#wonder if that'll end at some point

[bucketsofgiggles]

i am absolutely l o s i n g it at Tommy "Desert Storm Vet and Texan in 2003 When the World Ended" Miller realizing he's now a communist, like look at this:

this man's whole worldview got Rocked

[castillon02]

Jason and Tim have similar competence standards and end up swapping employees sometimes.

---

"Boss, I'm outta the game with this hip---"

"You're outta the beating-up-traffickers game. I got a guy who can get you into the scaring-the-rich game just fine."

"You mean, like...?" A fist into an open palm, quirked eyebrows.

"Nah, verbal intimidation only unless someone steps up to the plate. Mostly you got good eyes and this Wayne kid values having people around who can observe things that aren't spreadsheets."

"Hey, you said I did pretty good at that Excel thing!"

A pointed look.

"Ohhhh. I'm gonna get to learn spreadsheets and threaten people? Oh, man. Thanks, boss!"

"They've got the same insurance, too, so that'll roll over automatically."

---

Meanwhile, on Tim's end of things:

"I noticed that you tend to get impatient with slow results, that you're happy to yell at people for safety violations, and that your plan to remediate the company's incompetence in these areas involves 'firing every single one of them who can't get their head out of their ass.'" Tim smiled.

His employee smiled back. "I mean, that's why you hired me as safety supervisor, right?"

"Of course; your proactive attitude is one of the reasons we chose you. However, I also noticed that a lot of your frustration stems from employees whose work is being impacted by personal issues, often ones stemming from attacks by prominent local criminals."

"Listen, I'm from Minnesota. I know from cold. And I also know that you can't let a little hypothermia from Mr. Freeze screw up your numbers, especially not when those calculations impact lives." Squared shoulders, hands on the hips---yeah, definitely more of a cultural fit with Jason's organization.

Tim nodded and continued his pitch. "And you're competent with a firearm, correct?"

"Hey, I'm not about to go postal just because---"

"No, no, you misunderstand me. You're a skilled employee. I'm just wondering if you might benefit from transferring to a work environment in which you can shoot some of the people who are actually causing these problems."

"I'm sorry?"

"You have a dartboard with Leeds's face on it because he screwed up so many times after that Ivy incident put his kid in the hospital."

"...Okay, I admit that's not my best look."

"The organization I'm recommending you to has a printer next to the firing range; it's sized specifically for target paper."

"Oh."

"It's also an organization that works specifically to keep kids from needing to be in the hospital."

"Oh. You mean---" There was really only one group it could be.

"They need someone with your eye for logistics. Hood's work isn't 'legit,'" Tim made careful air quotes because the dorkiness tended to put people at ease, "but your insurance would roll over to them automatically. And you can rest assured that they take safety very seriously."

[lxvvie]

Couples Shit with Simon Riley, Part 2:

Thinking Simon is asleep when he isn't. Or so he says. Case in point: Simon in all his cattiness made you his pillow. Your nails were working miracles scratching along his scalp which had him dozing off and lightly snoring. Or so you thought. You heard him grumble, "Why'd you stop, luvie?" when you moved your hand. He'll deny he was asleep, too, like the peepaw that he is.

To piggyback off the first point, Simon will sometimes quietly grab your hand and put it back on his head if you stop scratching his scalp. If you stop a second time, he will have experienced a betrayal man and cat were never supposed to know, and it's Affection Denied™ for the rest of the day lmao.

Texting each other when you're in two separate rooms because you don't feel like talking out loud. Sometimes, you'll text him some crazy shit that'll warrant him leaving the room he was in to silently judge you.

Absolutely loving to watch him shave in the morning because Simon is so sexy when he's concentrating, eyebrows furrowed, and those brown eyes staring intensely in the mirror.

You and Simon shit-talking each other in bed because you'll complain about being hot with the covers and cuddle pile you two have going on but never really doing anything to change it. You two actually can't get a good night's sleep without being up under the other.

Simon banning you from watching horror films because, for the hundredth bloody time, he didn't hear shit, love. He actually did and it was the neighbors but he can't be arsed to get out of bed.

Speaking of neighbors, it's you and Simon lying in bed, listening to the neighbors make sex and when it's done, Simon goes, "Mm. A new record," and he sounds so unimpressed which causes you to guffaw. Oh my fucking god—

Getting in the dog house with Simon because when your hands are cold, you stick them down in his pants to rest on his thighs because it's hilarious to see him jump and that's what he gets for not turning the heat up. Simon counterargues that he did turn it up. Three degrees.

Introducing Simon to the wonders of Spa Day at home because his skin needs some TLC. Simon looking like someone's stressed auntie with a ciggie dangling from his lips, wearing a really comfortable bathrobe you got him, and eye masks on.

You two treating it like the end of the world whenever one of y'all gets sick (Simon to a lesser extent) because how in the hell will you get your daily dose of affection?

Going all out and having a whole-ass reveal party for your newest edition to the family, Pup. You gave the boys shirts to wear in celebration. You wore Dad, Simon wore... Mom????, Kyle got Uncle, Soap got... Big Brother??? and Price got... Grandfather. Grand. Father. "Congrats, Cap'n." "Shut up."

Pranking Simon by calling him some random guy's name just to see his reaction. Simon stops what he's doing, judges you in Ghost, and goes, "Who the fuck is Anthony?" After that, it's on sight for Anthony. Whoever the fuck that is. Simon gets you back, though, and he's all, "Ask Anthony" "Oh? You love Anthony, too?" "Sorry sweetheart, Simon is taken. Better go to Anthony." Real funny, asshole.

Simon thinking you're about to go down on him. Not the way he thinks, though. You've situated yourself between his thighs, put his legs on your shoulders, and lower your head to... blow raspberries in his tummy. Like... whole-ass tunes. The disappointment on his face is immeasurable. But then you have him chuckling because you're fuckin' adorable looking up at him like that and your raspberries are ticklish.

[violenteconomics]

as a prank, ace and epel start referring to their upperclassmen as members of their family rather than by name — when they're not actually talking to their upperclassmen, of course — just to see how long it will take them to notice. and after a while, the other freshmen start doing it, too.

ace is the first one to come up with this idea. he think it's a harmless little thing, a prank that'll cause plenty of mayhem but won't get him in any serious trouble. so he starts referring to cater and trey as his dad and mom respectively, and riddle as his uptight, no-nonsense older brother.

("one time i saw my brother try to put one of mom's tart into like a ziplock bag to save it for later, and when he took it out like two days afterwards, it fell apart immediately and he started bawling, ha ha! my dad got the whole thing on camera and shared it with me — i can show you if you want.")

he ropes epel in on the plan. epel is a little more hesitant, but seeing this as a way to get back at vil, even in a small way, he agrees to it. vil is now "ma" and rook is now "pa". people do start to wonder why he still uses he/him pronouns to refer to his supposed mother, but they decide not to question it too much.

("a few months ago, my pa told me a story about how one time my ma was trying to comb his hair, only for his comb to get stuck. so he got another comb to get the first one out, and that ended up getting stuck, too. five combs later, and peepaw had to rush him to the barber for an emergency haircut. it was pretty funny, but now i'm left wondering how pa even knew that story... hold on, i need to check my bathroom mirror for cameras, excuse me.")

surprisingly, deuce catches on pretty quickly, and he starts thinking maybe it's a new dorm policy. he doesn't know why, or why nobody else seems to be doing it, but ace seems pretty sure of himself, so he starts doing it, too, if a bit awkwardly.

("my brother always gets on my case for my bad grades. it's a little frustrating, but he only does it because he cares. my dad tutors me whenever he can, but he's not very good at studying, either. but whenever i do get good grades on my report card, my mom makes me egg tarts!")

yuu starts after they ask ace about it, and thinking it's a good prank, they decide to join in on a little mischief. so they start referring to all the teachers as their "dad". it makes people really confused, because they assume they only have one dad, two at most, but "dad" seems to change personalities every single time they talk about him.

("i was helping my dad do paperwork the other day, except we didn't get anything done and spent the entire evening playing solitaire and making dog puns."

"i was filling my dad's basketballs for him for his next game, whilst simultaneously helping him rework his pick-up lines that he's going to use on rsa's 'hot librarian' — his words, not mine. it was... a weird experience."

"i was feeding my dad's cat a couple of days ago, but i guess i fed him too much, because he's just a ball with limbs now. it's fine, though — it's not like my dad actually goes anywhere. too old for that, y'know?")

ortho is up next. idia's already ortho's brother, so he can't really do anything with that, but he really wants in on the average teenage experience of pranking your peers. so he starts referring to literally every upperclassmen he knows as his "brother". this is when everyone starts to realize that something's wrong, because some of things ortho says can not apply to idia in any reality.

("my brother is so talented! he's so good at talking to people, and making them sign contracts with him, and convincing them to invest in his restaurant... gosh, i wish i could be as good at communicating as him!")

jack is, unsurprisingly, very unamused when he figures out what the others are doing, but he doesn't try to stop them. but after a few weeks of exposure, and jack starts unconsciously doing it, too, which the others don't point out to him because they think it's absolutely hilarious.

("my brother didn't show up to morning practice, again, so my other brother and i went lookin' for him, and we ended up findin' him in a tree. obviously, my brother and i can't climb as well as my eldest bro can, so my brother just... threw a spelldrive disk at him. to get him out of the tree. and then we had to rush him to the infirmary because now he had a concussion. i don't... i don't know why he thought that would work.")

sebek is the last hold-over. not only is he unamused by this prank — and frankly very aghast when he realizes that jack has also been infected by it — but he's also really repressed and will do literally whatever it takes to not sully his image in the eyes of diasomnia. of course, with enough wear and tear, this doesn't last very long.

("ugh. my brother fell asleep on the road AGAIN! i swear, so many people have tripped over him, i'll be surprised if he hasn't broken any ribs yet.")

ace and epel think all of this is extremely funny, so they all keep trucking along with it with nobody noticing for a couple of weeks. it's all fine and dandy until the first-years are out on the town during the weekend, and deuce gets involved in a really bad carriage crash.

at the hospital, deuce starts deliriously asking for his older brother to take him home. but when the receptionist checks his familial records, they're really confused because deuce never even had a brother.

unfortunately, ace knows exactly who deuce is talking about, and awkwardly spends the next 30 minutes trying to get a hold of riddle over the phone.

the awkwardness doesn't end as riddle actually gets to the hospital, and the doctor smiles and says, "you must be mr spade's big brother."

[edwinspaynes]

I was angry. I'm still angry. But sadness and exhaustion have overtaken that anger, and I have A LOT to say about this.

Dead Boy Detectives is a very special show to me. It occupies a ridiculously large place in my heart, and it's brought me joy in a way that only a few pieces of media ever have. When I watched it for the first time, Edwin Payne had my heart within minutes. By the end of episode one, Charles Rowland did, too.

It meant a lot to me, seeing such wonderful and nuanced queer characters brought to life in the type of paranormal story I have always loved. In these past months, Edwin and Charles have felt like real friends to me, and to never see them again without a satisfying conclusion to their story is something I have not truly processed. Same for Niko and Crystal and The Cat King - they should be back. But I haven't fully processed it yet, that they're not coming back, and yet I am still aggreived.

@netflix is, at this point, so fucking gagged on capitalism's dick that they're not even pretending to care about art anymore. Dead Boy Detectives is genuinely masterfully made on just about every level. The actors did a phenomenal job and I will be following all their careers heavily. Steve, Beth, and the writing team crafted an incredible tale. The sets, the lighting, the props, the effects were all on point. This was a well-constructed program, and you could tell that everyone involved with the project gave it their all because they cared so deeply.

(Also my heart breaks for the whole cast, but it's hardcore hurting for George since this was not only his first screen role but one he clearly thought he would be keeping as of two weeks ago. He seemed so secure. I hate this for him.)

In addition to being a good show, DBDA had good reception. It's got a 92% on Rotten Tomatoes, was on the Top 10 for several weeks, got 4.7 million views within week one, and was getting daily articles posted on various review sites with NOTHING but praise. The fandom is incredibly active. We trend on Tumblr like five times a week and on Twitter regularly as well.

THE. SCRIPT. FOR. SEASON. 2. WAS. WRITTEN.

