#then it kinda spiraled lol

[yvonneloveposting]

What if. Ikiles had a sister. Maybe she was his half sister or maybe not, either way she died in the revolution. Fast forward, years later Ikiles' revolution has succeeded and he's holding his sword to Callisto's throat. His reign ends here. As he stabs his sword through his throat, he turns around to see his sister standing behind him. Maybe it's a hallucination. Maybe it's not. But it's enough.

[soosoosoup]

snowzone

[bunnieswithknives]

Gore, Violence and Blood under the cut

What a mess

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

Randomly thinking about “tolerate it” (narrator voice: it was not random) and how under the cloak of fiction it is ostensibly inspired by works like “Rebecca” (which Taylor said she read during the 2020 lockdowns I believe?), with the line of “you’re so much older and wiser” indicating that the speaker is significantly younger and inexperienced compared to the person she’s speaking to and a pretty direct reference to the plot of the book.

But I saw something somewhere once that stuck with me about how it might not be referring to relative age between the characters but chronological age as in the passage of time in a relationship. And that made me think about how in a contemporary context, it might not necessarily be referencing an actual age gap between the two characters, but rather a sarcastic or cynical response to the man’s claims that he has matured (“you’re so much older and wiser [than you were before/than you were when we met/etc.]”), which then made me think about that line in relation to the woman. And that it could be taken like, “you act like you’ve matured so much in our time together and like you know everything, while I’m supposedly still stuck as the girl I was when we first met.”

Which then made me think of the “right where you left me” of it all and did you ever hear about the girl who got frozen time went on for everyone else she won’t know it and the bit in Miss Americana where she talks about how celebrities get frozen at the age at which they got famous, and how she’s had to play catch up in a lot of ways not just in her emotional growth but kind of in general. (Which also made me wonder if she’s ever been called out for immaturity/lack of curiosity/lack of education about things in her life���)

Which then made me think about the rest of the song, and @taylortruther’s posts yesterday about “seven” and “Daylight” and the way Taylor idealizes her youth yet contrasts it with an almost sinister reality in its wake, and the line, “I sit by the door like I’m just a kid,” because the discussion raised that her relationship let her recapture some of the childlike joy and wonder she’d lost. So this line is a double-edged sword: the speaker sits by the door with childlike hope that the person will come home and cherish her, but on the darker side, feels like the child dealing with the monsters she doesn’t have names for yet and the feelings of isolation she felt as she aged.

I’m not saying the song is necessarily autobiographical; like most of the songs on folkmore, it’s clearly a fictionalized story based on media she’d consumed and created, but we know a lot of the fictional songs were infused with her own feelings and experiences and… This idea swirling in my head picked up steam and now I kind of can’t stop thinking about it. Sorry but I’m a little obsessed now.

Like maybe it might start to shed light on why she identified so strongly with the novel in the first place…

[dreamsaflame]

Mouthwashing is so prescient on discourse about inaction. So many people asking why Curly brushed aside Anya's fears and remained lenient with Jimmy. So many people asking why Swansea didn't immediately take action after the private convo in the cockpit.

And now, in real time, you can see people trying to defend both men. And I don't think this is done out of malice, or any intention to downplay the horror of Anya's situation. I think it's pretty human nature to want a better world, to want to soften the blow. There's so much we don't know (the timeline, the details of the convo, the actual nature of Curly's friendship with Jimmy, etc etc ad nauseam), so there is space to hope for a gentler moment, even if we all know the aftermath is unbearable and impact is imminent. We still want to believe things could be different, that things could be better. It doesn't change anything, but still. But still.

Maybe Anya had still held on to a little bit of hope, futile though it would have been. Maybe she didn't feel completely isolated the entire time. She was failed by both Curly and Swansea in every way that matters, but maybe she could have sat by them and not feel like her world had fully imploded. Maybe there were moments where the world allowed her to breathe.

Maybe Curly didn't know. Maybe he did try to keep Jimmy away from Anya. Maybe he was doing what he could, despite his desire to see the best in people (Jimmy). Maybe there wasn't enough time for him to even do anything. Maybe Swansea tried to step up afterwards. We don't know. We only see through the eyes of one man who only wanted to see the good in the world, and then through the eyes of one man who only saw himself.

