#sorry ooc for a second

[realpokemon]

!!COMMISSIONS OPEN!!

payable through paypal, cashapp, venmo, or ko-fi <3

dm me for any questions, i don't bite :)

[hajimeseyo]

(part 1 here! it's not required for reading this piece, but they are connected, so it'll make more sense if you read the first part first!)

The door to the sewing club slides open with a loud BANG!

“Yo.” A tall, intimidating guy with blond, braided hair strolls in, with all the casualness of someone taking a trip to the convenience store.

You gape wordlessly at him from where you're sitting, still jolted from the lound and sudden bang. Who is this? What does he want?? Has he ever heard of knocking??? 

“Let’s go eat, Mitsuya, I'm hungry as fu– oh, sorry, didn't see you there.” he strides into the room, pausing when he sees you. You can only blankly nod in response, the movement itself almost pure instinct, brain still running on fight or flight mode. 

A light chuckle comes from your right, and you shift your gaze to the lilac haired male sitting next to you. He shoots you a reassuring smile before turning his attention back to the blond, now standing in front of him.

“Gimme a moment, yeah? I'm almost done here.” He motions to the school jacket in his hand. Your school jacket, actually. You accidentally ripped it while you were at school, and Mitsuya insisted on helping you fix it, waving away your voiced worries of taking away his precious lunch time. 

He returns to the current task at hand, hands swiftly and fluidly sewing the tear up, masterful after years of practice. Your gaze returns back to the blond guy as he pulls up a chair from one of the nearby tables and plops down across from Mitsuya. They seem familiar with each other, the way both are relaxed in each other’s presence. 

“Oh yeah, this is Draken, by the way. The guy I was telling you about.” Mitsuya pauses briefly from his sewing to introduce the new person in the room. You immediately perk up at the familiar name. Well, that clears up a lot of things.

“Draken? The guy with the matching dragon tattoo?” You ask, eyes alight with intrigue. Draken snorts amusedly. 

“I see you've heard the story.” He turns his head so you can see the familiar dragon tattoo inked into the left side of his head, the exact mirror of Mitsuya's. Your mouth forms into a little ‘o’ at the sight of it. “This tattoo is mine, by the way. Paid for it and everything.”

Another snort, from Mitsuya this time. “Right, I'm sure you paid for it fair and square.” A smile dances on his lips as he continues sewing, eyes focused.

“Hey, who was the one who ate all my rice first?”

“Um, excuse me…” Your voice turns Draken's attention back to you. “If you don't mind, could I take a closer look at your tattoo?” You shyly ask the blonde male. 

His eyebrows raise at the bold request, and you hurriedly add on to your previous question. “It’s just that, I've seen Mitsuya's one before, but I couldn't really get a full view due to his hair covering most of it. It seemed really cool, so…”

The explanation seems to placate him, and he smiles reassuringly, the sight easing some of your nerves. “Yeah, go ahead, knock yourself out.” 

You brighten up at that, immediately moving your seat to Draken’s left and wasting no time in studying every detail of the tattoo.

“Woahh…it’s so different seeing it in its entirety! It really is beautiful…”

“Heh, right? I thought it would’ve been such a shame, leaving such a cool design to stay hidden in some dingy alley, so getting it as a tattoo was a no-brainer. Didn’t expect this guy over here to do the same, though.”

“Hahah, you really made the right decision. It fits you really well!”

“Yeah, and it fit with my name too, y’kno? Draken, dragon. Really helps with making a name for yourself.”

“Ooh, that’s a cool detail!”

As you ooh and aah over the inked dragon on Draken’s head, unconsciously shifting closer and closer to him, you don’t notice how Mitsuya pauses in his work, quietly staring at the two of you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Have you seen the actual mural? It’s way bigger than this tattoo.”

“I haven’t, actually.”

“If you want, I can bring you sometime—”

“[name].” Mitsuya cuts in loudly, both your heads snapping towards him at the sound. He raises the repaired jacket in his hands with a smile that doesn’t really seem to reach his eyes. “The jacket’s done.”

“Oh!” You hop off the stool and gratefully accept the jacket as he walks over to hand it to you, lilac eyes never leaving your figure as you slip your arms through the sleeves, blissfully unaware. “Good as new! Thank you so, so much, Mitsuya.” 

His eyes soften at your sincere words, a warm smile naturally finding its way onto his face at your happy expression. “No problem at all, [name].”

“I’ll get going, then. I don’t wanna take up anymore of both of your lunch time.” you say, turning around to leave. You shoot Draken a wave as you walk past. “Bye, Draken! It was nice meeting you; maybe I’ll take you up on that offer to see the mural sometime.”

