#the blorbos are just vibin

[joshbruh10x]

The late night sketches RETURNS!!!

[flowercrowngods]

knightmærs

love: saying "i love you" even when you're scared written for @steddielovemonth day 20 (@quinns-shadowy-arts)

M | ~3.1k | tags: medieval-ish au, prince!steve, lovers to enemies who are still lovers but it’s intrigue cw: torture (both implied and explicit), past & on-screen brainwashing, manipulation, angst, violence, open ending, mild gore, traditional fairytale imagery

princemær

It is not the sensation of cold steel touching his throat that makes him halt, the blade against his skin a feeling so familiar these days that he barely falters in his steps anymore. Nor is it the clearly spoken threat of, “One wrong move, Kas, and I will paint the soil with your blood so that something good may come of your existence after all.” 

Original, that. Eddie is not loath to admit it. 

And were this valiant knight anyone else, he surely would have worked his clever tongue to make it count, at the very least, that they should have caught him at last. Judging by the determination in the man’s hazel eyes and the absolute calm in his hand, sword unwavering against Eddie’s throat, he would have paid gravely for it. 

As it is, though, Eddie can only stare into the eyes of his imminent captor, frozen to the spot and freezing yet more when he finds no trace of recognition in those eyes. 

What did they do to you? he wonders desperately, so forlorn in the throes of distress he finds no wherewithal to struggle against four men of the Prince’s guard as they roughly disarm and bind him. He doesn’t take his eyes off the Prince, aching for just a hint of recognition, even a glint of betrayal and hatred – but all he can find is cold nothingness as the Prince holds his gaze, looking down at Eddie from his royal mare. It’s not one Eddie recognises, and he is reminded of the years he has gone without those eyes in his life. 

“The King is expecting your return,” says the Prince, sheathing his sword when one of his men binds Eddie to the back of his horse; the first of many tortures, he is sure.

Or rather, the second, with the way the Prince is looking at him, speaking to him without that familiar melody to his voice. It is monotonous now, and Eddie wants to become the monster again that they all make him out to be, if only to rip out the throat of the person who did this to him. The person who took the Prince’s voice, his smile, his memories. 

He would gladly become a monster for him all over again. 

“A sword has been made for your head, after all. And a feast for your demise.” 

And with that, the Prince spurs his mare into a trot, his loyal guardsmen following just behind him, pulling Eddie with them. It is a small miracle that he does not stumble and fall, the floor beneath his feet unsteady as cotton as all feeling leaves his body and the world rewrites itself around him and this very moment. 

Prince Steven wants him publicly executed. That is not what leaves Eddie’s stomach with a wave of nausea he barely manages to swallow down, panting and gasping for air as he is from running after the horses. 

No, what leaves him with a frozen bloodstream and a panicked paralysis of the mind is that Prince Steven recognises him no longer. Remembers not the history that lies between them. The sacrifices made. 

Were the situation any different, allowing for tears and curses cried into the dark of night without threat of detection, Eddie would have wailed. Wept at the realisation that he should have never left Steve to the claws of the King and his advisor. 

What did they do to you? he agonises, staring at the familiar blues that attire the Prince so tragically familiar. And how do I get you back before you spell doom for yourself with my own blood?

*** 

Foolishly, Eddie has spent years of his life thinking he would never be presented with this view again: The palace in all its glory, sandstone nary white and golden, shining and gleaming in ways more sublime than the sun herself. It stole many a night from him, the thought of this vision and the heart it holds inside, a keep more than a palace, and just as out of reach for the hands of a man deemed a traitor to the kingdom. 

But now here he is, stumbling on bleeding feet as the horse drags him into the courtyard of what used to be his home so many winters ago he has lost count. People gave gathered in the streets and alleys and up by the windows, chancing a look at the man condemned, sweat and tears dried and crusted on his cheeks, ripped clothes showing bleeding wounds from falling when the Prince demanded they ride faster. 

He can scarcely hold his own weight anymore, his feet aching and burning, his entire body on fire and dehydrated, the world around him spinning just quickly enough that he takes too long to realise it when the Prince cuts the rope from the horse’s saddle and takes a hold of it instead. Holding Eddie like a mutt on a leash – and he’s panting like one, too. 

Still he catches his breath long enough to lift his chin and look at the Prince, showing defiance in one simple act that in another lifetime counted as devotion. But he wants to look at him. Wants to drink him in, changed though he might be. 

“Will you lead me to death now, Your Majesty?” 

The Prince says nothing as he rebinds Eddie’s wrists, securing them to his chest so he can’t easily break free and the Prince’s neck in the process. A wave of pride washes over him, even as he realises that he must succumb to being a prisoner for now with no means to escape. 

“I am but your humble subject. Where you lead, I will follow,” Eddie says with a wavering voice, just barely resisting to bow before his Prince for dramatic effect and hoping that would conceal the truth to his words. 

“One more word, snake,” he says, cold eyes boring into Eddie’s like a blade of ice and leaving trickles of fear in their wake, “and I will personally see to your death being so slow and painful, you will have forgotten your own name just before I am done, leaving you not enough time to remember. You will spend eternity wandering and finding no peace. Finding not even your name, as all you are has been replaced with pain.”  