And the game's prescience even about the end––wishing doesn't change anything. Anya dies putting away her conviction that your worst moments don't define you, that they don't make of you a monster. Daisuke dies having helped no one with his hope and sacrifice. Swansea dies filled with regret, having done nothing, protected no one. Curly watches till the end as his freeze reaction ensures he stays frozen, unable to act, to help.

Even Jimmy, wishing he was better, that he was a hero––and in the end, even Polle turns away from him.

[satsuha]

valerio for 60min challenge

[glacier-shrimp]

Done with our favorite Spider-Boy! Spiderling? Spider... What was his name again?

Avengers paper cutout 6/?

[the-last-quest]

While Nine isn’t the same as Tails something they have in common is their love for mint.

But like most things their experiences with it were very different.

[2152 words]

Tucked away in an alley a small kit winced as he tried to hide himself away from the glaring eyes and harsh fists that the city was filled with. He had already had an unpleasant encounter earlier in the day, and while not being the worst he’d experienced he was still left with a throbbing ankle and the taste of blood in his mouth.

His ears perked up as he heard faint footsteps heading towards the alley. He pressed himself against the wall as much as he could, eyes squeezed shut. He tried to quiet his breathing but as the footsteps drew nearer it picked up as his thoughts began to race. ‘What if the same cat from earlier came back for more? What if he doesn't stop after a few hits this time? What if he brought others to help him? What if-’

“Are you alright dear?” A female voice cut through his spiraling thoughts.

He waited for a moment before opening his eyes to look at the owner of the voice, an older red cat lady who seemed to be concerned for him. He didn’t answer her, knowing she hadn't noticed why he was in this state. He knew he needed to be ready for when she did, for when her kindness would turn to attacks that he was far too used to. He watched as her eyes scanned over his small frame, the exact moment she noticed obvious to the fox as her face changed from a look of concern to one of disgust.

He flinched at the change of expression and curled into himself, eyes screwed shut again, he didn’t think that she would hurt him, but one can never be too trusting in this city. Anticipating an incoming impact he didn’t see what the lady was doing. He was about to look up again when something came flying towards him, just barely missing. He braced himself for more, but none came. The only thing he heard was the sounds of footsteps fading away,

Only after the sound had long faded into the distance did the kit open his eyes again. He peeked out of the alley looking both ways down the road. It was empty now as it was getting later, less people venturing out of their homes. As he returned to the safety of the alley something on the floor caught his eye.

It looked to be a candy of some sort. He picked up the candy and held onto it as he dragged himself to the end of the alley, ignoring the shooting pain that came from his ankle. Despite it being late he didn’t want to have an interaction like that again. In the safety of the back of the alley he sat against the wall ready to settle in for the night.

He opened his paw to examine the candy the lady had thrown at him. He had never seen anything like it before. It was a remnant of before the chaos council took over, the small treat lacking any of the council’s usual obnoxious packaging, instead wrapped in a thin clear plastic, the green and white swirl intrigued him. He wondered if he could trust the candy. The cat didn’t seem to have malicious intent, leaving the fox to his own devices for the most part, but she obviously didn’t care for him. As he stared at the candy in his paw, pondering whether or not he should eat it his stomach let out a low rumble. He bit his lip, the candy wouldn’t help his hunger much, but at the moment he would take anything he could get.

With shaking fingers he cautiously unwrapped the plastic wrapper. Taking the candy up to his nose he took a small sniff of it.

He coughed, not expecting how strong it was. The scent made its way through his nostrils down to his mouth, the flavor ghosting in his mouth. It gave his mind something else to focus on. It distracted him from the taste of copper in his mouth, even with just the faint flavor from the scent.

‘This could be useful in the future.’ He thought while he lowered the candy to look over it again. The attack from today wasn’t that bad compared to others he had in the past, and he’s certain he’d have worse ones in the future. It would be a good idea to hold on to the candy for later, to have a distraction. He grabbed the plastic to wrap the candy up when his stomach growled again.

His eyes glanced from his stomach to the candy. ‘It won’t do anything, save it for later.’ The rational part of his mind told him. ‘Save it for later, it'll be more useful then.’ But that didn’t take away the situation he was in right now. He was hurt, hungry and tired and tucked away in a cold alley in the city and right now that small candy, while not being able to fix any of that, could take his mind off of it.