“You too, [name]. I’ll see you around.”

Mitsuya coughs lightly, and the sound prompts you to continue moving towards the exit. He follows closely behind you, reaching forward to open the door before you can.

“Thank you again, ‘tsuya.” You say once more, turning to him with a bashful grin. 

He huffs amusedly. “Like I said, it’s no problem at all. You can come to me anytime if you have any problems.” Your lips curl up even more at that, cheeks tinged with the slightest pink.

“Also,” He lets out another light cough, and you can’t help but take note of the way his ears are tinged red, how he suddenly seems to be avoiding your gaze. “You don’t…have to take Draken up on his offer.” he quietly says, words slowly turning into mumbles, the red from his ears slowly spreading to his cheeks. “I can bring you…if you want. And,” His face is fully red at this point, words so quiet you had to lean in to hear them. “if you want to look at the tattoo up close, you can just look at mine anytime…” he trails off, eyes looking anywhere but you.

You gape at him. This was something you definitely weren’t expecting. Despite your surprise, you can’t stop the giddy smile spreading across your face, giggling as you try to hold back your teasing. He’s already flustered enough; you suppose you’d spare him, just this once.

“Okay then.” You wave at him as you step out, eyes twinkling with mirth. “See you, ‘tsuya!”

Mitsuya watches your figure go until you disappear from his sight, sighing in relief and slight disbelief as he closes the door to the club. He hadn’t really planned on saying that, but the words just… slipped out. Something about the way you looked at him made them bubble up until he couldn’t contain them any longer. At least your reaction was positive.

He turns around, fully prepared to put the whole thing behind him, only to be greeted with a razor-sharp grin. Draken wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking like a cat that just caught its prey.  “So…someone got jealous, huh?”

Mitsuya lets out a suffering groan. “Please. Don’t tell anyone. You didn’t see anything.”

Draken cackles. “Maybe I’ll consider it if you buy me a karubi don.”

He’s so telling everyone. 

[royalarchivist]

Happy 1 Year Anniversary to the QSMP!

Unfortunately, I don't have any time to do a fun little video compilation of clips like I wanted to, so instead, here's a revamp of one of my favorite silly edits I've done for this series so far! :'D

[juvellianbombus]

In celebration of making the valley team, here’s an update to my comic!

It’s been uhhh,

(checks watch)

13 months!

please kill me

(I basically just traced over the old lineart so it looks a little wonky. My composition definitely wasn’t the greatest)

[rhode-on-the-road]

It was the end of Duke's patrol day. Signal was waiting out by a small 24-hour coffee shop. He was excited today, waiting, trying to get through the day. He was seeing Ethan today. He felt happier today. Duke's mood had been brought up a lot the past 2 days. And now, he made a new friend. Now they were hanging out after his patrol. However it was in costume. Duke, honestly, wasn't too thrilled about it. But he was still happy to have made a friend. Even if it was an in costume friend.

Ethan had suddenly sped around the street corner, full on running until he caught sight of Signal in front of a coffee shop.

He slows down and sucks in a couple breaths, "Ah, you are here. That's good, I thought I was going to miss you, for a minute there."

Ethan looks like he did not at all expect Signal to be waiting up for him, actually.

[xmagicalpotatox]

genuinely unable to choose which one I’m gonna be SICK!! /silly

Noir @desultory-novice

Rope MF @mint-termsandconditions

The Poll

@kirbyoctournament

Timelapse Under Read More (FLASHING LIGHTS!)

(Song: Virtual Insanity by Jamiroquai)

… (if it plays)

[notdailynoco]

Noah what you think of Sierra?

-sus anon

negative

[aeternxm]

Hi there! While I love seeing people’s OCs, I feel like some of Edith’s background can be seen as problematic. The Salem Witch Trials wasn’t about actual witches being hunted down—they were innocent people that were massacred. Maybe set her story somewhere else? It just seems a bit insensitive, in light of all the real people that suffered during that time.

Hi hello!

I really appreciate the message, though I'm not gonna lie this is probably something I would have preferred to respond to in private instead of blasting it over the blog.

There doesn't seem like a way I can really respond to this without sounding like a total asshole? Because I'm aware that the Salem Witch Trials were a real thing and actual people were killed. I'd never want to make light of that and take away from it.

But I do just want to preface this by saying that Eddie is, in fact, a fictional character. Her story, though based off true events, is fictional. A more supernatural take on real life events.