Eddie flinches away from him unwittingly, hating the cold smirk that infests that beautiful face. His Prince wouldn’t talk like that. His Prince would not resort to threats of torture, inflicting fear wherever he sets foot. 

He had heard the stories, tales of a Prince changed, accounts of the Golden Prince dimmed and dulled, a tender heart hardened and smooth edges roughened to hurt whoever dared to touch him. The first few years he had heard the tales, and still he had chosen disbelief and doubt. Refusal to believe it. 

His Prince would never. Stevie could never. 

And yet. 

“What happened to you?” he whispers, the words leaving his mouth before he can stop them, and he watches as something shutters behind those familiar eyes. 

“You cut out my heart. All those years ago, when you killed him. I intend to do the same to you.” 

Eddie swallows, the words not making sense. He has killed many a man, those who deserved it and those who did not, but whom could he have killed to elicit such a response from the Prince? 

“Whom?” he dares ask, preparing for a blade in his stomach or a fist in his face, ready for the guards to pull him back and pummel him until he does indeed forget his name and the rest of the world for a while. 

But the Prince stands his ground, his cold gaze nary lifeless even as Eddie’s vision swims. 

“Eddie.” 

And all the blood flees his body in a rush as understanding dawns on him, leaving yet more confusion as he hears his own name fall from the Prince’s lips with such barely concealed grief and sadness that it makes his knees buckle. 

“I intend to repay you for what you have taken from me. Settle the blood debt. Three days from now, it shall be my hand on the sword that will have your head.”

Eddie is too stunned to speak, too exhausted from two days on his feet, dragged on his feet and on his back, and the unfamiliar sensation of fear grips his whole body and intensifies the aches and pains he feels until his legs give out and he lands on his knees in front of his Prince, close to weeping once more. 

A hand comes to rest on his chin, tipping up his face so he can meet those royal eyes, and Eddie finds himself wishing for the blade instead. 

“Good,” Prince Steven says, his voice quiet, only for Eddie to hear. “I want to hear you beg for your life.” 

Eddie cannot keep a hold of the tear that breaks free and rolls down his face, leaving a trace for the Prince to follow as he undoubtedly marvels at having the great Betrayer on his knees and at a loss for words. 

And Eddie knows he will beg. But not for his life.

*** 

Torture does come, but not from his Prince. 

Instead it is Henry, the King’s advisor, who takes great pleasure in taunting him, leaving his body bloodied and bruised before he applies whatever concoction he cooked up that will leave Eddie feeling like his insides have turned to flames, leaving him to grunt and bite down on his screams as Henry weaves tales out of thin air laced with blood, sweat and tears. 

“You were always so gullible, the both of you,” Henry continues, though Eddie must have missed the beginning of his words, as even these ones barely reach him through the pain. 

“What did you do to him?” he asks around a mouthful of blood, spitting at Henry’s feet, revealing in the sick twist of his mouth that Eddie can just barely make out as his vision blurs dangerously. 

“What did we do to him? Oh, even a decade later you are still the same stupid boy you were then, hmm? It is you who did this to him. It is you who betrayed him, killing Eddie Munson and becoming Kas The Betrayer. Do you not recall?” 

His world tilts suddenly as Henry fills his mouth with a bitter liquid, clamping his mouth shut so Eddie has no choice but to swallow it all. 

“Surely you do remember the way you shoved your blade between Munson’s ribs on your way out of this cell all these years ago, cutting out his heart and making it your first feast of your newly-won freedom. Surely you remember betraying the Prince’s trust and then killing his lover and his best friend. You must remember, stupid boy, and know that your execution will bring freedom to the Prince’s mind that is so trapped in its vengefulness.” 

Nausea overcomes him and he retches, but Henry prevents him from throwing up and emptying his bowels to rid himself from whatever the alchemist uses to cloud his senses and reshape the world to his very own liking. 

“Shut up,” Eddie wheezes, earning a well-placed punch for his troubles. “Don’t touch him. Don’t you… Don’t you touch him.” 

A smile fills his vision as Henry comes close to hum as he turns Eddie’s face this way and that, keeping him from shaking it as images of a false history manifest in his mind. 

“Oh, I won’t have to touch him. See, he will realise what he has done on the scaffold. The veil over his eyes will be lifted when your heart stops beating, all the pieces will fall into place, but still he will be blind, for the veil will be replaced with the ghost of you, slowly fading beneath him.” 

Henry is circling him, stalking him like a predator his prey. Eddie has not been prey in so long. He does not know how to suppress the shivers or the horror at the tale woven around him. 

“And then, sword still in hand as it drips with your blood, despair will overcome him and he will follow you. The kingdom will be freed of the King’s pest of an heir, and I will lend his grieving Majesty a helping hand in ruling his kingdom. That is, of course, until he, too, ultimately succumbs to grief for his only son, leaving only myself to rebuild and reshape first the kingdom and then the whole world just the way I want.” 

He comes to a stop in front of him, another dark green flask in his hand. 

“You are but a pawn in this, Kas.” 

More of the bitter liquid flows down his throat and Eddie almost chokes on it, coughing it up and trying to resist, but Henry is stronger than he is. Always has been. 

