#one thing i never thought about was how he has this scar despite being fixed up by a witch

[arielluva]

working on my ocs' physical appearances a bit, starting with nix!!

i decided because he has a big ass scar over one of his eyes, i thought it would be interesting if there was a slight eye color difference? probably not realistic but i think it looks cool and adds an extra difference between his past and present selves (something ive been needing to iron out bc like. his whole story revolves around losing his memory and one of the people he meets he. used to know. and so i have to figure out how to make it make sense for her to not really... remember what he looked like and just. recognize him immediately, defeating the purpose of the story)

also gave him a mole under the same eye he now has a scar on bc whenever i made him in tomodachi life, i obv couldnt give him a scar, so a mole was the next best thing. now i think its kinda interesting to be on a past design, and another aspect that could make him less recognizable. one distinctive attribute traded out for another

[alchemistc]

911 was always in my periphery bc of how popular Buck x Eddie is on Tumblr and Ao3. I didn't really want to watch a cable network procedural drama, especially one that came off as so unserious. I could also see how such invested shipping by a lot of fans who are young and think it’s ok to demand things from the cast and crew would inevitably become a toxic cesspool. I stand by that assessment of the show based on the behavior of the fandom these last months, as well as the overall quality of the writing and how often good story lines just get dropped or undermined.

However, I heard about Buck coming out. Over the summer, I was going through a lot and feeling aimless, so I finally started watching the show. And I liked Buck and Tommy, but what I really loved was the quality of the fan works they inspired. At the end of the day, I never really had real expectations of high quality television from a show like 911; that’s not what it’s for.

Despite this, what really affected me last night—which was also the first episode I bothered watching live ever because of how terrible this last week has been—wasn’t even how badly it was executed or the fact that they broke up. But how unnecessarily and viciously cruel the whole thing felt?

What was the point of showing Tommy as a caring, supportive, present partner in the previous episode if it was going to lead to an unceremonious break up? What was the point of showing his yearning for connection and family only to see him throw it all away? Why have him say such wonderful things about Buck moments before questioning the commitment of their relationship after six months together? What was the point of Buck getting that speech from Josh and bringing up marriage and moving in together and that Tommy had been a transformative relationship when it was going to end with him being dumped? It just felt so horribly cruel to see a character bare his tender heart and see it get stomped on. He looked so sad at the end.

Up till the very end of the episode, I was actually really enjoying it. Their acting was so good from heart eyes to heartbreak, and the show seemed to understand Tommy’s reaction to Buck getting hit on by those women would cause friction. It even made sense to me that Tommy would recoil at the prospect of moving in together because Buck clearly hasn’t come to terms with being queer yet (sir, you haven’t researched the Kinsey scale? You?) And Tommy is also clearly afraid to reach for the connections he wants and the seeming inevitability of his heart being broken and is masking that with nonsense about Buck needing to play the field and the biphobia present wherein. It was such an interesting depth to his character! I thought the break up speech was so well-acted, and I was so ready for the conversation they were going to have that would address it and let them move on together stronger. To see Buck learn from Josh and see the scars Tommy was unintentionally revealing in that moment and address them.

And then the credits started rolling and I felt like I got punched in the gut.

It was definitely the straw that broke the camel’s back for me, with the election and other personal stuff really stressing me out this week. Last night, I felt sick and unable to sleep, and I spent the morning bawling my eyes out. It feels like one of the few things I really looked forward to had been snatched away for the shock factor. I believe the interviews are the definite death knell, but even if you don’t follow the interviews, it was just a cruel way to end the episode. Even if this ends up being a temporary roadblock or they “fix” it, it’ll always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

Anyway, I’m upset that I let a show I always knew wasn’t very good affect me this much, and I regret spending months of my life on it. But the reason I wanted to send this ask was because my real hyperfixation these last few months was never the show itself; it was always the Bucktommy fandom. Reading some of the most beautiful fanfiction, including yours, these deep and intense character studies or au’s or future fics that show more love to these characters than the show does. The stunning art, the lovingly rendered gifs, the startlingly funny and insightful writing. The fandom has been my real love, and I hope that despite this huge blow, people like you will continue being so immensely creative and artistic for this ship.

I’m sorry this has been so long and vent-y, but I wanted to send you this ask because you’re one of my favorite fic authors, and I’ve been following your posts since last night and you’re still responding to anonymous asks. I’ve always been stealth in the fandom to avoid certain parts of it, so didn’t want this on my own blog. If you do publish it, I hope the other authors and artists and creators who have made my life better get to see it too <3 And that they don’t regret the time and passion and love they’ve poured into the last few months. I have appreciated it, if nothing else.

Hi.

First of all, please don't apologize for the length of this.

Everything you pointed out were exactly the reasons people joined this fandom. Everything you listed here is EXACTLY the reason it left such a bad taste in our mouth.

I'm sorry I won't be more eloquent in this post, because this is such a kind and thoughtful and lovely summation of all the things I've been hearing and seeing and feeling.

The point of all that, if we are to believe Lou (which I do, and honestly props to him for being as gracious as he was in those post-mortems: fucking TWO exit interviews for a guest star? wtf abc), WAS to pull the rug out from under the audience. It WAS to end it all on a shocker of heartbreak. They filmed the bulk of Tommy's S8 scenes AFTER the breakup. It is absolutely vicious and cruel and meant to make people talk about it. The engagement they are getting right now is to some extent WHAT THEY WANTED. I went straight to my notes after work and I can't be fucked to check the insta or FB to see if they've posted anything new and/or what the comment count is on the 8x06 posts but THIS IS THE INTENDED RESULT. Broken hearts, upset people, an increasingly toxic fandom crowing.

That's where I'm at. I think that's where a lot of people have landed. And it's so disheartening to see something that really genuinely drew people in because it was handled so gently and kindly at first just be ripped away and the door shut on it.

And honestly if they close the mid season OR open or close 8B on a premise that includes one of them being injured and the other having a Realization™️ I won't trust this team to do it genuinely or truly. Even the breakup would have held so much potential for me, but not like this.

Anyway. I'm sorry you're feeling so disappointed. I am grieving the missed potential of literally every plot they built up this season for every character and if I do watch it won't be live and I will likely have very little trust for it's potential. There has been So Much wasted potential.

And I want to say thank you. Even if you lurked, even if you disengage now, the creators who made those works made them out of love and they wanted to share them and the community around it all has been lovely to see. Thank you.

Some of us will still be hanging around building the world that could have been. I hope, if you feel up to peeking at that sandbox, that you feel welcome to go play in it or even just clap from the sidelines.

♥️

[aerynwrites]

Scars

Halsin x afab!Reader

A/N: some friends and I were talking in discord and one of them gave me permission to use this wonderful idea! I hope y’all enjoy ❤️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: major insecurity in reader regarding scars, talks of self hatred, self depreciation, all is comforted tho, hurt/comfort, canon typical violence, partial nudity, fluff, kisses, love confessions.

The battles are done, the enemies defeated, and yet it feels like the work doesn’t quite end there.

This battle was harder than the rest, bending and breaking all of you more than expected. So much so that blood still oozes and bones still need mending despite the healing spells Shadowheart was able to bestow upon your group. Even her magic was depleted leaving her with the the rare wounds to show for it.

Return to camp has become a habitual affair, those that are able, help the companions wounded before everyone returns to their tents for the night.

You, however, slink off on your own from the get go, avoiding the healing hands in favor of your own mediocre care.

It’s better for you this way. Safer. At least mentally. The small river a short distance from camp has become your solace. Far enough away to seclude you but close enough that if danger were to arise, help would be close by.

You’ve come here after most battles, rinsing off in the clear water before tending to your own wounds as best you can, too ashamed to ask anyone for help - too scared to bare yourself before them.

Especially since a certain druid joined your team.

Before Halsin had come along you’d been able to slip away with no questions asked. Every now and then Shadowheart would tease you about how she could get the job done quicker but it would end there. Now…now it’s like you can feel Halsins stare each time you leave camp, his offers of help being brushed off with a flippant wave of your hand.

You enjoy his company. More than enjoy it really - so much so that a small crush has started to develop for the larger man. A part of you has longed to accept his offers of help, longed to open up to him in a way you have to no one else.

Yet, each time, the acceptance dies on your tongue and you tuck your tail and run. Just like you always have.

You sigh as you approach the waters edge, stripping down to nothing but your under things in order to sit on a rock submerged below the water enough that you can rinse away the muck of battle in order to assess the damage.

It’s the same process as always. Rinse off, tend to any wounds then dress and head back to camp. But tonight proves more difficult.

You have more injuries than normal, which means more stitching - a task proving difficult due to what you assume is a larger wound on your back. You’d taken a nasty blow to the shoulder towards the end of the skirmish and now it aches terribly and refuses to move the way you need in order to tend to yourself properly.

With a wince, you reach behind you with your good arm and try to feel for the wound, hissing and snatching your hand back when it brushes over the edge of what seems to be a nasty gash.

You’ll never be able to reach that on your own.

Muttered curses slip past your lips, as you turn to focus on the things you can fix instead. However, just as you move to tend to the shallow claw marks on your arm the all too close snap of a twig startles you.

Your head whirls to look behind you, and your eyes widen in mortification to see Halsin standing several yards away.

“Halsin! What are you doing-“ you cut yourself off as you reach for your shirt on the bank behind you, desperate to cover up before he can see anymore.

Before he can think you’re hideous.

The thought is fleeting, but drives your actions all the same.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you,” Halsin finally speaks, holding out placating hands, as if dealing with a scared animal.

His words stall your movement just long enough for you to notice that the large elf isn’t looking at you. Instead his head is turned off to the side as if he doesn’t want to intrude on your privacy if it’s not wanted.

Your shirt hangs limply in your hands before you gather it to your chest. “What are you doing here?”

With his head still turned away, Halsin clears his throat. “I know you prefer to tend to your injuries yourself, but I saw the wound on your back when you all returned from camp. I only came to offer my help - and if you refuse I will turn now and leave you in peace.”

The air is silent as his words settle between you, and you open your mouth to give your typical refusal before stopping short.

You do need help. There’s no way you’ll be able to take care of the injury on your own. Not properly anyways. And infection is dangerous - even with healers around to help.

You let out a soft sigh, turning back to face the water, your shirt still clutched tightly to your front like some sort of lifeline.

“That’s - yes. I can’t…I can’t reach it on my own,” you admit softly, trying not to quake in shame as you hear his soft footfalls approach.

The thud of his boots in the grass and quiet splash of water is the only thing that lets you know how close he is, your eyes still trained on the river in front of you.

Soon you feel a presence at your back, and Halsins voice meets your ears once more.

“May I touch you?”

The question is simple, yet it ignites a bitterness you hadn’t realized was there. “You have to in order to treat me, don’t you?”

If Halsin reacts to your snappy reply, he doesn’t say anything, instead you feel him settle onto the rock behind you, water rippling between your bodies as a gentle hand rest on your shoulder

“It is ideal, yes, but I will not force my help upon you if you do not wish it.”