I am happy to talk about this more with you off anon, because I'd love to hear your viewpoints and obviously, if I'm in the wrong, I'm always open to changing things up a bit. I don't ever wanna come across as problematic or rude or like I'm trying to romantisice something horrible, if that makes sense.

I suppose what I'm trying to say is I like exploring darker themes, but I understand that it might not be for everyone and that I am human, sometimes I might approach things the wrong way.

If Eddie's backstory really is that much of an issue for everyone I don't mind changing it slightly or just? Removing her from the blog.

[kyurochurro]

zs kiss doodles … LET THEM SMOOCH

[faeriegirlshroom]

- @transfem-goddess-temple -

Let’s make a deal~

I can grant the powers indomitable, the station of angel in my high court, and the right to fuck any of the sluts within my temple walls. All I require is your obedience, and your worship of my massive Goddess cock. Does that sound fair?

If so, the deal is struck~

Well...

See, this one's a tough one for me. I've been lurking about your temple for a bit, and you seem very interesting... but.

I've never had much faith in the gods, fate, or divinity. Really, all I've gotten from your ilk is hurt. So, in fact, I've honestly developed quite the resentment of the gods. Besides, this deal of yours could use some work, honey~. So, from fae to goddess, I'll give you gesture of, well, good faith, if you will, as a freebie this time around, and give you some advice.

You're gonna need to work on your specifics, darling, if you want to get anywhere with my crowd~. Both for your safety as well as ours. I'd like some details on your "powers indomitable", and what the role of an angel in your court entails, responsibilities and benefits and the like, as well as what you'll command me to do in my obedience of you... because I'm not signing a contract if I don't know what I'm getting myself into. Wording as well. "Any" of the sluts in your temple is a descriptor that I'd say includes you, dear~

So, prove to me you're different from the rest of your kind, and perhaps I'll consider your offer...~

[conanssummerchild]

writing more rick and morty fanfic abt rick wanting to off himself, also Summer's here !! :D

tw discussions of suicide and suicidal thoughts and such

Morty fidgeted with his hands where he was leaned against Rick's work bench, but Rick paid him no mind, all his intense focus on whatever invention he was currently tweaking.

It had been nearly three months already since Rick had finally found and killed Rick Prime, and Morty had started to breathe a little easier. For the first few weeks after the event his worry for Rick had been so great that it felt like a huge weight was crushing his lungs, not letting him relax for even a second, but Rick seemed to be doing a little better now. His drinking was back down to normal levels for him—it still wasnt healthy, but when had rick ever cared about his own health? He started joining the family for meals again, and actually ate. Mostly.

But there was still moments when Morty would catch him zoning out, with an expression of such pure sadness that it was a little terrifying.

Morty worried so much, it was exhausting. Sometimes he wished he could be more like Rick, letting loose, going with the flow, but then again, things didn't seem to be going too great for him either.

"H-hey–" Morty tried, but his voice came out too squeaky so he cleared his throat. "Hey, Rick?"

"Mhm." Rick mumbled, only half paying attention and Morty frowned.

"Rick." He repeated more firmly, shoving his shoulder lightly to get his attention. "I w-wanna talk about something."

Rick pulled his goggles off harshly, turning to face Morty with a scowl. "Morty I'm in the– in the middle of something. C-can't this wait until after I get the battery on this stupid thing to work?"

Morty pouted. "It's important."

Rick gave a long suffering sigh, rubbing his hand over his eyes. "For fucks sake, Morty. You– you always wanna talk when I'm doing important science shit. What do you want?" He tossed his googles down onto the work bench, not bothering to look where they landed and reached inside his labcoat, grabbing his flask and taking a swig of a foul-smelling, likely alien liquor that Morty could smell even from where he stood on the other end of the work bench. He wrinkled his nose but continued.

"I-I-I've been real worried about you, Rick–"

"Oh, god." Rick interrupted with a large, rather dramatic groan. "Can I just kill myself in advance, or– or is attendance to this talk mandatory?" He rolled his eyes, taking another slightly larger sip from his flask.

Morty startled a little. "Rick! don't– don't say that." He said. His voice trembled a little, the resolve he'd been trying to build up crumbling.

Rick looked like he had another sarcastic comeback ready to go, but paused at Morty's watery eyes, his unibrow rising up into his hairline in surprise.

"Woah, woah, Morty, I was just– just kidding. I was just joking." His tone softened a little, clearly trying to be comforting but missing the mark, his discomfort palpable.

And Morty couldn't help it, he burst into tears.

"Shit, uh, don't cry, Morty. I, uh, it's okay... dawg."