He popped the candy into his mouth.

Just like when he smelled it the taste overwhelmed his senses. He never had something that strong before and in this moment that was all he needed. As he got used to the flavor he leaned his head back onto the metal walls of the city. Right now he didn’t care about the state he was in, he just focused on the flavor hanging in his mouth. He focused on it instead of the throbbing pain coming from his ankle. He focused on it instead of the difficulty he had breathing. He focused on it instead of the ever growing emptiness of his stomach.

On the streets of New Yoke the fox focused on the flavor of the candy for as long as he could.

——————————-

Many things had happened after that night in the alley.

The young fox grew older and more tired of the attacks he endured in the city. He built himself mechanical tails to protect him, along with giving himself a name.

He distanced himself from others in the city, none of them cared for him so why should he care for them. He grew cold as he focused on surviving.

Then a blue hedgehog had broken into his bunker and turned his life upside down.

He learned many things from the hedgehog. He learned of friendship and care. Of hope and heartbreak.

After everything he was left in a state worse than before. In a castle that represented his rage as he lashed out against the shatterverse, with no long term hope to survive, and with a corner that he couldn’t bear to look at.

As he stood and looked at the green portal in the distance he decided this wasn’t going to be the end of the story.

——————————-

It was nighttime in Green Hill. A large moon casted its light onto two figures walking along the grass.

Sonic and Nine moved in silence. The hedgehog had just found the fox in the cave where the prism had lied. It was a rough reunion with neither of them expecting it, but each of them having something they needed to say to the other. With emotions running high and both of them becoming exhausted it had been cut short when Sonic had offered Nine to stay for the night, for both of them to get rest and clear their mind so they wouldn’t run themselves dry. Nine was hesitant until the hedgehog had mentioned that Tails wasn’t going to be in their shared home for the day so they could deal with one thing at a time.

The two reached the house that Sonic and Tails shared. Sonic opened the door and held it open for Nine with a weak smile. Nine didn’t return the smile, but the small nod he gave as he walked through the door made the hedgehog’s smile grow just a little.

As Nine walked in and waited for Sonic to lock the door behind them his eyes were drawn to a small bowl of candies on a table next to the door. They were the same candies that the lady had given to him years and years ago, a candy that he never thought he would have again.

Sonic must have noticed him looking at the bowl as he let out a quiet amused chuckle. “Those are Tails’ mints. He has them out in case he’s had a bad day and needs one as soon as he gets home.” A fond smile formed on his face as he thought of the fox so different yet so similar to the one in front of him. “You can take one if you want.” He offered. Nine thought it was some sort of olive branch to release the tension the two had between them. He glanced at the hedgehog and back to the bowl of candies and decided to take one, as long as it made Sonic happy.

There was another silence between the two, much lighter and much shorter than before as Sonic spoke up again.

“Come on, room’s this way.” He said with a gesture to follow him.

Nine followed Sonic as he brought him further into the house. When they reached a hallway Sonic stopped at the first door and pushed it open for Nine silently.

As Nine stepped into the room he looked over the interior. It was simple, being an obviously very underused guest room, the only furniture being a bed and a side table and a lamp. It had very minimal decoration and looked like it had been untouched since the bed was brought in.

Sonic sheepishly scratched the back of his head, “It’s nothing much but-“

“Thank you” Nine interrupted with a small murmur, looking up at Sonic, a light ghosting on his face. While the room wasn’t much to look at it was still better than any of the ones he had back in the city. Even with all his decorations it couldn’t hide the cold metal that made up the space. This room, even while being barren, gave Nine a sense of comfort that he had never had in his one space.

Sonic returned the smile and placed his hand on Nine’s shoulder giving it a small squeeze. “Get some sleep okay kid? I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

Sonic exited the room, closing the door with a soft click behind him.

Nine rubbed his hand down his face wearily as he made his way to the bed and plopped himself onto it. He opened up his other hand which contained the ‘mint’ as Sonic had called it. The green and white swirl taunted him as his mind raced with thoughts

In the back of his mind he cursed at having another similarity to Tails. Another part cursed about his counterpart having easier access to the candy if the bowl full of them was anything to go by while he had only had the treat once in his life.