What the fuck happened?

Idiot executives at @netflix, choking on the dick of capitalism, probably just thought that they wouldn't get new subscribers for a second season of an existing show that didn't rake in Bridgerton-level cash. That's how they work - people who are interested in it are already subscribers, so who the fuck cares about them? Better to make some other shit, hope new people subscribe, and maybe that'll be a Bridgerton-level hit.

But also, Netflix has fun little trends to look into. And, when you look at the lineup of shows Netflix has canceled, they are overwhelmingly queer. The homophobia of @netflix and their operatives is clearly boundless, and it hits here really badly because this show was clearly made with a queer audience in mind. It was one of the most authentic pieces of queer media I have ever experienced, if not THE most authentic pieces of queer media that I have ever experienced.

It's fucking ridiculous that Netflix canceled a show that they commissioned a completed script of months ago. It sucks that they decided that their existing subscribers, their queer subscribers, did not matter.

Edwin and Charles are ours now. Well, of course, they're George's and Jayden's respectively, but the characters are no longer Netflix's to use and throw out. They're ours now, our fandom's, and we all love them so much.

And we deserved to see more of them, and we deserved to see their love story play out onscreen, but I for one am not going anywhere. Let's give Edwin and Charles - and the rest of the gang - millions of versions of the stories and endings that Netflix deprived them of.

[fuwushiguro]

Hi love! Your content is great and always makes my head spin🤤 I was wondering if you could maybe do fitness trainer Toji with a plush reader? Like you go to the gym wanting to slim down and ask for a trainer and before any of the other loser trainers can get to you, Toji steps in. He is constantly reassuring you the entire time And at the end of the session he just can’t resist from not touching you🥺🫶🏼 thank you in advance and I hope you have the best day possible!

I can literally imagine Toji quoting this in his head as he hears you talk negatively about your body (not proofed I'm lazy) warnings: chubby!reader, body issues, raw sex, slightly public, praise etc etc lmk if i missed any

"Huh?"

"I literally need a gym trainer who's going to help me look like a rake."

"I- what? A fuckin' rake? What are you talking about?"

"My boyfriend cheated on me, and of course the girl he slept with is tiny. He left me for her... I don't want him back but I want to prove a point!" you explain, looking at him with hopeful eyes, desperate for him to help with your mission.

He stared at you, and it scared you a little. You aren't sure if you've said something wrong or if he just had no interest in your tragic love life. But you can only assume he doesn't get many clients with this attitude.

"Fine, kid. But listen, I'm not helping you 'look like a rake'." he tells you.

"B-But..."

"I'll help you train. If you lose weight, whatever. If you gain muscle... I think that'll be a better revenge body to make your ex regret leaving you." he explains.

"O-Oh... really? Okay, I trust you."

He smirks at that.

It's not often he's trusted by women.

"I hate sit ups." you pant, breathlessly.

"It's your last set, just do it 'n then you can go home." he tells you, as he sits beside you drinking some water from his comically large bottle. By the size of it, you'd think he'd be the one who had been working out for the last hour.

"C'mere." he shuffles his body so that he's closer to you, positioning your legs and hips like you're weightless. "You might find it easier now. I'll stay here, gimme ten more."

"Ten?!"

"Do it."

You sigh, lying flat as you mentally prepare yourself for how bad your stomach is about to ache. Your cheeks fill as you blow out a puff of air. You're painfully aware of his eyes on you, and honestly, you're embarrassed. You begin to sit up again and again as you think about his incredible physique. About how he surely thinks the same way as your ex boyfriend.

Your eyes lock with his with ever sit up you perform, his hands grabbing your knees to keep you in place. Your noses almost touch and his eyes are filled with what you can only assume is disgust. You're humiliating yourself trying to make yourself appear more attractive to the male species.

"Aaaand done, good job, kid." he smiles at you, his small mouth scar pulling slightly as he does. "So, wanna make this a regular thing?"

You hold up a finger as you catch your breath, eventually nodding. He holds his hand out to you, helping you to your feet with ease. He walks away from you, tilting his head and indicating for you to follow. You aren't sure where he's taking you, but you follow mindlessly.

"My calendar is in my office, I'll get you booked in for a few sessions this month and then you can just give them your card details at the fron desk." he explains.

"Sure, sounds good." you smile, he walks into his office first and holds the door opening, closing it right after you come in. Your ears prick when you hear the door lock, but for whatever reason you don't feel alarmed.

The air is knocked from your lungs as you feel his hands on your waist, lifting you into the air and practically slamming you onto his desk.

"W-What are you doing?!" you gasp.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks, it's almost polite but not really. He's expecting one answer, and luckily for you you're nodding before you can think of declining. He hikes up your leg and squeezes your plush thigh as his lips connect with yours. "You're so soft... so fuckin' perfect."

"Shut up." you laugh, you try to kiss him again but he pulls away.

"I'm serious." he lifts your up your sports bra and tosses it aside, grabbing a handful of your large chest. He pushes you backwards so that your spine is flat against his desk, tugging off your leggings with no hesitation. He peppers kisses across your tender skin. Your thighs, your tummy, your heavy tits. "There's nothin' wrong with your body, y'know? Your ex is a fuckin' pussy."

Your body tenses up, feeling horrendously aware of how exposed your figure is and how he's examining you.

"I- I was too heavy for him." you pant, unsure whether to try and chat casually about it or make a run for your clothes and the exit. "I don't blame him."

"You weigh the same as paper to me, darlin'." he smirks, picking you up and making you wrap your legs around his waist. He slams you against the wall as you makeout heavily. "You want this cock? F-Feel how hard I am for ya?"

"P-Please. You're so big.. please fuck me." you beg. You paw at his shirt, desperate to feel the muscles that you could clearly see beneath.

His facial expression is almost menacing as he knows he's won, he's got you exactly where he wants you and you're begging for his cock. Thick fingers dig into malleable flesh, bruises of his name signed into your skin like a binding contract that you're his new favourite play thing.

"You're so fuckin' perfect, sweetheart. Love cute bodies like yours..." he tells you, staring into your eyes to catch your expression, grinning at the way your cheeks flush and a bead of sweat forms in your hairline.

"Aah! Ah, fuck.. 'h my god..." you moan, the embarrassment overwhelming you and the feeling of his heavy cock splitting you open making your heart race.

He begins a brutal pace, easily holding your body up with one muscular arm as he slams into you, his free hand tweaking your pert nipple. The way your eyes cross dumbly as he ruins your insides almost makes him blow his load on the spot.

"Too— mmmnn.." you moan, unable to form a coherent thought.

"Too what?" he laughs a little, "Too? Have I fucked you so stupid you already can't think? Oh sweetheart... think I'm in love." he tells you as he kisses your neck.

Your fingers scratch his back repeatedly and he can only his from the pain and pleasure of it all. He's happy to be marked by you, he's going to do the same to your insides after all.

"'m gonna cum, I'm— ah—!" your cunt tightens around him as you finish, and soon enough he's pressing his body as much as he can into yours, pinning you between him and the wall as his balls tighten and he paints your desperate, wanting walls.

You pant against each other, neither of you moving for a while. All you can bring yourself to do is catch your breath and stare into his jade coloured eyes. And eventually, he helps you down and offers you a towel before sitting at his desk and checking through his calendar.

"Are you free Friday night?" he asks.

"O-Oh, Toji, I'm too exhausted from that workout to even think about my next training session." you chuckle a little, wiping yourself down before collecting your scattered clothing.

"No, baby, I'm takin' you on a date." he smiles at you earnestly. "Perfect body, perfect pussy, and newly single. You're crazy if you think I'm not taking full advantage of the opportunity to make you mine."

© 2023 fuwushiguro

[mcflymemes]

PROMPTS FROM SHREK *  assorted dialogue from the 2001 film, adjust as necessary

two things, okay? shut... up.

you didn't slay the dragon?

some of you may die... but it's a sacrifice i am willing to make.

they judge me before they even know me. that's why i'm better off alone.

how will you kiss me?

that wasn't in the job description!

what is so funny?

let's just say... i'm not your type.

pick me! pick me!

i've got a dragon and i'm not afraid to use it!

now really, it's rude enough being alive when no one wants you, but showing up uninvited to a wedding?

it's a compliment! better out than in, i always say.

you can't tell me you're afraid of heights.

let's do that again!

what's that? it's hideous.

only a true friend would be that cruelly honest!

well, technically, you're not a king.

the battle is won.

so where is this fire-breathing pain in the neck, anyway?

hey, don't look at me. i didn't invite them.

it's on my to-do list!

you're meant to charge in, sword drawn, banners flying!

that's not the point!

huh, celebrity marriages. they never last, do they?

that'll do, [name]. that'll do.

you're going the right way for a smacked bottom.

well, that's not very nice. it's just a donkey.

where are you going? the exit's over there!

i have to save my ass.

what kind of a knight are you?

i was talking about the dragon.

man, this would be so much easier if i wasn't color-blind.

we can stay up late, swapping manly stories, and in the morning... i'm making waffles!

whoa, look at that. who'd wanna live in a place like that?

that... would be my home.

i think i need a hug.

you're a monster!

we were forced to come here!

you know, you're really quite a decorator!

it's amazing what you've done with such a modest budget!

i like that boulder. that is a nice boulder.

you know, not everybody likes onions.

everybody loves cake!

i don't care what everyone likes!

have you ever met a person, you say, "let's get some parfait," they say, "hell no, i don't like parfait."

end of story! bye bye! see ya later!

parfaits may be the most delicious thing on the whole damn planet!

it talks?

i'm not the monster here, you are!

now tell me, where are the others!

eat me!

i've tried to be fair to you creatures, but now my patience has reached its end.

all right then! who's hiding them?

oh you're going to love it there.

men of his stature are in short supply.

it's getting him to shut up that's the trick!

hey, what's your problem [name], what you got against the whole world anyway, huh?

i'll find those stairs.

look, i'm not the one with the problem, okay? it's the world that seems to have a problem with me.

do you think he's maybe compensating for something?

hey, where're you going?

oh man, i can't feel my toes!

take a look at me. what am i?

doesn't that bother you?

man, i like you. what's your name?

you're so wrapped up in layers, onion boy, you're afraid of your own feelings.

there you are, doing it again!

oh... oh this is all my fault.

you can't do this to me! i'm too young for you to die!

you gotta warn somebody before you just crack one off, my mouth was open and everything.

believe me, if it was me... you'd be dead.

i steal from the rich and give to the needy.

man, that was annoying.

i was sent to rescue you.

i'm supposed to be rescued by my true love!

your job is not my problem.

you love this woman, don't you?

i don't want to rush into a physical relationship.

like that's ever gonna happen!

why are you following me?

stop singing!

it's no wonder you don't have any friends!