His breath is warm against your neck, and you can’t suppress the shudder that runs through you. Shame wells in you again, but this time at yourself. He’s just trying to help and you’re letting your own insecurities - your own self hatred spew at the wrong person.

“I’m sorry, yes - it’s fine. I’m not…used to this is all. I don’t like people seeing me like…like this,” your admission is a soft, broken thing, almost lost amongst the babbling water if it weren’t for Halsin’s close proximity.

He lets out a low hum just as you feel the unfamiliar warmth of healing magic along your back, seeing the golden glow from the corner of your eye.

“A good healer would never shame those needing his help,” he tells you, the hand on your shoulder giving you a reassuring squeeze. “My aid is available whenever you require.”

You shake your head, a scoff slipping past your lips. “That’s not…thank you.”

Your initial words die on your lips, the true reason for your hesitance unwilling to reveal itself so soon. And if Halsin notices your deflection he doesn’t say anything, instead he lets silence fill the air between you until finally that comforting warmth disappears from your skin, the glow dissipating.

“Is there anything else I can help with?”

The automatic refusal sits on your tounge once more but you stop yourself, instead moving to hold up your other arm, showing him the claw marks that have already started to scab.

“Of course,” he says and you can hear him shift behind you. “Would you be comfortable facing me?”

You nod, and for the first time you find yourself telling the truth. For the first time in as long as you can remember you feel some semblance of safety with someone seeing you like this.

Slowly you turn to face the druid, finally letting the shirt you were holding drop from your grip, tossing it back to shore. You still have your underwear on, and you’re sure the man before you had seen worse.

Once you’re settled, you find yourself fave to face with Halsin for the first time tonight, and the first thing you notice is his smile.

It’s a tiny thing, small and reassuring and kind. An emotion you’re not used to seeing in this state of undress.

He gently takes your arm in his hand and applies the same treatment as before. Magic emits from his palm, wrapping your arm in small tendrils of golden light as the healing warmth envelops you once more.

“Will there be scars?”

The question falls from your lips before you can stop it, and you watch as Halsin’s brow furrows.

“This one should leave minimal scarring, if any at all. The creatures claws did not dig deep. But the wound on your shoulder was…” he pauses. “Even magic cannot overpower nature at times. It will most likely leave a mark,” he smiles again, “but you do not seem a stranger to those.”

His words cut deep, hitting you where you know he doesn’t mean too. But your shame, your insecurity rears it’s ugly head again, and you yank your arm from his grip - the magic dispelling as his touch does.

“You don’t have to be an ass about it,” you hiss, moving to stand uncaring of your half healed wound, or the way you teeter on unsteady feet.

“Wait,” a strong hand reaches to capture your own before you can leave. “I meant no offense, truly.”

His words cause you to pause, and you reluctantly turn to look down at where he still sits in the water. His smile is gone, lips downturned and eyes pleading.

“Then what did you mean if not to make fun of my disfigurement - of the very things I hate most.”

Halsin stands to join you, eyes searching your own until he has his feet beneath him and then your hands clasped in his own.

“I did not think it was something you felt ashamed of or I would not have made the jest. I apologize for not treading more carefully but…” he pauses again, weighing his words. “Your scars…they are nothing to be ashamed of.”

You want to laugh, can feel it bubbling up in your chest. A bitter, nasty little sound that wants to make itself known. But you choke it down, the weight of his words helping you to do so.

“But they’re…ugly. Hideous. I’ve heard it enough throughout my life that…it must be true.” Your words are broken, reflecting exactly how you feel inside. How you’ve felt for so long.

Quickly a hand comes up to cradle your cheek, thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t even realized started to fall.

Halsins mouth is set in a thin line, eyes serious as he guides you to look at him.

“Whoever whispered those lies into your ears deserves a fate worse than the Oak Father can give,” he tells you, eyes falling down to take you in entirely. “Nature may be beautiful, but it is far from perfect - and sometimes it is far from merciful.”

Slowly, he takes drops his hand from your cheek, instead taking your hand in his and guiding your arm upwards. He uses his other hand to begin tracing the scars that cascade across your skin, some small and some large - all with different stories.

His fingers are gentle, barley a whisper on your skin as they travel upwards towards your shoulder and eventually he turns you to face away from him again, his fingers continuing their journey down your back.

“Scars are a part of one’s life, just as nature intended. They tell the story of where life has taken you, of where you’ve been.”

His breath ghosts against your shoulder and a shiver runs through you as his lips ghost over the scar of the wound he just healed.

“Some may have more than others, but that just means their stories are easier to read,” he comes around to your front again, looking down at you with a reverence you’ve never seen before.

“Would you look upon my face and call me hideous for the scars I bear?”

Your heart leaps into your throat, eyes widening. “No! Of course not, you’re…I think you’re…beautiful.”

Halsin smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Then why can you not show yourself the same kindness?”

“I-I don’t know. I’ve never…thought about it like that.” You say honestly, eyes casting downwards.

Halsin quickly redirects your attention, bringing up his arm and removing one of his bracers, showing yet another scar. It’s white and faded with time but you can tell it was from a terrible wound that was never treated properly.

“I received this one early in my youth. I thought myself a proper druid, ready to take on even the toughest foes. However, a displacer beast was quick to show me otherwise. I was left with a scar and a lesson learned, encouraging me to not only work hard to attune with nature and its magic but to step back and think before charging head first into a situation.”

His words are wise, and you find yourself studying the scar with curiosity rather than disgust as you have with your own.

The next while continues on like this, Halsin slowly showing you his scars and telling the stories behind them. Eventually you both end up sitting on the bank to dry as the stories continue. And eventually, he gets you to open up too - staring with small mundane scars and stories before eventually revealing the scars you hated most and what led to them. Except…as the night goes on, you find the hatred giving way to nostalgia. Some of them came from memories that make laughter bubble in your chest. Like the time an old childhood friend wanted to try to knock an apple from your head with an arrow but instead left you with a scar on your temple and a fear of inexperienced archers. Or the time you had slipped in the river trying to catch frogs with that same friend and gained a scar on your knee.

Another pleasant story had just finished and Halsin smiled at you, eyes crinkling at the corners in the way you’ve come to admire.

“See, your scars, no matter how much you may detest them, tell your story - each one a different page.” Slowly he takes your hand in his own, placing a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “And I would be happy to know each and every one if you’ll let me.”

His words make butterflies erupt in your stomach and heat rush to your cheeks as you nod.

“It might take a while,” you gesture to yourself, “there’s…lots of pages.”

If it’s even possible, his grin widens. “All the better - it just means more time spent with you.”

You move before you can think, acting on what little bit of courage has gathered in your chest as you lean towards him and press a quick kiss to his lips. You move to retreat, just in case you have read the signs wrong. But a warm hand comes up to rest at the back of your neck, keeping you in place as he kisses you back.

His lips are warm and gentle against yours and you feel like you might melt into a puddle right here. But your elation is cut just short as Halsin pulls away, gazing at you happily.

“You are beautiful,” he says softly, “enough to rival nature itself. Please come to me if you ever need to be reminded of that.”

Suddenly bashful, you give him a small nod before leaning into him again, but this time just to rest your head on his shoulder as your arms slip around his middle. Halsin returns the embrace, strong arms slipping around you and cocooning you in a comforting warmth.

You still have a long way to go, but with Halsin at your side…the journey might be a little more bearable.

[twst-drabbles]

Floyd 11

Summary: You were smoking by the window when Floyd decided now would be an amazing time to dive into the pool you had installed. In his full form. And now he won’t stop looking at you for attention. Haa, you know what, you were in need of a distraction anyway.

(Hehehe the subject is rather heavy, but Floyd is as Floyd does, saying things seemingly vague but not really. Cheeky eel.)

You’ve been working on getting rid of the habit, you swear. Sure sure, you don’t exactly look convincing when you’re leaning on the window sill, packet of cigarettes at hand as though they never left your side and taking gentle drags like you’re trying to savor it, but this was your first cig in a while. You had this same pack for about a few months.

It’s slow going, but you’re going. Soon you’ll stop. Soon you’ll be at the point where you’ll just forget the urge to reach for your lighter. But not today. There’s too much energy in your spine and your head has been itching. Waiting. Like it’s anticipating something even though there’s nothing.

Haa… you don’t understand this. You don’t know how to fix this.

You took a slow drag and breathed out. Something within you quieted a bit and you couldn’t help but close your eyes. Wind drifted over your face. It was nice. Relaxing.

Then you heard a splash. You and your cigarette were drenched in water.

“Hey!”

You opened your eyes to see a large Floyd lounging on his slick tail, lazily waving at you like he didn’t have the energy to do anything more, despite his big, toothy grin.

You snorted out water then sighed at the sight of your useless cigarette. You dropped it in the ash tray.

You thought you were alone, since everyone is usually doing their own thing outside or in their pocket homes, but you guess you can’t always rely on the convince of routine to keep you safe. Floyd saw you, clearly, and intentionally made a splash at you.

Floyd, when he first saw you, wanted in on this bad habit of yours. But, when you said no, he basically made it his job to stop you when he sees you. It’s easy to see it as him being childish. ‘If I can’t have it, you can’t either,’ type of thing, but that’s not quite it, now is it?

You want to get rid of this bad habit, so Floyd will be the menace to get you to slow down and stop. Weird, weird eel.

Well, not like you can ask for anything else. This too was something you appreciated, as annoying as he can be.

So, when you finally noticed that Floyd’s eyes have never once left you, you figured it would best to join him, if only to keep yourself from scratching that addicting itch.

“So,” Floyd slithered right next to your knees as soon as you sat down, “what’s bothering ya? You haven’t been that careless in a while, so what’s got you smoking right where I can see you?”

“Hmm, I don’t know,” you splashed your hands, attempting to scrub out a spot in your palm, only to find that that’s just another scar that won’t fade, “It just feels like something’s nagging at me. Kinda wound up. Tight. Can’t tell you why that is, though.”

“So that’s what made you smoke?” Floyd dragged his upper body out, not caring for the water that surged and soaked your clothes, “’Cause you can’t think of anything else that’ll make you feel better?” He picked at a loose thread laying on your thigh, pulled, then snapped it off. Another place for your clothes to fray open.

Lot of them have been falling apart, actually. Huh. You never noticed how worn out your clothes have been. Guess they’re just too old to handle any more stress.

“Don’t do that,” you said, though you did nothing to stop his claws from tugging the loose end of your shorts, “Well, I guess. It just easier to de-stress with a pack around and a lighter in your pocket. Not like I know anything that’ll help me.”

You had hobbies but those become hard to keep up with when you spent all that time just looking for your lost ones. And trying to get back into them, you know you’ll be frustrated at the decay in skills. So you’d rather not bother.

“Hmm,” Floyd lowered his head and plopped it right on your lap. He started to playfully tap your knuckles with his claws. “What about me?”

His tail exited the water and curled around you.

“What about you?” you grabbed his hand and gently pushed against the webbing between his fingers. He really had the gall to pretend to think about it, like there were no other choices for him to pick from.

“You can use me,” Floyd’s smile was small, cheeky as he basically trapped you in his tail, “in any way you like. That’ll help get the stress out, right?”