Morty would've laughed a little at Rick's emotional constipation if it didn't feel like there wasn't any air getting into his lungs.

"Please don't kill yourself." was all he could get out between sobs. "P-please, grandpa Rick. I don't want you to die."

"I'm not killing m-my-myself." Rick cringed at the stutter. God, he was really out of his depth. He gulped down the rest of the contents of his flask like it was water and he had just spent all day in the boiling sun.

What was he suposed to do? What were his options right now? Call for Beth? No, not with Morty's cries for Rick not to kill himself, she would freak, and Jerry was useless, so he was left with only one option.

"Summer!"

He shook his hands out anxiously, trying to shake the stress out of them.

Summer pushed open the door. "What?" She drawled, and then caught a glimpse of Morty's sobbing form. "Oh, shit, what happened?"

"I don't know." Rick was practically vibrating with nervous energy, trying to keep his hands tightly at his sides now that Summer was watching. "I-I-I-I don't know w-w-what to do."

"Jeez, grandpa, breathe. Since when do you care about Morty being upset?"

Rick shrugged, fuck she was right, this wasn't how he acted normally, he needed to calm down, why was he so frazzled? A little voice in his head reminded him that he knew exactly why. He ignored it.

"Fuck you! Just– Just help me, Summer!"

"Calm down." She said, and then turned to Morty, who was crying quieter now, hands covering his face. "Morty, what's wrong?"

Rick held his breath.

"S-S-Summer..." Morty hiccuped.

"Yeah I'm here."

"I think grandpa Rick wants to kill himself."

Summer's eyebrows raised a little and her eyes widened, she tried to school her expression back into something neutral but she had clearly not been expecting that answer.

"I don't!" Rick immediately cut in but Morty began to cry harder again at that.

Summer shot him a look and Rick winced, retreating into a corner of the garage. He reached for a bright green bottle labled 'Water' in a different language. He'd gotten it from a small humid planet in the Ribble-Bob system, where what they considered water had a higher alcohol content than anything he could get his hands on on earth, and to Rick's delight, it was a hell of a lot cheaper. He had a stash of Ribble-Bobbian alcohol too, but it was so strong that it could knock out humans with even the highest tolerance with only a few shots. So he kept that for special occasions.

He watched silently as Summer calmed Morty down, throughts racing and neon green bottle emptying. It was pretty clear that Morty was very upset, even Rick in all his emotional ineptitude could see that, but he was struggling to descifer Summer's feelings. She seemed... annoyed at him? No, not quite. Rick frowned. The buzz that he'd began to feel wasn't helping any, he shook his head frustratedly. She was tense for sure, the whole room was thick with tension though.

Eventually Morty's quiet sobs stopped altogether and he wiped his eyes, quick to fix them on Rick as soon as tears weren't blurring his vison anymore.

Rick shifted awkwardly from his position on the floor, laying his legs flat in front of him in lieu of folded to his chest and slowly waving at Morty without making eye contact, unsure of what the fuck else to do.

"Can w-we backtrack a little?" Morty said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rick nodded, unusually quiet. His words felt stuck in his throat and he couldn't get them out.

Morty sighed a little, accepting he wasn't going to get anything out of Rick right now, and going on with what he had wanted to say. "Okay. I've been worried about you because w-when Evil Morty came here, when you had already left to get, um, that guy."

"Prime." Rick croaked, voice forced.

"Right, Prime. A-A-After you left to fight Rick Prime, Evil Morty asked me what I thought was gonna happen if you actually killed him, and he kind of suggested that you might... kill yourself."

"Evil Morty's full of shit." Rick rasped. "He doesn't even know me, we've met like w-what, three times?"

"I'm not done! Let me finish." Morty pouted. "Him saying that worried me be-because it made me think about all your reckless behaviour and how little you seem to care about your own life sometimes, you know."

Rick scoffed but Summer raised an eyebrow at him, so he just scowled and looked back down at his feet, letting Morty continue.

"I-I guess I'd never considered it before, I mean not seriously. Sure, I... wondered sometimes, b-but when Evil Morty said it like that, well, the more I thought about it the less... unrealistic it seemed, and you've just seemed so empty these past months, i was re-really worried." Morty's voice broke a little, but he pushed on. "Also he's seen your downloaded brain, so, y-y'know he would know, right? He wouldn't just be saying it for no reason."

"He was saying it to-to-to psych you out, Morty!" Rick stammered, gesturing wildly. "And it's working! Look how psyched out you are, M-Morty! This is what he wanted!"

"Why would Evil Morty want this?"

"Uh, because he's evil, Morty. Duh-doy."