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

Thoughts on the Seraphim, assuming you have any?

one thing i think is quite interesting in egghead, which hasn't necessarily been highlighted prominently by the narrative but which underlies the whole arc, is the similar treatment of the various artificial humans created by vegapunk: the satellites, the seraphim, stussy, and, to a certain extent, kuma.

i think one of the points of egghead is that it's both inhumane and impossible to try and create a person with no individuality or free will. like, it's immoral, but it also just doesn't work. you can't create a person just to serve your own needs and have them not have any personality or identity of their own; it's antithetical to human nature. one piece consistently says that all things strive, and all things dream, and all things want to be free, and that's why vegapunk's creations keep becoming real people in ways that he didn't intend or foresee.

all of the artificial humans in this arc have some degree of identity and individual thought, even those who were specifically designed to be perfectly obedient. we see this when vegapunk is shocked to hear that s-snake is capable of defying orders to help luffy, and when kuma comes to save bonney despite every fact of science saying that he should be brain-dead.

york's betrayal is also consistent with this. vegapunk didn't see it coming, because he created and viewed the satellites as extensions of himself, but they aren't! they're sentient people with, at least, the potential to develop their own dreams and motivations and goals that don't necessarily align with his. that's what being human is.

in that sense, the fact that vegapunk's downfall is brought about by york's self-actualization is quite karmic. her actions are evil and extreme and cause massive collateral damage, of course, but i honestly think they're also pretty understandable when you consider her as a person who was created to only be an extra limb of someone else, trying to define herself. how else was she ever supposed to be free?

this theme is, i think, particularly embodied in stussy, who is clearly undergoing something of an identity crisis. she's caught between loyalty to the purpose she was seemingly created for and loyalty to the identity and relationships she's developed for herself while living out in the world as her own person; she betrays the latter for the former, which is something that clearly pains her greatly, and then loses the former anyways, leaving her with nothing.

the situation that stussy is put in is really very cruel, and honestly, egghead is a fundamentally inhumane place. it's full of people who are expected to not be people. it's frankly no wonder one of them eventually freaked out and turned evil.

vegapunk pressuring sentoumaru into betraying the world government for him is played for comedy, and it's basically implied sentoumaru would've done that anyways, but at the same time it's rather telling of the way vegapunk tends to treat his subordinates and creations: like their own thoughts and feelings, if they have any, don't really matter. vegapunk doesn't ever intend to be cruel, i don't think, but he's certainly thoughtless and inconsiderate, and when you're dealing with human life that can be just as damaging.

this all brings us back to the seraphim. they're weapons of war, yes, but they're also children who had no say in their own creation, and who clearly have at least somewhat more individuality than vegapunk intended them to have (as we see definitively with s-snake). they're effectively slaves of the world government, currently. even when you look at how they were created, they're products of experimentation on a captive child (king), and two of them, s-snake and s-bear, are cloned from former child slaves themselves.

one piece is a story about freedom. i think one way or another, thematically, the seraphim will have to end up free. i can't predict when or how that'll happen, but everything about egghead and the series as a whole indicates that the desire of living things to be free and dream is irrepressible.

[amomentsescape]

Hey a while ago I requested a oneshot of the reader giving jason voorhees a shirt that said "thot destroyer 9000" but what if you did that with other slashers? Like giving bubba a shirt that says "everything is bigger in Texas" and freddy in a basic "dream guy/boat etc" shirt or one of the nightmare before Christmas shirts that say "what a wonderful nightmare"? And maybe other slashers if ya can think of shirts that'll fit em? (Shirt quotes not mine and merry post Christmas)

Slashers React to Custom Made T-Shirts

Slashers x Reader (Separate)

A/N: I think this would be absolutely hilarious to see! Thank you so much, and Merry (Very Late) Christmas and Happy New Year!

Freddy Krueger

He lets out his notorious laugh the moment he sees it

"I am pretty dreamy, aren't I?"

Puts it on over his sweater

Will pretty much always have it on, especially when he sees you

He ends up wearing it during his future killings, even asking them if they like the shirt or not

If any of them answer no, he makes their deaths a lot more painful

Will also want you to get a similar shirt so you both can match

He'll probably end up asking for a sweater version a few months later

Michael Myers

He just kind of gives you that disappointed parent look

"Barely even looks like me"

Will refuse to wear it unless you beg him repeatedly over the course of a few days

Finally gives in and puts it on underneath his overalls

He is honestly kind of embarrassed to wear it, but you no longer bothering him about it makes up for the embarrassment

After wearing it a few times, it gets to the point that he doesn't even think about it anymore

It's pretty much all he wears now

But only because he's grown used to it, not because he likes it

Or so he tells you

Jason Voorhees

(I couldn't quite find a shirt that fit the description, so I went with the closest I could find)

He tilts his head at you in confusion

Poor boy doesn't even know what a "thot" is

When you explain it to him, you can tell he finds it kind of funny

Will put it on jokingly for you, only to realize it's pretty comfortable

Will wear it under his jacket

Even if he doesn't have it on, he'll carry it around with him

He insists it helps his killing ability and is a good luck charm

But he pretty much just cherishes ANYTHING you give him

Thomas Hewitt

He lets out a few chuckles at this

Will pull you into a big hug as his way of thanking you

He'll only wear the shirt on special occasions

He's worried it'll get ruined if he wears it when he's working outside or tending to "dinner"

But he does love the shirt

Will probably show it off to the family and receive some laughs and head nods

Will make you wear it sometimes as a joke since you're practically drowning in the shirt

Bubba Sawyer

He loves receiving anything from you

So he happily takes the shirt and gives you some gleeful giggles and kisses as his thank you

But he honestly has no idea what it means

You have to make the connection of what his family eats and the shirt in order to get a true response out him

He'll laugh like crazy

He immediately puts it on

You'll have to quite literally fight him in order to wash it or take it off

If anyone accidentally stains it or causes a tear, he'll go into a frenzy

Brahms Heelshire

He immediately gets it and smiles

You've made a mistake though

Because he ends up putting it on his list of actual rules

Will make some dirty jokes about it

He quickly puts the shirt on and stands there, giving you a "well, go on" sort of look

Anytime he wears the shirt now, he expects you to follow what it says...

Good luck, because you've made Brahms just that much harder to handle

Norman Bates

Will give you a gentle smile and thank you for the shirt

He definitely thinks it's funny and will happily wear it around the house

It mostly becomes a pajama shirt, not that you mind

He doesn't fully understand the joke, but he likes that you think he's cute

Will hang it up in a special place in the closet so he'll always see it

He likes when you wear it too

"I-I think it may suit you better, dear"

"That's so sweet, Norman... wait a minute"

Billy Loomis

He rolls his eyes at it but with the widest smile on his face

It doesn't take much for him to give in and try it on

He secretly thinks the shirt is hilarious, but he doesn't want to inflate your ego and end up with 30 similar tees

Doesn't wear it in public though since he's worried people may become a little suspicious

He likes it better on you though

So you both sort of trade off the shirt every week or so

Stu Macher

Practically the opposite of Billy's reaction

Stu will hold it up and immediately exclaim on how much he loves it

Thinks it's hilarious and will immediately throw it on

Does a couple funny twirls to show off how it looks

Honestly doesn't care what people think

He'll happily skip around in public with the shirt on, you right by his side

If anyone points it out he just shrugs and says "it's pretty sick, right?"

Eric Draven

He breaks out into a big smile and even laughs a little bit

"I see what you did there"

Flashes the shirt to his crow

"They look just like you"

He gives you a sweet kiss as a thank you

Will wear it on dates and stay-at-home days with you

He doesn't want it to get all beat up while he's out taking down criminals

But even after months of owning it, he still smiles whenever he puts it on

[alacetor-the-duckies-deer]

I have this headcanon for Alastor's back story where he's trans, and just as himself, as he is in the show, even as a kid. So his parents sent him of to a convent, were upon ww1 breaking out in his late teens, he ran away, forged a new identity as a man, got found out once he was already over seas, blackmailed a superior into letting him stay on, where he was introduced to radio communication, and the rest is history.

But all that to say, I like to then imagine, whenever anyone tells him something mildly outlandish, but definitely true, he likes to respond with "Yes, Vox, and I took a vow of celibacy when I was a catholic nun"

To which of course people think, "so you don't belive me? I mean but aren't you a virgin? Are you not????"

And of course, this never gets asked because who's gonna ask The Radio Demom about his Sexy Life.

Angel Dust that's who.

I imagine him doing an interview on Al's Show, just a mix of publicity for them both, hanging out because they're friends, and it's all a big middle finger to the Vee's.

Maybe it's pride month and so they were planning some talk about that, Alastor joking about a possible comming out, even though its plenty well know Alastor is some where on the ace spectrum to anyone with eyes.

They get on the topic somehow, Angel says something like, "I never laid myself across the bar like that! Second set of arms at most! Never my butt, never mind my legs! not after the first time!"

"Mh-hm. You got desperate in your flirting, and I took a vow of celibacy, when I was a nun. We all do silly things, Angel."

"Well, maybe I've laid out on the pool table, but it makes for good pictures. Anyway, I been meaning to ask you about that."

"About being a nun?

"No," angel laughs, plays it off, thinking he's joking. "About your being ace and all. No pressure, but like, you really never even wanted to try?"

"No, I find it quite repulsive. The idea even,"

"You don't watch nothin'? Read nothing either?"

"Ha! No! The filthy little novel Sister Amillia sneaked in the once was quite enough- are you okay Angel?"

Angel had infact just chocked on his latte. "Wait? Sister Amillia? Sneaked in? To where!?"

"The convent, Angel. I was 14, she was 16. Wonderful woman, taught me how to handle a knife, she left shortly after the novel was discovered- Sister Tabitha was as squeaky a little rat as she looked- never saw Amillia again, though."

"Wait, sorry. You were a nun, like, actually? What the fuck?"

One of the little lights that says they have a caller lit up, but Alastor ignore it for now. "Yes, Angel, do keep up."

"Wait, so like that nun costume you wear on halloween?" Angel blows right past the fact Alastor just came out as trans, because yeah. Didnt see it comming but, the trains already wizzing by, and more importantly- "Is that like your actual nun costume?"

"Ha! No, I flung that horrid thing in a garbage can on my way to the enlistment office when I was 17."

"Enlistment?" Angels begining to see what Alastor meant when he said this episode was going to be a unique experience for his listeners at the start of the braodcast. "Like world War 1, right? You were alive for that..."

"Yes, I figured with all the confusion one little girl-"

Angel's phone goes off. It's Val. Angel hits ignore.

"Fuck off Val, I'm off today" Angel says into his mic.

But they get interrupted again and again until Angel turns his phone off.

At which point all twelve of the little light that indicate the show had callers on the line, light up.

"Ah fuck. What does he want that bad? Can you just answer it real quick?"

Alastor flips a switch and answers.

"The fuck you want Val-"

"I'm not calling for you!" It's Vox on the other end, his voice booming from the speaker "Alastor! Are you fucking serious? You were a fucking nun?"

"Yes, Vox." He says with faux patience. "My goodness, did you all stuff your ears with cotton this morn-"

"So you DID actually take a vow of Celibacy? The other day at the meeting during my presentation, you said "that'll work, Vox, sure- and I took a vow-"

"Yes. I was there."

"And!?!"

"Celibacy, among other things. If this is a dig at my sexuality than-"

"Nah fuck that, hang on I'm doing math! Okay you were born in 1901, makes you 17 in 1918, yeah that tracks. Okay so 2024 make you 123, minus the 17 years to be conservative, thats 106 yeah?"

"I was 15 when I took that vow, and under threat of being institutionalized, if that's what you're getting at-"

"108! Ha! Oh my God! 108 years! That's gotta be a record!"

"What are you getting at Vox?"

"You took a vow!" Vox screams through his laughter. "All the pomp and circumstance! On consecrated ground! before god!? To abstain from sex! And even here in hell, were sin and blasphemy are rampant and free-"

"Careful Vox, your televangelist is showing-"

"Who gives a fuck!? You're the one whos upheld their vow to God for over a century like some devout saint!"

Angel and Alastor sit there staring at eachother while Vox laughs his head off around them

"Saint Alastor the Abstinent! The pantron Saint of Virgi-"

Alastor hangs up. "Well that was informative!" Alastor chirps "Well, What's to be done about this? Hm, Angel?"

And for some reason, an unholy one, surely, the first thing out of Angel's mouth is "I could suck you dick? If that- would count?"

And it's a testament to how far they've come as friends, or pooooossbily Alastor's nerves, or maybe his sheer unwavering bravado, but Alastor only bursts out laughing, shaking his head as he get out between laughter "I don't- have one!"

And then they're both laughing and laughing and laughing, and eventually they calm down, and Alastor gets a thoughtful look. "Though, Vox did have one good point."

"Oh?"

"That does have to be a recorded, at least among sinners. Why! I very well might have redeemed myself! We should certainly bring this up with Sera at the next conference!"

And then their off both laughing again, imaging Serra's face when she realises she's going to have to look into yet more research onto the workings of redemption from Heaven's end.

[morning-star-joy]

here, everyone knows you're the way to my heart

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Neighbors, Joel x F!Reader, Ellie x Platonic Reader

Summary: At Joel's request, you teach Ellie how to press flowers, and become even more engrained in the life of your neighbors. Joel continues to struggle with your kindness, and makes a choice that'll have consequences between you.

Tags/Warnings: 18+ MDNI. Grumpy x Sunshine, Mutual Pining, Implied Age Gap. Angst. Joel's an emotionally unavailable asshole. Petname (dollface). Mentions of food and eating. Cigarette use. Language. Please check series warnings on masterlist.

