#sorry this one is kinda short

[total-drama-takes-takes-2]

aftermath 3

A flashy intro sequence reading “TTA Aftermath” flashes across the screen as a merry tune plays. A clip montage of scenes from the past four challenges play- mostly the humiliating ones. 

The screen glitches, and the camera pans out and down to a swanky studio. Former contestant Caesar is sitting on a suede couch in front of a clearly cardboard back wall. Former contestant Bonnie is seated next to him, holding an electric cattle prod. In the bleachers off to the side are every camper who hasn’t made it back, or who’s been eliminated so far- Courtney, Ass, Julia, Staci, Mal, Frollo, Kelly, Austin, McLovin, Michela, Sha-Mod, Joner, Patrick, Kitty, Fren, Max, and Peter. 

“Are we on?” Caesar whispers off to his side. Bonnie shrugs. “Alright, then! Welcome back, ladies and gents and everyone in-between or outside- I’m your host, Caesar Flickerman, and this is Total Takes Action: The Aftermath! Joining me today is my lovely co-host, Bonnie,” Bonnie zaps the air with the cattle prod for emphasis. “And our lively peanut gallery.”

“What’s that thing for?” Max asks pointing at Bonnie’s right hand. 

Caesar rolls his eyes and points behind the shorter boy, to where Patrick and Julia are holding hands behind them. Both are covered in little zap marks. 

“Anyway, we’ve got a great, action-packed episode today, so don’t tune out on their behalf!” he says. “For our first segment, let’s invite our newest peanut gallery citizen, Peter!”

Peter stands from where he’s seated beside Alistair and carefully maneuvers down the steps and into the hot seat- now a comfortable pink armchair. 

“Peter, darling, we all lost our minds back here at the studio when you willingly took the fall for Scruffy, stranding O- what inspired that decision?”

“Well,” Peter shuffles nervously in his seat. The camera focuses on Julia for a moment, who looks away uncomfortably. “I just felt like it was the right thing to do.”

“Brilliant. To hell with the competition, today let sportsmanship take the lead! We do have a question from our “frequent flier fan”, River: What’s your girlfriend’s name?”

Peter seems to relax at the change in tone and smiles, holding out his front-pocket picture to the audience. It depicts a short redhead. “Lois,”

The audience aws and Caesar grins. “It must be nice having your sweetheart at home instead of on national TV, huh?”

“It’s a huge relief,” he says. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with being on TV, but-”

“Of course, I understand. I know I’ve had my fair share of… inopportune moments that are immortalized forever! Isn’t that right, Bonbon?” he turns to address the co-host. They nod. 

Caesar thanks Peter for his time and the squat gentleman returns to the stands. “Let’s see… Scary? Has anyone seen Scary?”

An intern rushes up and whispers something in Caesar’s ear. He nods curtly. “Okay, then- our next guest is known for his flair and fabulous talent- Alistair!”

The pink-haired gentleman comes down from the stands, taking a seat with his legs crossed in the chair beside Caesar and Bonnie’s couch. “Happy to make it,”

“You’ve been here since noon,” Bonnie says dryly. They are ignored. 

“From fan-favorite with your own bustling “frendom” to an underground method actor- how does it feel?”

“I wouldn’t call myself “underground”,” Alistair starts, chuckling nervously. Crickets from the peanut gallery. He clears his throat. “Well, it’s been a complete and true honour being able to test out my improv skills on this show. Though, I do prefer the stage.”

“Understandable. Let’s see some audience questions, shall we?” Caesar shuffles the cue cards in his hand. “Alistair- what are your thoughts on Patrick and Julia, and what are your thoughts on Patrick? Do you think he’s cute?”

The audience oohs and Alistair turns a little red. He chuckles. “I’m a bit out of his league, don’t we think?”

“You take that back!” Julia stands and points at him. “That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about!”

“You… want me to be attracted to your boyfriend?”

“Everyone should be attracted to my boyfriend! It’s how I know I’m winning!”

“Yeah!” Patrick chimes in. “Everyone knows the best way to rate your attractiveness as a man is by how many gays are into you.”

“Exactly!” Julia says. 

Alistair rolls his eyes. 

“Speaking of couples,” Caesar says, standing. “It’s time for the first game of the episode! If we could have Julia and Patrick, Michela and Max, and Sha-Mod and McLovin join us on the stage…”

The furniture begins to roll back by itself, and a large section of the floor disappears below before popping back up with three loveseats. The designated pairing give each other nervous glances, but none look more bothered than Patrick and Julia. They’re the last ones to arrive on the stage, and definitely the last to sit. Patrick puts his arm around her for good measure. 

Caesar paces the stage in front of them. “Welcome to Wedding Watchers- the ultimate compatibility test, designed by yours truly,” he places a hand on his heart, and then clears his throat. “Here are the rules.”

Bonnie weaves between the seats as he speaks, handing a white board and marker to each player. 

“I will ask a simple question based on compatibility- the partner in the right hand seat (my left, your right!) will have to guess how their partner answered it. For every correct answer, you get a point,”

“What do we win?” Max insists. 

“What happens if we lose?” Julia talks over him. 

Sha-Mod and McLovin are thumb-wrestling silently in their seats, as if they’d already forgotten what was going on. 