"Okay!" Summer interrupted loudly. "This isn't getting anywhere."

"It would get somewhere if Morty would just-"

"Grandpa Rick! Stop. Can you both just listen to me? Or I'm putting you in a cage again until you actually prove you're not a danger to yourself."

Rick crossed his arms, glaring at her, but she glared right back, unwavering.

"Fuck, whatever." He grumbled, slumping back against the wall.

"Good." Summer said, turning serious again. "Now, how can you reassure Morty that you aren't going to hurt yourself?"

"He should just take my word for it!"

"You lie to me all the time!" Morty exclaimed.

"He has a point." Summer cut in again. "Why should he trust you? Especially if you're planning on killing yourself."

"Im not killing myself!"

"I don't believe you." Morty said, sounding miserable and hurt. Rick's shoulders slumped. He didn't have a good response to that.

The silence streched on uncomfortably, the atmosphere tense and serious. This was a real issue, which Morty knew Rick didn't like to deal with. His style was more like shoving his serious problems under the metaphorical carpet until he couldn't walk on it without feeling sharp pain wherever he stepped, until no one could walk on it at all.

"Well I don't believe you either." Summer said quietly. But I do have one idea." She pointed to her left and Rick and Morty's eyes followed her gaze to the lie detector Rick had stolen on his and Morty's adventure to Venzenulon-10.

Morty shuddered remembering it, he'd nearly fallen into lava that day and Rick had barely flinched. Would Rick even be doing this for him? He couldn't imagine him crying for Morty the way Morty had been crying for him just a few minutes ago.

"I'm not– A polygraph, Summer? Seriously? That's dumb, I'm not doing that shit, this isn't fucking Community."

"What? What the fuck is that?" Summer frowned.

"Community? What– you've never watched Community? Fuck, we-we've gotta watch it. Not Earth's one though, Glorbion-56C's version is way gayer, we gotta watch that one."

"Okay, sure, whatever. But first we have to finish this." Summer put her hands on her hips, not willing to budge.

"I agree with Summer." Morty pitched in, more meek, but still firm.

"Fine, fuck, whatever. You know polygraph tests are dumb, right? They might w-work on simple minded neurotypicals like Jerry, but I'm the fucking smartest man in the–"

"Grandpa, sit the fuck down."

Rick scowled, but sat down in the chair Summer pointed at, not without an eye roll. He knew that there was no stalling his way out of this one, Summer and Morty were both stubborn and he could see the poorly-concealed anxiety in their faces and demeanour, he knew they weren't going to let this go. He just hoped he really was smart enough to outsmart the lie detector.

"Okay, bring it on." He sighed, feigning boredom and disinterest.

Summer stumbled a little bringing the polygraph over to Rick's work bench, the machinery was heavier than it looked. The Venzenulons had a lot of really advanced technology but the planet Rick had gotten this specific machine on used bismuth in a lot of creations, making then heavier than they should be, but it was worth it, really, Venzenulon-10's technology and craftsmanship was miles ahead of Venzenulon-4's, or god forbid Venzenulon-22's. Rick almost chuckled to himself just thinking about it.

Summer finally set the polygraph machine down on the work bench with a thump and a groan from her and Rick let her fasten the little black strip aroud his finger.

"Take your labcoat off." Summer murmured absentmindedly, fiddling around with the slightly tangled wires.

"My labcoat stays on."

Summer gave him a look.

"Jeez, Rick, just take it off." Morty whined.

"No, fuck both of you. I-I-I'm already doing your dumb ass test and my labcoat being on literally has no effect on that stupid thing working, so both of you can lick my balls." He fumed.

"Jesus, grandpa. Cranky much?" Summer said sassily, putting a hand on her hip. "You can keep your dumb labcoat you're so in love with then."

She slid the cuff up Rick's arm, fastening it around his bicep.

"That's where it goes, right?" She asked. "How do i make the screen turn on?"

"Theres a-a switch on the back." Morty told her. "Just press that and it should work."

Summer felt along the back of the large screen before pressing down on the switch, making it light up with three wiggly graph-like things.

"Uhhh, grandpa how the hell do I read these?" Summer frowned.

"Don't– don't worry. This is like a lie detector for dummies, if you know how to read the lines, great, but it also just displays whether the answer is true or a lie when a question is asked. Ask me something you know the answer to."

"Uh, are your... eyes brown?"

"Yes."

The word "TRUE" flashed across the screen in bold green.

"Oh, tight, okay. We can get started, then. Morty, you ask whatever questions you have, I'll man the machine."