A/N: This took far too long, like 5 months after I started this series, but it's here now! Angst is kicking in towards the end of this one and through the next few parts so...yeah. Buckle in loves. Ty for being so patient and supportive for this fic!

Wordcount: 6.3k

Part I || Part IV || Part V || Series Masterlist

Masterlist || Kofi || Updates Blog

Looking back at it all now, the way you always acted around Joel finally made sense.

It had started out of neighborly kindness. You treated the older man, and the girl who he looked after, the same way you would’ve treated anybody who moved in next door, with a warm smile and offers of goodwill made by your own hand.

Somewhere along the way though, your reasons for seeking Joel out had shifted, so subtly that you hadn’t even realized it until suddenly it was all you could think about.

And now he was all you could think about.

Out in your garden, tending to your flowers, you wondered which blooms you could give him next. The meanings hidden within each family of plants, each variation of color, how you could tell him exactly the way you felt without him knowing a single thing.

In your kitchen, baking a small batch of brownies for Ms. Garcia again, wondering if Joel would like some, if you should set aside a few for him to try. Wondering if he liked something decadent, if the dour man had a secret sweet tooth, or maybe he preferred a sour taste instead.

Wondering if he had even cared enough to try the banana bread you had brought to him when he first settled in. 

Or if he had put any of your flowers in a vase like you had told him to.

Hoping you’d see him when you walked out of your house in the morning to go about your daily tasks helping out around Jackson, or hear that soft music played by rough fingers on his porch at night.

So when there was a rapt knock on your door one afternoon, you rushed from the kitchen to answer it without a care for your apron splattered with remnants of baking ingredients, too full of irrational hope until you opened the door, and your eyes were led down.

But the sight before you still brought a smile to your face, watching as the girl who also lived next door to you brightened when she saw you. Her awkward slouch straightened, a tentative smile twitching on her face to answer your welcoming one.

“Hey,” Ellie offered in terms of cautious greeting with a little wave, stuffing her hands back into the front pockets of her jeans, rocking back and forth on her heels as you returned her wave cheerfully. “Uh, I’m here for the…flower lessons?”

“Oh! Of course, please come in,” you chirped, smile widening into a grin with excitement at the prospect of sharing your knowledge of botanicals with somebody willing to learn. 

There weren’t many people in Jackson who were as invested in gardening as you—some even turned their nose up at it, deeming it trivial in the kind of world you lived in, when others were working day in and out to keep the place not only running, but as safe as could be.

But what was the point of having all this safety, if there was no warmth of it? What was the point of surviving without living, without finding what beauty remained, lovingly tending to it so it could grow, and cherishing its worth?

So you had been thrilled to learn from Joel that Ellie wanted to know how to press flowers, but you hadn’t wanted to overwhelm the girl, deciding it was best to let her come to you. 

Though she had seemed bright and energetic for the most part, and had been kind the few times she’d called to you from the next porch over, at times there was a shadow cast over her young face, a look that almost reminded you of a cornered animal. A soul that had grown up without knowing any sort of beauty.

And so you hoped that by showing her patience and kindness, Ellie would find there were still beautiful things that remained in the world around you.

“I thought maybe you had smelled the brownies,” you teased as you led her through the house, glancing back to see her eyes light up at the mention of desserts.

“Like, as in chocolate brownies?” Ellie asked, suddenly on your heels as you entered the kitchen, and you laughed at the way her jaw dropped at the sight of ingredients set out on your counter, in the midst of making a batch when she had dropped by.

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’ of the word as you circled the counter, gesturing to the batter you had been mixing with a fond smile at her growing grin of excitement. “I don’t always have the ingredients for it, but when I do, I always try and make a batch for Ms. Garcia down the street—they’re her favorite.”

Ellie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the older woman, bright mood dropping quickly at the name, even as she stepped closer to you to peer down into the bowl when you picked the whisk back up. “I don’t like her.”

Arching an eyebrow down at her, you countered the blunt statement with, “Do you know her?”

The young girl paused, eyes flashing up to meets yours, looking a little taken aback by the question before you saw her stubbornness double down before your eyes, squinting up at you as she shot back, “Well, she doesn’t know me, but she sure likes to talk shit about me. Joel too.”

You frowned, sighing softly before glancing back down at your batter to mix it a few more times. “Yeah, she can be a bit of a busybody. She’s lived in Jackson longer than most, and she’s watched so many people come and go that I think she finds herself a bit of an expert on the matter of who lives here.”

“She should mind her own fucking business,” Ellie mumbled, and you both found yourself looking at each other in surprise when a snort of shocked laughter left you, four eyes wide before the girl’s smile grew mischievous at your hint of amusement that you quickly tried to hide.

“I’m not a fan of gossip, and she does a bit too much of it,” you admitted with a sigh, turning to grab a pan to pour the batter into so you could get it in the oven and move on to what she had come here for. “But she’s lost a lot, and I try to offer some kindness to her.”

“Like you do with me and Joel.”

Your head whips back around to Ellie, eyes wide at the no punches drawn comparison.

That’s also when you see her hand as it crept towards the uncooked mix of ingredients for a sneak taste, and you gently smacked it away, lips twitching up into a smile as she huffed indignantly that you had caught her.

“Everybody deserves some kindness,” you replied softly as you poured and spread the batter into the pan, sliding it into the sweltering heat of the oven and setting your little timer. You turned back with a smile that showed your genuine motivation in spreading goodwill, one that made the tension in Ellie’s shoulders relax. “How could that not include my new neighbors?”

“Yeah, okay, Sunshine,” Ellie teased with a roll of her eyes, and you laughed again, not only amused by her wry sense of humor, but happy to see how she perked up at your positive reception to her jokes. “I came here for the flower shit, remember? But I’m definitely staying for those brownies.”

With a playful roll of your eyes, you gestured for her to follow you out the back door to your garden. When Ellie descended from the porch and stopped short, turning around in place to take in your carefully tended garden, you felt a swell of pride in your chest at the wonder in her wide-eyed gaze.

“Holy shit,” Ellie breathed out, her tone impressed as she glanced over your carefully coordinated flowers spreading throughout the yard. “You did all of this?”

“Sure did,” you chirped, a bright grin on your face that she slowly matched with one of her own as you led her to the flowers you’d be working on today. 

“I’ve had to do a lot of digging around for them—both through trades and, well,” you gestured with the trowel you picked up to accentuate your point, “literally.”

Ellie snorted, rolling her eyes at your joke, even as the sharp brown of them lit up more than you had seen yet at your bad pun. The cheer faded into something more somber, almost melancholic as she knelt down next to you in front of the patch of white and yellow daisies.

“I’ve never seen anything like this,” she mumbles as you pick up a pair of shears to give to her, and you watch as she takes the tool and holds it as if ready to wield it. 

The teen doesn’t even seem to notice the way she holds it out, sharp edges pointed away from herself like preparing to stab an Infected that didn’t exist within the walls of Jackson, and you wonder just what Ellie has gone through in her short life, how many improvised weapons she’s learned to make deadly, how hard she’s had to fight just to make it this far.

You’re reminded once again of the spooked animal backed into a corner at the sight of her awkwardly gripping the shears, and you show her your open palms before slowly reaching out, making your intentions clear before gently readjusting her grip on the shears.

“You’re nurturing something,” you say gently, picking up another pair of shears and demonstrating how you trim the dead leaves off your plants before finding a bright yellow daisy to carefully pick. “Not killing it.”

Ellie frowns, watching you retrieve the fresh bloom and present it to her with a smile. She takes it gingerly, staring down at the petals as she swirls it between her fingers and says bluntly, “But it’s gonna die anyway.”

You falter, a frown pulling onto your lips as you hear the unmistakable truth, the knowledge that ran deeper than just flowers in her grave words.

“It will,” you assent, voice quiet as you pick another one, handing it to her to join the first. “But they’re not alone. We’ll appreciate them while we have them, and when they’re gone, we’ll keep a reminder of them, like you wanted to learn.”

Ellie glanced up, solemn frown turning into one of confusion with the pinch of her brows. “Huh?”

Now it was your turn to frown, your facial expression mirroring hers as you clarify, “We’ll press the flowers. That’s what Joel said you wanted to learn.”

Blinking rapidly, Ellie shifted around to face you completely, and you did the same as you stared at each other in dual confusion and misunderstanding. “Joel said what now?”

“He said that you wanted to press flowers,” you said slowly, head tilting to the side as Ellie’s mouth opened before she stopped, eyes lighting up in sudden understanding that you were still lacking.

“Ooooh,” she drew out the sound of realization as you continued to look at her blankly, a slow smirk stretching across her face before she looked back down at the daisies, then up at you again. “Yeah, right! Pressing flowers. Yup, that’s what I told him. Totally wanted to learn that.”

There was a new excitement in Ellie’s eyes now as she nodded enthusiastically, matching the mischievous smirk on her face, and you tentatively gave your own nod before turning back to the flowers, continuing to pick a few more daisies along with her as the girl kept shooting you looks and asking you questions about the flowers decorating your garden.

“What’s that one mean?” she asks, pointing her shears towards a bunch of blooming lilies with bright pink leaves stretching outward.

“Pink lilies symbolize love and femininity,” you explain, snipping away a few dead leaves around a few more flowers before pushing yourself to your feet. “A lot of the time, they’re gifted between women because of that. It’s a show of admiration.”

Ellie nodded slowly, perking up at the explanation as she rose to her own feet beside you. She cast another glance around the garden, turning around slowly on her feet much like she did when first coming out, but you saw a honed look in her gaze, different from the wide scale glance of appreciation for the flowers from before.

And you understood the subtle calculation in the action when she not so subtly asked, “What about that one?”

Your eyes followed the direction she was pointing in to find your roses swaying gently in the spring breeze, and your back stiffened instantly.

“Uh—” Clearing your throat, you shifted awkwardly on your feet, trying to brush off the inkling that she knew what you had given Joel, ignoring the shrewd way she focused in on your face while you tried to turn it away from her observation. “Different colors have different meanings—”

“The orange one!”

You froze, holding your shears tightly in one hand and your own bundle of daisies in the other, trying to hide your internal panic and knowing you failed when you heard a snicker from beside you, letting you know that she must have seen the rose you’d given Joel at some point.

Did that mean he kept it?

You swallowed down the sudden surge of excitement at the thought, trying to focus past your feelings towards the man as you glanced back at the smirking teen beside you.

Clever kid.

“They’re energetic flowers,” you admitted a partial truth slowly, moving towards your back porch to drop off your tools and conveniently face away from Ellie, when she bounced in front of you to walk backwards, eyes fixed on your face with a purely trouble-making grin.

“Energetic how?” she prodded, arching her scarred eyebrow, and you sighed.

“They typically are meant to convey…fascination,” you hedged with the explanation as you set your shears down on your workbench, beckoning for her to do the same with hers before opening the back door and letting her go inside first.

“And not so typically?”

Holding back a groan, you strode past Ellie quickly, busying yourself with finding a small, unused book in your living room to start her collection of dried flowers in. You mumble the answer as you try to bury your face in the book, hoping she wouldn’t continue to interrogate you for her own amusement.

But as any true teenager would, she popped up behind you with a bright, “What’s that?” and you snapped the book shut with a groan after flipping through the pages.

“Attraction,” you admitted on a loud sigh, turning to see her grinning up at you. You resisted a smile yourself, her youthful glee at sticking her nose where it didn’t belong nearly infectious, even through your embarrassment at being caught. You passed the book to her, beckoning her to join you on the couch so you could show her how to press the flowers on your coffee table. “Happy?”

“Very,” Ellie grinned, and you could almost see her mentally filing away the information for the most inopportune time, all the while your own mind churned over the meaning of the flower you had left unsaid.

The very meaning that you had given Joel the flower for, the feelings that he stirred up inside you again and again with each fleeting look, stronger with each passing moment in his presence, even without him intentionally fanning the flames.

You wondered how much longer it would take until it finally burned you.

Joel had tremendously, irrevocably fucked up this time.

He should have never let you get that close. 

He should have said no when you asked him if he wanted that smoke, even if it meant seeing dejection on your face before you turned from him and hurried back inside the safety of your home. As far from him as allowed with fate—or, more likely, his goddamn brother—putting him next door to you. 