And yet another quieter part of him reminded him of why he liked the candy so much, of how he got his first taste. If the two were really that similar could Tails have been introduced to it in the same situation? Could it be a comfort for the other fox as well?

Letting his thoughts fade away, Nine unwrapped the mint. Holding it in between his fingers he brought it up to his nose and took a sniff of it.

The scent had a similar effect as the first time, traveling up his nose and into his mouth, the flavor bringing him comfort as it had so long ago. Along with the comfort the scent brought back memories of a time he longed to forget. Being hurt and alone, with the only comfort being an act of pity that didn’t even last.

But right now he wasn’t alone. Past the door he could still hear soft footfalls that belonged to a certain blue hedgehog. A hedgehog who had cared for him since they first met. Even when he realized that Nine was different than he initially thought it didn’t waver. Even after showing him the ugliest sides of himself and nearly destroying everything the hedgehog had ever loved, he opened his door for the fox to stay in.

The rational part of his brain told him he didn’t need the mint. He was safe right now and should save it for when he really needed it. Just as he did before he didn’t listen to it. Sure he was safe right now he didn't need the mint, but he wanted it. Plus they weren’t in short supply either so he didn’t have to hold onto it forever.

Nine popped the mint in his mouth.

It tasted exactly like he remembered it.

[dittolicous]

"anti-zosans just dont get it! the appeal IS that they hate each other!"

me, a zosan shipper:

[cryptid-moose]

Some Shawn doodles feat. Gus

[smilesrobotlover]

This is the last of the Kori doodles for today I swear

[arolesbianism]

Welcome to the “they’re just like me fr (derogatory)” club featuring no color because I would rather die than draw Sif with color

[insufferablemod]

.

[sersfandomthings]

the sun is already long gone

referenced from the sumeru trailer!! click for better quality (but actually pls don't it'll just make the mistakes more obvious)

[daigina-3]

Eddie always wanted out of Hawkins.

Chicago is cold in the winter. It has the unpredictability of Indiana but the severity of the tundra. The Windy City winds whip his hair and cut his cheeks- just walking down the street to the coffee shop he frequents makes his nose go numb, no matter how far he pulls his scarf up or how tight he has his leather jacket zipped up with two flannels buttoned up under it for insulation.

(He didn’t have the money for a winter coat before moving and he sure as hell doesn’t have the money *now*)

The coffee shop is warm, a quiet hum of people who braved the December winds for a good cup of Joe and a comfy worn out leather chair to sink into. He stands in line and thinks that Gareth would like it here- he loves quiet places. That Robin would love the music they play and the quirky mismatched mugs they serve coffee in. That Steve would hate their coffee because he hates coffee but would love their hot cocoa.

They’re all about 200 miles away- some even more than that, now. He looks at the group of girls studying and giggling, the couple by the window, the other couple at the center tables.

He’s only ever been here alone.

Eddie sinks into his own chair in the back, letting his hot coffee cup bring the feeling back into his fingers- only then does he unwind his scarf and unzip his jacket.

He spends the day like he does every Saturday- scribbling in his little notebook of lyrics- trying to come up with words but mostly just doodling little dragons that look more like geckos. For the first half hour or so he can feel the little glow of mild accomplishment in his chest- he did *something.* Got out of bed, got dressed, went down the street. Now he’s really working on what he loves- his music.

He gives it two hours of nothing, nothing, nothing- not even stupid little gecko-dragons, each doodle ending up a scribble- before he throws it in and heads back down the street to his shoe box apartment, scarf and jacket back on.

He doesn’t leave the apartment the rest of the day. He makes cheap ham and cheese sandwiches and thinks about how Saturday used to be band practice day- how he’d drive to Jeff’s parents’ house and they’d play in the garage until the neighbors complained. Then they’d go to the Quarry and drink, playing rock, paper, scissors to see who’d be the designated driver. Gareth lost more often than not- dumbass had a penchant for choosing scissors and didn’t realize it.

He washes the sandwiches down with one- or two- too many beers.

Sunday is laying around, the TV on but nothing to watch. He could be going out and exploring the city, frequenting all the bars in all the scenes that didn’t exist in Hawkins.