“Winner gets to choose something from our mystery voucher basket!” the camera pans over to a wicker basket full of envelopes. “The loser gets humiliated on national TV. Is that not enough? Or…” Caesar grins. “Should we bring out the sharks again-”

“NO! Humiliation is enough!” Julia snaps. 

“Kidding, kidding. Only teasing, Jules,” Caesar chuckles, then sighs. “Ready?”

The couples look between each other. Patrick leans in to whisper in Julia’s ear- “Follow my lead.”

Max sighs and Michela pats his shoulder. Sha-Mod and McLovin are arguing about who can draw a better T-Rex on their whiteboards. 

“Alright- first question. At what age did your partner have their first kiss?”

“WHAT does that have to do with compatibility?!” Max snaps. 

“Oh, nothing. I just love drama,” Caesar chuckles. “You have thirty seconds.”

A large metal divider slides up from the bench, separating the lovebirds. Patrick curses to himself and Julia whispers- “I can’t see over your shoulder- what now?”

“Guess,” he murmurs back. 

“And… time! Let’s see those answers, folks! Julia and Patrick?”

The metal dividers slide back down and Julia and Patrick stare, flustered. Finally, Julia holds up the board- in shaky handwriting- “never.”

“WHAT!” Patrick shouts. He turns around his board- 16. 

“Wait,” Julia reads the neat Expo marker handwriting. “Was I your first kiss?”

The audience aws. Patrick turns red. “No! Of course not! It was… someone else,”

“Either way,” Caesar cuts in. “No points. Maxchela?”

Max holds up his board- 12. Michela turns her around- 12. 

“I had a summer camp fling once,” she laughs nervously while Joner freaks out from the audience. 

“Sha-Mod and McLovin?”

The two look up nervously, then hold up boards with sprawling mathematical equations on them. “We forgot the question,”

“Hm… Peter, can you-?”

Peter is already jotting down notes on his hand from the audience, then looks up, flabbergasted. “I can’t believe it- both answered 14,”

“A point for Shalovin!”

“WHAT!” Julia yells. Caesar ignores her. 

“Next question- where is your partner’s dream wedding destination?”

The metal dividers slide up again, cutting off the pairs once again. After 30 seconds of hurried scribbling and thinking, they disappear once again. 

Patrick and Julia are first. 

[IN FRONT OF HIS MIRROR]

Patrick squints. “Why, you little-”

“Trouble in paradise?” Caesar pops up behind them. They both force smiles and shake their heads. Patrick turns around his board- [Cabo]. “Shame- zero points! Maxchela, you’re up!”

Max holds up the flimsy whiteboard again. [Vermont.]

Michela turns hers. [Trinity College Library]

“What?” Max asks. “I thought you said that was impossible.”

She shrugs with a smile. “I’m coming around to it,”

The audience aws. Caesar places a hand over his heart. “Adorable. But, unfortunately wrong. Shalovin?”

[the shadow realm]

Caesar blinks. McLovin turns around his board- [the shadow realm]

“Well. I guess that counts!”

"WHAT?! HOW?" Julia shouts in frustration. 

“How would that even work?” Bonnie asks from the suede couch, leaning against the back and casually watching the proceedings. 

“Our evil shadow world twins would be our best men!” McLovin states, matter-of-factly. Bonnie rolls their eyes. 

“Okay, next question- “What is your partner’s favorite color?””

After another hurried half-minute of scribbling, Julia holds up [NONE. BECAUSE COLORS ARE GAY]. 

“Patrick?”

[Red]

He stands and slams his board on the ground. “I DO NOT TALK LIKE THAT!”

“You called the color orange gay LAST WEEK!”

“That’s an objective fact!”

“Why do you say that every time we argue?! It literally isn’t a fact, it’s the actual definition of an opinion!”

“Like you would know, female!”

“I swear, call me ‘female’ one last time…”

Caesar holds back a chuckle and turns to Maxchela, who are watching the display curiously. Finally, Max turns back to the camera and holds up his board. [Black.] Michela turns her after another second of listening to Patulia scream and throw things at each other. [Black]

“Another point for you two- and Shalovin?”

The two look up from their boards in confusion, as if they’d again forgotten they were playing a game. They hold up matching drawings of a T-Rex with laser eyes. 

“Huh. Well, it’s the same, so I’ll count it,”

Julia turns. “OH MY GOD!”

"Why should we even have to play this dumb game? We don't have to prove ourselves to these freaks!" Patrick insists.

"You couldn't be bothered to ask one question about me since we've started dating and all you do is talk about yourself!" Julia snaps. "I don't care about your Valentino, gaywad!"

"Your hair is fake blonde!"

A little "I knew it" comes from Max.

"It is not! You're a terrible liar, a terrible contestant, and a terrible person! And guess what- if Scruffy were here, I wouldn't have even TALKED to you in the first place, loser!"

Patrick gasps. "You take that back!"

"Make me!"

We’ll be right back. 

---

“Welcome back to Total Drama Action- The Aftermath! I’m your very charming host, Caesar Flickerman,” he grins. Bonnie sits beside him, pointing the cattle prod at Julia every time she swipes at the pair. “And this is my lovely co-host, Bonnie.”