You should be far away from the likes of him.

The dejection would’ve been better than the hope that flooded your face whenever you saw him now. It would’ve been easier if you avoided him instead of seeking him out, less excruciating than the ache steadily settling into his very bones when your eyes lit up every time they met his own if you happened to see him, or find him, around town.

Spring was warming into summer, and you shone in the warmth of the sunlight, like those flowers you loved so much that he’d catch you taking care of around town. Half the times he ran into you, you were leaning over some flower bed or up on your tiptoes to reach a hanging basket, tending to the bright blooms that faded in comparison to your brilliance.

Joel would try and get away as fast as possible, if you didn’t catch him staring more often than not. You’d approach him, offer a new flower to him with a dazzling smile that burned itself into his eyelids and taunted him every time he blinked.

The new flower would go into that same shitty vase, and the old one would join the ever growing pile of dying flowers on the edge of the counter, balanced precariously close to the trash bin next to it.

He kept telling himself he’d shove them all into the trash someday.

But every time a dried petal would flutter into the bin, he’d lean over with a grunt at that persistent ache in the back of his left knee and pull the splintering petal back out, setting it back onto the counter with the other blossoms that continued to fall apart.

One of these days, he’d get rid of them.

Every time he entered the kitchen, he’d tell himself it was that day.

And every time his hand hovered over them, gazing over the once full of life blossoms that had dampened with the passage of time, he’d decide tomorrow would be better. 

The pile of flowers grew, until one day Ellie stopped in her tracks heading through the kitchen, staring pointedly at the dried up petals hanging on for the last dregs of dear life off brittle stems, and then back at Joel.

And he pointedly ignored her, focusing on peeling the washed apple in his hand, knife carefully shedding the skin as he asked her before she could speak, “Where you goin’?”

“To learn more about flowers with your girlfriend,” she shot back, the snicker evident in her voice, and Joel’s thumb froze, the shiny red peel of the apple hanging in a swirl off the fruit in his hands.

“My—” he shook his head sharply, brows knitted together as he huffed out a quiet, exasperated breath. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

“I hardly know her.”

“Sure.”

Joel exhaled sharply, the peel finally falling into the sink when he finished, and he focused on cutting off a slice instead of the aggravating tone in Ellie’s voice that said she knew something he didn’t.

Something he in fact knew very well, as infuriating as it was to deal with.

“She just lives next door, Ellie,” he doubled down, only looking up to pass her a slice of apple, then another slice when she popped the first one into her mouth, even as he shook his head in disapproval when she smiled wide with the apple in front of her teeth when she saw his exasperation with her antics. “Thought you could give each other some company.”

“Right,” she mumbled through a mouthful of the chewed fruit, and he shot her a disapproving look that she only snickered at. To her credit, she did at least swallow down the first piece and hold off on eating the second to say clearly, innocent words with a sharp double meaning, “Nice flowers, by the way. What a neighborly gift. I sure admire them.”

Joel frowned, glancing from Ellie towards the light red flowers that currently sat in the vase—carnations, he thinks. You’d given them to him a couple days ago, when he had been on the way home from a patrol that had taken him out before the sun rose, and brought him back when it was finally setting again. 

Your head had popped up at the sound of his footsteps going past your house, a grin spreading across your face before you called out to him. There was a quick snip of the stems at the flower bed you were kneeling at in your front yard before you rose and handed them to him over the fence, old wood with peeling white paint that separated you from each other.

He had thought of you on your knees that night, the dirt on your skin, what it would be like to rub it off with a gentle caress until each passing of his thumb over your knee would turn needy. Desperate.

God fucking dammit, longing.

But he thought of the unabashed smile you offered him, and the startling way it eased his worn nerves after the long day even more.

What an old, goddamn fool he was.

And what made matters so much worse was how fond Ellie was growing of you. He could deal with his own…his own, whenever you were around him for too long.

But each time Ellie returned from a visit to you happier than when she’d left, it was harder to keep those lines that separated his life from yours from blurring even more. Two sets of fences separated your property from his, but your very being still bled into him, seeping into his bones and settling with a tension under his skin when you began to brighten not just everybody’s fucking day, but Ellie’s as well.

You may have given the girl a gift of flowers to help her feel welcome in Jackson, but it was you who truly made the kid feel at ease. Joel had hardly heard so much praise for anybody else from her, and he couldn’t even be irritated when Ellie started coming home from her flower lessons with you first with gifts of brownies and cookies, and then with casseroles, full meals in dishes that they’d sit side by side on the couch with a couple of forks and eat from together.

“She doesn’t think we eat enough,” Ellie mumbled through a mouthful of casserole one night, and Joel scoffed, even as he shoveled another bite into his own mouth.

“She’s right,” he begrudgingly relented once the dish was empty on the coffee table, their forks discarded inside, and they both fell into a peaceful nap like you had delivered them a fucking Thanksgiving.

Everything you did to him, everything you made Joel feel was harder to ignore when he saw the positive influence you had on Ellie. She went from hardly ever getting out of the house to looking forward to those flower lessons he had lied to both her and you about the other person coming up with the idea, when it was his own.

His own stupid blunder, the question of how to press a flower falling from his lips that night he had made the crucial mistake of letting you get too close. The question he had asked to stop the other question from leaving him, the one that had been taunting him nearly from the first time you had fixed him with that dazzling smile and wide, kind eyes.

How do you do it?

How are you so kind? 

How do you not hate the world?

How do you not hate him for hardly giving you the time of day everybody else was more than willing to give to you? 

All because he was old and bitter and couldn’t fucking admit to himself how you were growing on him, how you were branching out around every cursed inch of him and entangling him in all your softness, pulling him in like ivy, pernicious in its beauty until he crumbled under the weight of your light.

He was too scorned to appreciate what you illuminated in your path, taking your sunshine for a burn on his skin whenever he let you take another step closer.

Somewhere inside him, he worried that he’d burn you too, if he kept letting you take another step.

And somewhere even deeper, he feared that he wanted to.

If he saw you crack, if he got you to lash out at him, maybe he’d finally understand you.

Maybe he could finally let himself—

Fuck, he was an awful human being, if he was even that. The things he’d done, the things he’d still do—he needed to stay away from you.

And if he wasn’t so awful, he would.

If he wasn’t a selfish man, he would’ve sat out on his back porch to play his guitar night after night. Or better yet, stay inside altogether.

He wouldn’t be sitting out on the front porch as soon as the sun began to set, his eyes flickering towards the lights that would flick on in the house next door, filtering through the floral curtains when he switched to strumming a new song.

His fingers wouldn’t be twitching in yearning to hold a cigarette between them, his throat not parched for the stream of smoke that mixed with the sweet taste of you on his lips from sharing that cigarette with you.

He wouldn’t let you consume his every thought. He wouldn’t let you get closer when you weren’t even there.

He wouldn’t let you.

But he did.

He always did.

And maybe he always would.

It happens like clockwork.

As soon as the sun starts to set and sends the deepest hues of purple and pink cascading across the sky, the gentle strumming of a guitar starts. The music bleeds through the walls of your home, and at this point, you’re always sitting by the window in your living room when it starts.

You’d learned to crack open the window the slightest bit before the sunset begins, so you can hear it better when he plays.

You’d also learned to flick the light on in the room when it starts to get too dark. Because when you did, those calloused fingers you could see so well when you closed your eyes would stop across the strings.

There’d be a pause, and then he’d start again. A different song each time, and you’d lean against the wall and listen, his music filtering in as your light filtered out.

You could never bring yourself to open the curtains, but you wondered if he ever noticed the crack in the window after the first few times.

Sometimes you’d read, letting Joel’s music blanket your senses as your mind got carried away into whatever story was on the pages in your hands.

Other times you’d swirl the stem of a flower between your fingertips, the next one that you planned to give him. Or run your fingers down the recipes in a worn cookbook, searching for the next treat or meal you’d give Ellie to take home after a visit.

One night, you’d fallen asleep like that, curled against the wall and waking up with a start and a crick in your neck when nightmares plagued your sleeping mind again.

And when his music still filtered through, it had seemed like such a good idea to get even closer to it. 

There was a comfort to it, real or imagined, and you needed it. You at least had half a mind for a jacket and shoes that time, shoving the dwindling supply of cigarettes you had into the pocket before you stepped out onto the porch, letting the door shut behind you without a care to try and hide it that time.

The music stopped abruptly. By the time you dared a glance over, he was already looking at you.

A moment of silence that felt like forever stretched in that short distance between your porches before Joel jerked his head in a silent beckoning for you to approach, and you were off towards him in an instant.

That first night—or the second, really—you didn’t say a word to each other. You shared another cigarette until your nerves had settled, and left with a small wave and a thankful smile that was returned only with the growing familiarity in the weight of his gaze on you until you disappeared back inside your house.

The next few times it happened, you’d make small talk. A nervous habit, and he didn’t look at you as you spoke, but he’d give small hums every now and then. The smallest scraps of attention that only made you keep coming back.

When you were out of cigarettes, a fear caved in on you that he wouldn’t want you there, that he wouldn’t tolerate your presence if you didn’t have anything to offer.

So you padded about your kitchen that day, making three different batches of cookies as you couldn’t decide on which one to give him. Even with the way you found your life intertwined with his more and more, there was still so much you didn’t know about the man. So much you wanted to know.

Eventually, you settled on a hunch that he did have a secret sweet tooth. Either Ellie scarfed down every batch of sweets you sent her home with—which very well could be—or she shared them with Joel, and the latter thought had you crossing over to his porch that night, a plate of peanut butter cookies nervously clutched in hand.

Cookies he stared at when you ascended the steps to him, sending your heart into a nervous flutter when his jaw set as severely as the first time you’d shown up on his doorstep with an offer of goodwill in something you’d baked with your own hands.

“I was out of cigarettes,” you offered weakly for an excuse as you seemed to mess up around your neighbor once again, and Joel’s gaze finally flashed up to your face, flickering over whatever emotions were probably bleeding through onto your features before looking away.

His hand lifted from the neck of his guitar, rifling through a pocket of his worn jacket until he pulled out his own few rolled up cigarettes with a lighter, which you blinked at in surprise.

“Where did you—”

“Don’t matter,” he mumbled, gaze averted from yours, and you tried to swallow down a lump in your throat as he held them up.

Wordlessly, he passed them to you, and you handed him the cookies, which he set onto the small table beside his chair and stared at as if your gift was the greatest offense you could have ever made.

You tried to find relief in the nicotine, but he kept staring at those darn cookies, a furrow in his strong brow and a dark look in his eyes that you wished you could ease, or at least understand.

Eventually, you dared to try and speak.

“I—”

“I don’t get it.”

Your brow furrowed when Joel interrupted you, confused as to what he meant, and he seemed just as confused as he glanced over your face before hesitantly clarifying, “Your…kindness. The way you’re so positive all the time.”

He raised his hand from the neck of his guitar, gesturing towards the cookies with it, then in the air as he listed off with a voice tinged with irritation, “Baking. Flowers. Fucking…smiling like you do. I don’t get it.”

Your stomach flipped again when Joel met your eyes for a brief moment before he looked back down at his guitar, setting it aside with a sigh so he could rest his hands on his knees, and you murmured, “Well, I'm glad you're finally saying it.”

Joel’s head rose, his gaze finding you again as you gave a small smile, his entire body stiffening at the sight while you continued, “I knew you hated me since you came to Jackson, but it's a bit freeing to hear you finally admit it.”

His jaw clenched, eyes flickering all over your face, as if he was searching for…you didn’t know what he was searching for, and didn’t know whether or not he found it as his eyes narrowed and he looked away again.

“I don’t…” Joel trailed off with a heavy sigh, lifting a hand to rub down over his face, his next words muffled against his palm as he said slowly, “...I just don’t get it.”

His hand dropped, hanging between his knees as he said to you directly, “I’m not kind to you.”

Your head tilted, observing him quietly for a moment to try and see what he was getting at, figure out whether he wanted an answer or not. When he kept looking at you expectantly, you replied quietly, “No, you’re not.”

“So why are you so fucking nice to me?” 

With a shrug, you answered easily, “Because I’m nice to everybody.”

“Why?” 