You can take a guess as to what he’s talking about.

You chuckled as you leaned back.

“Alright, then I’ll use you to rest my back,” you smiled at the frown that spread on Floyd’s face, “Resting is also de-stressing.”

“…you’re no fun.” Floyd grumbled but didn’t fight it.

[mr-jack-letterman]

I thought it would be fun to give some insight into how the circumstances detailed in Covalent Twins are effecting the characters :D.

So, here's Covalent Emmet Progress Report #1 (as I will probably end up making more of these)(maybe)

Despite popular belief, Emmet....is not doin too hot with this new situation.

The 2 years Ingo spent in Hisui were the worst years of Emmet's life. When Ingo finally returned, naturally, he was overjoyed. Hearing about what his brother faced in Hisui however....was quite concerning.

Every scar on his brother's body felt like a bullet wound to Emmet's heart. He hated seeing his brother so hurt and scared of what used to be their everyday lives. Thankfully, the amnesia almost entirely cleared up after a few months. But that didn't change the fact his brother was hurt, and there was no way for him to fix it other than supporting him the best he could.

Immediately jumping from that to their apartment being haunted by the dead ghost of Ingo from an alternate timeline made Emmet want to rip his hair out.

It's all just so unfair.

Emmet and Elesa had done nothing to deserve having Ingo torn away from them. Ingo did nothing to deserve his sudden derailment nor his treatment in Hisui, but most of all, Warden did absolutely fucking nothing to deserve being left for dead in the past by a God.

Emmet didn't care if the space-time continuum was at risk if Warden's timeline wasn't created. Emmet didn't care if Warden being sent to the future the same way Ingo was might have caused even more problems.

In Emmet's mind, there is not, and will never be, a riotous justification for Arceus leaving Warden stuck in the past. Not. One.

Not after all the pain and grief it caused Warden- his brother.

Warden is as much as Emmet's brother as Ingo is. And Emmet with never forgive Volo or Arceus for what happened to them. Not ever.

The worst part about it all is that the ones truly to blame aren't even here for Emmet to pass blame onto.

Volo is dead and gone, nobody can survive 150 years. (Unless you're Warden and live on as a ghost, of course.)

Giritina was only a tool, a terrifying and powerful tool, but still, only a tool for Volo to get what he wanted. Even through all his pain and resentment, Emmet can recognize Giritina as somewhat of a victim in all this as well.

Arceus is quite literally nothing, and also everything. Aside from pieces of Arceus (that Dawn allegedly fought and captured at one point.) Emmet would get nowhere trying to make an entire deity take responsibility.

The entire weight of Emmet's guilt, resentment, grief, and fury just sits in his hands. And with no one around to give it to, he keeps it close. Emmet blames himself.

Logically, Emmet knows it's untrue. He knows it's ridiculous. He knows he doesn't deserve any of the built up emotions he's taking out on himself, but he simply doesn't know what else to do with them all.

He knows it was all out of his control, but that alone is what makes it all so scary.

Emmet has never done well without a protocol or a script. But there is no script for this type of situation, let alone such a complex trauma. Emmet doesn't know what to do, and it seems like the only thing anyone can tell him is what not to do. Which for Emmet, isn't helpful in the slightest.

Emmet is veeeeery scared, and the total lack of proper answers and the uniqueness of his situation has only left him paranoid and flighty.

He's getting better. He will get better. The fear will slowly fade with time.

It's just gonna take a lot longer than originally expected.

[legendary-guest]

High school sucks, from puberty to petty relationship drama to navigating the cliques - not to mention the teachers! Some so crabby, so lippy, so unfair, so mean that you could swear they were...evil?

Meet Dr. Drew Lipsky and Ms. Shea Go! Other outfits linked here. Lots of text under the cut.

"Mr. Lipsky is my father. You will address me as Dr. Lipsky."

It is difficult to escape Dr. Lipsky on the learning side of the high school ecosystem, he practically runs every class that involves math or science.

Arrogant, grouchy and with a tendency to ramble, Doc runs his classroom with an iron fist and a strict no lip policy. He is seldom seen without his ruler, which he uses to write along the chalkboard with his terrible handwriting, draw diagrams, gesture wildly with and slam on sleeping students' desks to rudely wake them. Despite this unpleasant behaviour, he has obvious favourite students - some of them have gone a long way just by sucking up to him - like not being yelled at and being one of the privileged few that haven't been damned to detention for a minor transgression. He's not just mean, he's also weird.

He likes to show-off the fact that he can draw a perfect circle, free-handed. This impresses a lot of the kids, until it becomes dull - he is workshopping drawing a perfect dodecahedron free-handed (it's not going well). School festivities and similar events, not centred around sport, tend to have him actively organising and participating in them. Always decorates the classroom around Christmas time, becomes unbearably cheery. His love for Snowman Hank is infamous.

Students have figured out an effective method to avoid learning - by getting Dr. Lipsky to talk about himself, or anything that vaguely interests him, he isn't difficult to distract. If he realises what's happening, everyone gets extra homework. If he doesn't and class ends, he seethes about it.

Of course, this means that he's always marking, always busy, a vicious feedback loop. He secretly doesn't mind this, as it keeps him occupied, away from depressing thoughts and crushing loneliness. His job is his social life, but even this is difficult as the only real rapport he has with anyone are the students he rambles to. Well, them and now Ms. Go, whom he carpools with - picking him up and dropping him off 5 days a week, just the two of them. His own car was totalled by Ed, and unable to afford another on a teacher's salary, he'd been catching the bus to and from work. His garage has turned into a workshop, where he tinkers with fixing old computers, building robots, lasers, programming microchips, etc. He really doesn't spend time in his own home.

Drew is dyslexic but doesn't know it - he's found ways to manage this. One of these ways is calling on kids who he knows are in Ms. Go's classes - he always knows them - to help him spell something. “How do you spell it?” “What?” “What do you mean ‘what?’ I know you’re in Miss Go’s AP Literature class, so tell me how to spell it!” “Uh…” [spelling ensues] “That wasn’t so difficult now was it?” “Thanks would be nice” “Detention.” “What?” “I heard you talk back. Detention. I’m old, not deaf.” Unlike Drakken, the subject of his blue skin and scar aren't things he's keen to talk about. He addresses it once at the beginning of every semester to the students to quell rumours and that's it. “Before you all start asking, I’ll tell you. This nasty scar? Lab accident. Blue skin? Lab accident. Is it contagious? No. We’re speaking about injuries, not cooties. So, you know I take lab safety very, very seriously. Gloves, closed shoes and glasses in the lab at all times! Last thing I need is a lawsuit from your parents.” No member of staff, including Ms. Go, know why he is blue.

He is still a college drop-out - his doctorate and teaching certifications are fake. He has never been caught. The inciting incident for dropping out (I have yet to cement whether or not it is the Bebes) has defeated him instead of motivating him. Drew Lipsky is still Drakken, but listless, without real focus or ambition, prone to indifference and depression. As Dr. Lipsky, he is a genuinely good, competent teacher, despite all his faults - the need to explain things, repeatedly, helps him in the profession.

Ms. Go is the hot new English teacher at school! Although she is new to teaching on her own, she is not as naïve as some might think. With her experience as Shego, member of Team Go from Go City, dealing with her brothers and various criminals and villains alike, Ms. Go knows her way around people - the Child Development qualification is merely a bonus.

Staff and students don't know of Ms. Go's hero identity and she goes to great lengths to deceive students that point out her strangely tinted skin - by telling them that it's merely the fluorescent lights in the school that make her appear green, and that, maybe, they should be more focused on what's on the board. Several students have started wearing glasses since her employment. Gaslighting the kids is something she enjoys immensely. Dr. Lipsky has noticed, too, but he doesn't bring it up, accepting her reasoning - for now.

Her attractiveness is no secret, with many a boy harbouring a crush on her, some of the bolder ones hitting on her in class or the hallway. Ms. Go effectively destroys the fragile, male teen ego in a single, creatively worded sentence, leaving a path of bitter, broken hearts (and sometimes tears) behind her. Creative put-downs aren't just reserved for boys that hit on her.

Ms. Go's criteria for her hitlist include: disrupting class, poor enunciation/pronunciation, mumbling, using the wrong words, incorrect/poor grammar, and abuse of teen slang in class.

Anything that isn't a school textbook or notebook that is left behind in Ms. Go's classroom goes missing. Pencils, pens, spare change, personal diaries, MP3 players, CD players, gum (which they shouldn't have anyway!) - gone. Ms. Go picks the room CLEAN as soon as all of them leave - finders keepers! She has an impressive collection, and shares the spoils with Dr. Lipsky. Forgot something in Ms. Go's class? FORGET IT! She gives props to those who can clap back in a creative (grammatically correct, well-spoken) way. For this, she is a very divisive figure, fluctuating between cool-hot-mean-bitchy at all times.

The popular, self-absorbed girls try to emulate Ms. Go, from her mannerisms to her style. She doesn't mind this, and even has some fun in seeing how far she can take it.

Ms. Go runs her classes efficiently and she never assigns extra homework - she doesn't want to mark it. She clocks in at 7am and clocks out at 3:30pm, not a minute before or after.

She has an expensive sports car (I'm thinking a Maserati), which she was able to procure from the Mayor of Go City for her service. Hego was, is, very upset over this. Although she has been out of the hero game for a while, something about the unusually hued Dr. Drew Lipsky had her extend the offer to carpool - just him. Especially after she saw him come to work, late, soaking wet from some surprise torrential rain, snarling and growling and snapping at anyone who so much as looked at him funny - only to be berated by the principal on top of it all.

Her degree in Child Development means that she holds the position of school counsellor. Problem is, no one wants to see her! Who does after hearing all the mean things she says? Her small office is rarely visited, to the point where Dr. Lipsky has moved in with all his stuff, mountains of paper that made his corner of the teacher's lounge very unseemly. Anyone who knocks is met with the Doc's intimidating stature and signature frown.

Ms. Go and Dr. Lipsky sit by themselves in the small office, never in the teacher's lounge. Drew will sometimes stay back and work, catching the bus home, whilst Shea goes home. As they get closer, Ms. Go will sometimes just go for a few hours and return to the school to take the Doc home. Although it seems like she's got it all, at the end of the day, she still goes home to her apartment - alone. Used to being surrounded by her family, as annoying as they are, used to the excitement and rush of hero work, and no longer actively using her powers, Shea is not too sure what to make of normal, civilian life. Especially after hers has been anything but. Partying, clubbing and shopping on the weekends are fun, but the prospect of socialising with others, finding interests that aren't focused on her career is daunting, if not a little frightening, if she were honest with herself. Shego, as Ms. Go, still calls him Dr. D (for 'Drew', she says the alliteration makes it fun to say) and Doc. Drew Lipsky for when she really wants to annoy him.

Drew/Drakken having dyslexia, Drew/Drakken taking the bus and the name Shea for Shego's real name are all lifted from Dwelling by @gogofordrakgo. The AU has been stewing for a very long time, almost as long as I have been reviewing. All elements lifted have been credited. I see several paths for it.

