#this took forever lmao

[gxldencity]

Maybe we'll have better luck with our next weapon of incomprehensible destruction.

[marsmarbles]

I hope you guys don’t mind more writing ‘cause I want to do it more often. This was meant to be a request for Gem and Skizz interacting, but I accidentally posted my work in progress instead of saving it as a draft lol. So uhhh sorry. Imma try something new and sprinkle in some art to go along with the story(since I’m assuming you guys wanna see that more than writing)

What Makes Me So Special?

Word count: 900

It was late morning when Skizz entered the detective’s base living room looking down in the dumps. Gem was sitting on the couch to Skizz’s left, which was more of a wooden bench. There wasn’t a lot of options for furniture. It was either a rock couch or a wooden couch, and Skizz knew Grian and Gem wouldn’t let a rock couch in their living room slide.

Gem was wiping down her brand new diamond sword with a white cloth(which won’t ever be white again, probably), which she had just taken for a test drive overnight. It was stained with monster guts and dark, almost brownish purple zombie blood. It was truly disgusting, but Gem seemed unbothered, letting it seep into her long, pleated skirt as she held her cyan blade on her lap.

Gem didn’t even have to look up to examine Skizz’s expression, she knew something was wrong. No way in the whole Minecraft multiverse would Skizz walk into a room without so much as a hi.

Skizz plopped down next to her on the couch with a long winded sigh and a grunt as his bottom made impact with the thick wood of the couch. He continued to sigh and readjust his sitting position like he had forgotten how to sit correctly, bobbing his eyes back in forth, trying to catch Gem’s eye. He wanted to talk about something that was bothering him, but for some reason he wanted Gem to strike up the conversation. Then, he began whistling, which could be seen as a death sentence. As skilled as a fighter Gem was, she’s wasn’t afraid to give her friends a good whack if they annoyed her.

Instead, Gem compacted herself like a shrimp to put her face closer to her sword, pointlessly scrubbing more violently in one spot, which was very much clean by now. Her eye twitched in annoyance to the sound of Skizz’s airy, ear piercing whistle. Don’t get her wrong, she loved Skizz, but she had just pulled an all nighter fighting monsters and really didn’t have the energy to deal with anyone right now. She had the eye bags and unkept hair to show for it.

After tolerating Skizz for a good long while(and being on the verge of stabbing him), Gem finally gave in. “What’s wrong, Skizz?” Gem groaned.

“GEMSTONE!!” Skizz shouted a little too loud. He had been holding in his words for what felt like forever. He most definitely looked constipated. “Y’know how I really like Impulse??”

“Yeah…?” Gem replied, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘and?’. What was new? She’s heard this story a bagillion times. Skizz really likes Impulse. Skizz pretty much told her every second of every day. Or at least he’s brought it up enough for Gem to give up on counting.

“Well….” Skizz hesitated. He actually seemed serious for once. Or was it sad? Maybe it was the tone in his voice. “I guess I feel kinda lame ‘round him, y’know. He’s just so smart and cool and I genuinely love to be around the guy. He’s special y’know….Special to me…..I just don’t feel special….I can’t build a house without it looking ugly. I can’t make a red stone thingy-ma-jig and have it work. And I can’t even fight good. I can’t even muster up the courage to tell him how I feel about him…” Skizz took a shaky breath. He sniffled, tilted his head up, and blinked a lot, trying to suck back the tears attempting to escape his eyes.

He continued. “How can I possibly believe that he loves me too…..what makes me so special?…..I guess….I’m just scared he’s faking cuz he pities me.” He huffed and gripped his pant legs, trying to fight back the tears. It would usually kill a ‘real’ man to be this open.

“Skizz….” Gem’s expression shifted to concern. Now she felt horrible for trying to ignore him. No wonder Skizz was so abnormally hesitant to speak with her, he was trying to talk about feelings of inadequacy. She stared at the floor in contemplation, then drew a long breath, readying her advice. “Well, if I know Impulse(which I do) he loves you just as much.” Gem gave Skizz a small but comforting smile. “And if I know Impulse(which, again, I do) he thinks you’re special….very special.” Gem gave Skizz a nudge in the shoulder.