You sighed, feeling a small flare of irritation at Joel’s persistence on the topic, but you let the feeling fade as you shrugged again.

But when you opened your mouth to reply, Joel swiftly rose, taking a step towards you as he lifted a finger to gesture towards your face while he murmured, “There. I saw it. You were annoyed.”

You raised an eyebrow, a quiet laugh slipping from you as you searched for the words you wanted to say, but it was getting increasingly more difficult to think as he slowly closed the distance between you.

“I get irritated, Mr. Miller,” you said patiently, watching Joel’s jaw clench again, though you weren’t sure what set off the reaction as you continued, “I’m only human. But what would being mad get me?”

“Satisfaction,” he replied easily, getting closer now, and your breathing quickened, pulse racing as you noticed again how big he was, how thick those arms were when he crossed them across his chest and how broad that was, and your mind was screaming at you danger again, just like that first night on his porch. 

Not because he was dangerous—though he might as well be from the rumors, just not towards you, not in that way—but because these feelings he stirred from you threatened to pull you under completely if he suddenly decided to stop keeping that short bit of distance that remained between you.

Lord, when had that distance gotten so short?

“There’s plenty of things to be satisfied about, Mr. Miller,” you said calmly, watching his jaw tick again, and your head tilted, observing him as closely as he watched you. “Cruelty isn’t one of them.”

“No?” he asked softly, the volume of his voice a direct juxtaposition to the stern heat in his gaze, and you shivered again, one of your hands pulling your jacket tighter around yourself in the same moment he reached for your other hand.

You froze as Joel tugged the cigarette from your grasp, holding it in front of your eyes as he mumbled, “Like this?” before dropping it to the porch, lifting his boot to stomp it out, and your breath hitched as he leaned in closer towards you. “Is that vice of yours really enough to satisfy you, dollface?”

Doll—

It was harder to breathe now, your head spinning, mouth still warm and tingling from the mere memory of that taste of him you had once gotten on another cigarette—mint and whiskey, mint and whiskey, and you wondered if his lips would taste of that now if pressed to yours, your tongue in his mouth to explore it and find out.

You quickly shook the heat of the spiraling thoughts from your mind as you breathed out, “There’s enough wrong with the world, Joel. I don’t plan to add to it.”

He exhaled sharply then, and your eyelashes fluttered as you felt his breath wash over your face, and there was that same scent of mint and something wholly intoxicating enveloping your senses and oh god, when had he gotten that close, but you were lost in the proximity as he murmurs, “Say it again.”

You could hear your blood rushing through your head now muffling your ears, heart pounding in your chest that was heaving from quick breaths as you whispered distractedly, “What?”

“Say it,” Joel repeated, leaning closer, and your breath hitched, lips parting when his nose brushed against yours, feeling your pulse between your legs now as he ordered in a low tone, “Again.”

Your mind was struggling to keep up, trying to find out what he meant, trying to find logic in the situation.

But there was no logic, only feeling, only this strange all encompassing heat, and your lips parted further to whisper what you knew he wanted to hear, “Joel—”

“Fuck,” Joel hissed, the curse slipping from his mouth a mere moment before it was on yours.

The only thing that you could manage to do was moan, the warmth of his lips pressed to your own increasing the heat until you felt like you were standing in the middle of a fire, feeling as much warmth as you did a scalding burn when he jerked away from you as quickly as he had kissed you.

Kissed you.

Joel had kissed you.

Something he was apparently horrified by as he leaned away from you, wide eyes darting across your face as he breathed out another, “Fuck,” before he was spinning on his heel and marching towards his door.

You knew it was coming before it happened, the same thing that always happened when Joel seemed to think you got too close. And so you were left standing on his front porch, burning with heat that still lingered on your skin, on your lips from where he had kissed them for just a few seconds before tearing himself away, the door slammed in your face once again.

[awellboiledicicle]

I wanna throw out a reccomendation for @shopwitchvamp's skirts and joggers.

For those of you who don't know, i'm fat. I have problems finding cloths that both fit and are cute. Them lasting against the gauntlet of my thighs rubbing together is a wholly separate concern that comes about 50 feet before the concern of if pockets exist in the thing. Somewhere in there is "and how long until the elastic cracks out and i'm screwed?" And that's not covering the sensory issues of if the fabric is ok or it'll feel like satan is rubbing his pubes on my skin every time i move.

I know well that i'm not the only big person to have these issues. I would wager it's common enough that several people are nodding along and waiting to see me go "and these clothes cover some of these issues".

HOWEVER

I would like to say that they cover ALL these issues very well!

First off: I first purchased a skirt from this store and generally assumed it'd be too small. Because even when things say they fit a certain size, i get skeptical. It not only fit over my belly comfortably-- the elastic not cutting in and sitting smoothly--but i could pull it up and the band would rest easily around my chest so I could wear the maxi skirt as a dress! It also has pockets that can fit my wallet, phone, keys, and nintendo switch. Granted, if you distribute them lopsided, it'll pull that way, but it is only a mortal garment. It's not a miracle worker. That said, i've had it for a year + and not only has the smooth texture not changed, but the elastic hasn't lost tension. It's been well worth the money.

Second off: the joggers. I purchased a pair of joggers with stars and moons and clouds. I believe it was one of the jester's patterns, but i could be wrong. Point is, i had yet another spike in trepidation because skirts? easier to not be a problem. And yet, the joggers not only fit very well, but stretch with little issue. The only problems i've ever run into was whenever i'd eaten/drank a lot and then did a lot of bending. Then the waistband would press in, but that's a folly of pants as a garment. The elastic continues to hold up, both on the waist and the ankles. They're breathable enough to wear during summer, but insulated enough that they're rapidly taking the place of the ol standard "jeans until you need layers". The pockets are also well sized, though not as spacious as the skirts. This is literally the only serious mark against them and that's on me trying to shove a switch in my pants pocket and kneel down to pet a cat.

THIRD: i ordered a jesters privilege tank top and the literal only downside i have with it is i overestimated the idea that it'd shrink with washing. Upside is that it makes my chest look GREAT when i wear it to see my partners. Does wonders as a sleep shirt. And if i tuck it in or wear a jacket over it, it does great at work too. There is less to talk about here, expressly because there are no pockets to review.

I will also shout out their quick customer service-- i once sent an ask about the drawstring in the joggers turning so the end of the string was inside the pants and i couldn't get it out. Within a few hours they responded with a solution to a problem that literally most people let alone companies wouldn't bother with.

"But Mok" you might say, dear assumed reader. "What's the catch? Do they cost an arm and a leg? Do they cost a soul? One pure and untarnished soul from a small child?"

They do not. That said, as someone with a lower income Witchvamp clothes are certainly a "save up for when what you want drops and then treat yourself" deal. They're worth the cost, though. I'd say it's well worth getting a couple pairs of joggers and a skirt for like $150 ONCE in a while, that will LAST and FIT and look nice, than continually dropping $20 on clothes that'll wear out in a season or less.

Also sometimes you get a free rock with your order.

Go forth.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 07/09

Anonymous asked: also, thats pretty distinctly not vriskas handwriting (page 2196). the hell is terezi even talking about?

Terezi, for god's sake.

@manorinthewoods asked: I'd like to note that Pyralspite's eyes are either an eighth the brightness of Alternia's sun, or Pyralspite has the ability to psychically burn out people's eyes just by wanting to. Probably the former. ~LOSS (30/8/24)

I should have guessed that Vriska's cruel and unusual punishment for Terezi was yet another case of Mindfang Roleplay.

I think it's likely that Pyralspite does have some sort of ocular ability. After all, Terezi's lusus had a vision-based power, and she's probably Pyralspite's direct descendant.

@gogogoat495 asked: Say, what do you think of the reuse/mix of animation and music from Dave: Ascend to Seer: Ascend? Is it a simple callback or are there deeper parallels between the characters and story beats?

Well, they are both lead-ups to a climactic fight between 'siblings'. Other than that, though, I'm not really sure. Dave and Terezi have always got on very well, but I can't really see any direct parallels in their personal arcs.

@manorinthewoods asked: Mindfang's classism is ridiculous. This woman straight up said 'one of such middling 8lood' about someone literally one step below her on the ladder. If she were Tavros, she would be oppressing Aradia so hard. ~LOSS (29/8/24)

In Terezi's own words, she's 'a little too teal' to be considered a true highblood. I think there's a hard line of separation here, where anyone below Vriska's caste is considered a midblood at best.

In other words: to be a blueblood, you really need to be a blue-blood.

@manorinthewoods asked: Nepeta, whose handle is arsenicCatnip, uses arsenic's atomic number as a significant element of her quirk. This implies that arsenic has the same atomic number in Alternia as on Earth, which in turn means that, at the very least, the two universes likely share a periodic table. Odd, given how one has widespread psychic abilities and the other doesn't. ~LOSS (29/8/24)

I think it makes sense that Earth inherited some of its scientific concepts from Alternia. It wouldn't be the first thing we inherited!

@heliotropopause asked: TG: maybe if you kill her at least we can finally stop obsessing over her Hah! homestuck's been over for over for almost eight years now, and people are still doing vriscourse to this day. There is no escape, i'm afraid.

'Vriscourse' is kind of killing me. I'm kind of disappointed that this is my first time hearing the term, because I'd probably have been using it this whole time.

@probablyapineapple asked: im not completely caught up on reading this liveblog yet (currently up to s67) but i think youre on track to understanding these characters better than literally anyone

Well, thank you! I have, admittedly, posted some rather hot takes in the past, though. If I recall correctly, my Act 5 shipping chart was my most controversial post to date.

@bladekindeyewear asked: Back during these times in the comic, there were broad theoryposting camps advocating for both narrower and broader interpretations of Aspect domains/powers. I know you're avoiding as much outside influence as you can, but I'm wondering if maybe after the end of this Act, you could accept some community Theorydiving from around this time that could unlock more tools for you to understand hidden evidence for Aspect Stuff you might have missed? […]

I'm definitely considering something like that. Specifically, I'd love to take a look at some of the comic's early theories - ones that had already been disproven by this point in the comic. That'll allow me to get into the headspace of Homestuck's earliest theorists, without influencing my own as-yet-unproved theories.

@manorinthewoods asked: Perhaps an older Legislacerator's job is less actually trying to pursue justice, and more going through cargo cult-esque rhythms of justice, taking its trappings and trying to bring it about while having no understanding of what they're actually doing and what the meaning of their actions is. Maybe, like the Subjugglators, they're an entire social class/blood color based around a single cult? ~LOSS (28/8/24)

I think Dave was pretty on the mark when he described early legislacerators as bounty hunters. Maybe they assumed something marginally closer to an attorney's role in Alternia's modern age - but in Redglare's era, the ideal legislacerator was a violent thrill-seeker, more concerned with bloody combat than courtroom paperwork.

@violetsquare111 asked: I do wonder how big, exactly, is the multiverse in Homestuck. I guess that's a bit of a weird question if there are "infinite universes"… but infinite potential doesn't mean infinite already-existing universes, does it? For some reason I always thought of the amount of Sburb sessions/universes being fairly small, in the grand scheme of things. Less than a million, maybe. I really don't know where I got that from, and there's probably some throwaway line in the comic contradicting it, but if applicable then it's another possible explanation for how Perfect Jack would be one-of-a-kind.

It's not impossible. That would imply that the overwhelming majority of sessions are doomed to fail - but, honestly, they might be! After all, neither of the sessions we've seen so far have been unambiguously successful.

@iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i had a dream that you went from page 3703 to page 7053 in one day

You dreamt of Sally on Adderall.

@spiddermen asked: hihi i just caught up with your liveblog and im so happy to have a chance to reread hs along with you, the first time i read it was when i was like… twelve? so nine years ago? and pretty much all of it went over my head. but now im finally getting to appreciate this masterpiece and your observations are making a lot of stuff click for me as well. so its cool to finally get to understand how freaking good this story is and i cant wait to see you react to some of the crazy later stuff also i hope this doesnt trip the spoiler sensor but some of the answers to the questions you're asking are only answered in sequel material so i do really hope you'll read those, they're ignored by a lot of the fans but they're honestly really really good and i feel like you're the kind of person who would get the intended experience out of them. and psycholonials as well! everyone ignores it but it practically is homestuck (2) to me

Thank you! And yeah, we've talked a bit about this before. Cat and I had a discussion about the subject back in Act 3, and I'm well aware that this comic isn't going to answer all of my questions. Honestly, it would be pretty surprising if it did - I've been digging really deep into aspects of the comic that are clearly just meant to be background details.