"Okay." Morty said, nerves making his voice wobbly. Rick took a deep breath.

"Do you want to kill yourself?" Morty asked and the garage went completely silent for a moment, air feeling so thick you could choke on it.

"No." Rick answered evenly.

Summer swallowed. "He's– he's telling the truth." She said shakily.

Morty breathed a sigh of relief. "Jeez, well that's– Phew, that's good. That's a relief."

Another beat passed and then Morty spoke again. "Have you ever wanted to kill yourself?"

"No."

"That's a lie."

Rick glared at Summer but she just shrugged, face unreadable to him.

"Aw jeez..."

"Oh come on, my-my whole family died right in front of my eyes, I've been tortured by- by countless aliens, been held prisoner, a guy can't even wonder?"

"Well, I mean, that is, that's– that's a good point you make there, Rick. But- but you wouldn't...? You've never actually tried to, like, actually kill yourself, right, Rick?"

"Obviously not. If– if I wanted to kill myself I would've, and I wouldn't fail, I'm a genius."

"R-right. So you haven't tried to kill yourself?"

"No, Morty."

Summer stared down at the monitor, lips pressed together in a tight line. "That's the truth." She said. her voice sounded a little weird but Morty was too relieved to really think about it.

"Thank god, Rick, wow. That's a really big relief to me, you know. Sorry I-I didn't believe you before, I was real just worried."

"Hey, it's all good, dawg. Don't even- don't even trip about it. You wanna go watch some Ball Fondlers, buddy?"

"Yeah!" Morty grinned, demeanor a lot more relaxed than it had been before. "Yeah, let's watch Ball Fondlers."

"What do ya say, Sum-Sum? Ball Fondlers?"

Summer flipped the switch on the machine, powering it back down. "I'm busy." She said, whipping out her phone "Have fun though."

Rick shrugged, detatching himself from the polygraph and tossing the cuff and finger strip onto the table. "Okay. Well I'm getting me some Nuptian weed, babyyy!"

"Aw jeez, Rick. You're getting high?"

"It's– it's better that way, Morty, trust me. Nuptian weed lets you see in 4D. In 4D, Morty! Really enhances the experience. Plus don't– don't you think I deserve to have a little buzz, it's been quite a day."

"I don't know, Rick. Didn't you drink like that whole bottle of liquor just now?" Morty asked, pointing to the discarded green bottle laying in the corner of the room.

"What? Morty, that's water, that's– it's practically water. It says water on the front of the bottle." Rick murmured, digging through one of his drawers before triumphantly pulling out a small transparent box filled with a bunch of purple-ish pink blunts and a lighter with a naked woman on it. "Ah, fuck yeah, Morty. I knew I still had some. Okay, come on, lets go."

Summer followed them out of the garage and then walked up the stairs, hearing their conversation get quieter as they got further away. She didn't let the first tear fall until she was in her room with the door shut.

"Shit." She breathed. "What the fuck."

She sat down with a small thud and hugged her knees to her chest.

She hoped the memory on the lie detector didn't back up, or that Morty didn't get curious and look through it one day, just to be sure.

Because if he did, he would just see the same word displayed four times in bold red.

"LIE"

the end hfjejsjw

this sucks arseee and its way too long and i dirnt really go over the second half but idc its 2am so sorry for any spelling errors and general shitty writing 😗 peace out, hope u enjoy

[randomwriteronline]

Ko-Wahi was a short variety of generally not necessarily pleasant things: it was desolate, cold, harsh, and - when the winds didn't rush after one another through the icy peaks with low howling shrieks, cutting through the frigid aether like claws of an enormous Rahi reaching out to grasp any wayward Matoran foolish enough to dare wander in its territory - it was abnormally quiet.

So it reasoned that if Kopaka, Toa of Ice and Hating Being Around People, was not found anywhere else, he had to have secluded himself to a place that at the very least resembled the environment he had first felt at home in.

He didn't even flinch at the rush of air that accompanied the stomps which suddenly stopped by his side.

"You're late," he only commented.

The jovial jab Pohatu had ready for him froze in his throat, and he tilted his head slightly in genuine confusion: "Late?" he repeated.

"I expected you to be here five minutes ago," Kopaka replied.

"You were expecting... Me?"

"Of course I was," the other replied matter-of-factly: "If there's something I can depend on, it's the fact you'll chase me down to the ends of the silver sea just because."

The Toa of Stone blinked quickly a few times, eventually smirking back: "And if there's something I can depend on, it's that I'll always find you somewhere snowy and deserted."

He then leaned a little closer and proceeded to add, in a goofier tone: "Like your heart."