A 'Normal' AU where they exist within the KP world but never become villains, and don't teach at Middleton High School.

An Origin Story of how Drakken and Shego met teaching at some high school and then getting into villainy together.

An AU where they are teachers at Middleton High School and Kim and Ron are students there, still saving the world. They still play an antagonistic role, Drakken more than Shego, with Shego empathising with Kim without breaking her Shego-ness and becoming too nice, still distance between them. Ron would also be Shego's one-and-only student that she sees as a counsellor. Their sessions consist of having him accompany her to the mall - retail therapy. In this version of the AU, the recurring villains would be The Seniors. Senior Sr. is a big name supervillain looking to retire and is training his spoiled, sheltered son Senior Jr. to take up the mantle, but all he's interested in is becoming a teen-pop sensation, even though he learns quickly and can take on KP. Senior Sr. finds Kim Possible, not only a worthy adversary, but the ideal match for his son! He is the number one Kim x Junior shipper. (500k slow-burn, enemies to lovers epic fanfic, babies ever after - 7 for all 7 continents - 4 girls and 3 boys - evil-and-in-love - he's planned Junior's entire life for him, he can't wait to retire!). Dr. Lipsky and Ms. Go become villains at the end, becoming Dr. Drakken and Shego, the new villainous couple looking to rule the world and taking the place of Senor Senior Sr. and Senor Senior Jr.

Alternative to the last where it's all the same but they don't become villains. Maybe they try for a bit and after having their fun, they settle down to have a family. I dunno!

Now, is there more to come? YES! MAYBE! We'll see how I am feeling. Why did I do it this way and not write something properly? Because I don't like writing or plotting multi-chapter fanfic. I really wanted to make something that I could write for in this very casual way, and, if anyone else wanted to write or draw for this, that it would be possible.

Teacher AU is such a strong concept for the characters as they are, I wanted to really have it be true to them, as we see and know them in the show. I didn't want huge differences in their backstories, interests, mannerisms or relationships with other characters, because all those things inform who they are. I love that Drakken is a scatter-brained, easily-offended, easily distracted grouch and that Shego is such an annoying, snarky woman, a staunch grammarian and runner-up for professional slacker (Ron takes the number one spot). I wanted to challenge myself with this and I hope that I have been successful with it, at least initially.

[ochrearia]

Modern Warfare

Me going absolutely nuts insane. Most normal Ochre moment is when I can project all of my loneliness problems onto a character who also has a loneliness problem but at least the character can have people fix it /silly

ALSO YOU GUYS SHOULD TOOOOOOTALLY PUT THIS SONG ON WHILE READING :3

BFs in this one-shot: Yourself (YS) (All of the other BFs are mentioned briefly at the end, but aren't technically here.)

His scars hurt. Sometimes that would happen, on random days at random times, whenever they wanted, they would start hurting. Despite the injury having been healed at this point, and the physical trauma of it done and gone, they would start hurting again. Just to remind him of the things he’d done to himself, because no matter how much good he found in his life all of a sudden, YS was not allowed to escape what he’d done. Though the things he tried to escape usually were what he’d failed to stop, he’d never really cared about the hurt he inflicted on himself.

So what was changing, then, that he suddenly did seem to care?

He could probably call someone. One of them had to have time to spare but he hated the idea of being a bother. Especially over something that a majority of them didn’t know about, and he was not in the mood to explain it. Beefer knew but he was stressed out as it was. Beef… wasn’t supposed to know, but YS had slipped up and let his guard down a little too much.

Was that really a bad thing?

One call away. Always one call away, just like he always was for them. Why was it so hard to let that be true for himself? Why did he have to be so stuck in this mindset of suffering, at some point he had to ask, hadn’t he suffered enough? But the answer was somehow always no.

The scarred nubs pulsed with pain again, pain that shouldn’t even be there. His wings were gone, there was nothing to even be transmitting that pain to. So it got stuck there, radiating something ugly to the rest of his back, making it hard to breathe when it took over his chest. Hurts. Like perpetual shattering in his chest, riding all the way up to his head to make his brain hurt. The inability to focus. They’d all been hanging around him long enough for the emotional connection magic to latch onto each of them. If he didn’t keep his damn walls up they’d all feel it this time.

But it was so hard to keep focus with this damn pain.

Oh, what does it matter anyway? I keep these walls up all the time, even in the times I get to be asleep, it’s so exhausting. YS thought to himself. I wish I didn’t have to. I know it would be so overpowering for everyone if I never put the walls up, I wish the connection didn’t happen but it doesn’t seem like the universe agrees. Can’t dump this all on them, don’t want to. But I’m tired. 

YS stumbled his way to his couch, collapsing quite unceremoniously. He couldn’t even sit back properly, his back ached like a bitch. He laid himself down on his stomach, grumbling and whining the entire time. Oh, he was acting like a toddler, bitching and moaning because of this. Ridiculous how many things could derail his composure. He was supposed to be tough and serious and life stopped him from coming across as that at every possible turn.

“One time, just one time, it would be so nice to not have everything working against me.” YS spoke to no one. “Why do I end up having so many problems, where the hell is my composure? There’s too damn much here. Any normal person would know this is all too much of a burden. I’m not calling them, world, I don’t care if that’s what you’re trying to prove.”

Incredible leaps of logic. Was he refusing to call for comfort because he really did believe he was too much of a burden, or was he just throwing a tantrum for the sake of it? The scars twinged with pain again, making him cringe. He already had to deal with being perpetually tired, why this too?

Tired, achey, bad mood. Several forces working together to smack his head for a loop, thoughts scattered and unfocused. YS let his chin rest on top of his folded arms, glaring at the arm of the couch. Delirium was his best friend at this point. That motherfucker showed up more times than his brothers combined. Fine, if the world wanted him off his ass then he’d be off his ass.

“You know, I almost never let myself dwell on things, like things I want. I don’t think the things I want should be given to me, because I hate myself, and that’s obvious. Why would I let something I hate have the things it wants?”

He was talking to no one. Well, YS supposed he was never really alone. She was always lingering in his microphone. Hah, she probably thought he was acting nuts, talking to the air, being so… un-composed. That wasn’t like him, at least, not since she’d… died.

“Oh, but I want things. I want many things, so many different things. Indulgences. Niceties. I know damn well I am a creature who deserves to suffer and even before then I was supposed to have everything I’d ever need to be happy, but I never did. I wanted. I wasn’t really supposed to do that. That’s how I got here.”

If YS hadn’t torn his own wings off he’d probably have them removed anyways down the line. Angels like him weren’t meant to want things. Not supposed to know what warmth was. Addicted to wanting warmth, that had been the first step of his utter downfall. Because once that had started, he’d started wanting other things. Things he wasn’t supposed to have.

But it was so addicting to want things.

“I wanted you, and I got you.” YS said, looking at his microphone sadly. She glowed red in response. “For a time, I had you. It’s my fault that you had to be taken away so permanently. Because I broke the rules, and I wanted. Wanted you, in my greed, and I took your life with my selfishness.”

YS turned away, biting his lip as the scars pulsed with pain once more.

“I didn’t learn my lesson. I’m still here, sitting here, wanting things. Can’t want things, that will just lead to them dying. But…”

He’d lost her because of his greed. Everyone knew that a wanting angel left to fall down that path would eventually turn into a weeping angel, cursed with eternal tears over what their greed caused them to lose. He hadn’t gotten there yet, somehow, but that meant he’d get there eventually if he kept on what he was doing?

“I want so badly. I thought there were creatures in this world that could be above that, since I was meant to be. I think there still are. I’m not one of them. You know what I want now? Oh, you already know, you keep trying to let me have it. God. So fucking… stupid.”

YS should shut his mouth. No one but her was around to hear this, but that was still enough for his brain to start screaming at him to stop. Not to say this out loud, not to admit it. He was pretty bad at listening to his own brain, though.

“I want to be loved. Constantly, every fucking second of the day, I want to feel loved. I want to be able to bask in it, in such warm attention, and it’s so… stupid. I want everything I used to have, with you, but I know I can’t. And now there’s a chance to get close to it again. Not the same, but still love, and I still want it.”

YS tried not to let his thoughts drift to his other selves, but he failed miserably. His other selves, his now brothers. A bunch of stupid, idiotic, annoying assholes who still kept coming around for him. Why? Had they been given better mirror-walking as a test? To prove a point? Seeing how they would constantly come through his mirror not just because they could, but because they wanted to.

He’d tried to get them to attach to each other. That had been part of his plan. If they were going to have superior mirror-walking, at least they could bother and support each other, and he could slip away into irrelevance until he was completely forgotten. But they hadn’t done that. Sure, he had no doubts that they still traveled around worlds to each other, to hang out and be stupid, but they still made time to come to him. They came by so often, and it made his heart burn.

It made his eyes burn too, no matter how desperately he tried to stop it.

“I love my brothers.” YS breathed, almost overwhelmed. Where was all this space in his heart for love coming from, after being so damn empty for so long? “God, fuck, I love my brothers so much, it’s almost painful to think about. I didn’t think I could feel like that again. Loving someone so much it makes it hard to even breathe, doesn’t matter the kind of love it is, does it? There- This can’t all just be me being lonely, right? We’re dodging around the rules of the multiverse, fucking around and hanging out when each universe is confused as to why there’s more than one of us in it at a time. There has to be some bent up rule trying to compensate for that. I feel like my brain is going haywire trying to understand there’s other versions of me wanting to care for me. Physically in front of me, I mean…”

Oh who was he kidding. He was talking to her like she could even respond. Resting gently on the small coffee table in front of the couch, still glowing her lovely shade of red. His facade was completely broken at this point, having been crumbling for weeks the more his brothers came around, caring for him. Loving him when he swore up and down he needed to suffer. They’d all gotten so attached so quickly, that had to be at least partially due to messing around with the multiverse.

“It’s weird.” YS sighed. “Seeing me in front of me, that isn’t part of me. I can normally ignore it but it’s always there in the back of my head, confusing my mind. Making me want to do stupid shit. Being physically affectionate seems like a universal attribute but it’s like it gets sent into overdrive when they’re in front of me. Like I need to hug them and not let go. Like… what’s me doing without me? Some weird instinct to try and become whole again when I was never fragmented in the first place…”

He himself was to blame for it anyway. He’d been the dumbass to cross between worlds in the first place. Still metronome between deciding if it had been a good or bad idea in the end. Still so full of doubts and hesitations, issues flashing across his mind like error messages. He wouldn’t be here feeling love again if he hadn’t done it. But…

None of them would’ve known I existed, none of them having to go through the dread of knowing there’s a world out there where they lost it all. None of them having to feel so repulsed by me. None of them having to feel responsible for me. None of them having to end up with a washed-up brother figure they never even asked for.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.” He said eventually. Honestly. Admitting to things he was bottling for so long. “I really miss you. I know I said I was going to join you soon, and I really did mean that. But I can’t… they’re stopping me. And I’m phrasing that like it’s a bad thing but it isn’t, is it?”

Huh. Her glow seemed to grow brighter at that.