As for whether I'll be dipping into Hussie's other projects, or Homestuck's non-canon material - I'm certainly going to check them out, but only time will tell whether they get the full liveblogging treatment. That said, if it addresses questions of mine that Homestuck itself doesn't elaborate on, consider my interests piqued.

@manorinthewoods submitted: I sorta skimmed Homestuck, and missed out on basically all of the Flashes going through, so I totally missed the fact that WQ wrote a romantic fanfic about herself, which is really funny. It does have a serious aspect, though - it implies something about her relationship with WK, no? I suspect they may be friendly with one another, but fate gives their relationship a bit of tragedy - as well as a bit of 'we are simultaneously both forced to be in a romantic relationship and also only being co-rulers'. Is WQ<3WK a thing? Doesn't have to be. I suspect it may be something like WQ<>WK […]

Plus, Carapacians are clones, so it's not like the Royals need to make any heirs. Really, they only need to be co-workers - but the idea that they might have a moirail-adjacent relationship is very cute.

Anonymous asked: Grimdark Rose: "Vengeance and rage are all I live for now, seeing my dead mother makes me feel nothing, I will-" John: Exists Rose: "OMG bestie hiiiiii" ~DJ

First Vriska, now Rose. It seems like John's the perfect calming influence for any out-of-control Light Player.

Anonymous asked: Not sure if you noticed, the tapestries about the kids' quests are all referencing the [S] pages with misattributed quotes associated with each kid (pages 82, 307, 444, and 2988). The quotes are, respectively, from Maxims by Francois de La Rochefoucauld, The Waste Land by T.S. Eliot, Drop It Like It's Hot by Snoop Dogg, and possibly an original piece by Hussie ending with a line from Hamlet. I don't think any of them mean anything.

The quotes might not be Hussie originals, but they definitely seem to evoke the kids' respective Quests. Dave's quote is a bit of an exception, though...

Anonymous asked: "They wait for he who would drop it while it's hot whilst the pimp's in the crib." I mean, you laugh NOW, but knowing Andrew and this comic, can you honestly say this won't end up having an incredibly important and literal meaning? @walkerbehindyou asked: Is there a quest more suited for Dave than to show up at his denizen’s (certainly the pimp of LOHAC) palace in the past and drop straight fire?

...but perhaps that means it's foreshadowing something we haven't seen yet. If Dave ends up making a Choice, I wouldn't put it past him to rap an answer to his Denizen.

@iris-in-the-dark-world asked: the soundtrack of the grimdark rose segment really gets to me. i'd highly recommend the first few songs of that album

Black Rose/Green Sun was a great song. It evoked a very different feeling than anything we've heard before, and really highlighted how alien Rose has become, now that she's been fully submerged in darkness.

@manorinthewoods asked: Ooh, here's an idea - when you do the Sahlee-and-Sally Let's Play, set it in an alternate Sburb that's based on all of your incorrect theories. Every Land has a God Tier Moon orbiting it, for instance. Would be really cool - your theoretical Sburb has a lot of super fun stuff in it. ~LOSS (12/8/24)

Oh, I like that idea. It means I can finally bring back the anti-Skaia, which is probably my favourite since-disproven theory.

Anonymous asked: I never realised that the pillow that Rose uses then is the one from her mum - well spotted :,(

A mother will do whatever is best for her children.

And a daughter will remember what was best about her mother.

Anonymous asked: So. Do you think that a Horrorterror-Boosted Rose has any chance against a First Guardian Prototyped Jack Noir? We've seen that if left alone Jack can destroy Entire Worlds and his teleporting is Nigh Instant, plus who knows how far he can go in a single teleport! […]

Dark Rose is arguably a God-Tier level threat, but we've just seen Jack one-shot a God Tier. I don't think she has a hope - there's only so many bullet-time stabbings she can take!

Anonymous asked: its really interesting to see you say that rose saying she felt mom was a sister and a mother at once made u feel like there must have been camraderie. for me, it reinforced the idea that moms parenting forced rose to act like a peer to mom when it came to her alcoholism? in the sense that moms alcoholism took her out of commission, and made it so that rose had to take care of herself in a lot of ways that a parent would, putting them on similar levels. So its interesting to see a different interpretation!

It's not impossible. To me, Rose's monologue reads as if she's trying to express her admiration of her mother. This is the first time she's admitted to having positive feelings for her guardian, and I think she's regretting that she never voiced these feelings to the woman herself, before it was too late.

That's just one reading of her words, though. I think her monologue here is meant to be ambiguous, just like the Lalonde mother-daughter relationship always was.

@manorinthewoods asked: Ooh, you're thinking of a Carapacian player, huh? That would be interesting - imagine if they go in with, like, complete knowledge of how Sburb works, so they prototype something super strong in order to buff the Ring that they then steal and equip. ~LOSS (12/8/24)

That would be interesting. Carapacians are the only species where the game can't fully compensate for the power of your race by buffing Underlings, since buffing the Underlings would also buff the Ring I'm abusing!

@skelekingfeddy asked: re: troll romance: i generally lean towards xenopsychology, mixed in with a secret 4th thing (humans can also feel troll romance), with a little dose of propaganda, and also an undercurrent of parody (because Hussie. everything has an undercurrent of parody (e.g. pretty much all the trolls are based on internet stereotypes). i COMPLETELY disagree with the notion that the quadrants are made up unhealthy bullshit. i think theres a genuine evolutionary biological origin for the quadrants if matespritship is all about Companionship, then kismesissitude is all about Competition, Rivalry, a drive to push yourself and make yourself better. both are generally healthy and beneficial in their own ways. the evolutionary basis for moirallegiance and auspisticism is the need for pacification, a better half, to prop up matespritships and kismesissitudes and keep them from being interfered with (as described in-comic). each quadrant is the result of a genuine primal, biological urge

I don't necessarily think the quadrants are fabricated, but I do think that the version of them that exists on Alternia are unhealthy more often than not, particularly when it comes to black romance. Monogamous auspisticism requires an overwhelming amount of emotional labor, all the kismesissitudes we've seen have been toxic at best, and there has to be a better way to do this.

Anonymous asked: My brother's been going through your liveblog recently and it's been fun getting to re-experience it through him, especially being reminded of all the theories you have that are shockingly accurate in very inaccurate ways. The two that come to mind are your theory that Jade was engineered in a lab (which, she kinda was, but that's not unique to her) and that John's version of Sburb is bugged (the meteors, it turns out, were a part of the game as it's meant to be played, but this whole 'tumour' thing sure isn't). Also, while I'm here, going to recommend checking out Temporal Shenanigans by Rachel Rose Mitchell, which is a gorgeous fansong about Aradia that shouldn't have any spoilsies at this point. I would also rec PhemieC's music with the caveat that many of their songs are spoilery - while most of the troll-specific ones should be alright, I'd definitely say to get someone else to go through them first to be certain. Hope you're doing well!! And I look forward to seeing more of your liveblog if and when you return to it! -Megido

Oh yeah, I was talking about how Jade was made in a lab! I'd totally forgotten about that theory.

You know, her Dreambot is actually interesting in retrospect. The bed that controls it looks suspiciously like a Quest Bed, which makes me wonder just how much Grandpa knew about Sburb's lore, and what exactly he was trying to do here.

Anonymous asked: I find it a bit funny (in good way) how aspects of your troll and human sona are kinda opposites, like life and death type of thing, sweet

Really, it's mostly just me hedging on my own Aspect. Plus, having two 'sonas lets me explore twice as much Sburb lore, allowing me to come up with two weapons, Lands, Title powers, and the like.

Within the hypothetical context of the fic, I've been thinking a lot about why there'd be two Sallys. Like, was one 'sona partially cloned from the other? If so, who was the original? Technically, the Alternian version would have existed 'first', but the existence of time travel ensures that that doesn't mean much.

@manorinthewoods asked: Rather appropriate that Rose's weapon is her Thorns. ~LOSS (10/8/24)

Ayyy!

@ipunchvampires asked: "You should understand [Rose has] been corrupted by various entities with some rather questionable motives," says Entity with Rather Questionable Motives corrupting her. Kind of the perfect Doc Scratch line, honestly.

Doc Scratch is an awful person, but he's still a funny fuck.

@heliotropopause asked: wait. is that *Guybrush Threepwood* in the boat there??? @elkian asked: At the risk of being the 88th person to say something, the troll in the dinghy is a Guybrush Threepwood cameo (using the more cartoony style from Curse Of Monkey Island etc.). Man's truly unfortunate, or maybe he's lucky for not being a focal character? XD Anonymous asked: that 'one random motherfucker on a little dinghy' is in fact, guybrush threepwood from the monkey island series, thrown in as an easter egg by one of the artists who made assets for the flash @sanctferum asked: the troll on the dinghy is Troll Gybrush Threepwood. the guest artist for that scene confirmed this on the now-defunct MSPA forums IIRC

Ahahaha. Mystery solved, I guess!

I've been wanting to play Monkey Island for some time - and now I need to, so that I can understand the true backstory of of GY'BRSH TRPWUD.

Anonymous asked: I love this section, because I think it really shows something about Dave (and Rose). Because Dave just says whatever pops into his head, when he's getting command prompts, he just repeats them uncritically. (That also supports that when he said he didn't love his Bro, it was his honest reaction) @ben-guy asked: David "Zero Filter" Strider was absolutely not ready to have thoughts beamed directly into his head by an exile lmao @krixwell asked: It's so funny to me how when thoughts are incepted into Dave's subconscious mind, they just come falling right back out his mouth at the first opportunity. Filter, what filter? Those sunglasses don't hide shit.

Reminds me of his stress-rambles from early on in the comic. The reason he wears those shades is, I think, because he is a naturally expressive person - he just doesn't want to be.

[wordsarelife]

DAY 1: MERRY CHRISTMAS

pairing: mattheo riddle x fem!reader

summary: two times you surprised mattheo with a cute ‘tradition’ and the one time he surprised you 

notes: modern au, oh and i took a bit of a funny turn on the traditions

ps: i had to search up the sad christmas adverts, because ✨accuracy✨ and ended up watching a fourty minute video while crying my eyes out… so christmas can come!!

You were sitting in the great hall, eating your breakfast, when the owls flew in, announcing it was time for the mail. 

“oh, look” you gently hit your boyfriend on the arm so his focus was on you. “the owls are coming”

"yeah" mattheo shrugged, not really interested in looking up "like every morning"

"yeah" you said slowly "but i bet mine has the christmas card today!"

"the what?" mattheo asked, watching you as you gently took the mail from the owls leg and fed him some of your toast

"christmas cards, matty" you smiled, looking through the deck. "here it is!" you held the card up like a treasure, your eyes quickly flew over the paragraphs before you held it in mattheo's direction.

he smiled, while reading the words your mum had written, adressed to the both of you. he finally turned the card around and laughed when he saw the picture of your family. "that's sweet"

"have you never received a christmas card before?" you wondered, amazed by how surprised he seemed to be

"i guess not" mattheo shrugged "but i think i like them. do you receive them from you family every year"

"of course!" you nodded "but you receive them from other family or friends as well"

"that's cool" he held the card in your direction, pointing at the picture of your family, wearing matching christmas sweaters and then at you "look at you!" he gushed "so cute!"

the picture was a few years older, you were still wearing braces in it. you parents had loved it so much that you hadn't taken a new one until now. "i was fourteen, okay?" you rolled your eyes in a joking manner as you watched mattheo giggling

then he was serious again "that'll be us with our kids some day, huh?" his eyes seemed to glisten as he saw you smiling at his words

"absolutely" you bend forward and kissed him

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"hey!" draco lazily raised his arm, greeting mattheo, who was walking into the common room

mattheo nodded at him "have you seen y/n?" he wondered

"yeah" draco said, while his eyes were stuck on the book he was holding "she's up in your room crying"

"she's what?" mattheo asked, hopeful he didn't understand draco right the first time draco sighed frustrated "upstairs. crying" he rolled his eyes "how much do i have to break it down for you to understand?"