The stage is now back to normal, bar from Patrick and Julia being kept on either sides of it. 

"So, are you two finally calling it quits?" Bonnie asks.

"NO!" They both shout. They sigh and Caesar giggles with delight.

“Next up, we have a very special treat-” Caesar starts as a few interns roll in an outhouse. “That’s right, with just a few days before the big finale, we’re having all the former TTI contestants, and all the failed TTA contestants cast their votes for who they’re voting for- team O, or team Scruffy! Inside the outhouse, you’ll find a few more audience questions to, um, ponder on while you’re writing. Let’s go alphabetically, shall we?”

---

Alistair sits in the outhouse, flipping through a few dozen letters. He sighs. “Junk mail, junk mail, bill… my, my, how I miss my fictional frendom,” he tosses away the envelopes, completely ignoring the ballot box.

---

Austin grind the tip of the pen between his teeth while grinning, reading through his fan mail and giggling. He chews too hard and the pen explodes in his mouth. 

---

“You know who I’m rooting for? NO ONE! This entire cast is just a bunch of miserable hungry piglets sucking on the chapped teet of the talented,” Ass snarls. “Not me! I’m not letting this show run me dry!”

---

Bonnie shrugs. “I guess, O. I feel bad for Scruffy but they need to get a grip. Then again… maybe I’m not one to judge. I mean, I wouldn't start getting up at 5 AM to run laps around the studio, but I'm also not known for handling things very maturely. Maybe... I don't know, maybe Scruffy just needs some support,”

---

“Obviously O,” Courtney starts. “He’s dedicated, kind, generous… he’s an excellent person, and he knows how to put his foot down. I respect that! Now, what’s up with all these letters about me and… them?”

---

Frollo sits silently in the confessional, flipping through his Bible and drinking tea. His massive stack of letters sits untouched. 

---

Joner hums to himself as he sorts out his mail, laughing out loud at a few. “Man, these are crazy,” he pauses. “How much time do I have left in here? Oh, well- for the record, Jonah Boner was McLovin’s idea. He’s really good at coming up with nicknames,”

---

“Everyone here sucks. Everyone,” Julia snarls, crossing her arms and leaning back against the wall. “But… I guess Scruffy deserves the win.”

---

“O, easy,” Kelly says. “We need a little more compassion in the world.”

---

Kitty sits in the confessional, chewing on the letters they’ve received. 

---

Mal sticks her tongue out at the camera. 

---

“O, I think?” Max says. 

Michela confirms with a nod. “Definitely O,”

---

“Tough. It’s tough, everyone’s so nice,” Sha-Mod ponders. “Scruffy? Or O?”

“You do one and I’ll do the other, so that way it’s even!” McLovin continues. 

“You’re so smart babe,”

---

“Whatever,” Patrick mutters. 

---

“O. No, Scruffy’s worked so hard- but O is my friend…” Peter thinks aloud. “Fine! O it is. Going with my gut.”

---

“Scruffy. What?” Staci asks. “They have some serious reps, they’re way smarter, and they’re doing it for a cause. It’s a no-brainer,”

---

“Looks like O is in the lead,” Caesar reads aloud the poll results as Staci leaves the confessional. “Not surprising. But, as luck would have it, this segment concludes today’s aftermath- don’t worry! We’ll be back again soon to host the thrilling end of Total Takes Action. For now, I’m your host, Caesar,”

“And I’m your other host, Bonnie,” Bonnie says from the couch, turning the cattle prod on Patrick as he growls from the stands. 

“And this has been Total Takes Action: The Aftermath!”

[mossarchives]

Tamarack at 50

I added Wyn bc of course I did...

50 - Wriggle by Cosmo Sheldrake

Don't you want to come down and wriggle on, count to 21, and go a right a wrong, and feed the Pelicans

Tamarack likes it when it rains. She likes when the water pools on the sidewalk, reflecting her face and the underside of her umbrella back at her as she crouches at its edge. The streetlights turn the edges gold, softening the lines where water ends and pavement begins. She straightens her legs and lingers in the moment before her feet touch water as she jumps forward. The thin surface unaware that it will be broken by her boots and flow outwards. She giggles as the tidal wave dies down, drops of water sliding down her legs from the burst. 

She hears soft clapping and looks up, pausing mid-kick. Wyn is standing on his porch watching her, draped in the protective red layer of a rain poncho. 

Tamarack runs towards his house, “Wyn!” 

“Nice jump!” He hops down the stairs and comes to the gate to meet her. He slips past the fence and closes the door behind him carefully, his boots sinking into the wet mud. Tamarack stretches up on her toes to hold the umbrella safely over his head as well, despite the hat covering his ombre hair. They smile at her kindness and bend so that she doesn’t need to balance so precariously. 

“Do you wanna try jumping?” The excitement of having a friend with her builds in Tamarack’s chest. More ideas gather in her mouth, tripping over one another to try and leave first. “Or we could go look for frogs in our backyards! Or go look around the woods!” 

Wyn takes a moment to think and Tamarack bites back on the rest of her ideas. She’s learned that he needs time and gets easily overwhelmed with too many options. 