“But how do you know-“ Skizz attempted to retort.

“Impulse is smart, right?” Gem finished.

Skizz felt his face heat up. His halo, which floated just above his head, began to rotate slowly. He broke eye contact with Gem out of embarrassment, who continued to smile at him.

Gem shoved Skizz off the wooden couch bench, trying to break the awkward silence. “NOW GO GET THAT MAN! He’s waiting for you, Skizz! I assure you !” She projected reassuringly. Skizz was just able to catch himself. “Uhhh- YEAH!!” Skizz shuffled out of his awkward landing position and struck a triumphant pose. He turned back to Gem. “Thanks, Gemstone!! This little chat really helped me out! And it was kinda neat to let my feelings out. Imma go find Impulse!!! Seeya!!” Skizz ran off and out the door with his confidence restored. Gem let herself fall back into her seat on the couch, smiling proudly to herself for a job well done. She shed a tear of joy at the thought:

I’m going to have two dads!

[lotusseedguy]

The Devil's Price!

Platonic WHB kings +Sibling reader: How it came to be This is going to end up being my base for reader in platonic WHB fics, but I will specify if otherwise Short, Also the reader pretty much gets kidnapped and doesn’t care at all in most of them- No Beelzebub here, forgot him-

SATAN: KING OF WRATH.

Long before you had met Satan, you lived in a small hut deep in the forests of Gehenna (Think like Gamigin when he first met Lucifer). Despite your young age and lazy behavior, you survived on foraging alone with no one else around to help you. Satan found himself wandering the outskirts of Gehenna when he first laid eyes on you in a little hammock outside the small abode you had made for yourself, snoozing away without a care to be found. He felt something in his mind telling him that he MUST take you home. Satan wasn’t sure how to do that, so he waited for you to wake up. Once you did wake up, Satan looked at you, and said one thing; “I’m your brother now, no questions.” You didn’t get a chance to properly process what he said before Satan picked you up and walk back to his residence. You never questioned it, and neither did anyone else. It just worked out.

MAMMON: KING OF GREED Mammon has always been a busy man, more often than not consumed by the work of ruling over Tartaros. Despite this, he found himself craving something new: something that he couldn’t put in his treasure warehouse but was just as valuable as all the items inside. Mammon went to Eligos for advice, as Bimet wasn’t much help. Eligos, after listening to what Mammon had to say, suggested what may have been the best thing he ever said. “Maybe,”- Eligos starts- ”You should make a sibling for yourself, your Highness.” Mammon had a good idea of what to do after some thought and he went straight to work carving a small statue made of gold in the shape of a child. With a tiny bit of magic, you came to be. Though Mammon could technically be your father, He’s your brother, no questions.

LUCIFER: KING OF PRIDE

You were a spirit husk (Think like a Seelie from Genshin), floating around the world aimlessly, no ideas in your head to give you any sort of direction. Time was nonexistent to you, and so too was thinking foreign to you. Sometime within your thoughtless roaming, there was a blond man with white eyes and black Sclera, as well as a blue-haired man beside him. The blond man held his hand out to you, and within a blink of an eye, you had a form. Small red horns sat on your head, and a very confused look on your face. The blue haired man laughed slightly, and put a jacket on you, as you may or may not have had any clothes on (That's up to you).

The blond spoke quietly, almost unable to be heard. “Good. Come now, we’re going home.” He grabbed your arm, and within time, you became ‘Lucifer’s little sibling’. Unbeknownst to you on that day, Lucifer had been watching you for quite a while, and had been keeping an eye on you. Unlike the relationships he had with his brothers in heaven, Lucifer wanted a more… Simple relationship. A sort of relationship formed by trust. Lucifer had never been one for words, but you always knew what he wanted to say when Lucifer made subtle gestures to show that he cared.

LEVIATHAN: KING OF ENVY

You were lost. You were a demon, but that’s all you knew. Wandering the woods of Hades for even an idea for your identity, but you never found it. You watched the water levels rise and fall, until they didn’t stop rising. The land where you had once lived was flooded, turned into what could be considered a lake. You sat on the ground. Starting out at what had been your home. You felt watched; as if there was someone there. And there was. A gorgeous demon with black horns stood behind you, and put a hand on your back. “Tears are futile. I am now your home.” Leviathan yanked your arm, and shoved you into what seemed to be a coffin. You pounded on the door, desperate to get out. Seconds felt like hours as you became exhausted from trying to escape. You were scared; petrified even.