The gentle elbow punted in his side made him snicker as he successfully evaded it the first time; he cackled a bit louder when the second jab actually hit.

His friend did not dignify his amusement with any verbal response. Instead, he extended his finger.

Pohatu followed where it was pointing, staring at the same vast expanse of white he had just sped through (luckily without having to skid through any frozen snow - perhaps one of the very few things he certainly did not miss about the island of Mata Nui), and found nothing.

At first.

His pinprick pupils, so used to the desert sun, struggled a little more, trying to tighten even harder or widen ever so slightly: even with the clouds shielding his eyes from the sunbeams turned blinding as they were reflected on the candid coat of snow, the uniformity of the colors confused and unified all that supposedly existed before him with only few exceptions. There was snow, snow, snow, more snow, a leftover Visorak web, even more snow, another patch of snow, something looking vaguely disgusting half covered in snow, some more snow, a lance of light reflected from a point just outside the clouds' range, a vast amount of snow, a smaller amount of snow, snow, snow, and one last puff of snow over there. Riveting!

But Kopaka seldom pointed at nothing at all just to stretch out his finger; and once he truly focused on the exact location he was indicating, Pohatu saw.

He saw a jagged thing, sharp end splintered and jutting towards the sky like a blade, ever so slightly greyer than the pallor surrounding it; he saw its missing half laying mournfully among the powdery ground, defeated, cracked, open wide.

He saw its entrails, eroded by the weather, far too small to properly distinguish one object from the other from this distance - still they glittered grey and blue in the lack of color as if to remind in silent screams of their existence, once, as tools and furniture and inventions of scholars, before they'd found themselves abandoned in the wake of their master's leave as strange crystalline gore only partially hidden away in the haste of a half hearted burial.

He saw dozens of the jagged corpse's kind - once pillars, columns, immense bastions, now nothing more than ruins. Enormous animals frozen in place, never to thaw awake once more.

He saw frail, beautiful exoskeletons awaiting with such tiredness to be crushed, replaced by larvae in the bowels of which knowledge would thrive.

The wind passed between them without strength, not even lifting a snowflake.

"Breath-taking, isn't it," Kopaka murmured.

Pohatu nodded in silence.

They simply stood there for a long time, side by side, looking upon the carcasses of Ko-Metru's knowledge towers.

Looking upon what was left of a city of legends.

There had never been a Matoran called Kopaka, in the Turaga's tales.

He had never competed with Ehrye as they rushed to run errands for the seers in the hopes of one day being allowed to stand beside them at the top of those magnificent crystal constructions, spending days pondering and reading stars, uncovering the secrets of the future to the point of turning the very idea of tomorrow into such a mundane thing; he had never known Nuju, never looked at him with awe, or respect, or burning envy. He had never walked those streets, or skied down those slopes, or travelled to the Colosseum inside of a protodermis chute.

And yet he had found his chest aching as he had listened to those descriptions, from a nostalgia that wasn't his own. As though Vakama and his stories had handed him a coal that had long singed the Turaga's hand, still weakly sizzling, that now burned his palm in turn.

Mata Nui had been all he'd ever known as far as he was concerned. There had been nothing before; and if there had been, it wasn't the land the Matoran had been forced away from.

Yet despite knowing as much, despite the attempts to soothe the dull pain that had no place in his logical mind, in the long last hours he'd gotten to spend on the chiling peaks surrounding Mount Ihu the Toa of Ice had been unable to keep himself from wandering away from the material world into absentminded daydreams, trying to construct a memory that had never been there, a life he had never lived.

He had imagined Ko-Metru many times. He had imagined Metru Nui as a whole many times, the orderly archives, the silvery canals, the smoky furnaces, the dangling cables, the unmoving statues - a world for smaller eyes (like his never had been) to see. He had imagined the Colosseum, its inner mechanisms, even the Vahki guards, despite their presence being nothing but an annoyance at best and a source of uneasiness and dread and outright danger at worst. He had imagined himself getting in trouble with them often - who would they have been, to tell him what to do? What made them any different from a Bohrok?

He had imagined them often, but he had never seen them. Never whole. Never alive.

As he stared at what remained of a city of seers, he ached to have been there. Maybe he would have understood better. Maybe it would have hurt more. Maybe it would have felt more like home.

But would he have noticed? Any of the beauty, the lack of strife? Would he have liked a life such as this, spent either pondering on who knows what, or reading pages of history before they were even written, or running around tirelessly for people who did both former and latter? Would this sight have stirred something deep in him now, or would his amnesia have kept his feelings at a distance?