And with poison in his ears and his bloodstream alike, Henry’s words grow truths inside Kas’s mind; the memory of Eddie Munson dying on his blade, the blood dripping down his fingers as he takes a bite of the man’s heart, and the prince’s screams in his ear at this ultimate betrayal, for that heart belonged to him. 

When he loses his grasp on consciousness, out of breath and out of his mind with pain, he wishes for the scaffold. He wishes for the Prince to take his life and settle the debt. Avenge his love. Avenge what Kas can only ever dream about. 

***

Gradually, over the span of only three days spent in either sensory deprivation or torture, Henry manages to drain the dredges of Eddie’s false identity and replace them with what really happened; replace them with Kas. With guilt, with shame, with a debt so severe it could never be paid back as long as Kas remains alive. 

He forgets about most of Henry’s visits, wakes up with new injuries and new memories, the reserves of water left for him tasting bitter and wrong, but he is always so desperate for it, he has not the luxury of choice. 

The Prince never comes. 

*** 

The third sun rises and finds Kas a broken man. 

They lead him out in chains and shackles, like he poses any risk of escaping. Like he doesn’t welcome what is about to come. Like he doesn’t— 

He… 

Kas falters in his steps the very second he lays eyes on the Prince, hand resting on the hilt of a broadword that looks to be expertly crafted. A sword has been made for your head, after all. He swallows, ignoring the guard that kicks him in the shin and punches him in the neck, telling him to move forward. 

His head aches the longer he watches the Prince, the world around him becoming hazy as guilt and shame wash over him, the feeling that this is right, this is what he deserves. And still, underneath it all, when Prince Steven meets his eyes, there is the nagging feeling that none of this is right at all. That the Prince should not be looking at him like that, should not be holding onto that sword, should not be his own executioner. 

It splits his head, but still he is helpless against the shackles, cannot struggle when the guards pull him along instead. 

The Prince says not a word until Kas the Betrayer kneels before him, and once again there is a wave of familiarity that comes from this action, but he cannot place it. Kas has never knelt for anyone, so it must be wrong. It must be instinct, the last desperate flare of a dying flame, leaving him disoriented, his head flooded with visions of how life could have been. 

The headache mingles with a new wave of fevered need to live, to rip apart these shackles and kill every guardsman and the King himself before he leaves the sandstone castle behind him once more. 

But there is also a strange sensation of calmness that tells him he is willing to let it happen like it must. He is willing to give this to the Prince and repent. He is willing to give it all up and give in to this. 

Kas the Betrayer is ready to die. He is too tired to alter the course of fate any longer. 

But then? Oh, a lone man’s willingness is not force strong enough to defy the will of Fate herself. 

Because when Prince Steven opens his mouth, all the bitterness leaves Eddie’s mouth, all the visions become unveiled at the sound of that voice that for decades now has held him through pain and pleasure alike, the voice that whispered promises of a future together of even just five minutes away from prying eyes. 

When Prince Steven opens his mouth, Kas becomes Eddie once more, coming to life again inside his own tired, exhausted, agonised head. 

“Any last wish?” 

For those to be the words that save him carries a strange sense of irony, and Eddie knows it’s too late. He knows the plan will commence. Maybe it’s for the better. Ten years he has suffered without his heart, ten years spent shunned and banished and labeled a traitor to all kingdoms simply because he dared to love his Prince more than his King. Ten years that have left him tired and worn out, without a purpose to his ways. 

And Steve, subjected to Henry and his alchemy, his poisons and potions, his bitterness that will turn your insides to flames. Steve, tortured and manipulated for ten years without Eddie there to protect him. 

Maybe it’s for the best that it should end now. That it should end like this. He has no strength left in his body, could not free himself or the Prince even if he were foolish enough to try. 

Still he finds himself relieved that he should die inside his own head this time. That small mercies and miracles alike will grant him this. Looking at Steve as he takes his last breaths.

So, does he have any last wish? 

“Yes,” he croaks, daring to look up into those once so beautiful eyes that hold no warmth anymore. 

Tell me what they did to you. A kiss from my Prince. Don’t turn this blade on yourself when this life has left my body. Believe me when I say this is a trap, and I am not who you think I am.

But he says none of that. Wishes for something else. Wishes not for himself.

He swallows, straightening his back. “I wish that you would… That you would just, just listen to me.” Fear overcomes him, and he knows these will be his last words.

The Prince inclines his head, intent at least on listening. Good. That’s good. 

Because now, for the first time in a decade, Eddie will utter these words to ears that will listen. Fear grips his heart, squeezing around it until it stops. And still he speaks. 

“I love you. And I forgive you.” 

tagging: @skiddit @inklessletter @aringofsalt @hellion-child @hotluncheddie @gutterflower77 @auroraplume @steddieonbigboy @n0-1-important @stevesjockstrap @brainvines @puppy-steve @madigoround @izzy2210 @itsall-taken @mangoinacan13 (i have a permanent tag list now, lmk if you want on or off 🤍 these are only the ones who commented on the post) (sorry the first tag should be so fucked up mwah)

note: i posted this last night but then wanted to double check with the lovely lovely mod of steddielovemonth (kith for you!) if this was okay to post, and she said yes, so fever dream round 2! sorry for the inconvenience, thank you for the patience! 🤍

[thelonelywhale]

Just draw your blorbo and have a good time. Life is short, fuck the haters, idgaf

[widevibratobitch]

actually im kinda happy with it lol probably because ive given up quite some time ago but yknow. its not that serious.