“I want to splash around, I think!” They say after a minute, and she nods vigorously. She reaches out and takes his thin hand in hers, adjusts her umbrella back down to her shoulder, and then tugs him forward. They skip out into the empty cul-de-sac, feet breaking still glass of puddles and scattering crystal bits of water that catch the gold of the street lamps.

Tamarack wonders how anyone can dislike the rain, especially at times like this. The patter of rain on her umbrella weaves with the sound of their laughter as they splash and kick through puddles, breathing in the cold air. The weather makes her feel warm and bright, outshining the streetlights.

[remxedmoon]

yeah ok buddy

joke stolen from this post 🩶

[monkayy]

[cookiescribble]

Flufftober Day 20: Paw

A/N: i was half tempted to write this one about Gambit with his cats because we met A.J. LoCascio but i love Dick and Haley entirely too much i’m so sorry - mod ghost

Ship: Dick Grayson x GN!Reader

Summary: Waking up in the middle of the night to a fluffy surprise

You were mostly still asleep when you felt how cold the bed had gotten. Dick must’ve still been out doing his thing as Nightwing then. You shifted and started to get up, rubbing your eyes as you heard the familiar sounds of him getting home.

But then you heard a bark.

That wasn’t usually a sound you heard in your apartment, considering there were no dogs in it, so you were about to investigate when light from outside the room started to shine in. The room was pitch black other than some street lights, since it was the middle of the night, so all you saw was Dick’s silhouette as he opened the bedroom door.

“Hey, sorry…did I wake you up?” Dick, still fully dressed as Nightwing minus the mask, greeted you as he stepped in the door and closed it behind him. He had both of his hands behind his back, clearly holding something that he was hiding from you.

“It’s okay, you didn’t. But what do you have behind your back?” You asked as he stepped closer, clearly watching him struggle with whatever it was. You could’ve sworn you even heard a soft but distinctly dog-like whimper from behind him.

“…Nothing.” Dick grinned, trying to seem innocent.

Another bark, though much louder now, proved that that was a lie.

“Do you have a dog?” You raised an eyebrow and crossed your arms, chuckling at your silly boyfriend.

“…Possibly.” Dick’s grin was more sheepish than before, which made it obvious that he was definitely hiding a dog behind his back.

“Dick, show me the dog! I wanna see the dog, gimme.” You shuffled toward him as he stood at the end of the bed, holding your arms out once you were sitting on your knees in front of him.

“Okay, fine, but be warned; she’s very cute.” He pulled the puppy from behind his back, revealing a three-legged gray and white pitbull who immediately pushed herself from Dick’s hand into your arms.

You caught her immediately, petting her as she licked at your face which made you laugh. “Oh my god, she’s adorable! Where did you get her??”

“She was getting attacked by some bullies on the street because she’s only got three of her legs,” he scratched the top of her head as he spoke, “so I did as any vigilante worth his salt would do, I saved her.”

“Can we keep her??” You asked excitedly, your eyes briefly leaving the dog to look at him.

“I don’t see why not?? She doesn’t have a collar or anything. I kinda may have already picked out a name for her, too.” He laughed, watching how you interact with the puppy with the look of an idiot in love.

“Really?? What is it?” You weren’t at all surprised that he’d already become that attached to her, Dick had the biggest heart of anyone you’d known.

“Haley, I think it really suits her.” Dick spoke fondly, petting her back as she settled in your lap.

“Aww, I really like that. Welcome to the apartment, Haley Grayson.”

[hotluncheddie]

For the @steddie-spooktober day 10 prompt : orchard

rated: T | cw: none | tags: pre relationship

🍎🍎🍎🍎

‘Ow, fuck! Eddie!’ Steve exclaims as an apple hits his shoulder. It’s more out of surprise than pain though and he quickly barrels after Eddie.

They speed past Robin and Nancy, who are actually taking in the beauty of the orchard in the bright fall sunshine.

Meanwhile Eddie is cackling as he sprints as fast as his skinny legs will take him away from Steve.

But Steve is at his heels, breathless and determined as he finally manages to tackle Eddie to the ground.

‘Got you.’ He pants, triumphant and grinning.

Eddie grumbles and wriggles halfheartedly, his hair splayed out around his head like a halo and his cheeks flushed pink from exhaustion.

Steve doesn’t think as he stops Eddie’s attempts to move by pinning his wrists. They feel bony and small under his palms. Eddie’s lips are as red as his cheeks, eyes wide.

Steve’s breathing evens out and he shifts, squeezing his thighs either side of Eddie’s waist.

Eddie squeaks.

Steve freezes.

Eddie looks pretty like this. Laid out beneath him.

Fuck.

‘I, I think I want to, kiss you?’ Steve blurts.

An apple hits him between his shoulder blades. ‘Get a room!’ Robin shouts.

🍎🍎🍎🍎

Tag list (lmk to be added / removed) : @scoops-aboy86 @pearynice @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @marvel-ous-m @thecatkingsthrone @chickensinrainboots @cheesedoctor

[blamebonk]

Noticed request were open so… do you think you could draw some MC and Belphie cuddles? 👀

Was necessary for him to be shirtless

[ask-the-colony-tree-siblings]

Part two ended up being REALLY long, so I cut it in half. Hopefully it won’t take me too long to do the second part lol.

here’s the link to the first part if u wanna refresh your memory or didn’t see it lol :3

Hunter: I… I guess I haven’t really… told you stuff either. I’ve been mad at you for stuff you don’t even know about.

