#the way it would jingle

[thejudeduarte]

Do you think Cardan would put bells on his tail

[little-elf-candycane]

A small post-it note appeared on her hat

Oh my gosh you are adorable!! Selfishly I kinda hope you don't leave after x-mas!!!! I'm the name is scribbled out dad not dad said your name is Candy, yeah?

- C.A

She gets really excited at the post-it note, then sees the writing and her smile falls. She takes a moment to read it and gets excited again

"Oh, uh thank you? Thank you! Uh can you hear me right now or am I talking to noone.."

She looks at the note again

"I mean I'd assume you can hear me cause you asked a question on the note..."

The look all around to see if they can see whoever left the message

[rocketbirdie]

How does Tifa feel about Cloud's changes? (Zack's too I guess but she only met Zack on the worst day of her life so...) Her and Cloud weren't exactly close before things went tits up but she did know him a bit better than most of Nebelheim barring his mom. I think it would be way more complicated than canon. He went from an almost pitiful antisocial to a scary one. Canon Cloud became a little intimidating, more just awkward and a bit cold, but not scary like this one. And yet, he seems to have found someone he cares more about than she's EVER seen before. (Again, barring mama Strife.)

His quiet awkwardness was kind of charming back when they were kids, but that's the innocence of childhood for ya... Nowadays his silence is disturbing. She still nurses an old crush on Cloud, still sees him as the boy next door, still wants him to be okay. She's less scared of Cloud himself, and more afraid of Zack's influence on Cloud.

Tifa's only memories of Zack are some of the worst memories of her life, and Cloud's scary behavior and poor health only serve to strengthen that association. Without the badly needed context of the hell they've endured, to her, it just looks like Zack took him under the wing when he "joined SOLDIER"... and that Cloud's condition is a direct result of Zack's "relationship" with him.

But Tifa keeps that all to herself of course. She'll get Cloud out of this somehow. She can protect him, she just needs a little more time to think, she tells herself...

[its-that-kattt]

“I’m going to deck your halls buddy”🎅🎄

[icewindandboringhorror]

Recent-ish things ~

[spaciebabie]

would you rather die and go to hell or become the grim reaper

KJSAFHLKJSDFKJAS???? HELP??? i would be the grim reaper b/c then i could see my friends in the afterlife :33 or however it works if i never see them again its okay too. as long as they're at peace and resting

[sowaran]

Hey y'all, new ramble just dropped.

The book of Bill is supposed to accommodate to whoever is reading it.

Have y'all thought what would be your version? What would be in it??

My brain is screaming to me to add more pages to my copy just bc of that.

What could possibly be added? I think it would be really fun if everybody just started to think of their copies with fanon original content in it or something idk.

People creating them pages... To trick themselves?.

It would be rad.

[misty-the-mysterious]

OH BTW I voted yesterday!!! So I think this means I got a good grade in American, which is both normal to want and possible to achieve!!

[starleska]

okay i love Jeronicus Jangle as a character: he has so many facets and it's a real delight getting to see a grieving, embittered old man rediscover his passion for inventing and love for his family again!!! but as a Gustafson fan, it still drives me nuts that Gustafson was clearly ignored for his own love of invention, and that left him susceptible to manipulation from Don Juan Diego. even after all these years, Jeronicus still couldn't get the name of his former apprentice's only invention right 💀 @shakespearefreak worded it far more eloquently than i can, but Jeronicus' thoughtlessness didn't start when Gustafson stole his inventions or when Joanne died. for seemingly no reason other than to revel in his own future, Jeronicus refused to give Gustafson the time of day for a small engineering issue which was causing him trouble. he does the same thing to Don Juan Diego: delighting only in him as a toy, as a product, and a symbol of his own genius. this is in spite of Diego's very understandable fears regarding his identity when he is mass-marketed 😭 i think the thing that's telling is that this issue was so difficult for Gustafson that it's still bothering him thirty years later:

we see how Gustafson obsesses and self-flagellates in tandem, trying desperately to work through the problem that's been plaguing him for years. even though he has all of those Toy Maker of the Year accolades, he still hates himself. it's clear he didn't steal the inventions just for the glory: it was to prove that he was as worthy an inventor as Jeronicus. even though it was after the death of Joanne, the way Jeronicus treats Edison and tests Journey after noticing her skills makes me wonder if his approach to mentorship was hands-off: if he preferred to give instructions and let Gustafson figure it out himself, even when he was struggling 💔