[platonic-qpr-selfshipping]

I sometimes have the urge to just put all my f/os in just one huge list of platonic f/os without having to specify anything else and live my life ksjksj

[cowcowwow]

COWCOW IN MY NOTES YAYYY HOWS IT GOIN?

STRAWBERRRRRR HIII HIHI

Goin alright!!!! I was raidin yer blog YIPPEEE

Just been vibin all mornin :3 yayayay

HOW ARE YE?? HOW ARE THE BLORBOS? <- said like how are the kids FGSVB

[hearteyesdiaz]

You ever see posts on your dash like "I hate the discourse about x in this fandom!!!!" and ur like.... oh was there discourse?

Because you're too busy just

vibin with your blorbos in the corner

[marthanielsn]

hello besties i’m catching up w a few tag games sorry to bother u with a lengthy post (lie since it’s all under the cut) 🥰🥰🥰

thank you bb @ojacksonscohen for tagging me, here is a list of five songs that have been on repeat 🎶 (i’m nor gonna cheat and actually check on spotify 🤭)

don’t blame me (taylor swift)

dream girl evil (florence + the machine)

the alcott (the national ft. taylor swift)

under the radar (foals)

maroon (taylor swift)

nobody is surprised 👀

ALSO !!!! while i’m at it lemme post some other things i have been tagged on ages ago, as i am a master procrastinator 👼👼👼

@pristina-nomine tagged me to answer some qs and post nine of my favourite films. not gonna make this image heavy so you’ll get a cute little list!!

— get to know me 💋

favourite colour: blue!!!

song stuck in my head: at the moment it’s ethel cain’s crush, but just because i’ve been listening to it on repeat this afternoon

last song i listened to: as above 🤠

three favourite foods: look i am a basic italian i’m just gonna mention pizza, pasta alla norma, arancini 🤭

last thing(s) i googled: ahdkdjdkd “download instagram photos hq” I AM SO SORRY I AM A WEAK WOMAN I NEED MY BLORBO’S PHOTOS IN MY GALLERY

dream trip: oh i have many but at the moment i am obsessed with chicago/philly/san francisco

— nine favourite films (v glad it’s not just four tbh)

obviously TWILIGHT (2008) dir. catherine hardwicke. can never ever get enough of it oops

in the mood for love (2000) dir. wong kar-wai. absolute masterpiece the longing the suffering i feel understood

stoker!!!!!!!! the 2013 film!!!!!! directed by park chan-wook!!!!!!!! mia wasikowska my beloved!!!!!!

ok this is gonna be weird but. shirley (2020) dir. josephine decker; idk why, me and her… we vibin’ 😘

bright star (2009) dir. jane campion. no need to say anything else ehehehe

the death and life of john f. donovan (2018) dir. xavier dolan, cos u never forget ur first

MARIE ANTOINETTE (2006) DIRECTED BY MY MOTHER SOFIA COPPOLA NUMBER ONE PERIOD DRAMA MOST ME MOVIE TO EVER EXIST

jane eyre (2011) my beloved ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

um……………… shrek……….

@villetteulogy had tagged me 700 years ago (real) to post my lock screen, last song and current reads! i’m in a silly goofy mood so let’s gooooo 💘💘💘

[safyresky]

If your Christmas prompts are still open, I wanna request #22. Holiday lights BUT! It has to involve Lucy in it. She is my girl :)

(25 Days of Christmas Prompts) (which yes, now that I got this one out I am STILL DOING! send them in if ur vibin!)

Lucy? LUCY? HELL YEAH. I stole ur blorbo too btws, I hope that's okay given the uh, joint custody. IT'S MY WEEK NOW (/jk). I just think he neat 🥺🥺. Also this is why this took so long. I was so nervous about the blorbo, then i went into OVERTHINK M O D E like 'oh god but now there's not enough LUCY?!?! It was an experience. But then I realized THREE THINGS: A) Jacqueline ships BlackIce SO HARD, B) so does Lucy in my head at least, and C) if there were any two people to bully Jack into letting someone help, it'd be Jacquie and Killian lmao. I HOPE I DID THE BLORBO JUSTICE. ENJOY!

Holiday Lights

"Are you sure you don't want me to call someone?" Lucy asked, frowning.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm positive! I've got it under control," Jack said, dangling from the eavestrough. "This is all part of the process!"

Lucy strongly disagreed.

It had been very nice for Jack to offer to help her put up lights at her new place. Really nice! It was just. He wasn't someone she'd have asked, personally. Her Dad would've helped! But he was very busy during the holiday season, which was totally fine. Lucy got it. Holidays made people come face to face with a lot of issues so, you know, therapy.

Uncle Scott would've been happy to help, too, but it was literally his busy season and she hadn't wanted to add more to his list.

Charlie was on a hiking trip with Danielle for the next two weeks, and even though he'd have been able to just snap his fingers and poof! Lucy's new place would be lit up (perks to being a Legate), the weather wasn't going to stay this mild forever (Jack had assured her that snow was coming). She was a HOMEOWNER now, and she was determined to make it look just as cozy for the holidays as everyone else did on her street, before everything got all icy and cold.

