courtship. Young brides check your husband's identities before your marriage ceremony. For monsters will drag you away. For monsters will trick you. For monsters will impersonate your true love just to make off with a beautiful bride. So lock your doors up tight when the blood moon appears. Barricade all your windows. Block up any chimneys. Hide away in your deepest closest. Arm yourself with your finest weapons. Speak not a word and be silent. Sleep not a wink and keep alert for they were all spirit you away.

Mischievous far. Blood thirsty vampires. Carnivorous werewolves. Fire breathing dragons. Scheming demons. And so many more.

Those who refuse to heed the warnings are fated to die to be spirited away never to be seen again. So hide away and don't make a sound. Never answer the door no matter what. And above all else be weary.

Beware. Beware. Beware. BEWARE-

SPLASH!!

Sputters and coughs came from the man before you as water was dumped all over him. You deadpanned stared at him and held up the now empty bucket in your hands. The man spat out some of the water before rubbing his eyes and stared at you from the wet hair clinging to his face. His entire kimono front, shoulders, and head was all wet. A waste of water. Oh well. At least it served some purpose.

"What the hell was THAT for?!," he demanded reaching up to remove his glasses and rub his face. He rubbed the glasses on his sleeve in an attempt to dry them.

You narrowed your eyes. "I told you four times now that I will not now and NEVER WILL marry you."

"And why not?! I'm educated and my family is well off! You'll be able to live comfortably. You're even lucky I chose you over everyone else so many times. After all you're the most beautiful woman in the surrounding countryside!"

"I'll marry someone when I feel like it!"

The glasses were placed back on his face now so he could fully see you properly as he scowled. "Tch. You're making a very big mistake. Every young lady and eligible aged woman is scrambling to get married before the blood moon next year. It's a tradition."

"No. It's fear. 'Every unmarried woman must be married before the blood moon every hundred years or else a monster will drag her away.' That's just a scare tactic men like YOU came up with to scare women into marriages that they don't want!"

"Do you WANT to die an old hag unmarried and unloved without children?!"

"I'd rather die an old hag then end up in a loveless marriage with someone like YOU!!" You then pointed back up the road back towards the town. Good thing you lived OUTSIDE of town so you're not constantly bothered. "NOW GET OFF MY FARM!! AND IF YOU COME BACK A FIFTH TIME I'LL HIT YOU WITH THE BUCKET TOO!!"

"Alright! I'm going! But mark my words! You'll end up regretting your decisions, Y/n Tamayo." He warned with a scowl. "Come next year you'll wish you would've accepted my offer and become a proper housewife."

With a final scowl he turned on his heel and began stopping back up the forest path back towards town. Good riddance. Now you had to get another bucket of water because of him. Who did he think he was trying to use scare tactics on you?! 

"Smiley serpant. How stupid does he think I am? Everyone knows monsters don't exist."