and really, what is Gustafson's 'Magic Man G' persona if not a rehashed version of the mystique surrounding Jeronicus' genius? if Jeronicus rarely gave him the time of day invention-wise, i could see Gustafson getting it in his head that invention is all about the 'magic': the showmanship, the energy. is it any wonder that he never bothered to pursue any original inventions if that's what he thought inventing was? especially when after all these years, the issue he had could be fixed with a simple part for his invention...he didn't need to struggle!! now i want to clarify: Gustafson is clearly the villain, as the choices he made were inexcusable!! but Jeronicus' self-absorption and ego are huge components to his fall from grace. the man turns away his own granddaughter and describes himself as 'the greatest inventor of all' in letters to his own estranged daughter 😭 i think this story isn't just about justice for Jeronicus' stolen work and his moving on from his grief. it's also him allowing someone else to be the genius for a change, and sharing his knowledge for the betterment of everyone 💖

[inkedmyths]

Well. Those sure are Fest results, huh.

...Anyways, anyone know if we have Frostyfest next month—

[match-your-steps]

unpopular opinion but I hate michael buble's christmas album. least favorite album ever in the world that I can think of. I would prefer objectively bad music, christmas or not, and I am not kidding or exaggerating, nor was that a hard choice to make

[starpros-sunshine]

wait what’s going on in the fine climax event ??

If only I could tell you

[captain-amadeus]

I promise to continue watching stf anyways

[springcatalyst]

!!

YES. thank you king let me don my court jester attire

So Milo. You may know him by the times I am insane about him in the tags of unrelated posts. I am now going to do that some more :)

Milo is a character who is just... so impossible. He is inherently conflicting. Everything he is, he is also the opposite. He is his own juxtaposition in nearly every aspect. This pervades fucking everything but I'm going to go more into one in particular: his thematic relationship to the moons.

I'm now realizing this makes me sound like an insane person. You gotta give me the benefit of the doubt.

One more thought before I get into that: Milo is actually most heavily associated with the sun. He's the Sun character, you know. Light and warmth and familiarity and family and safety. He is all of those things, particularly in how he is. Externally. He conjures all of these from the people he interacts with. But there's more to a person than what you see- there's some of that juxtaposition again.

The moons (two of them because it's fantasy how could i resist, even if there didn't have to be two for...lore purposes) have a certain amount of in-universe weight to them. They carry stories that are used however is most convenient for the one telling the story. Milo's problem, for a while, is who is telling the story.

Early on, the moons are... well they feel like a threat. They are eyes on him. They are mocking, soliciting, watching. Aware. Like a friend who's a bad influence trying to get you to do something you know will end poorly. Except he can't just say no and they know it. Hands in his and horns interlocked, they are constant in a way that feels far too visible, at a time when he revolves around remaining hidden.

But then this shift occurs. It takes place so slowly you couldn't tell as it happens, but that threat fades away. They are still constant and watching and knowing, but that eventually stops being as dangerous and starts being more of an understanding. Visibility is still a threat more often than not, but the unrest doesn't come from them, then. It's externalized.

This just means that the way HE thinks about the moons, and with it, the way they're referred to in the story*, undergoes this gradual change. He resents them, early on, turns away from them, doesn't meet their eye, hides from them. They're cruel and he despises their effect on him. And then eventually none of that is true. He no longer resents them, he appreciates their company, their ever-present hand. It never stops feeling like a secret, but he stops hating them, instead accepting their role and with it, his own. The way they are presented goes from being seeped in ugliness and resentment, to being seen with less bias. He looks at the moons, then, how you or I may. They're just moons. It's always a little bit more than that, but he finally can separate the fact from the stories, something he never could do before.

*I mean like. In The Story. Not the in-universe storytelling. lore. bullshit. Like straight up just Writing. Is this comprehensible.

[creepyclothdoll]

The Devil's Wheel

The Devil’s Wheel

“If you say yes,” said the Devil, “a single man, somewhere in the world, will be killed on the spot. But three million dollars is nothing to sneeze at, missus.”

“What’s the catch?” You squint at him suspiciously over the red-and-black striped carnival booth. You’re smarter than he thinks you are– a devil deal always has a catch, and you’re determined to catch him before he catches you. 