And unfortunately for her, Jack was determined to help. Mainly out of spite, since when he had offered Uncle Scott had scoffed and that had started a whole. THING.

Lucy huffed, an errant lock of hair floating up, then down. "I can see if any of the neighbours have a ladder!"

"I don't need a ladder," Jack insisted, swinging his legs back and forth. "I just need to get back on solid ground and it'll be fine."

"I don't think you should be swinging like that—"

A sharp, metal screech rang through the air. The section of gutter Jack was holding onto had bent forward mid-swing, pushing him farther away from the solid ground he needed.

"—because of that," Lucy said with a sigh.

"This is fine," Jack said, even though it was most decidedly not fine. He was even farther from the roof now, and the actual ground was. A little bit of a long way down. "This is exactly what I wanted to do."

"Yeah, no. I'm calling backup."

"Please, Luce. There's really no need! I just need to," he trailed off with a frown, looking down at the ground. "Ah. Right. No snow. Well, if I just..." he lifted a leg; the gutter groaned, sinking lower.

Lucy sighed, puling out her phone and scrolling through her contacts. "Unbelievable," she said, swiping right when she saw Jacqueline's contact on her recent list.

It rang twice before the younger, not-as-stubborn winter sprite picked up.

"Yellow!"

"Hi Jacquie!"

"Oh, hey Lucy! What's up?"

"You're brother's doing some dumb shit and refusing to let me help him not be dumb, can you—"

"Girl. You had me at dumb shit. I'll be right over! I'm just in line at Timmies."

"Timmies?"

"Yeah, you know. Timmy hoe's? Tim's? Tim Horton's? Canadian institution? I'm in Saskatchewan. Huge polar vortex on the go and I'm babysitting it. Want anything?"

"Oh! Tim Horton's! Can you get me that smoothie thing? The pink one?"

"Sure! Does Jack want anything?"

Lucy looked up at the Legend. She almost asked; almost. But then she remembered that his hands were otherwise occupied hanging off of her eavestrough, and decided that stubborn Legendary Figures who refused help to prove a point to a fellow Legend who wasn't even HERE didn't deserve mediocre treats from Canadian institutions.

"He's good," Lucy said. "See you soon?"

"Yep, see you soon, Luce. Hi there! could I please get—" the line clicked dead.

"You did NOT just call Jacqueline."

"I did!" Lucy shouted back up, chipper. "You're hanging off of the gutters on the second floor of my house, Jack! And you're being really persnickety about getting help, so who better to convince you than your younger sister? Younger sisters can be very convincing. I would know, I am one."

Jack groaned, throwing his head back. The eavestrough copied him.

A few errant snowflakes breezed by, Jacqueline turning the corner around the garage in her work clothes, slurping an icy, chocolatey looking drink, large aviators on her face. She stopped beside Lucy, passing her a pink smoothie and looking up at Jack with a snort.

"You didn't get me anything?" Jack shouted down.

"Lucy said you were good, and she had a point! Your hands look a little full right now," Jacqueline shouted back up with a shrug, Lucy laughing around her straw. "So anyway. What the fuck are you doing?" Jacqueline asked. "Lady above, I sure do love being in the human world," she added as an aside, Lucy laughing in response.

"My best! Which, need I remind you, Mom says is good enough!" Jack said, once more swinging himself back and forth.

"Are you sure that's wise?" Jacqueline asked.

"Well," Jack began, a bit gruffly. "There's no snow on the ground and my hands are a bit preoccupied right now. I can't quite hop down to the roof from here. If I keep doing this though, it should swing back enough for me to hop back onto the roof, and get that last corner."

"He sounds very sure of himself," Lucy said.

"That's the scary part," Jacqueline replied. She took another long, obnoxious, slurp. "I can just make a snow ramp for you! Or like, send you a wind!"

"I don't need help, Jacqueline!"

She slurped again. "Lady of the Springs, he is being stubborn."

"I know!" Lucy said, throwing her hands up, exasperated.

"How did he even end up. Well. Like THAT?"

Lucy sighed. "I don't have a ladder. He said he didn't need one and walked up the side of the house. He was trying to get that last corner, but we got rain overnight so it was all wet and yucky, so he froze it and—"

Jacqueline choked. "HE SLIPPED ON ICE?!?!?!?" She turned to the now very grumpy Jack, hanging away on the gutter. "YOU, JACK FUCKING FROST, SLIPPED ON ICE?! YOUR OWN ICE? THAT YOU MADE?!?!?!?"

"YOU ARE MY LEAST FAVOURITE SISTER," he shouted back, the eavestrough groaning.

"YOU KEEP TELLING YOURSELF THAT!"

"He needs help, Jacquie. And he's being so stubborn about it I called reinforcements. So what should we do?"

"He's being such a wooden spoon," Jacqueline scoffed in agreement. She slurped once more, sticking out a glowing hand. A steady stream of snow blasted forward, layering itself up and up and up, twisting and turning until it stopped just below Jack, glittering in the sun.

"JUST SLIDE DOWN IT!"

"I DON'T NEED OR WANT YOUR HELP, JACQUELINE," Jack shouted back. He kicked his foot forward. The ramp fractured. The fracture grew bigger, cracking all the way down, smaller cracks shooting out to the sides, fern like fractals spreading out from the little cracks. The main crack hit the bottom, and with a loud POOF, the snowy ramp dissipated into a rather large snow bank.