He never changes out of his flannel PJs.

He stares at the junky rotary phone he got from a thrift shop- sitting on the floor of his living room because he didn’t have money for a side table. Couch, bed, little kitchen table and chair. That was about it.

He stares at that little phone from the couch, his face squished against the cushions as he lies stomach-down.

He bought it two months ago, with the rest of his furniture. He hasn’t used it once.

He keeps telling himself- when he’s settled. When he’s done something worth talking about. When, when, when. Thats’s when he’ll use it.

Or maybe never. He struggles to find a point. It’s been long enough to realize no one really needs him. He thinks about every face pulled his way, every awkward silence, every time he was too much and pretended nothing could touch him.

He buries his face back in the cushion. He can feel every single moment wash over him like a blanket- none totally clear but every one adding to the heavy fog weighing him down.

Sighs. Goes back to sleep at 3 PM.

He wakes up heavier, grimier, mouth tasting like dirt.

The clock on the floor next to his unused rotary phone reads 8:53PM in big angry red numbers.

He has work in eleven hours. Has to be awake in ten. Maybe nine if he wants to eat something before leaving.

He forces himself to go back to sleep because, really, he can’t think of anything else worth doing.

The clock reads 11:22 PM when he opens his eyes again.

He only tells himself the truth late at night.

That he made a mistake. That he’s been in his apartment for just over two months, in Chicago for three and he thought leaving Hawkins was the answer to everything but really Eddie still has almost all of his old problems- only this time he has them alone.

He called a few times from pay phones, in his early weeks. When he was sleeping in his van and just barely landed a job busting tables and had dug up enough spare quarters.

Gareth didn’t pick up. Eddie tried his house twice and slammed the phone down when he got nothing the second time.

Wayne was glad to hear from him, make sure he was alive. And Eddie missed him but Wayne wasn’t one for conversation. He was more of a daily comfort- it was hard to feel him from so far away, when Eddie couldn’t sit with him in silence watching Jeopardy or eating mac n cheese. They talked for about three minutes before Wayne went silent, nothing much to say.

Robin’s mom answered and said she finally left for study abroad- Eddie cursed because he totally forgot, had no number to leave her mom to pass on.

Jeff answered and Gareth was at his house with him- which was a weird pit-in-the stomach feeling for Eddie, but he wouldn’t admit it. They started their mom-and-dad style bickering, laughing about something he wasn’t in the room for when the pit got a little too heavy and Eddie made an excuse to hang up early.

Dustin picked up and then immediately had to hang up on him because Susie was calling.

He pocketed the rest of his quarters and didn’t try again.

He reads from 12AM to 1AM but he doesn’t really read- he skims and skips and goes back because he doesn’t understand what just happened about ten times before he admits that he isn’t paying attention.

The phone is bright red, which seemed better than the faded mint green or bright orange in the shop at the time but Eddie hates how he feels like he can always see that stupid bright red old-ass rotary phone on the floor. It’s always in the corner of his eye, in his peripheral vision, like a god damn ghost.

He doesn’t go back to sleep before he goes in to work.

The next weekend he goes out. He takes the van down to a bar that plays his kind of music and has his kind of people- he doesn’t wear the handkerchief he was so bold to wear in Hawkins, not where people could actually expect things from him. He only ever wore it in Hawkins because it was like playing chicken with the bigots, not because he really knew the ins and outs of its meaning. How close could he come before they clocked him? Would it be the handkerchief that got him done in or did he have to fully sequin his fucking battle vest?

He leaves it in the van and nurses a rum and coke while guys in leather and cropped Judas Priest shirts press up against each other.

At the Hideout he was loud- laughed big, noogied Jeff and played his guitar without any concern for the ear drums of the four drunk guys in the corner who only put up with their dumb band because the Hideout had the cheapest whiskey in town. Eddie then had dreamed of places like this.

Eddie now just has a headache.

(And a heart ache.)

No one approaches Eddie and when someone finally does- a young guy with a goatee and hair longer than his- Eddie smiles nervously and says “sorry, I’m on my way out.” The guy just nods as he goes.

In the van he slumps against the wheel. Thinks about how he could have a warm body pressed against his right now- about how that guy wasn’t what he wanted but maybe he’d do for now and then feels desperate and pathetic and kind of like a prick for thinking it.