“Well, the catch is that you’ll know you did it. And I’ll know, too. And the big man upstairs’ll know, I ‘spose. But what’s the chariot of salvation without a little sin to grease the wheels? You can repent from your mansion balcony, looking out at your waterfront views, sipping a bellini in your eighties. But hey, it’s up to you– take my deal or leave it.”

The Devil lights a cigar without a match, taking an inhale, and blowing out a cloud of deep, sweet-smelling tobacco laced faintly with something that reminds you of rotten eggs. If he does have horns, they’re hidden under his lemon yellow carnival barker hat. He wears a clean pinstripe suit and a red bowtie. No cloven hooves, no big pointy fork, but you know he’s the Devil without having to be told. Though he did introduce himself.

He’s been perfectly polite. 

You know you need the money. He knows it too, or he wouldn’t have brought you here, to this strange dark room, whisking you away from your new house in the suburbs as fast as a wish. Now you’re in some sort of warehouse, where all the windows seem to be blacked out– or, maybe, they simply look out into pitch darkness, though it is the middle of the day. A single white spotlight shines down on the two of you. 

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” you say. “I bet the man is someone I know, right? My husband?”

“Could be,” the Devil says with a pointed grin. “That’s for the wheel to decide.”

He steps back and raises his black-gloved hand as the tarp flies off of the large veiled object behind him. The light of the carnival wheel nearly blinds you. Blinking lights line the sides. Jingling music blares over speakers you can’t see. The flickering sign above it reads:

THE DEVIL’S WHEEL

“Step right up and claim your fortune,” the Devil barks. “Spin the wheel and pay the price! Or leave now, and a man keeps his life.”

You examine the wheel. 

The gambling addict

The doting boyfriend

The escaped convict

The dog dad

The secretive sadist

“These are all the possible men I can kill?” You ask, thumbing the side of the wheel. It rolls smoothly in your hand. Then you quickly stop, realizing that this might constitute a spin under the Devil’s rules. He flashes a smile at you, watching you halt its motion. 

“Addicts, convicts, murderers– plenty of terrible options for you to land on, missus!”

“Serial wife murderer?”

“Now who would miss a fellow like that? I can guarantee that the whole world would be better off without him in it, and that’s a fact.”

The hard worker

The compulsive liar

The animal torturer

The widower

The desperate businessman

The failed musician

The beloved son

“My husband is on here too,” you say. 

“Your husband Dave, yes. The wheel has to be fair, otherwise there’s simply no stakes.”

“I know what’s gonna happen,” you say, crossing your arms. “This wheel is rigged. I’m gonna spin it around, and it’ll go through all the killers and stuff, and then it’s gonna land on my husband no matter what.”

“Why, I would never disgrace the wheel that way,” the Devil says, wounded. “I swear on my own mother’s grave– may she never escape it. In fact, take one free spin, just to test it out! This one’s on me, no death, no dollars.”

You cautiously reach up to the top of the wheel and feel its heaviness in your hand. The weight of hundreds of lives. But also, millions of dollars. You pull the wheel down and let it go.

Clackity-clackity-clackity-clackity

Round and round it goes. 

The college graduate

The hockey fan

The Eagle Scout

The cold older brother

The charming younger brother

The two-faced middle child

The perfectionist

The slob 

Your husband Dave

Clackity-clackity-clackity.

Finally, the wheel lands on a name. A title, really.

The photographer

“Hmm, tough, missus, but that’s the way of the wheel. But hey, look! Your husband is allllll the way over here,” he points with his cane to the very bottom of the wheel, all the way on the other side from where the arrow landed. “As you can see, it’s not rigged. The wheel truly is random.”

“So… there really isn’t another catch?” You ask. 

“Isn’t it enough for you to end a man’s life? You need a steeper price? If you’re really such a glutton for punishment, I’ll gladly re-negotiate the terms.”

“No, no… wait.” You examine the wheel, glancing between it and the Devil.

You really could use that three million dollars. Newly married, new house, you and your husband’s combined debt– those student loans really follow you around. He’s quite a bit older than you, and even he hasn’t paid them off yet, to the point where the whole time you were dating you watched him stress out about money. You had to have a small, budget wedding, and a small, budget honeymoon. Three million dollars could be big for the two of you. You could re-do your honeymoon and go somewhere nice, like Hawaii, instead of just taking two weeks in Atlantic City. You deserve it. 

Even so, do you really want to kill an innocent photographer? Or an innocent seasonal allergy sufferer? Or an innocent blogger? Just because you don’t know or love these people doesn’t mean that someone doesn’t. 