"What is WRONG WITH YOU?!" Jacqueline demanded.

"What part of I don't need or want your help did you NOT understand?!"

The eavestrough groaned once more, dipping down even farther. Jack's hands slipped down a bit; he grimaced.

"Jack you are HANGING from a GUTTER," Lucy said, hands on her hips. "I know you really wanna prove Uncle Scott wrong but don't you think this is a little much?"

"No," Jack said, the same time Jacqueline said "He definitely does not."

Lucy sighed, shaking her head. "We've gotta get him down from there. Being nice isn't working."

"I hate that Jack and Santa are trapped in like, this eternal pissing contest where they just have to one up each other every time," Jacqueline huffed.

"We've gotta like, one up the both of them. Or like, maybe try a different approach? We could embarrass him, maybe? Roast him? Annoy him until he accepts our help? Maybe even be mean?"

Jacqueline's face lit up. "I have an idea," she said. She leant in close, whispering into Lucy's ear.

The redhead's face lit up now, too. "Do it," she said.

"I don't like your tone," Jack said from the roof, trying to slowly climb his way up the eavestrough now. "What are you two doing?!"

"Oh, nothing!" Jacqueline said sweetly, pulling her phone out of her pouch pocket. She popped the pop socket out, twirling it between her fingers before unlocking the phone, and scrolling through her contacts. The metallic blue back of her phone sparkled in the sunlight, the reflection nearly blinding Jack.

"That doesn't look like nothing, Jacqueline!"

She slurped in response, scrolling through her phone until she found who she was looking for. She smirked, straw still in her mouth, and clicked call.

"Oh my god, Hi Kills! You would not BELIEVE what dumb shit Jack is doing," she said, walking away, as Jack felt the colour in his face drain as fast as the crap that had been caught in the gutter had sloshed on him when he grabbed it to keep from falling in the first place.

"She's not actually calling him, is she, Luce?"

"Sorry Jack, you forced our hands," Lucy said, shaking her head sadly and trying very hard to hold back a smile in favour of a more serious facade.

"You're not sorry at all," he said, somehow managing to succeed in sliding up the gutter more.

Lucy covered her laugh with her hand, Jacqueline joining her side once more. "I know I'm not," she sassed with a smirk, Lucy having to physically turn away to hide her laughter, busying herself with a very long pull of her smoothie.

"Of course you aren't," Jack said, flushing as he heard the familiar sound of someone stepping out of the shadows.

And sighing, annoyed, when this was followed by a very loud bout of laughter.

"Jack, you know, I'm all for your crazy shenanigans, but this one? You're gonna have to walk me through it," Killian, the Boogeyman himself, taunted, stopping beside Jacqueline, his hands in his pockets, an amused look on his face.

"Nice to see you too, Killian," Jack said, with a resolute sigh.

"Kills. It is so important to me that you ask me how he got there."

"Jacqueline, how on earth did he get there?" Killian asked, heavy on the sarcasm.

"HE SLIPPED ON ICE!"

Now all three of them were laughing. Jack was sure that if his face turned any redder, his hair would combust and turn to fire.

"The only thing that would make this funnier," Killian said, wiping away a tear, "Is if it was his own ice."

"Oh well I am about to MAKE your DAY—"

"JACQUELINE DO NOT—"

"IT WAS," Jacqueline shouted over Jack, with an absolutely FERAL grin.

The laughter started up again. Jack felt himself sliding back down, the little progress he had made reversing in an instant.

"Sure you still don't want any help?" Lucy asked.

"I'm sure he's fine," Killian said with a smirk. "It looks like he's just hanging out."

Lucy laughed; Jacqueline snorted. "That was bad."

"So bad it was good," Killian replied. "Seriously though, Jack. What is all this?"

"Santa doesn't think that I can put up Christmas lights," Jack began. "I'm merely proving him wrong."

"Wrong?" Killian asked. "That doesn't look," he held back a laugh. "Are you sure you know the meaning of the word?"

"He absolutely does not," Jacqueline said, giving her icy confection a stir.

"I do so!"

"Do not!"

"Do so! This is all going as planned—"

"It is not," Killian said. "How is this part of the plan, snowman?"

"You rat bastard, I'll have you know that I got a whole side of the house done! See? Look at them! They're sticking to the house better than the eavestrough is!"

"And where do you fall on that scale?" Killian asked, eyebrow raised.

Jack slid down the eaves some more.

"Better than the eaves, but worse than the lights," Jacqueline said thoughtfully, Lucy snorting.

Killian smirked. "I actually think the eaves are doing better than him."

Jack gasped indignantly.

Both girls were doubled over in laughter at this point; Jacqueline was leaning on Lucy's back, the young adult holding her knees as she wheezed.

"Oh, what would you know about eaves?" Jack snapped.

"More then you, apparently, since I wouldn't have grabbed them to stop a fall in the first place!"

"I'm not going to fall!"

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not! I told you, everything is under control—" the eaves bent even more, cutting Jack off.

"There's no way they can keep supporting you, especially with how close to the edge you are. Why are you being so stubborn?!" Killian demanded.

"BeCAUSE," Jack replied, "Scott was way jerkier than usual about it! He is not aging with grace and it shows."