At last, the door opened and you tumbled out, falling flat on your face. Looking up, you see the beautiful face of Leviathan staring down at you. You frantically look around at the lavish bedroom, before you feel a yank at your neck. Within the time you spent confused and panicking, Leviathan put a red-rope noose around your neck, and pulled you up by it.

"Look at me." Leviathan stated grabbing your chin in order to force you to look at him. When you do, he looks at you as with an oddly calm face. "This is your room now. I am your brother, and you WILL stay here when I am not with you. Do you understand?" You nod, confused but you don't really care because he's pretty.

________________________________________________

This makes no sense but take it anyways.

[gaydexvocaloid]

happy birthday fukase ❤️

[z0mbi3z-702]

Gotham in my 2023? it's more likely than you'd think

[edwinspaynes]

A LOOK INSIDE ALASTAIR CARSTAIRS' PHONE for @alastair-appreciation-month edits week <3

[monkeeyuri]

jade compilation from this year :) top is most recent

[asphy7]

💀

[wo0zyw3ezer]

Day 10: reflection

Back here again with what I think might be my peak this whole tober lol. Idk I’m actually happy with this one considering 90% of the Lineart was done on the bus ride home. Hope this more than makes up for yesterday 😅

[wickedwanchii]

"The Moon will sing a song for me, I loved you like the sun."

AKA

The Moon who burned brighter than the Sun

and

The Sun with the Heart of the Moon

I needed to draw the idea I had for Gale and my Tav, Matheryn.

[mijikai12]

i have way more empathy then i did last year. so much happened that now i can easily relate to someone or feel what they feel even if it hasnt happened to me. a pro of using that empathy to help people feels so good. but a con is that if someone is sad or just not okay, i feel sad and tired. i start mentally feeling what they feel.

then i drop it onto people that i dont want to. although im more empathetic, im still me, and i can do things i dont even wanna do.

oops sorry i have no time for an autobiography.

the way i am makes no sense, my own traits can collide with other traits.

its easier to help people a little over my age or younger (maybe ages 16-) because i've experienced that much.

i have more things id rather say but i dont know how to write it down and i dont want this to be a very long post so thats kinda it i guess 😊

read tags if you want hehe

[thee-radio-host-is-a-kookaburra]

justice

[spiralstereo]

Skkkkrrrtttt bros in his jammies

[omoriboii]

What kinda movement options are in DreamScape? I wonder what you can use to get around the place

"Actually quite a bit. Most people start off by just increasing their Stamina, so they can sprint longer to try and get from place to place. Once you actually get friends, or start discovering locations, then you can use 'Dream Doors' to teleport to locations you have saved from previously. However, you can only save five at a time. There's also a massive train system that travels throughout the island, though you gotta make sure you get there at a certain time. It only runs during a set amount of hours. Lastly, there's cars, you can get those by building them yourself, or trading with another player. Probably the best way to get around, if you can afford the time/money."

[newvegascowboy]

red and cato for 17? i just want them to suffer together >:-D

>:3c smiling like the grinch rn. can do!

from here

“Looks like we’ll be trapped for a while…” Red is standing at the splintered window sill, rimmed in light seeping in through the shutters. A howl of wind batters at the shutters and sand filters down through a crack in the ceiling. "Sandstorm out there doesn't look like it's stopping any time soon," they say absently. They glance over their shoulder, smiling faintly. "Guess we've got time to kill." "Nobody followed us?" Cato asks. "Not in this weather." Pushing off the wall, Red strides over to him. There's not much furnishing this old shack - just a dusty table and a few chairs, and one cot on a rickety frame that Cato doesn't trust - but it's better than nothing. The shack has been abandoned for some time by the looks of it, but that doesn't mean the owner won't come back. Relaxing minutely, Cato sinks into one of the chairs. It squeaks under his weight, but holds. Dropping his head to one hand, he lets out a long breath. He takes a moment to compose himself, then looks up, watching Red shake sand from the brim of their hat and toss it onto the table.