“I don’t think anyone wanted that plan to go through but me. Sometimes I might still think it should.” YS mused, flipping over onto his back. Funny, he didn’t even realize his pain was gone. “I think I just get so lost in my own mind too much. I should really stop doing that… Kinda hard to stop when I’m alone. I don’t know where my strength has gone.”

He knew where it had gone, he was lying through his teeth. His strength hadn’t existed since the day he lost her. So much of himself had died with her, or so he’d thought. The others, they were pulling things out of him that he’d thought were gone. Thoughts, feelings, actions. Was this healing, perhaps?

“I really outsourced my own self-healing.” YS chuckled, shaking his head at the absurdity. “That’s so fucking dumb. But fitting. I wasn’t ever the smartest to begin with.”

Content, he decided, was not a feeling he’d felt in a long while. Somehow he was feeling it now. Hah, look, he didn’t have to call for comfort after all. Not that it would’ve been a bad thing to do really. However, if he had done so, he wouldn’t have said any of what he did. The bottle would still be full. Despite always insisting the rest of them use him to vent to, YS never felt like he should open up to them. Probably a lingering consequence of the first incident…

YS got lost in his own thoughts again, his rambling to the air coming to a close. He felt better, and his back pain was over now. That was good, right? He felt fine. Like a weird middle ground, but at least it wasn't crushing negativity for now.

And what was Herself doing, still glowing on the table? Oh, nothing much really, only perhaps amplifying the connection her love shared with his other selves. It was baseline magic, no harm in adding on more to make the signal stronger, right? No harm in strengthening it enough for all of them to hear exactly what he’d been saying the whole time, even across the multiverse, right?

Nah, no harm. YS would never know.

Never know of the ear-splitting, watery-eyed grin stuck on Biff’s face. Never know of the content, happy fog that settled in Beefer’s mind, blocking out all of his own negativity despite living in it in real time. Never know of the positive turmoil his words set off in Beef and Bee’s heads, wondering what they’d done to deserve it. Never know of the glee festering in the chests of Boyf and Peacock, spreading across their bodies and warming up their thoughts. Never know of the happiness from Blue, knowing his love and care was returned. Never know of the spark of hope Cyber felt.

YS had let his walls fall in his silly little tantrum, she’d just helped nudge it in the right direction.

[sinning-23]

Unique(Soft/Odd AOT Headcannons)

Uhhh so i finally finished AOT and that ending absolutely wrecked me and I cant stop thinking about it sweet jesus. So, here are some nice lil headcannons to fix my soul lmao. ALSO if you have sent anything through my ask box please know it is in the works and most of them are just incomplete drafts! Thank you for your patience! Anyway,

Enjoy!

Eren

-Eren gets sick surprisingly often. It's very odd. You'd think he would be immune to shit like that but it's not very often he's not somewhat 'sick'

-Like, he always has congestion,and when it clears up its only for a week or two before its back to square one.

-He has three birthmarks on his lower back and they look like the little shocked emoticon

-He can touch his tongue tot he tip of his nose.

- When Eren gets flustered you can see it on his knuckles and the back of his neck.

-Eren is double jointed

Armin

-Armin had reading glasses he keeps in a case in his pocket at all times.

-Armins eyes look almost clear when you look at them in the right angle/amout of sunlight

-He has a very pretty singing voice, and he does it only when he's very deeply focused on something.

-He has very pretty hand writting, in fact a lot of his comrades ask for him to write things down for them because its so neat.

-He has very soft and slender hands and his fingertips get red when he's cold

-Armins hair actually has a bit of a curl to it but it flattens in the heat

-Hes very good with plants/gardening

Mikasa

-Picked up embroidering and will occasionally dabble, reminds her of her mom

-Mikasa has a very high body temperature, she is never cold and just constantly warm, she tends to have sweaty palms as well

-Very rarely will you be able to see Mikasa's pupils because her eyes are so dark and her pupils are always very dilated.

-She smells faitly sweet. Always has, can't pinpoint exactly why but it is definitely a thing she has noticed.

-Mikasa has a few grey hairs, there are about 4-5 and are spaced out in her hair but when you find one its not hard to miss because of the contrast.

-She really fucking likes bread...like a lot.

Reiner

-Has pretty poor balance. He is always mis-stepping or leaning, its like his equilibrium is off.

-Doesn't really like his facial hair but doesn't go out of his way to trim it, can never seem to find the time or motivation

-Reiners hands are very large, like very wide. There's a lot of things that look a lot smaller in his hands compared to everyone else.

-Lactose intolerant

-Reiner often gets the chills/goosebumps

-Is kinda embarassed about his big his but is...like sometimes he struggles to get his pants up and has to jump to get them on.

Bertoldt

-Will forget to duck down before he goes into a room and will his his forehead on the door frame

-He scars really easily and his knees are very dark because he would skin them a lot as a kid

-He's awar of how tall he is but he's very good at hiding in smaller spaces. If there's a sliver to a crack to slide between he can do it no problem.

-Bertold chooses to stay quiet most the timebecasuse he can be very mean in his head, and he doest like making others feel bad despite his innermost thoughts being very rude/blunt.

-Is a lot stronger than he lets on, carrying certain things is no problem for him and its a little off-putting

Annie

-She is an avid sleep talker

-Annie thinks her best feature is her hair and nose

-Her back will often lock up on her but she had trianed herself ot get used to the shooting pain. No she wont tell anyone about it

-Annie has a comfort hoodie and she gets a lot more anxious if she doesn't have it on her person in some way, shape, or form

-She bites her fingernails to nubs

-Annie has really dry skin and hates the sensation of lotion so she just, won't use any.

Connie

-fluent in pig latin

-Connie snorts when he laughs

-He gets really motion sick so he doesn't like to do any like extra tricks n shit when he's in the odm gear.

-Connie is actually pretty flexable and can fold all the way in half

-He's really good with horses and other kinds of livestock. He is so skilled in fact that he can ride most horses without a saddle

-He can dislocate his shoulder and has used to to prank Jean and Sasha many times. He thinks its hilarious.

Jean

-No one brings it up but Jean has an accent. It’s faint but it’s there, especially when he’s feeling a strong emotion.

-He was really ducking chunky as a baby. Like….he had little rolls and it was adorable.

-Jean is asthmatic

-He can draw really well, in his free time he sketches.

-He really likes cookies.

-Jean is bilugual, he only really mumbles stuff under his breath and wont tell you when he said.

Sasha

-She cries a lot. She can’t help it, a lot of stuff just makes her emotional.

-She once grew her hair past her but and did the big chop before she enlisted. Yes she misses it sometimes.

-Sasha can’t walk in heels.

-She is a bit of a klepto…and she really can’t help it, sometimes she doesn’t even know she’s doing it until she’s long gone from the place she took the item from

-Sasha still has her baby blanket in perfect condition as well.

-Sasha can’t swim.

Erwin

-He is a ya bit insecure about his eyebrows

He cracks his knuckles a lot and Levi hates it. He cannot stand the sound and will stare him down when he cracks them

-Needs glasses from time to time when reading

-Erwin had a surprising deep voice as a child.

-He has a little bit of a sweet tooth

-Keeps emergency money in his shoe( a tip from his dad that he always uses)

Levi

-Levi can hold his breathe for about a minute

-He has amazing peripheral vision. Its almost impossible to sneak up on him he is always looking and can just see things around him very clearly.

-Levi can write in cursive and has pretty handwriting like Armin. But he won’t help anyone write anything.

-Levi always makes sure his nails are neat. He can't stand dirty fingernails.

-He has grey hairs like Mikasa does

Hanji

-Hanji always smells like chemicals.

-Hanji is actually blind as a bat and needs glasses prescription updates very often

-They almost always know when someone is being dishonest. It's like a sixth sense

-Hanji has an older brother but they don’t talk or keep in contact anymore.

-Hanji had a collection of teeth. Key word had. (Levi had something to do with it)

-They can see a broader spectrum of color and no one believes them!

_________________________________________________________

Authors Note: I haven't written for AOT in forever so this was a nice little treat for myself. I literally grew up watching AOT, it is a comfort show and a staple of my childhood lol.

On another note, KINKTOBER is fast approaching so I will be mainly focusing on trying to get those fics whipped up before next month! I also turn 21 next month so I'm busy party planning and getting ready to absolutely destroy my liver lol. Anyway love you sinners! See ya next post! <3

[bleue-flora]

Hello, I come to you with a silly prompt!

In what way do you think Dream is disabled/affected post-prison and if he does, what do you think he does to hide it?

So I’ve loved all of the different answers to this, lots of fun. Sorry to be late in the game. Like usual I’m probably gonna make this more complicated than it needs to be. No surprise there though lol XD. But ya know you asked for my thoughts so here are my thoughts, as messy as they are.

See this is hard for me because there is a divide between what we know for sure is canon, what we can speculate in general and what is more fun to imagine. As well as, the difference between Minecraft and our physical world. Because like obviously no one can actually survive living that close to lava, so we have to decide which elements would match our world consequences and which wouldn’t.

Because it’s Minecraft and things aren’t necessary like the real world, I play looser with some of the effects. So things like for example messed up vision from the lava don’t apply. I mean everyone spends times in mines, the nether, even has lava in their house so it’s not something I personally include. The same with things like seizures and such.

When it comes to canon, obviously we know potions exist in this world, but the thing is there is never confirmation of them being used in the prison. They don’t appear in Quackity’s or Sam’s inventory (besides fire res) when they visit and during the visits we get to see, Dream is munching on potatoes to heal. So does that mean he never gets potions since basic food can work to heal in Minecraft or does he get some only with more severe and dangerous injuries or something. Or would he have sustained less serious injuries because the potatoes can only heal so much. Then again canonically Quackity is swinging a diamond sword and a netherite axe around, which aren’t exactly gonna do small damage.

And the thing with scars is that the only scars we know of are from canonical deaths, meaning Dream would probably have some from the other time he went to limbo (or multiple if went multiple times), and Tommy killing him (quite a few actually given how many arrows he took and stuff in staged finale) but there’s not necessarily confirmation of scars other than that, and Quackity can’t exactly take credit for those.

There’s also the question of whether he was dying and respawning as non canon deaths, especially because again Quackity is using some high damage weapons. Though I tend to lean away from believing that since that isn’t shown except with Sam accidentally killing Dream after Techno escapes.

I also don’t personally think he suffered anything super noticeable because the guards in prison as well as Ghostbur and Tommy and even Techno, don’t mention the torture. Ghostbur and Tommy don’t notice anything, Techno has to be told, and the guards like Badboyhalo even after hearing screaming still seems almost unsure of himself. Plus, Antfrost talks about visiting Dream and yet had no clue about the torture until Bad brings it up. So in my mind he doesn’t have anything too mutilated or missing body part wise, because that’d be kinda obvious. This includes eyes and also even missing fingers (though if he is missing one let’s just all agree it’d be his left hand ring finger because of Quackity’s breakup with his fiancés… ;]). (Though if we decide they were using potions then it’s interesting to play around with the idea of Quackity doing something like cutting off his arm and Sam having to fix that like I did in my fanfiction.)