The cancer survivor

The bereaved

The applicant

Some of these were so vague. They could be anyone, honestly. Your neighbors, your father, your friends…

The newlywed

The ex-gifted kid

The uncle

The Badgers fan

“My husband is a Badgers fan,” you say.

“How lovely,” the Devil says. 

Then it hits you.

Of course.

The weightlifter.

The careful driver.

The manager.

The claustrophobe.

Your husband Dave lifts weights at the gym twice a month. You wouldn’t call him a pro, but he does it. He also drives like he’s got a bowl of hot soup in his lap all the time, because he’s afraid of being pulled over. He just got promoted to management at his company, and he takes the stairs to his seventh-story office because he hates how small and cramped the elevator is.

“I get your game,” you announce. “You thought you could get me, but I figured you out, jackass!” “Oh really? What is my game, pray tell?” The Devil responds, leaning against his cane.

“All these different titles– they’re all just different ways to describe the same guy. My husband isn’t one notch on the wheel, he’s every notch. No matter what I land on, Dave dies. I’m wise to your tricks!” 

The Devil cackles. 

“You’re a clever one, that’s for sure. I thought you’d never figure it out.”

“Thanks but no thanks, man,” you say with a triumphant smirk. “I’m no rube. No deal. Take me back home.”

“As you wish, missus,” the Devil says. He snaps his fingers, and you’re gone, back to your brand-new house with your new husband. “Don’t say I never tried to help anyone.”

[hydrobunny]

cheeks pink in the twinkling lights

tags: established relationship, fluff

a/n: saw the fem sae leak and immediately wrote this in half an hour

------------------------------------------------------------

“i think you would be pretty as a girl,” you murmur. 

sae itoshi’s eyes snap open, glaring up at you from where his head lays on your lap. “repeat that?” his tone is cold.

you meet his gaze, cocking your head innocently. “i think you would be pretty as a girl. with your bangs down, a little mascara on those lashes,” you hum, considerate. “probably a glittery lip gloss.”

he scoffs. “and you'd be fucking ugly as a guy.”

your jaw drops. “what the hell?” you slap his shoulder, wriggling. sae stays put. “get off of me. no way you just called me ugly.”

his only tenses his body further. “as a guy. clear difference.”

you halfheartedly push him again, somewhat offended still. “i think i would be hot as a guy, actually. all the girls would love me. but i would only come home to you, sae-chan,” you lilt the last words, laughter clear in your tone.

sae smoothly rolls off of you, disgust roiling off of him in waves. “you sound like sendou,” he mutters, standing. 

you blink up at him. “i sound- what? is sendou calling you sae-chan? do i have another striker to worry about? are you giving your number to this one too?”

sae shoots you another look. “if sendou called me that, he would be dead in the ground. no, he told me i would make a pretty girl once,” he pauses. “and you don’t need to worry about anyone.”

that possibly did not answer your question. “okay, that last bit was smooth. but- why is sendou thinking about what you look like as a girl?”

he rolls his eyes. “they went through my bag last match. found your makeup. which you should not be leaving in my shit.”

the words take you a second to comprehend. “and they thought you- you’re joking!” you gasp. “tell me you’re joking.”

sae’s face only darkens. “i don’t joke. fucking idiots, all of them.”

that only makes you start laughing, genuine tears pricking into your eyes. “oh my god. they think you wear lip gloss. sendou thinks you would-” you trail off, words dissolving into laughter.

he fixes you with another glare. “it’s not funny. and you’re not funny.”

you pause, studying his face. he raises an eyebrow.

“do you want to try?”

his face scrunches in confusion. “try what.”

“lip gloss,” you beam.

before he can reply, you're rummaging in the pocket of your jacket, ignoring the jingle of spare change in a matter of seconds, there is a shiny gloss in your hands.

sae glares at you in incredulity. “have you lost-” 

he stops, watching you apply the gloss liberally onto your lips instead. 

with a grin and a glint in your eye, your dramatically pucker your lips. “you know you want to.”

sae stares. and then he's stepping close, exasperation clear in his face. still, with the faintest of grumbles, he dutifully leans down, his lips meeting yours.

you've kissed hundreds of time. still, each one only seems to get sweeter.

the gloss is still sticky. he tastes like peppermint gum.

with a sigh, you break the kiss. sae’s eyes stay on yours, half-lidded and intense. 

you smile lazily, studying his face.

“you do look great with makeup.”