"Supplies," he asks. "How much do you carry in those saddlebags?" Red glances at the bags resting by the door -- all they'd managed to snag before the storm had overtaken them. "Enough to last us through the night," they say, shrugging out of their duster. "Relax." "I'm thinking ahead." "You're getting agitated," Red corrects, leveling him with a look. "Relax. Nobody is here, and nobody can track us through the storm. We're safer here than we were before the storm hit."

Almost as if to prove their point, Red unbuckles the belt strapping their gun to their hip. They sling it onto the table, hands spread. "You're paranoid."

"I'm careful."

"Same difference," Red mutters, turning. Cato bites back a retort, brows furrowing. There's a small patch of red darkening the fabric of Red's shirt, just at the small of their back. The cotton is torn, a strip of bloodied skin flashing underneath. Cato shift. "Perhaps if you were as careful as I am, you wouldn't be injured," he says. Cato gestures. "You're bleeding," he notes.

Red makes a noise, twisting. Their fingers hook through the hole in their shirt, prodding at the wound beneath. From the look of the stain, it's been bleeding for some time. "Look at that. Bullet must've winged me," they say, all too casual. "It'll buff."

"You should take care of it," Cato says. "It's unwise to leave wounds unattended."

A wry smile twists the corners of Red's mouth, oh so familiar. "I've had worse," they say, tossing their duster to the side and pulling at the fingers of their gloves. The movements are easy, belying no pain or discomfort. Crossing their arms, Red settles back against the wall of the old shack, staring at Cato with one eyebrow lifted.

"I insist."

"You insist?" Red repeats, smile growing. "I might be a little offended if you think a scratch like that is going to put me down."

"I'm not worried about offending you," Cato says, mirroring Red as he crosses his arms. "I'm worried about the likelihood of infection."

The expression on Red's face sours a bit. Cato has seen it before. Different now that they're older, but still the same look of irritation whenever anyone dared to remind them that they're only human.

"Something tells me you aren't going to let this go," Red says.

Leaning back, Cato smiles. "As you say, we have nothing but time."

There's a beat of silence. Red's eyes narrow, a muscle in their jaw pulling taut. Cato can't help but grin. Huffing, Red rolls their eyes and pushes off the wall. "Fine," they mutter, unbuttoning their vest and tossing it to the side. "For a heartless Legionary, you sure are soft."

"Given the circumstances, I think I can let it slide," Cato says. The remark stings, but he doesn't let it show. He ignores the oppressive clench of guilt at his stomach and instead folds his hands in his lap. "I won't tell if you don't."

Red only rolls their eyes as they pull off their shirt. Cato almost laughs at the sight of the tan dipping low on their chest, but he bites the inside of his mouth and holds his tongue. Eyeing the bloody tear in the fabric, Red seems to mull something over in their head before shrugging and tossing it to the side.

"Now, I don't have much in the way of a first aid kit, so this entire debate may be moot," they say, turning to where their duster is lying draped over the back of a chair. Whatever amusement Cato had been feeling abruptly dies.

Red's back is a ragged, thorny mass of ancient scars. They streak across the skin in knotted ropes, tangled together in places and frighteningly stark in others. The oldest ones are silvery, but not yet faded enough as to blend in with the rest of Red's skin. Muscles shift beneath the scar tissue, rippling as Red crouches to rummage through their saddlebags. At the nape of their neck, almost hidden by the ends of their hair, the brand sits . Cato stares at it, caught in the accusing glare of Caesar's bull.

God, Cato fucking remembers.

He hadn't known Jack well, then. They wouldn't be well acquainted until after Jack had been branded, but Cato had known of them - that feral little boy, the defiant one who had always stood nearly head and shoulders above their peers with their jaw set and eyes hard.

He remembers watching Jack being whipped, once. Cato doesn't remember why, but he remembers the way Jack had taken each lash in utter silence. No gag to muffle the noise, just the determination not to falter. How old had Jack been - twelve? Thirteen? There were so many lashings it was hard to place them all, but Cato remembers watching the corded leather lay open Jack's skin and thinking that it was right. That if Jack only listened, this wouldn't happen. If they only fell in line.