"That's actually very true," Jacqueline said, Lucy nodding in agreement.

"See? Anyway, it's a matter of pride, Kills!"

"When isn't it with you?"

"I—okay fine, that's fair. You got me there," Jack conceded, Killian crossing his arms with a satisfied smile.

"If you're not gonna let any of us help, the least you can do is a flip on your way down," Kills said.

"That's so mean!"

"Let him have this, Jack!" Jacqueline said. "You broke the guy's heart! I think he deserves to see you flip on your way down!"

"Thank you, Jacqueline." Killian said, dryly. "That's very sweet in a very. You way."

"I try," she said with a shrug, her ponytail happily bouncing, any double meaning flying right over her head. Lucy rolled her eyes.

"You know, Scott's not even here! How would he know if you got help?"

"That whole, creepy, he sees you when you're sleeping? Knows when you're awake?"

"No he doesn't."

"Yes he does!"

"No, he doesn't!"

"Yes, he DOES!"

"Our powers don't work on each other, Jack! He can't see you!"

Jack blinked slowly, realization hitting. "Our powers don't work on other Legendary—oh, shit. You are so r—"

But before Jack could finish, the eavestrough finally gave out. With one last groan, it snapped, and Jack went flying.

Lucy gasped, stepping forward then stopping, unsure how to help. Jacqueline and Killian lunged forwards at the same time.

The snow bank beneath Jack swirled up, meeting him halfway and sliding him forwards. He flipped through the air, a pair of shadowy arms reaching out and grabbing him before he could hit the ground.

He landed, bridal style, right into Killian's arms. He blinked up at the man.

Killian blinked back.

Jack blushed.

Killian smirked.

"Sorry, you were going to say something?"

"No I wasn't."

"Yes you were. I think it was something about me being right?"

"That doesn't sound right."

"No you definitely were," Jacqueline said.

"And you were ALSO going to say that not asking for help is stupid and competing against Uncle Scott is stupid and that this whole thing you two do all the time is stupid," Lucy said, ticking each item off her fingers, Jacqueline nodding and slurping in agreement.

"Well how do I know you guys won't tell?" Jack said, crossing his arms in a huff (still being held by Killian).

"I'll make sure that Uncle Scott knows you did an amazing job with no help at all," Lucy said, sweetly. "I promise."

"I'm no snitch," Jacqueline said.

"That's a lie," Jack said.

"No it's not!" Jacqueline said, aghast.

"And if she does tattle," Killian said, turning his head almost completely around to face her, exorcism style. "I'll eat her toes."

"THAT doesn't work on me anymore," Jacqueline said. "You're not going to eat my toes."

"Yes he will," Jack said. "Fingers AND toes!"

"I don't believe that for a second, but I am very fond of those appendages so you have my word, I will NOT tattle, Sprite's honour, I swear. Please stop looking at me like that, Killian, it's making my neck hurt for you."

Satisfied with the sprite's promise, Killian turned back to Jack. "You'll let us help now?"

"Yeah, sure," Jack said.

"Good. I'm going to put you down now."

"And I was just getting comfortable," Jack replied.

Now it was his turn to blush. The boogeyman frowned, looking away and dropping Jack into the snow pile below him. The sprite landed with an oof, the snow poofing up around him.

Both Legendary figures completely missed the look Lucy and Jacqueline shared, and the subsequent fist bump of a job well done.

[alexis-royce]

R, Y, O, Q (STARES UNBLINKINGLY, ADMIRINGLY)

R - A pairing you ship that you don’t think anyone else ships

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSH. I will not explain further

Y - What are your secondhand fandoms (fandoms you aren’t in personally but are tangentially familiar with because your friends/people on your dash are in them)

I've never quite been able to get into 40K, but I really really like listening to Livebait talk about it, and seeing his models and cosplay.

I think that Tsush and I did initially play New Vegas because of you Lev, so that's one we've ended up fully adopting.

I've got a pal who is really into Fromsoft stuff and I like hearing them infodump about their ships; it's great hearing about petty little asshole people in the middle of all that grandiose majesty.

Watching the arcs of several musical acts and actors through Megan's reblogs is great; utterly wild to see her little blorbo actor Pedro Pascal become just the biggest star ever, whenever I see him I think "Oh that's Megan's funny little man"

I miss having the energy to follow a couple dozen webcomics, but I'm trying to be more clear-headed and aware of indie VNs in development, because I miss knowing about other folks' OCs. I'll never remember all the lore, but sometimes it feels like I can only remember the OCs of people who commission me frequently, and while that's nice, I hate that it's due to money and not just hanging out and vibin'. TmT

(Also special thanks to everyone who has said that Lupin is now their fandom-in-law because of Tsush and I, that's great, everyone should be vaguely aware of the monkey man, he lurks in the fabric of every anime and many cartoons)

O - Choose a song at random, which ship or character does it remind you of

Okay, opening my music folder, scrolling and clicking at random…

L.KSDFLKJSADFLKJSDAFKJLSDL;JFL;KSDAF

YES YES HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM I WONDER WHO THIS COULD BE

[3am-dumbassery]

My one brain cell thinking bout my scrunkly lil blorbos hanging out with me. Just vibin

[syn4k]