He thinks about a battle vest stained with blood on someone who had never worn one before.

He thinks about the girl that someone wanted.

He drives home.

The stupid god damn fucking red phone is there, loud as ever from its silent place on the floor.

Eddie always wanted to leave Hawkins. He always, only ever wanted to leave Hawkins and now Hawkins was following him everywhere, taunting him with the fact that there wouldn’t be anyone on the other end of the phone to pick the fuck up.

Who would want to?

That’s not true, the littlest bit of his brain argues. Wayne is probably worried sick.

Yeah, some fucking nephew (son) he is. Disappearing and calling, like, once. Wayne probably thought he was dead. Wayne probably was worried sick. Wayne probably was the last person to care and every day he didn’t call made it more difficult to try because what a fucking failure. Maybe it would have been better if he’d died in that hospital, or in the upside down, or in his trailer with his eyes being crushed and his limbs snapped instead of Chrissy fucking Cunningham who deserved to be the one alive.

The phone rings.

It rings and Eddie jumps out of his skin because how the fuck is that possible?

He stares it down, watching the plastic vibrate with the force of it.

Ring, riiiing.

He’s never heard the ring before. It’s loud, harsh.

Ring, riiiing. Ring, riiiiing.

It goes on forever, and then stops.

Probably a crank call-

Ring, riiiiing.

Fuck. Eddie sniffles once, ignoring that he was on the verge of more than sniffling, more than red eyes.

(He hates crying. Does it too much.)

Ring , riiiiiiiing.

“Alright, aright, Jesus H. Christ,” he mumbles and for the first time Eddie picks up the phone.

“…hello?”

“Eddie? Eddie is that you?”

Eddie’s chest collapses. His heart gives out. Or maybe his lungs stop. All of it at once.

“S-“ he chokes on air. “Steve?”

“I- yeah. Oh my god I can’t believe this worked! I was visiting Wayne and asked about you and he mentioned that restaurant you’re working at so I called them and they gave me your number! Well, I had to call a couple times cause it’s not technically legal to give out employee info- but that one manager really doesn’t seem to care, so.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything for a long time. And when Steve calls his name again, wonders aloud if the connection is okay, he croaks out, “I’m. I’m here.”

“Oh good-“ Steve laughs, a little nervously. It’s short, clipped, but good natured. He talks- asks Eddie about his job and his apartment and when Eddie is too tired to pretend he’s anything other than exhausted, at his ropes’ end, not there enough to be *Eddie*- Steve doesn’t question it. He gives an easy “hey, thats’s cool man” and fills the silence.

He tells Eddie all about Robin- practically forces him to take down her new number. Updates him on an new mug Wayne bought, he saw him opening it when he got the info on Eddie last. How Dustin’s building some thing for a teen genius competition and Will’s running a game for Hellfire that Steve has caught the end of a few times when he goes to pick the kids up (he mixes up technical phrases and Eddie laughs when he calls Dungeon Masters “Story Telling Guys”).

“I was thinking,” Steve says. “And I mean you can say no-“ as if Eddie would ever say no to him. “I was wondering if it’s okay to visit? I’m going to be up your way next month for a thing, so.. I could stop by. See the new pad.”

The new *pad.* Dork.

“You know, I’m really glad I called. We’ve all been going crazy without you here to drive us crazy,” Steve laughs at his own non-joke. Eddie knows Steve can’t see him repressing a goofy smile but he does it all the same. Stupid joke. Not funny.

(But he gives up and smiles anyway.)

“I’m glad, too,” Eddie says.

It’s just past eleven when Eddie picks up the phone and just past three when he puts it back on the receiver.

With a plan for Steve to come visit for New Years- with some of the kids if the parents give their nod and Steve doesn’t kill then on the ride up- and a promise to call the very next day.

Eddie pulls the phone away from the wall and as close to the couch as the chord will stretch. He thinks about tomorrow and the call and New Years. He falls asleep and dreams of kind boys in battle vests and Hawkins coming right back to him.

[mwagneto]

unfortunately for everyone involved im hitting the exact right combination of summer melancholy + extreme mental illness spiral + late july/august + insomnia that makes me rewatch shadowhunters. sorry in advance