The whippings had been to break them, but in hindsight, all they had done was sharpen Jack's teeth. Now Red bears the scars of a life they don't remember. Everyone carries the past with them in some way, but very few bear it like Red.

"Cato?"

Cato blinks, taking a sharp breath as his eyes refocus on Red. Red is watching him, expression guarded. There's a roll of gauze in one hand. "Sorry," Cato says, breathless. He swallows hard, quelling the shaking in his hands as he lifts his chin.

"You all right?" Red asks warily. "Lost you there for a second."

"Sorry," Cato says, and he isn't stupid enough to think that Red doesn't notice the way he has to force his voice under control. "I was in my head, that's all. I'm fine."

It's an obvious lie and both of them know it. Red was always more discerning than most. After a beat, they only hitch a shoulder and relax. "I need a helping hand, and since you're the one on my case I figure you got no right to refuse," they say, tossing him the roll of gauze.

"Of course," Cato says.

"You're not going to get all queasy at the sight of blood, are you?"

A brief flash of irritation overrides the swell of panic and Cato huffs. "I'm more than capable of cleaning a wound," he says. "Sit."

Smiling faintly, Red drops to the chair beside Cato and slings their elbows across their knees. Cato presses two fingers to their spine between their shoulder blades, careful to avoid the knotted scar tissue striping the skin. "Lean forward."

"You're going to think I like doing what I'm told," Red says, but does as Cato asks.

"Trust me, you won't," Cato mutters. Red snorts a laugh, but otherwise, remains still.

For all their bluster, Red isn't a terrible patient. They barely move as he cleans the wound, except for a bare twitch of muscle in their back. Red's breathing remains even. It could be almost peaceful if the sight of the scarring didn't threaten to send Cato into a spiral.

Something must clue Red in to his wandering mind, because they stir, lifting their head. "Not very pretty, is it?" they murmur.

Cato flushes hot. His fingers still over the wound on their back - in truth, very minor. Certainly in comparison to the rest of it. "I..." he starts. "I wasn't going to say anything."

"S'alright," Red says. "I know how it looks."

Cato's touch is gentle, thumb running along the ridge of the scar that cuts across their low back. Red doesn't stir and Cato tilts his head. "Can you feel this?"

Humming, Red lifts a hand over their shoulder and tips it back and forth. "Not really. Pressure, if you push hard enough. Some places are fine, but I think most of the nerves back there just quit."

"It would appear to be so," Cato says softly.

Red turns to glance at him over their right shoulder. "I don't need your pity," they say, a warning note entering their voice. "It is what it is. No use crying over it."

"Not pity," Cato says, dropping his eyes to tape down the edges of the gauze. "But I am sorry, nonetheless."

"Don't be sorry," Red says, straightening. "Wasn't you who whipped me, was it?"

"No," Cato says -- truthfully, though in a different life, he may as well have.

"Then don't beg forgiveness for shit you had nothing to do with."

"Right," Cato says softly. "Of course."

[zak-writes]

May I be greedy and ask for 10 facts about Chris Doyle too? :3

chris is lowkey one of my favourite eldwell characters lets fuckin GO

Chris is one of the few people on the island with a degree - theirs is in Biomedical Science and they had to go to the mainland to do it.

Chris is one of the few people who has left to live on the mainland and has later come back to the island

Their grandmother, Agatha, is the oldest living person on the island. Chris is her only living grandchild

Chris lost their leg when they were shot on the outskirts of Eldwell forest. No one was ever charged with the shooting

Chris is the police forces "forensic scientist" because they are one of the few people on the island with a higher science qualification

Chris has a prosthetic leg, but they prefer to use his wheelchair unless they are going somewhere that is not wheelchair accessible. Most people on the island have tried to make buildings on the island more accessible to them (sometimes under threat of violence from Agatha)

Chris is nonbinary and uses they/them pronouns, but they honestly have bigger problems than trying to figure out anything further than that

Chris and Lorenzo are best friends and Chris is a godparent to all of Lorenzo's children

Chris hates riding the ferry between the island and the mainland because they get sea sick

Chris can juggle. he learned to do it while he was recovering from his amputation to entertain himself