Gourmand: You guys are making really good progress already! Let’s try to get to the bottom of why you two don’t get along. Hunter, what did Artificer do to make you dislike her?

Hunter: …She was always a jerk when we were kids, and she ran off without even saying goodbye. I almost rotted to permadeath because of her.

Arti: I didn’t-!

Gourmand: Artificer. Please explain yourside without getting mad.

Arti: …Fine. I was a jerk, that’s true. So why was me leaving such an issue? You were probably better off.

Hunter: Why would I have been better off? Do you have any idea how hard it was to do our job by myself? You made up the majority of our firepower, I was nowhere near as efficient without you. I still had to do the exact same job, and I was expected to be able to do it just as well as we did when we worked together. 

Gourmand: Guys, try to keep the peace-

Arti: NSH would have known you wouldn’t be as good a messenger on your own. I’m sure he was happy that you were still there at least. 

[rainboweemart]

Birthdays & loved ones..!

Happy Sanji Day 💙🎂

[zivazivc]

Did Les and Hed know either of their fathers?

Yes, they lived with both actually, and they both refer(red) to both of their fathers as "dad" (well, hed's father was daddy).

They lived with Hed's dad and their mom in a small village/town in the rock kingdom since Les was basically still a baby and till he was around 8 or 9 when their mom died (Hed then being 4 or 5). Soon after that Les ran away and took Hed with him, because Hed's dad was very abusive toward him and it only got worse when Les grew to the height and size of an adult rock troll at around 8 years old. Les had a very hard time growing up in the rock kingdom in general, he was the only mixed genre troll where they lived and no one ever treated him age-appropriate because of his size, even unintentionally. Don't even get me started on the bigotry. :(

So then Les ran away with Hed to go find his biological dad, because surely his real dad who is also a funk troll like him would like him more. (Somehow they managed to find him with the help of one old photo Les had of him.) It turned out that wasn't the case and Les quickly realized that the funk trolls didn't consider him as one of their own either. But his dad still (reluctantly) decided to take them in if they stayed out of the way. And that's where they grew up and lived (in Vibe City) until not that long before they meet Floyd. It was a very strange and not at all child friendly environment because Les's dad lives in a cramped apartment with a bunch of stoner roommates and with different trolls coming and leaving all the time, so their home was more a hangout den for a bunch of washed up adults than an actual home...

The two rock trolls' first month there; Les was learning how to play the bass and he got super into it and he broke into song which then ended up with a punk rock scream, Hed heard it and started screaming all over the apartment (normal and healthy behavior for many rock troll kids):

Floyd also had the misfortune of meeting both of them (Les's dad intentionally and Hed's dad by chance). It's an understatement if I say he despises them

[pines4thetwin]

As promised, here's that fusion post for the three people that asked for it (drops it and runs).

Ford thinks of himself and Stan as one, an extension of each other, and lowkey hates that its not true nor possible.

And Mabel really shouldn't have shown him Steven Universe because now he's obsessing over the concept of fusions and his desire to be one with stan.

Now lets say this is Pre-Weird and everything is still tense between them and they aren't exactly talking but despite that ford still wants to be close and he knows stan does too.

He can see it in the broken resigned looks Stan keeps throwing his way. And listen, Ford isn't the best at communication but he can fix this. He may still be angry and self righteous and an asshole but he can fix them.

So now he spends an even more absurd amount of time in the lab trying to making it his reality and entirely disregards his base needs to the point even dipper is concerned.

He has a journal dedicated to this idea where he keeps all his notes and theories on how to make it possible. Would he have to alter their DNA for it to work or could it be possible for them as they are?

While doing the tests and research for his fixation he remembers a dimension he briefly travelled to back when he was younger and fresh through the portal. One where this concept, his desire, his fantasy, his wish was real. A dimension where it was was their culture, their way of life. And while he did think it was interesting then, he was young and angry and raw with unrestrained hurt. Too emotional to stop and study the practice the way he should have.

He beats himself up over it now. If only he had been thinking more logically him and stan could be one already. They wouldn't have to be so... apart.

He doesn't have time to dwell on his shortcomings though. He has to figure this out. He doesn't know exactly why but he feels like he's running out of time. Like he has to do this now or he'll never have the chance again.

Eventually he has his prototype and it functions well... enough. He just has one more trial to run. Except Stan comes down to check on him. 'Worried ford isn't taking care of himself properly.' or something like that.

And honestly, Stan in his space is the last thing he expects because they have an unspoken agreement. Stan roams above and Ford stays down here. And when they cross paths they both look the other way.

But stan is here and yes Ford is annoyed at first but this also means he doesn't have to go seek stan out.

"I told you to stay- wait actually this is perfect. We'll do it now," Ford fiddles with his device, turning it on and he really isn't thinking right anymore. He know the device works and that's all that matters.

"Do what now? Stanford, what is that," And Stan is kinda terrified because Ford looks... well he looks kinda like how he did decades ago when he had sent that postcard and Stan had come running because well, its Ford.