"what the fuck, draco?" mattheo was angry "do you have any emotional awareness? why didn't you comfort her if something was wrong? or atleast got one of the first years to get me to comfort her? you let them do anything else for you, no?"

"she told me to stay here, so she could 'cry in peace'" it was scary how perfectly draco could imitate your voice

"she really said that?"

"yeah" draco shrugged, like he was not surprised by anything you did anymore "she said my face makes her angry and then she wouldn't be able to cry"

"huh" mattheo just made. that did sound like something his y/n would say and especially to draco

"better go look at her" draco suggested "something isn't normal with her, mate"

mattheo nodded absentmindedly, before he walked up the stairs to his room.

when he entered the room, he was met with a confused looking theo, who was sitting at the desk, working on his homework. mattheo threw a look at his bed, on which a big pile of blankets had found what seemed to be a permanent place

"hey" mattheo said and theo looked up

"hi" the boy nodded "she's under that blanket"

"did you ask her why she came here?"

"she said her room was occupied and that she gets sad when she looks at me. is that an insult?" theo looked up to his friend questionly

"i don't think so" mattheo shook his head, before he turned around and walked to the bed. "baby?" he asked, before he gently pulled back the blanket infront of your face. you were wearing headphones and holding you phone, while your face was red from crying

you sat up when you noticed your boyfriend. unplugging the headphones. "hey matty" you smiled.

“y/n” mattheo cooed. “what’s wrong, love?”

“oh nothing” your hand quickly got rid of the tears on your cheek.

“then why are you crying?”

“draco is down there talking gibberish again, isn’t he?” you asked unimpressed

mattheo ignored what you said “you’re scaring me, please just tell me what’s wrong”

you took a quick look at the phone, tears welling in your eyes as you thought about what you had just watched, before you turned the screen to show him.

mattheo, to his surprise, was met with a paused youtube video. he looked between you and the display, and finally started the video as you nodded at him. he watched intensively as a family told their father they wouldn’t be coming home for christmas, then how they learned that the man had passed and later return to his home for dinner on christmas eve, where he was waiting for them, still alive.

“oh” mattheo said after the video had ended “ohhh” he repeated, realizing what was going on. “you searched that up, didn’t you?”

you nodded. “i always watch the compilation of sad christmas adverts”

“and you cry because of them?”

you nodded again. “they’re just so beautiful aren’t they? i mean he fakes his death to get his family together.. or the other one where the grandpa starts training so he’ll be able to pick up his granddaughter”

mattheo watched as the tears rolled down your cheeks.

“uh” theo bend down next to his friend “can i leave?”

“yeah” mattheo breathed “we won’t take long”

“take all the time you need” theo assured, quickly leaving the room with his potions book under his arm.

“this is my favorite christmas tradition” mattheo found it almost cute how you smiled at him. still with a red face and with tear stains on your cheeks, but he had to smile back nonetheless.

you raised the blanket. “care to join me?” you asked and your boyfriend nodded. he held you for the next thirty minutes, while you cried at every second of the following advert. he was almost glad you weren’t quiet normal, at least that way you two could never get bored.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

there was something special in staying at hogwarts during the christmas break. especially in how quiet it was all of a sudden. the mornings were colder and slower, you and mattheo would take your time at breakfast, and some nights you would stay in his room, as theo had left for the holidays.

“matty?” you asked, walking into his dorm, with your books in hand. a green little thing was hanging in your way and you looked up. “a mistletoe?” you wondered

“yeah” said a sudden voice. you turned to look at your boyfriend, who was smiling.

“i actually knew that one” 

“you put it there”

he shrugged, smiling michievously “maybe” he paused, acting as of he was thinking “no harm in leaving one tradition for me to show you, right?”

“i guess” you smiled

“you do know the tradition, right?” he asked obviously joking 

you laughed and finally, shook your head “i think you have to show me”

he grinned at the act. “there’s nothing i would rather do” he stepped closer, until your noses were almost touching “just follow my lead” he whispered and then he kissed you.

taglist:

@twistedhistory @claradelage @novelizt @ahead-fullofdreams @bakingintheshire @mqstermindswift

[lanawinterscigarettes]

hi gorgeous!! can i req pumpkin picking with jennifer and a female reader?? its not kinky but ive been needing some jen fluff! (i livee for your writing btw 🫶🫶)

ofc you can! and thank you so much, you're very sweet 🥰 (so far you're the only person who's requested for something fall/halloween themed that isn't related to kinktober believe it or not) hope you like it 💕💕

Pumpkin Patch (Jennifer Check x fem reader)

Warnings: very brief and mild swearing, Jen is implied to have already been possessed by the demon at this point but the reader doesn't know, fluff other than that <3

"What about this one?" You asked while pointing to one of the many pumpkins that dotted the massive field.

"It's not round enough," your girlfriend Jennifer critiqued, giving it a judgmental look.

Her answer didn't surprise you. It had been almost an hour since you'd arrived at the pumpkin patch, and she still hadn't found one that she liked.

"Jen, c'mon, it's starting to get cold outside," you lightly complained while zipping up your jacket. "Just pick one so we can go."

"Oh, I'm sorry, you're right. The look of the pumpkin doesn't matter, it's the inside that counts," she replied in a snarky tone, placing her hands on her hips. "Which means any old pumpkin will do, even if it's fugly as hell."

You remained quiet while she spoke, pretty used to her attitude by this point. "Seriously, though. We're just going to end up carving it into a Jack-O-Lantern anyway, so why does it need to be perfect?"

She let out an aggravated huff at the question, giving you a look that said, "Are you stupid?" before responding with, "This is kind of, like, my first ever Halloween I've spent doing stupid couples activities. I just want to find one that'll be perfect."

You suddenly felt like the worst girlfriend ever. No wonder she was so deadset on having a perfect pumpkin, she didn't want her first holiday season with a partner that actually cared about her to fall short of her expectations.

"How about we walk back over this way again? Maybe you'll happen to find one that you like," you suggested in a tone that was both soft and understanding while holding your hand out for her to take.

She wanted to roll her eyes and scoff, but she could tell you were really trying your best to make her happy. "Ugh, fine."

Jennifer took your hand, lacing her warm fingers through your cold ones. You had no idea how she always managed to stay so toasty even in such freezing weather conditions, but you weren't complaining.

After what seemed like ages of searching, you were finally able to find a pumpkin that you could both agree on. It was pretty heavy for you, but she didn't even seem to break a sweat when lifting it up.

"You know, I should really be the one carrying it for you so you're not forced to do any hard work," you lightly teased, knowing full well your knees would instantly buckle under the weight.

This time she did roll her eyes, but it was more playful than anything else. "And have you break your back? Absolutely not. I'm not lugging both you and this pumpkin all the way to the emergency room because you decided you wanted to show off."

You grinned at her response, finding it amusing. Despite her aloof personality, you knew if something actually did happen to you she'd be there at an instant in order to help you.

"So how should we carve our pumpkin? Do you want to do the traditional look of a Jack-O-Lantern, or something else?"

"I don't want my pumpkin to look like it was carved by a bunch of nerds, if that's what you're asking," she said with a hair flip, the breeze catching the scent of her perfume and causing it to waft in your direction. You didn't want to sound like a creep, but god did she smell good.

"Well, we can always go online and look for a design there. Maybe Pinterest will have some cool inspos for how we should carve our pumpkin," you began before adding, "Or we could always just freehand it. I mean, if we mess it up we can always just start again with a new one."

Jennifer wasn't even listening at this point, too caught up by the melodious sound of your voice and the exicted sparkle in your eyes to pay much attention to what you were saying. She realized then it didn't even matter how the pumpkin got carved, because she was just happy she got to spend this time with you.

End notes: this was really fun to write <3 I promise I haven't forgotten about Kinktober y'all I'm working on getting a few more days done before I start posting for it again

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[cripplecharacters]

I'm writing a character with intellectual disability and I can't find much about how the different skill areas affected will be affected based on the level of ID. He has mild ID, IQ measured to be between 60-69, but I was wondering if I made his symptoms too severe and if what he has would actually be moderate. Are these realistic for someone with mild ID, or would these indicate more severe ID?

He started copying sounds at around the same age most babies do, maybe a month or so late, but didn't really understand what they meant until he was around four, when he made the connection that certain sounds had certain meanings. He picked up language decently after that, a bit slower than most but he did eventually hit language milestones, just a few years late

He's not good at problem solving. If he's seen a similar problem get solved he can usually replicate the solution, but if he's never seen this problem or the solution to it he'll struggle to come up with a solution that works. If the solution he's seen work in the past isn't possible, that's also something that'll throw him through a loop. Like if he drops and breaks a plate and he knows the solution to this situation in the past, get his dad and then go find the broom and dustpan so his dad can clean it up, isn't possible because his dad isn't home, it'll take him a little bit before he can adapt that solution to "I need to get the broom and dustpan to clean this up." He can get there, it just takes him a minute.

He was very late to reading and basic math, picking up reading at writing at around seven, addition and subtraction a little bit after, and multiplication, division, and fractions at around ten. Once he gets it he can start growing the skill, it just took him a while to get it.

Planning ahead is also something he struggles to do well. He can come up with unrealistic plans easily, but coming up with an actual plan on how to spend a day out is hard for him and when he does have that plan, any deviance from the plan really stresses him out because now he needs a whole new plan.

He's good at abstract thinking, but there are some things he can't understand. He gets that ableism is a thing, that people see him and think less of him for being disabled (outside of the ID, he is visibly disabled,) but he can't for the life of him figure out why people are taking their observations and using them to be cruel.

His ability to learn from experience is good, it's one of the easiest ways for him to learn things and it's the way his parents taught him some things. He can also learn from the experiences of others- if his dad cuts his hand on a knife while cooking and is thus injured, he can understand from that that knives can hurt and that if they hurt his dad, they'll hurt him, so he shouldn't mess with them without being very careful.

He is also very bad at picking up on body language and facial expressions.

Because he was homeschooled (the elementary and middle school didn't have a good special education system,) a lot of this was kind of brushed off as "Oh, it's because he was homeschooled" when he did start going to school as a teenager. His teachers knew, of course, but the people he befriended didn't really notice, brushing off the things they noticed him struggling with as being products of him being homeschooled. So he's not extremely obviously intellectually disabled to the untrained eye, but teachers and people who know other people with ID can usually pick up on it.

I feel like all of this might be a bit too severe for mild ID, but I also worry that if I change it so he has moderate ID I'll be underplaying what moderate ID is. Sorry for the long ask.

Hi!

A lot of the traits remind me less of myself (mild end of mild) and more of some of my ex classmates (moderate). Some of the points are more universal (understanding of body language can be really hard or really easy depending on the cause of the ID, e.g. intellectually disabled people with autism will usually have a hard time regardless of ID level) but most to me read as "more disabled than me" so either he's on the severe end of mild, or just moderate. The only one that reads pretty strictly as mild is the last one, if someone only has ID with no comorbidity then often others can't tell for a while or brush it off as something else (I'm autistic and people sometimes guess autism, sometimes ID, sometimes things I don't have). I feel like if he experiences all the other points, other people would probably be able to notice rather quickly, if not as "obviously ID" then they would notice that he's developmentally disabled in some way (though, from interacting with moderately ID people in SPED, pretty much everyone could tell, especially abled people).

Other than his classmates not being able to tell, this sounds like a pretty good representation of someone with moderate intellectual disability. I wouldn't hang on what exact number or exact severity he was diagnosed with, just saying "intellectually disabled" is good. ID is a spectrum and it doesn't have hard edges (IQ measurement is deeply flawed), sometimes it can be hard to tell where someone exactly lies on it. There's not that much difference between me, very close to the "normal range", and someone else, very close to the "ID range". I just wouldn't say that your character has mild since it does sound like it's probably in the moderate range rather than in the mild or Ambiguous one, but focusing on the exact label isn't that important in my opinion.

If you want him to have mild ID because he has a condition that causes ID that is specifically mild and not more severe, then I think it would be easier to change the condition than the character. Many of these traits seem thought-out and impact the character a lot, so changing them could be almost like rewriting the entire character.

I hope this helps,

mod Sasza