So in my mind, no major cosmetic things, besides being smaller due to poor diet and starvation. Though again, in my mind it’s not quite the same as real world so I don’t like to imagine him as grotesquely skin and bones if that makes sense… (look he can be broken and still pretty ;D).

But despite what I said, I do like to imagine he has scars and I think potions may not have been a staple but probably did happen if Quackity ever went too far. Maybe early on before Quackity mastered his craft a bit more or later when he became more and more enraged and extreme in his desperation to break Dream. Either way, I think it was a rare occasion type deal. And because of that, in my mind he does actually have scars because the potatoes provide poor healing. So other people dying by falling in a hole or fight in a war don’t really have scars from that due to respawn and potions or golden apples, while Dream deprived of that would have more lasting effects (because as someone with many scars I like to imagine he has some as a testimony to what he went through). This also means that some of his broken bones perhaps didn’t heal properly causing some pain or even having things not quite right. So fingers bent wrong if you really studied them or knees misaligned or whatever. So some sensation of pain at all times is pretty guaranteed. Though even without injuries healed wrong he’d still have chronic pain because scar tissue is very sensitive and messes up the nerves so it freaking hurts, it hurts to move, it hurts to touch, it hurts to use… etc.

One of the things he’d do would obviously be to cover the scars and hide them from view, because embarrassment, shame, looking weak… etc but he’d definitely do it in really soft and not super tight fitting clothes because again the skin is sensitive.

I sometimes like to imagine that for injuries that are obvious and badly healed enough he would like break them and reheal them, maybe even with Punz’s help. In general though, broken bones, concussions and stuff heal on their own given time so even if not the best, things heal eventually and Dream is up and about swinging an axe so it ain’t like he’s too debilitated. Still, moving and stuff would be painful and he’s definitely not in shape like he was so it makes sense why he uses so many pearls all the time and why Tubbo would say to Punz in the finale about killing him, “He was sluggish—he was slow—he was out of practice we took him by surprise.”

Though, I do think sluggish and slow could also be a reference to his mental ability as well, implying he isn’t as quick witted or as good at reacting, something that if you watch that finale fight does align. His counter measures aren’t super fast especially compared to how adaptable and swiftly clever he was before.

Obviously, he likely has Depression, PTSD, and an Anxiety disorder, as a result of prison. Anxiety is the one we seen him at least try to mitigate by finding the most secure place to sleep so he can feel less stressed out, not going out and provoking people to avoid being attacked, kinda blocking out the world and stuff, not great for his depression though nor his PTSD…

I also imagine he’d be the type of person to think he could get over fears and trauma by exposure. Like sleeping in the cell with the lava down to remind himself he doesn’t need to be afraid of it… things like that perhaps. With limited success.

I imagine he has a lot of nightmares so he mitigates this by not sleeping as much as possible. Old habits die hard I guess…

Based off of Bad talking to Antfrost after the prison break about how he thinks someone was coming in and torturing Dream: “Anytime I would go and visit Dream he would be all shaky and he wouldn’t wanna talk.” I’d say Dream does shake, sometimes out of fear, sometimes out of weakness, sometimes out of stress, and sometimes because his body doesn’t work as it should. He mitigates this by trying to build up his strength and change strategies in battle if it ever gets debilitating, like switching to food, pearls, potions or TNT. He does a lot of pearling and running, and he never takes off his armor in fear of what might be around the corner.

Despite living in isolation for so long, he’s not overly social like he used to be. He goes days, weeks even without really talking to anyone between spurts of being overly talkative and needing interaction.

When talking to people, perhaps he hides his hands behind his back when they shake, he wears his mask to hide anything he might feel - fear, panic, sorrow, they can’t really see the tears building in his eyes or falling down his face that way. They can’t even really tell he’s hyperventilating unless they are paying attention.

He likes to do a lot of pushing down his feelings, which worked in the prison, it’s a good way to survive but it’s no way to heal. Maybe he schedules his meltdowns or panic to a later time - He’ll get upset about the fight with Quackity at home, he can’t breakdown in the streets now.

Maybe he spends days feeling numb, not leaving his bed, feeling like there’s no point. It’s better that way, if he doesn’t go anywhere he’s safe. If Punz asks he’ll lie, and Punz won’t believe him but he won’t push either………….

“Purpled, do you know what that does to a man do you know the limits that people have it—it goes beyond those limits it’s not okay.”

[gabessquishytum]

Hey, I think my ask got eaten by tumblr so I'm gonna resend it. If you had it deleted on purpose, just ignore this.

With everyone going wild about the centaurs, I wanna offer you a thought :

Nomad centaur Hob passing through night-mare Dream's territory every two years on his journey (it's a kind of round trip). At first Dream is sceptical, but then he warms up with each visit, and eventually they start fucking.

It's so good, Hob taking Dream under the stars until he is drooling and his eyes are rolling back in his skull. He loves how warm Hob is, how big and protective, loves listening to the stories from his travels, admires his scars, loves sleeping against Hob when he is there.

But this time, a few months after he's gone, Dream notices that Hob has left him something—he's pregnant, oops!

Hob is too far away by this point for Dream to catch up to him (and even more so taking his new condition into consideration) and so he decides to tough it out and just show Hob his beautiful baby when he gets there next time.

Caveat: Hob is a big draft Horse type of centaur and Dream is... very much not. He gets huge, and he's fairly certain the kid is enormous.

So it's no surprise that when the time comes, Dream struggles a bit, and that it takes a bit longer than it should. What is a surprise is that the baby gets stuck. So Dream's in a bit of a conundrum, mid labour and constantly getting up and down and rolling to get the foal unstuck and into position.

Then he notices something, someone, approaching and has a bit of a fright, because this is REALLY not the time, but it turns out it's just Hob. He's turned around and come back to ask Dream to come with him because obviously they belong together.

Of course Hob helps when he walks in on Dream struggling to get his baby out, even if it is quite a surprise. He gently shoves his big hand into Dream, adjusts the foals position and even helps pulling it out with every contraction.

It all goes well, and Hob adjust marvelously quick to his sudden fatherhood.

They do eventually journey together, a couple of weeks later. Just not the two, as Hob thought, but the three of them :D

OOO yes!!! I've loved the little sojourn into centaur au we've been having lately!! It's fab. I'm sorry it took me so long to get to this!

I'm absolutely LOVING this particular take on it. Very Big Hob accidentally knocking up lil dainty Dream is my new favourite image. He's thinking it'll be such a nice surprise for Hob to come back eventually and find a mini little version of himself waiting! How cute!

Eventually Dream lumbers on to the end of his pregnancy. He's cross and heavy and possibly going to kick Hob in the nuts when he comes back but. He got there in the end! The baby is... coming. Slowly. Very very slowly. He's also maybe panicking a bit because he's never done this before and how dare Hob leave him like this?!

Fortunately Hob comes back and fixes everything by more or less hauling the baby out of Dream’s poor suffering body. They dry the new edition to the family off, make sure the little one gets their first feed. The baby is just like a little mini Hob, all cute and chunky!! But they have Dream’s bright blue eyes and messy black hair.

Hob is the happiest new father on the planet, despite the whole thing being a complete surprise. He cuddles up with Dream and the baby, keeping them safe and warm through the night, softly whispering stories when either of them wake up. In the morning he's there to make sure that Dream gets a proper breakfast and he even massages some of the sore spots that have developed during his pregnancy. Dream can't be mad at Hob for being so big anymore, not when he's so dutiful and protective. Plus Dream wouldn't exchange their big, clumsy baby for anything in the world. He's already thinking that maybe adding to the family wouldn't be so bad... in any case, he can't wait to start his journey with Hob and show their little one all the wonders of the world <3

[heiilari]

Honestly Human Vexious ( better known as Vivian) had a horrible life when she was alive she was in a loveless marriage for decades and when she finally got served with a divorce her soon to be ex-husband accidently killed her

Vexious is only in HELL because she has ENVY she was ENVIOUS of those around her who always got everything they wanted ( Love , affection , dedication, loyalty && children ) She resented people who had things better than her and yet she would not say a word and play the roll as a domestic loving house wife who would do anything and everything on her husbands whim.

Vexious KNEW about the affair he was having but played coy ( due to her being in the generation where woman were not ALLOWED to divorce a man

And due to her husbands family being extremely wealthy he could afford the costs of divorce.

Vexiou NEVER had kids when she was alive despite the factor that she REALLY wanted children but alas her husband would not be able to give her any ( or so she was told ).

Vexious was killed completely on ""Accident'"" or that is what she remembered hearing as she was slowly bleeding out from a bullet shot. Vexious remembers her husband and his best friend carrying her and burring her alive.

Vexious died from lack of oxygen when she was buried alive

Back when Vexious was alive she had a A vitreous hemorrhage which is why one of her eyes was covered. no one knew what that was for decades . due to not being able to get it fixed or anything she lost her ability to see in her left eye which is why her demonic form has only one eye.

Vexious truly believes that she is unlovable / undesirable due to her ex-husbands ministrations

Vexious's family was not supportive for her at all , so she always felt like she was alone in life prior to her death

IN REGARDS TO VERSES SHE IS WITH DASTRIK AND VERIN

It took her quiet a long time to fully trust them , and trust that they were not going to hurt her, she was honestly scared that she would be hurt again

She didn't expect herself to fall as hard as she did for them but is genuinely happy she did.

She would trust them with cutting her hair and touching her wings without second thought

DESPITE the fact that Verin always manages to get under her skin she does appreciate it and gets a good laugh from it too

Sometimes she will steal their clothes ( mostly Dastriks shirts && Verin's Suspenders / scar? ) because it makes her feel comfortable and at home

She was and still IS extremely shy and nervous when kissing them

She always mumbles I love you but if she is caught she with make chitters and make it come out louder for them to hear

Verin was probably the first one she kissed because how he is and then ended up kissing Dastrik as well

FOR THE ALT VERSE : A loving family Vexious genuinely did cry happily when she realized that she was going to be having children with not just Verin but Dastrik too! She was always anxiously making food items because that was how she handled her anxiety which meant the house always smelt like baked goods

WHEN she first saw Vivi and Veya she FUCKING BALLED her eye out she was so happy she finally had something she had so desperately wanted ; children and a family

Vexious quit her job at the triple V tower because she wanted to be in a less hostile environment and she wanted to focus on her children too ( even when they are all grown up )

Vexious always loves seeing her children hanging with their fathers!

[veintrry]

past life.

scaramouches pov completely, minor angst(?), mentions of corpses for comparison sake

summary! scaramouche comes to a great realisation seeing you / after he reverses to the past instead of erasing memories? nangs -tame impala but past life by the same artist is a better fit

The ways of Sumeru had become natural to him. There was little left for him to consider as foreign, after all, he had already wanderer here before. Through his attempts to resolve the past he discovered that though he could relive the things he cherished, some things, some are simply inevitable. I suppose time can only do so much. He thinks he wasn't enough to stop these events. Then he wonders, was he made to merely suffer constantly? To never feel anything other than...disappointment.