His chest hurt. Something inside it ached terribly, pushing hard against his muscle and metal, like a fish suddenly rushing to break the still frozen surface of a lake in a bout of claustrophobia.

He felt strange, uncomfortable.

Like something misplaced.

Kopaka's eyes wandered over the crystal towers, suddenly overwhelmed. He let out a shuddering, watery breath, as quiet as he could.

He needed not worry about being heard.

Pohatu was too enthralled by the sight before them to notice his momentary frailty.

He gazed on, unable to tear his his eyes from what his brother regarded as an enormous grave he could not mourn properly, and beheld only a thing of beauty.

It was not the vast expanse of Po-Wahi's desert, nor the infinite lushness of Le-Wahi's jungles, the burnt forests of Ta-Wahi, the Ga-Wahi reefs, the cavernous labyrinths of Onu-Wahi - it could not even compare to the frigid landscape of Ko-Wahi despite all their similarities, and he could tell from a first glance.

Ko-Metru and its siblings could have never been what the Koro of Mata Nui had been - they were not a breathing nook interwoven in the world around them: they were carefully constructed bubbles, encased, entrapped within themselves, the wild nature that once had run through it tamed carefully only to cry out despite its weakened form once the binds upon it had been snapped to pieces and left to rot.

It was not beautiful in the way he knew a land to be; it was not open and grand to the point of being frightening. It was shut on itself, broken, a pale imitation of what it had been.

And yet he found it all so gorgeous.

It had embarrassed him at first - not feeling. Remaining still and unfazed as the Turaga had longingly described what the Toa of Stone should have regarded as home, a field of statues tirelessly carved by artisans of his people. He had struggled to imagine it properly, managing only hazy scorches of some undefined place, like a mirage in the desert; and hearing his brothers and sisters wonder aloud, so curious, of how they would have expected their Metru to be, he'd been all but mortified at his own lackluster enthusiasm.

Had he really grown so self centered? All the world seemed to feel as though it had only started existing with his birth upon that fateful shore.

A city of legends on the other side of the sea... He could not have ever pictured it.

But now he was there, walking upon its streets, traveling across its lands, and it looked nothing like it had been described: it looked shattered and lost, and broken, and rusted, and standing still where it had once stood so proud and shining only to spite the cruelty of time that wanted it to bend and turn leveled.

Pohatu had lost himself between scattered remains of monumental statues, details sanded down until unrecognizable, or filled with what little life could make its home in such a crevice. He has searched between the broken Kanohi nobody had ever melted down again, seeing his and his siblings' likenesses over and over and over and over, he had followed broken cables back to the towers from which they had once served a purpose, raced along empty canals to make a sense of them, peeked into tunnels the roofs of which had been torn open like dissected anthills.

Metru Nui had never been whole, not for him.

It had always been this gorgeous wreck, this beautiful ruined landscape. He could not imagine it as anything less; he could not see it as anything mournful, or dead, or ugly.

Each toppled building was where it should have been. Each destroyed spire was exactly as the Great Spirit had intended it to be.

Such a frail, stubborn, lovely, wild thing.

A tragedy and a celebration.

Glowing brighter than the twin suns with every ounce of its incomplete, breath-taking beauty.

Kopaka felt something tug very gently at his arm. When he turned, he noticed Pohatu still hadn't taken his eyes away from the shimmering remains of the towers.

"Did you want to show me this?" the Toa asked, quietly, quietly.

His friend looked back to the sight before them and swallowed a heavy knot in his throat: "I did," he replied.

The grip on his limb tightened ever so slightly.

Comfortingly.

"Thank you." Pohatu whispered.

Kopaka did not answer.

They looked on.

[spiderman2-99]

[ooc: once again, my inbox is saying I have 15 asks but I'm seeing ***9. Sorry]

[lyle-my-beloved]

YTTD as stupid Roblox images

(Various (implied) spoilers ahead!)

[askthedragonriders]

Toothless, what do you think of the Dragon Riders as individuals? Who's your non-Hiccup favorite?

He likes them all well enough! He really likes the Twins' jokes especially, but he's got his favorite. I think he's got a soft spot for Astrid because she was the second person to ever trust him. -Hiccup

You're just jealous. -Astrid

Yes, I, the first person he ever trusted, would be jealous. Sure. -Hiccup

Anyways, Toothless is my special guy, he gets along great with Stormfly and loves hanging out with us! -Astrid

[billciphersrpblog]

(OOC post)

Cutely points at my newly-made Ford RP blog -> @stanford-pines-backupsmore 🙃