Ford looks insane, primal and unhinged, like he hasn't seen the light of day in weeks. And Dipper had told Stan, had been worried but Stan brushed it off because Ford locking himself in the lab and avoiding everybody, avoiding him wasn't a new development.

But now Stan’s worried because that wild-eyed look is directed at him again and the cowardly little animal in him is screaming at him to run.

It’s like Ford knows what he's thinking because before Stan has a chance to decide if he's going to shut down or entertain that scared little animal, Ford is grasping at him and pulling him deeper into the dingy little basement.

Stan trips and he fully expects his back to hit the floor but fords got and arm wrapped low on his back that keeps him from falling fully. And stan's hand is also tangled in fords sweater so even if Ford had let him fall, well they would have gone down together.

But then he catches sight of that thing again and it looks vaguely like a gun and why did he have to get saddled with the insane twin? He doesn't even have time to flinch because a bright light floods his vision and he blanks.

For a second, Stan's mind goes black and there's a strange humming in his ears. But then he hears a laugh he hasn't heard in forever. Soft and joyous and for a moment stan smiles. It's Ford's laugh.

Because he and Stan become one. And everything is warm and bright and as it should be. For a moment everything is right. It feels like coming home.

His-Their eyes open and Ford's confused? No, Stans confused.

"Sixer? Lee?" Their voice says, soft and bewildered. They look around, searching for each other. Stan? Ford? Where did they go? They look down and their vision swims. Four hands, five fingers? Six? It all blurs together.

Is this me, they think as one. Finally as one. Four hands run up the sides of their one body then stretch out for their wide eyes to view. Ford can feel his giddiness rising unbidden. And a whisper from Stan, rising to meet Ford. Uncertain but matching nonetheless.

Finally

Finally together... Finally fixed... Finally right.

They spin slowly, as if that will give them a better view of what they are now, and they catch their reflection in some dim glass. Ford wants to smile but their face drops, eyes horrified.

"What did you do," Stan says, voice a cutting accusation. Nausea erupts in their stomach. And that isn't right. Why isn't it right?

Something is wrong. Everything is so very wrong. Ford's head hurts. Or is it Stans. He doesn't know. They can't tell.

"I fixed it. I fixed us," Ford says and it isn't right either. Why is it still so wrong? Stan is angry. But why is he angry? Why aren't they happy? They're together. After all this time they're finally together again.

Ford can feel Stan pulling away. It's like their mind is splitting in two. Hot searing pain shoots through their head, four eyes closing when the world starts to spin.

Ford grasps ahold of stan and refuses to let go. He can't let Stan ruin this, ruin them. He will not let Stan destroy everything he's worked towards again. They've been apart for so long- too long but not anymore. Besides, this is for them. Stan will just have to understand. They are one now. Broken and wrong but one nonetheless.

"Let me go," They yell, tugging apart furiously. Their shape shifts and distorts but doesn't split. Ford won't let them. They snap back together painfully, stumbling on two bulky legs, one that branches into two feet. Wrong.

"No! This is what we wanted right," their voice bellows, loud and angry and wrong. So very wrong. "For us to be together. Always together."

They grip at their hair as if trying to pull themselves back apart. Stan.

"Not like this. I never asked for this." they shout back, voice sharp and hurt and why aren't they happy now. They should be happy. This is right. This is how they are meant to be.

Even as the anger and hurt courses through their entire being, Ford knows he wouldn't want to be any other way. Stan's angry and scared but at least they're one. They're shattered and hurting but even then some small part burns in them, it's a tiny little ember but it's both of them and it says yes.

Another set of hands reach for the ones in their hair, pulling them out and restraining them. Betrayal spikes, scorching and increasing rapidly even after years of dormancy. Ford.

"Stop being so ungrateful! You're always so-." angry tears spill from their eyes. Decades of hurt and anger and resentment spill forth to mix into a sense numbing cocktail but most of all they feel alone. So very alone. Them.

They grapple and struggle and Ford's device glints from the corner of their eyes. Ford can feel Stan's intent before their body even moves. Being one now, it's like their minds have melded which means Stan knows the device's purpose. And he intends to separate them.

"NO!" Ford bellows, voice priggish and angry, hurt tinting the singular word so strongly that their body stalls. Why would stan- Why doesn't he want them to be together?

"Grunkle Stan?" Their head whips to the left, eyes locking with a confused and tired Mabel’s. Their focus splits, body jerking in an awkward aborted movement as Stan tries to move forward and Ford holds him back.

“Pumpkin grab that- Mabel don't-” And why can they never agree on anything. When did everything go so wrong? 

Flashes of being in this very lab, so long ago- but no, it was before that even.

Mabel stares at them, scared and confused and stan has never wanted her to look at him like that ever. But Ford doesn't register it because for a moment, one split second, Stan stops fighting him. 

They don't hesitate to rush forward, very much intent on destroying their creation before it has a chance to be used against them. To hurt them.

Two small hands wrap around it before they can get ahold of it. Mabel clutches it to her chest, watching them with something too close to fear. They freeze in place, hands raising in surrender.

"Sweetie," Falls from their lips, pleading. For what though, they aren't quite sure. Because their mind, it should be one yet it isn't. It's at odds, fragmented by a fear and necessity that clash so strongly it could tear universes apart.