That didn't matter, he'd simply try again.

He thought he was done by now, seeing old friends pass, until you came into the picture.

This was the first time he's seen you, but he knows that isn't true. Something is familiar; You've met.

It's weird though, not because he recognises you, but because he can't remember. That wasn't like him, he has an astoundingly good memory, always had, and with all the hours he spends reminiscing on the past there is no way this being -- you -- would slip from his thoughts.

He departs from his current duties, not caring to maintain surveillance over a project he already knew the outcome for, it'll arrive sooner or later with or without his instruction.

The harbingers' steps are confident, embracing the persona he had long worn like new skin. You didn't seem abnormal, not for this place. Your appearance would blend in with everyone else if it weren't for how his violet eyes stayed fixated on you like a crow or a stage light, shining a strong illumination onto your figure, making everyone around you practically disappear, fade into the background like bothersome noise being blocked out.

He examined you, your attire, your hair, all of you. He'd scan your body for any marks, scars, burns, moles, any hints to help him.

This was unusual, it felt sick in a way. But this hasn't happened prior and he has met previous friends before. You were friends, he assumed.

Scaramouche was stupid to. He was an idiot to not consider that surely there might be more. But why, why would he think that when you were nothing to him? You were nothing to him. Right?

He felt the circuits in his body churning back and forth quicker the closer he got, the cogs in his mind turning rashly, and he slowly began to remember, he began to recall; then he wished he didn't. You changed right before him. You warped from this familiar stranger he spotted to that who has been buried deep in his mind. You are that corpse that plagues his mind with memories of you even after death. Memories of you festered like maggots at a corpse, but none were enjoyable to recall despite his recollection of his time with you speaking otherwise. It doesn't feel good, none of it does; It hurts.

Like ink splashes it taints his mind but rather than the deep black void of life you expect, there are but only glimpses of you, tainting the paper, tainting him. And these stains he found he could not cleanse, he could not remove or erase but he could only hide. Hide it like he hid his origin, his lack of being.

And he stops. He stops everything: Walking, thinking, breathing.

This is enough.

His eyes merely fixate onto you, never wandering as they widen, but it isn't shock that swirls in those eyes but regret, and he winches. Why was it that he was so bitter about this? … He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes narrowing on you. He's rejecting it, rejecting you.

It's true that he went back to fix things – try to at least – but this, this he couldn't do. He just couldn't. Scaramouche- Kabukimono- Whatever, or whoever he was, he knew one thing; He didn't want this again. Not after all he's done with everyone else. He doesn't want this, not anymore.

He feels fear. Because, what if he tries only to fail? What if he comes to love your company only to lose it, again? What if this, what if that. What if he still isn't enough.

The man pays no regard to the people that walk around him, seemingly ignoring his existence, and if anyone notices his intense staring they don't point it out to you. He's glad, maybe that way you'll be void of any interaction. Yes, it's better this way. He convinces himself. Everything is better this way.

Slowly, he begins to take steps backwards, and with each step back he is dissipating. The him you knew is leaving, fading, for now he was only to play his role as it should be. It is what he should be best at, he was a puppet, he was made to play a role, and this; was the only one he was good enough for.

You turned then, not in his direction. You were leaving the stall, you were walking away, he watched your legs stretch, the swaying of your arms, the look on your face. You looked content, just normal. Just normal. He bets he could make you feel better, then he shuts that thought, telling himself to not be so invested in a stranger.

That is all you are, all you ever will be. And you, you won't view him the same, you won't even know he exists.

Despite you being a stranger, you still receive deep violet hyacinths at your door. You wonder how many there are, no notes. They're pretty, you keep them. You keep a part of him. That's enough for him, he lies to himself.

[keyh0use]

favourite barry headcanons?? like where’s his family from just like his life u know i have so many thoughts about this man

(as an afterthought, gonna preface this by saying everything is pre-Rafe, because I think their relationship would remedy a lot, especially in scenario 2)

I have two I sort of pinball between (one is waaaay happier lol) and I'm not sure which I prefer more so have both:

like a lot of the kids in the cut, Barry didn't have a great upbringing. His mother left and has never (to his knowledge) tried to reach out, leaving him to be raised by an abusive but usually absent father Barry left home earlier than the law would allow, crashed on friends couches or in storage facilities or really just anywhere he could sneak around without getting the cops called on him and dragged home. Of course his father never reported him missing, probably didn't notice. Barry spent his time by working odd jobs under the table, getting by easily in school despite rarely attending, searching for a safe place to hunker down for the night until he was old enough to enlist in the army. Those years were probably the least loneliest he'd ever had but also the saddest, watching all his buddies go home for the holidays while Barry had no one, no home, nothing waiting for him. But he did make some life-long friends who still keep in touch after he's left Barry used his savings to buy the cheapest property he could find in the OBX, which so happened to conveniently have the camper & trailer already there. of course that wasn't his plan, he wanted to build some little house eventually, just big enough but the trailer will do for now the former island dealer was relocating, an old high school friend of Barry's who offered to let him take over his clients while the man looked for a job Barry's good with his hands, so besides drug dealing he also does some freelance work, working on bikes and vehicles and building sheds and doing yard maintenance, just trying to get by and save what he can

If he doesn't stay busy the weight of being alone crushes him and he has to resort to drinking or snorting or smoking something to forget for a little while

Barry's dad still lives on the island in the same house, doing the same things. They pass eachother often and have sat a couple bar stools down from one another but they haven't talked since Barry ran away all those years ago, and either his father is still pissed or just doesn't remember he even has a son.

Barry is pretty convinced he'll die young, probably in conflict over drugs or money, he gets in enough fights to back up that theory

And he'll have nothing to show for it. No family portrait on the wall with the love of his life on his arm, no soft memories of vacations or holidays, no mark left on anyone. All he did was work and try to survive for a life he really wasn't happy living

He's insecure about his body, wearing clothes that are too big on him, torso scarred up from his father's mistreatment and the hard life that followed

He doesn't feel like he deserves good things because he has very little to give

OR

Barry grew up in a very loving family, with doting parents who encouraged him to be strong-willed and kind to everybody, but not take any shit.

His mom taught him how to cook and bake, it was something they did together almost every night. She would let Barry pick something from their family recipe book, passed down through generations

Even though he was always ahead academically, Barry got in trouble at school all the time for starting fights (he was defending other kids who couldn't do it themselves)

He realised his family struggled a lot and not just in comparison to kooks, so he started mowing lawns and washing cars and chopping wood to scrounge up whatever he could go help

That mentality never left him and he was always working, usually more than one job and fixing up their modest house in his spare time

He wanted his parents to be proud of him (they would be no matter what), to do something with his life and he knew they wouldn't be able to afford college & fighting with the kooks for scholarships was out of the question, so he joined the army.

When life wasn't affordable in the Outer Banks Barry's parents moved, but when he thought of home all he could picture was the rundown bookstore on the corner by their old house and the beautiful beach covered in solo cups after a summer party, so when Barry left the army that's where he went

The trailer was listed for sale on the paper menu of a local diner, Barry's first stop once he made it down to the cut and was able to talk the owner down a little, using up almost all of his savings

The majority of Barry's family live south of the border and he hasn't been able to visit since he was really little. When he makes the drive to visit his parents, the three plan a trip they know they'll never be able to afford but it puts a smile on each of their faces

Barrys family sends him handmade gifts every year for every holiday; sweaters knitted and paintings from his little cousins and packages of spices

Everytime he's on a call it turns into a big thing, one minute he's trying to tell his auntie happy birthday and the next every cousin and family friend is fighting to be in frame, asking him about work and his house and when he's going to settle down and get married

Driving by his childhood home makes him unbelievably sad, wanting nothing more than to work his ass off until he can make an offer on it and fix it up

Barrys lucky to work at the garage where he's appreciated, lucky to have supportive parents and a big family to reach out to when he's lonely, and a small group of good friends

But he often feels lonely once he's home and struggles to figure out where his life is going

[riveriafalll]

hiii i love nttd, it's been one of my fav fics since the moment I found it!

any chance you still remember how you came up with the concept for it? it's so cool, and all of the reprecussions really work for me

also, any chance of an out of context sentence from the next chapter? 🌹

I may have squealed when I saw this ask, thank you anon, you guys mean the world to me <33333

NTTD was actually the first Harry Potter fic I ever wrote, aside from a very cringy twin sister fic I wrote when I was thirteen. What I really wanted to do with this, was write something new. I’m sure somewhere someone has written something like this, but personally I’ve never seen a fic where Draco dies at this point in canon, and it was such an interesting part to start with, especially with the goal of making it a Drarry fic.

The very start of the process was probably thinking about how traumatic the entire ferret situation was for Draco - there’s so many memes made about the entire thing, and hcs about ppl making fun of it in world (think Albus Potter bringing a ferret to school), but that’s gonna leave a scar on your pysche.

Your body was forcefully changed into something foreign, probably painfully, and then you were humiliated in front of the entire school, turned back, and then not believed when you claimed that you were injured, despite having visibly hit the floor (book canon). And then my brain went, okay, but what if he d i e d.

And hence ghost!Draco was born.

I had a very vague idea of what the story was going to be - I knew I wanted ghost!Draco and Harry to date, I knew I wanted the Slytherins to adopt Harry and for there to be house unity, and I knew how I was going to resurrect Draco at the end (spoiler!).

Everything else has been completely unplanned - the Slytherins personalities developed along the way, Theo started flirting with Hermione out of the blue, Hannah bounded into the scene from no where, Luna started being cryptic, half the plot was made up as we went. Even now, I have a few plot points I want to get to, and a few scenes that are crystal clear in my head (I have one of the Yule Ball that makes me laugh), but everything else happens as it happens.

In the most recent chapter, ive ended up with the POV from the dragon that Harry and Cedric are fighting! I mean, I don’t even know where *Julia* came from!

So NTTD has always been very much a character driven plot, with focuses on the relationships between the characters, and I’ve very much gone off topic and started rambling, but essentially it was such a unique and striking place to start, something that changes the entire dynamic of the series to the point where canon is completely out the window, that I couldn’t *not* write it.

It’s also been a chance to explore all the tropes and fixes I would have loved to see in the actual canon, as well as poking fun at the stupid things JK thought we were going to let slide.

And yes, you may have an out of context line <3

According to Theo, who had run after her [Hermione], Cedric had burst into tears at the sight of the book, and had been inconsolable until someone went to fetch Cho.

New chapter incoming soon-ish (it’s at 3k already and I’m only half done 😭) and thank you for your ask!

[sibillascribbles08]

oooo for the drabble challenge (jasonnie ofc, as you said) how about #9 and/or #20? #88 also has good angst or even bad future timeline potential

Okay frick me I guess I was only gonna do the one tonight and then go to bed but then I got possessed by these sappy little bitches.

Anyway here's 88! I plan to do 9 as well it'll just be in a separate post

Only Jason’s brain could destroy the euphoria of a marriage proposal in just under…

He rolled over to glance at his phone on the nightstand. 

Ten hours.

He sighed and rolled back over again, trying to piece together why his brain started spiraling.