🐹, 100%. 🐰 when you're on stream cause of the environment of it all, but you're just so chill (in vibes, not in blorbo rants XD) and I know you so well it's just like. we're vibin'

thank you twelve we are not intimidated by you eother

[a-treatise-on-velociraptors]

Ediacaran biota: my little friends. my favorite little guys. blorbos from my proterozoic era. they were just vibin' out there, just chillin'. we don't know what the fuck they are but we know dickinsonia's a basal animal! makes me feel some kind of deep existential comfort about the constancy yet eternal changing nature of life Francevillian biota: dubious little lads. did they actually exist? idk. if they did what were they? idk. fills me with a deep-seated unease and existential dread about what in the goddamn was going on 2 billion years ago that was so thoroughly erased that multicellular life started over completely. idk they could be pyrite though

[starburstgalexies]

5wirl anon here :) i thought you were asking for prompts so i asked for idol au but headcanons are fine ^^ i want the idol au but i wouldnt mind hearing about the band au!!!

Anon I'm super flattered you want to hear my take on that, and I don't wanna discourage you or anyone else prompting me like this cuz I love brainstorming about blorbos! Unfortunately, I could not get myself interested in them being idols. The strike of inspiration that makes me turn an au I don't vibe with into something I MUST talk about simply didn't hit me.

Here are some semi-fun details that occurred to me about an idol au, like these would make sort of interesting dynamics for me to work with creatively if I somehow had to write it:

EDIT: I TRIED TO PUT READMORE HERE BUT IT DIDN'T WORK IM SORRY

- they are a polycule obviously

- in reality kpop industry is inhumane but this would be an idealized version where the artists have creative freedom and agency over their schedules, some hybrid culture between western bands and eastern record companies

- venti is super picky and wants to be grouped with not only the best of the best, but also with those who would inspire him. That's why his debut is so delayed even though his trainee videos are breaking records on YouTube

- aether agrees to tag along because he's canonically a yes man, and he will do his best even if he doesn't think it will work out. He's almost a prodigy in singing and dancing, and he is a natural charmer. Lumine teases him for 'trying to become an idol'. Aether is like pfft I'm just supporting my boyfriend until he can take off solo.

- spoiler: that will never happen. The band they eventually form will be solid, and Aether will be the face/center of it. Not to mention he's getting three more boyfriends out of it.

- xiao is an amazing dancer, but he's distant, he doesn't care to perform for public, and he will probably be a nightmare socially. He doesn't even seem to care about debuting. Why is he here.

- venti points 'i want that one'

- jean prods aether to speak sense

- aether is like 'yeah I want that one too'

- xiao is recruited through the power of art and homosexuality

- kazuha is originally just hanging around to be a songwriter. He sings to get something across, however, and venti snatches onto him and doesn't let go. Kazuha is vibin and bondin with aether so he's like okay let's see where this breeze leads me.

- heizou's audition was just a cover for an investigation. Meets aether who agrees to help him, falls head over heels for him, and actually signs the contract

- in such a band context though it's not just an aether centered web, they all eventually fall in love with each other

- that's it this is how i could see it happening

[traintrainingmontage]

SKARLOEY!!! He's just vibin'! He's everybody's cool uncle! He's survived world wars (plural)!! Absolute blorbo material.

It’s Grandpa

[maskyartist]

*slams in* guess whos ready to be annoying once again :D

i've had this hc ever since Augustus showed up in Psychonauts 1 and now that ive mulled it over in my brain for awhile im gonna say im right and never accept any criticism for it :)

I think Augustus has chronic migraines but ONLY because he's suppressed his Psychic abilities for so long and to such an extreme that he's essentially believed his whole life this is just A Thing that he Has.

and since Augustus has pushed down his Psychic abilities so hard and unintentionally makes his kids do the same, its possible Raz, Frazie, and maybe even Queepie get these migraines as well and just kinda assume "well Dad had em so I guess its genetic"

SO WHAT THIS MEANS!

is that when Raz runs away from home and starts actively using his Psychic powers, his headaches? gone. that slight pain hes always had in the back of his head? gone. the migraines he sometimes gets that just make him wanna pull his own brain out??? gone.

and Psychonauts 2 with the family using their Psychic powers more, THE OTHERS ARE EXPERIENCING THIS AS WELL! Queepie doesnt really get em as bad since hes super young n hasnt had to actively push down his abilities for that long, but hes havin a great time bein able to listen to his music without headaches. and Frazie is just enjoying life because man the one thing Pooter does right is find a way to get rid of her headaches.

but Augustus is, for the first time in his adult life, experiencing waking up every morning...without being in unreasonable amounts of pain. and having to wait for it to settle before he can get moving.

like he looks at Dona like "I don't have a migraine." and suddenly he can just stand in bright rooms or areas and be just okay.

cause listen the kids havent had em for long, but Augustus has had em since the astralathe/Maligula incident. he's just sorta assumed it's been a chronic thing he cant do anything about until he remembers shit n also gets his act together. he doesnt realize theres a connection between the headaches and the psychic powers.

...i have no other build up for this or anything i just fully believe there should be more painful consequences to suppressing your Psychic powers n that Augustus has sorta lived with the pain for so long he's managed to convince himself it has nothing to do with him being a psychic no of course not its just genetics