“Press the green- Don't you dare-” They speak at once, words and thoughts overlapping. Large hands cover their mouth, two others gripping uselessly at wrist that refuse to budge, because regardless of whatever insanity that has plagued Fords mind to make them act this way, Stan will not let their voice- their words even hint at a threat towards Mabel.

Mabel's head bobs, looking from them down to the thing in her hands, unsure of what to do. Stan nods, eyes pleading.

Ford lashes out, angry and hurt and thrashing like a wild dog. 'Stanley please no. Why don't you want us to be-' Stan is retreating, silent and distant. 'Lee. LEE!'

Everything goes dark.

Ford rises slowly, head spinning and ears ringing. He has the worst headache he has ever experienced. He stares at his hands, splayed on the floor. Two hands, six fingers. Wrong.

His head whips up and his gaze finds Stan's crumpled form across from him on the floor. Stan's glaring at him, thick angry tears spilling down red cheeks.

No. No!

His head turns slowly and his eyes fall on Mabel. Mabel who is standing with his prototype in shaky hands looking between a separated Ford and Stan. He... failed. And now they're...

Apart.

Broken.

Wrong.

[fog-and-the-frost]

[oceanwithouthermoon]

one of my favorite (/sarcastic but not really cuz its like funny idk) things in fandoms is when people make ocs or self inserts or 'x readers' being shipped with characters, but the oc/sona/reader is literally just another character from the source material.. its like youre shipping the characters but didnt want to admit it, so you made a kinsona and branded it as something else..

and its NEVER subtle, actually its super blatant every time and im always shocked when nobody points it out..

i have seen uncountable saiki k x readers where the description is like:

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts he cant read for the first time, and even though he doesnt trust her at first, she keeps proving that she is kind and has good intentions!" you mean nendo? reader is girl nendo?

"this time, he meets a girl whose thoughts honestly match up with her spoken words almost perfectly for the first time!" hairo. youre shipping saiki with girl hairo.

"saiki meets someone whose thoughts are too fast and jumbled to re-" ITS AKECHI, THATS AKECHI, ITS LITERALLY AKECHI.

"saiki meets someone whose just as immune to teruhashi as he is for the first and only tim-" this is hairo again, awe bae you secretly LOVE haisai ?!?

"saiki sees his old childhood friend for the first time in years after an incident caused them to be apart and then they fall in lov-" WHY DID YOU EVEN WRITE THIS AND NOT CALL IT SAIKECHI.

its even funnier when they say its like that characters little sister, but the way they write it is still literally just the character, like their personality, dialogue, even their relationship, is the same..

not all of them fit this exactly, but the ones that take a boy character and turn them into a girl oc to ship them with a boy, it reminds of how in equestria girls they couldnt make applejack and rarity endgame so they gave them boyfriends who looked IDENTICAL to each other.. thats what youre creating, guys, youre creating heterosexual rarijack.

[ganondoodle]

Kinda in regards to the Empress & BodyGuard 2-

Is Zaphira (sorry if I spelled her name wrong) an elf or do humans have pointed ears in your universe? If no elves, how do the pointed ears happen? Are there different length of ears and if so do they mean somethin?

Love your art & use of colours!

Thank you! and thank you for asking! (this sketch took me way too long .. and the colors still look washed out on my desktop screen but im not editing a third time ..)

Zaphira is human, there are no elves, as such, in this world, though humans tend to live longer than IRL and have differently shaped ears-

the shapes are rather diverse (example above) and culturally (so far) they have no significance, they are merely a trait just like different nose shapes or fantasy hair colors

the worldbuilding reason is that these are extremely diluted demonic influences- in the past demons were frequently in the human world, though largely in secret/disguised, and long time exposure to demonic presences can have varying effects, the most immediate and common being a longer life or wounds healing faster than normal; there might have been other long time effects but the only trait that stayed even after their disappearance is the ear shapes

(there was a mass extinction event of demons that wiped out all above a certain age, since demons generally dont die of natural causes their life neither depends nor revolves around reproduction so there were extremely few left and those were too young to keep most of their knowledge and culture alive, as they rarely wrote anything down; Shargon is of the current oldest generation and witnessed it happen, just like most now adult demons, Thor and Eadrya are both a bit older than him and thus the oldest living demons, which doesnt mean much considering the technically endless lifespans of them)

and to explain me including Shargon in a human appearance- hes the only demon that spends as much time in the human world as at home, largely to escape the others since they are not interested in going there and would otherwise attack him any chance they get (the human world is rather uncomfortable for demons to be in and they have better things to do than to chase him that far), while hes generally very weak compared to them, something he is very good at is shape shifting, mainly the speed of which, being able to shift between full demon and the smaller more humanoid form extremely quickly, or even mid forms that are a mix of both - even in motion! while for the others it takes them quite a bit and forces them to stop which is the main reason he keeps escaping them not able to keep up with his rapid shape shifting (though it does take its toll .. also a reason hes so skinny)

he is the first (only?) one that at some point will learn how to shift into a much more human looking one (depicted in the sketch) too, but its rather dangerous since it involves supressing and compressing his demon heart and system... which is what keeps demons alive (its somewhat like holding your breath for way too long) so the only time he would make use of it is in extreme situations, like avoiding detection by maschines that can pick up demonic energy or escaping shackles made of celestial silver (which drains their energy and can scar/hurt them permanently, like silver to vampires(?werewolfs?) in a way)

....the point is that if he shifts into a human form he has very long ears, meaning that is basically the extreme form that doesnt occur in humans and hints at the origins for those ear shapes being demonic exposure in the past

[infamous-if]

Oh, damn. No 25 with MC trying to protect/take care of Seven in a dangerous situation sounds nice.