Because the evening had been great, despite how things turned out. Dinner at home, a nice walk in the park and then what apparently was supposed to be a personally arranged fireworks display.

Except Donnie screwed up something in the program. And all of the fireworks triggered at the same time.

It was unbelievably bright, and ungodly loud. The roar of the explosions startling anyone who had the misfortune of being out at the same time that night. And how did Donnie even get a permit to do this? Did he get a permit? Didn’t matter now. 

It took a moment for the shock to wear off. The minute it did, Donnie started rambling and panicking. Going on and on about how much effort he put into setting all of this up for a proposal and of course it all went wrong. 

And all Jason could do was laugh because god, he loved this stupid turtle so much. 

He convinced Donnie to drop the question anyway, and then said yes. Part of him wondered if they could have just flown back to the apartment on sheer giddiness, no hover shell required. It took ages to burn the feeling off, and the minute he did he passed out in bed. 

And now here he was, feeling like garbage. 

He glanced at his boyfriend—his fiancé—who, like usual, still hadn’t woken up just yet. His face was smooshed against the pillow as he lay on his stomach, drooling, also like usual. 

Jason wanted to scoot closer but his brain immediately blocked that idea. He wanted to reach out and touch his face but his brain blocked that too.

What do you think you’re doing? It screamed at him. He’s so out of our league. We’re practically nothing compared to him and now that we’re getting married he’s finally going to figure that out.

Jason groaned and rolled onto his back as he pressed his hands against the sides of his head. Shut up, stupid brain. You don’t know that. You’ve been thinking for years that Donnie would eventually kick us out and he still hasn’t. He asked us to marry him last night because he loves us why would that suddenly change now? 

No response to that, but the anxiety still swirled in his chest.

Jason suddenly sat up. Shower. He should clean himself off and stand in the steam for a bit and clear his head. That would fix this.

He climbed out of bed and went into the bathroom. 

Only to immediately stop when he glanced at the mirror.

Without his glasses he had to lean in close to actually get any details out of his reflection. Nothing out of the ordinary, of course. Same messy hair, same eyes, same nose, same ears—fuck he lost an earring in the bed again didn’t he—and same acne scars along his jaw. 

It was all so…

Nothing. 

Even if he upgraded from loathing his appearance to feeling indifferent towards it, sometimes it still struck him just how simple it all was. 

Why would Donnie want—

Jason didn’t let his brain finish that thought. He did the only thing he could think to do at this point by darting back into the bedroom and practically tackling his boyfri—fiancé. 

Jason half curled up on Donnie’s shell as the turtle stirred. 

He groaned—never excited about being woken up. “Jase?”

Jason’s fingers curled tighter, one digging into Donnie’s back and the other into his shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that after a few minutes everything would just settle back into place and he could—

Donnie grabbed his arm and suddenly jerked Jason off his back and onto the mattress. Jason couldn’t even protest before Donnie scooted closer, half crushing him as he flopped back down. 

“What’s wrong?” Donnie’s eyes were open, but they definitely looked like they’d fall shut again at any second. 

Well, even if Jason wanted to run now he couldn’t with his shoulder completely pinned. Countdown until his arm went numb. “Are… are you sure you want to do this?” 

It took ages for the turtle to even understand what he was asking. Likely a combination of sleep brain and the vague question. 

Then he narrowed his eyes. His arm stretched out as it grabbed Jason’s unused pillow and proceeded to drop it on his face. 

“Wh—hey!” Jason shoved it back off. “Donnie—!”

“Jase it is way too early to argue with your shit brain about this.” The softshell mumbled as his eyes closed. “Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t sure. I didn’t plan an entire failed fireworks display on a whim.” 

Jason wanted to cross his arms, but couldn’t. “Wouldn’t be the first time you did something crazy on a whim.” 

Somehow the turtle still glared with his eyes shut. He pushed himself up, rubbing his face with one hand to snap the rest of the sleep away so he could open his eyes properly. 

“What do you mean a ‘whim?’” He leaned over Jase when he poked him in the chest. “Jase, we’ve been dating for almost six years.” 

“M-maybe, but—”

“No, there’s no buts.” Donnie shook his head. “Almost everything about our relationship has been me, and obviously you, looking at a situation and choosing each other.” 

Jason frowned. “What does that even mean?” 

The softshell groaned and wiped his face again. “I broke into your workplace and chose not to fight you. Then I chose to extend an olive branch, because I wanted to stop being enemies. I wanted that. Then I wanted to be friends with you. Then I wanted to actually date you. And since you said yes to all of that I have to assume that’s also what you wanted.” 

Jason felt his cheeks starting to burn. “I mean, sure, but come on, Donnie. I—” No, no, he couldn’t say he was practically nothing compared to his fiancé because at this hour that may result in Donnie straight up biting him. “You really want to stay with me for the rest of your life?”

Donnie blinked at him. “We moved in together, didn’t we?”

“Yeah and look where that’s been going.” He scrambled for excuses and why? Why was his brain doing this? “Fighting over hot water. I’m always complaining about how you don’t do the dishes. We’ve started a freaking chart about who owes who dinner whenever we steal each other's food. I stink up the bathroom with the shaving cream I use. I keep stealing your clothes. I get these stupid brain spells and then you have to literally drag me out of bed and check in every three hours to make sure I’m eating something or—” 

Donnie suddenly grabbed his face. Every muscle in his body went tense, but he didn’t flinch away from Donnie’s gaze. 

“I know.” Donnie spoke quietly. “And I love every second of it.” 

“Wh—there’s no way that’s true. You’re just—”

This time his fiancé shut him up with a quick kiss. “Is it still not registering? After everything… I’d still choose you.” 

“B-but, isn’t it—” 

Donnie laughed, finally looking awake now. “Jase, I grew up with four brothers. You think I’m a stranger to sharing my living space with people who drive me insane from time to time? And you’ve got nothing on them, believe me. I don’t care if I have to listen to you whine about the dishes. I don’t care if we fight over who gets to have the last egg roll. I don’t care if you steal my hoodies no matter how much I complain about it. And I don’t care how many times your shit brain tries to drag you down. I will drag you back up. I don’t care if it’s tedious or annoying or frustrating. I’ll take all of it and then some if it means I get to keep you close.” 

Oh.

Finally his brain shut up. 

Unfortunately that left him with nothing to say in response, but Donnie didn’t seem to mind that either. He kissed Jase again, then peppered kisses along his jaw and his throat. 

“You’re my fiancé.” Donnie hummed against his skin. “We’re gonna get married.” 

Jason couldn’t help but chuckle. “Donnie, what?” 

“What kind of wedding?” Donnie suddenly looked him in the eye again. “Something big? Simple? In New York? In the Hidden City? Oh there has to be music. We have to have so much music.” 

Jason laughed again and tried in vain to shove him back. “Donnie it is way too early to think about this.” 

“Oh, so it’s too early to think about wedding plans but not if I was a dumb dumb by proposing to you?”

Jason smirked. “The only dumb dumb thing you did was fuck up an entire firework display.” 

Donnie gasped. “You dare mock my display again? I’ll get you back for that. Maybe with a few more kisses.” 

Once again, Jason failed to hold back his laughter as his fiancé kissed him from his jaw down to his chest.

“Donnie, Donnie stop.” He tried to shove the turtle off. “None of that. I still have to shower from last night.” 

Donnie thankfully got off of him. “Shame, I’m still in celebration mode.” 

Jason just shrugged as he climbed off the bed. “Well, I didn’t say you couldn’t take a shower with me.” 

Donnie’s eyes went wide and he rushed into the bathroom. 

Jason laughed again as he followed after.

[daveyfvckingjacobs]

Esther! That was her name! I kept calling Davey’s mum Mrs Jacobs cuz I couldnt remember 😂

THOUGHTS! Ok so this one is actually really long and really sad so… sorry lmao

Jack and Spot didn’t always hate each other. They actually used to be close. Before the refuge, before Spot moved to Brooklyn, before Snyder. Bc this is based off UKsies Spot is a girl so in the refuge she and Jack were split up, put into different cells. Jack was 12, Spot and Race were 10. Jack had promised Spot that he would always protect her but as their time stretched on Spot started to notice something. Jack had a new kid following him around. Some scrawny kid with dark hair. He looked about the same age as her. Due to them being opposite genders they had to sit on opposite sides of the room at meals. He still waved to her but that was their only interaction. When Jack escaped he took the other boy with him, and not her. He left Spot to fend for herself for the rest of her time in the refuge. Jack had promised to always protect her and he didn’t do that. When she finally saw him he was fine. Smiling and laughing along with the other Manhattan boys, arms wrapped protectively around that new boy’s shoulders. Spot ran. As far as she could before her exhaustion caught up to her, halfway across the Brooklyn bridge. The next time Jack saw Spot she was different. She had seen how cold the world was to people like her. Unlike Jack she had had to claw her way to the top. She had fought and starved and hurt and bled to earn her place as the king of Brooklyn. She was scarred she was broken she was selfish and cold. Jack wanted to help her. He wanted to hug her and tell her he was sorry. But she didn’t want to talk to him. Because she hadn’t seen all the tears and blood jack had shed in his guilt of leaving her. She couldn’t tell by his face that he never forgave himself for not going back for her. Spot hadn’t been there for all the nights he had spent wondering what happened to her, wondering if it was his fault and cursing himself for being so scared of Snyder that he couldn’t go find her again.

and Race? My boy was oblivious. He knew Jack was sad all the time even when he looked happy. He learnt how to help when things got bad. But Jack never wanted to talk about it. Despite all of this Race finally had someone who loved him. Someone who was alive and well and didn’t care that he smoked and held him when he cried and always made sure he was fed. And Spot didn’t blame him. Drawn like a moth to a flame Jack’s kindness and warm personality drew in all the other kids. He was the brother or the father that so many of them didn’t have, and honestly she was glad that he hadn’t hurt anyone else the way he hurt her. - 🤠anon

oh my god :(((

jack never has the words to express when he’s failed someone, never has. he knows he let her down and he wants to fix it but spot won’t let him. and jack gets that - he isn’t sure he’d let her, if the roles were reversed. part of him tries to understand how much what happened hurt, how it looks like he was replacing her or didn’t care anymore and sometimes late at night, when he can’t sleep, he’ll resent race for it, just a bit. for needing him the way he did, for being a replacement, for helping him lose spot. he immediately hates himself for it of course, knows it isn’t race’s fault and pushes those thoughts that only last a few seconds fiercely away. it’s just the way things worked out, he can’t change it. and yet it hurts so much he can’t breathe when he tries to reach out and gets pushed away instead, when spot sneers and tilts her chins and shrugs him off. he can’t explain why unless someone pushes him too, because the words won’t come otherwise. they get stuck in his throat but he just can’t say them, and with spot having given up on ever hearing them, he doesn’t think he ever will. he hopes spot understands though, even if she won’t say it. he hopes she knows he would never give up on her like that, that he helps every other wayward kid day in and day out because he failed her. that he wants to make up for what happened that wasn’t even his fault

she sort of knows it too. until the rally. then it all comes crumbling down again