Hope you feel better soon, Amy! Take care!

Thank you! <3 Dangerous situation, you say?

Double whammy (the amount of seven asks...)

CW: blood

This is all your fault.

You shouldn't have said anything. You shouldn't have fought with the person at the bar. You should've left it alone.

You should've known that Seven wouldn't let it go. Even when they hate you.

You should've known Seven. Has it been that long that you forgot who they were? Once, they were as familiar to you as the very lines on your palm.

"Seven, please."

You're holding onto them as you two stumble out of the bar, moving like two drunkards though both of you are terribly sober. The warm sensation of Seven's blood on your shirt sends dull fear over you. You're spiraling. Breaking. You don't know what to do.

Seven lets you guide them outside, your arms wrapped closely around them as they keep a hand under their nose which spews blood like an open faucet. It sends another round of fear down your spine, but it's not their nose that has you so breathless you're dizzy.

Their stomach.

In the heat of the moment, the person Seven was fighting threw them on the table littered with glass cups and broken bottles. Seven claims to be fine, but the way blood makes an angry stain on the green fabric of their shirt and Seven limps like their body is failing them, you know they're anything but.

Seven loses their footing, tripping on the last step and making both you and them fumble to the wet, concrete ground.

Your body shakes when the cool water of the alleyway seeps into your jeans. Seven coughs, rolls on their back, and lets out a sigh.

Blood is smeared across their face, their eyes are hazy, the blooming flower of blood grows larger across their stomach.

Your hands flail in front of you when you get on your knees, fingers shaking, lips shuttering. You feel the burning sting of tears. "Seven, what do I do? My phone is dead. We need to call an ambulance."

Seven groans. Coughs. Their hair turns damp when it sinks into a puddle by their face. "Stop...yelling."

"How can I stop?!" you cry. "I need to see it-" You begin to lift up their shirt but Seven stops you.

"No."

Anger replaces your previous fear. "Seven-"

"I don't want you to."

That hurts. Hurts more than it should in this moment. Seven is hurt, bleeding, and even now they don't want you to touch them, to care for them. Has everything been for nothing? Have all the years you two spent together meant nothing?

"You fucking asshole."

"What?" They burst up and groan, hissing and laying back down.

"I need to help you." The fear returns anew when Seven's eyes glide towards you slowly, their lips parted. Not from pain, but from slight surprise. "Please. I know you hate me. I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway." You bite your lip to hide the way it shakes. "Please let me help you."

It takes them a moment. They stare at you so long you feel like you're being judged. Then, in a move that shocks you even now, Seven nods and looks away.

"Go ahead."

You clear your throat, slowly peeling the shirt that sticks to the blood on their skin. Seven winces, and you let out a small sound when you catch the piece of glass lodged to their rib.

"Not bad," you try, wincing, "just a tiny piece. You'll be fine."

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

You look at them, ready to shoot them a glare, when you see a small, amused smirk on their face.

"Shut up," you mumble, turning back to their wound.

As you inspect more of their skin, slick with blood, you catch their stomach heave when a small laugh leaves them. You look at Seven, quirking a brow. "You called me an asshole." They look at you. The blood still smeared all across their lower face, they look at you and laugh. "I'm about to die and you call me an asshole."

"You're not about to die," you say strongly and then quieter: "and you are."

Seven hums. "Maybe. Maybe you just bring it out of me."

"That's not helping," you mumble.

You move to lift their shirt higher when you feel a wet hand on your wrist. Seven's blood leaks from their fingers to your skin, but you hardly notice it. Not when they're looking at you with a face so soft it disarms your every defense. "I don't hate you."

Your heart rate quickens. "...You don't?"

They shake their head slowly, stifling a small grown with the movement. "How could I?" they mumble, but don't elaborate.

A sigh leaves them and they glide their gaze to the sky. The sound of an ambulance rings in the distance; the bartender must've called the cops.

"I don't hate you either," you say.

Seven says nothing, but their face twists into a satisfied smile, their eyes closing.

I never did.

and then seven dies. JUST KIDDING

[snzluv3r]

hi! Can I request more talkie wavs? Even if it’s hard to achieve, love hearing you attempt to talk through!

thank you for the request, i tried so hard to talk through this fit but as i said at the end, it was so hard to get a word out between the tickle itself and the sneezes it was producing.

it was so hard to hold back against that classic desperate, allergic itch i’ve gotten used to—and stifling the sneezes that i couldn’t keep in just drove the tickle further up my nose—but this fit came at a late enough hour that everyone was sleeping and i didn’t want to risk being too loud and waking anybody up (or worse, getting caught recording myself sneezing and talking about how bad my allergies are…)

i’m not usually allergic to dogs and when i am it’s mild, but holding back, especially when it comes to my allergies, makes my nose 10x more dramatic than usual