#faire is writing stuff
Text
safety net (pornstar!mike schmidt x reader)
tags: fluff? angst? just exposition really. no mentions of porn or sex here! just mike being a hero and reader appreciating him errors in here as usual!
part two: 💸
you didn't really do dating.
you'd tried so many times before to no avail. things would start nicely, people making your laugh float into the air and your heart flutter, but it never got past that. anytime you start to think about these things seriously, the other party pulls away. you're always left in the dust, responsible for picking up the pieces of your heart, gluing them back together, and trying again.
it's exhausting and after your last failure, you're not sure you want to try again.
one chance encounter on a dating app changes your mind. you think it's so foolish how easily you fall into it, giggling and kicking your feet at yet another potential partner, but when your first date is coordinated successfully and the second and the third, you begin to feel safe enough to indulge.
for your fourth date, you've arrived at this fancy restaurant in the middle of the city. you're super done up, wearing a dress that you love but have to return in the morning and your tallest pair of heels. your hair is swept up just the way simon, your date, likes it. you never liked it this way, but he calls you "so beautiful" when he sees you like this, and it makes your blood rush in your ears so you wear it up any time you're around him.
simon was nice, but you didn't have much in common; he was a straight-edge tech guy. he went to bed at 10 every night and woke up at 6 every morning, planning his days out in five-minute increments (he'd excitedly showed you his planner and you had to pretend that you were very very interested 💔).
you, on the other hand, woke up at noon on days you didn't have to work, going to bed at 4 am the night before. you never knew what to do and your apartment was covered in sticky notes donning different tasks: "read book". "wash dishes". "mail off package".
you two managed nice, small talk-ish conversation and he made you feel pretty. the only thing you two had in common was your love for coffee.
you're seated at your table and all goes well up until you receive the check, although you're a little bored. you're picking at your dessert and wondering if the art on the walls is real as simon opens the billbook and slides a card in there.
"i have to go to the bathroom. be right back," he stands, craning his head down to place a kiss on your cheek, and then you're alone, finally tuning into the din of the restaurant. it's busier than you realized.
your waitress takes your bill and leaves to tender you out. simon is still using the bathroom, and at first, it's not worrying. you wouldn't be surprised if he got lost on the way there, but after ten minutes, you start to worry.
the waitress returns to your table and you think you're fine to leave, but she sets the billbook on the table, stating, "did you have another form of payment? it said this card was expired."
you shake your head, anxiously blinking your eyes. "expired?" you open the book to see the $400 total at the bottom of your receipt and simon's card tucked behind the plastic pouch. you take it out and inspect the expiration date. three years gone.
"i--i, uh," you begin to panic. you had no idea what to do. you didn't have $400 in your bank account, $405.72 less than that actually. you didn't have anyone to call to spot you; what normal person had a casual $400 to throw at a friend for dinner? if you called your mom, she would laugh over the receiver the whole time, hanging up on you.
the waitress is staring at you, expectantly, but you can't even meet her gaze. in your alarm, you scanned your eyes around the restaurant and caught simon, in his very noticeable purple suit jacket, speed-walking towards the entrance of the restaurant.
you shoot to your feet, taking off your heels, wrangling up your other belongings and dashing after him.
you hear the waitress shout, "ma'am!" behind you but there's no stopping you. what are you gonna do, pay for the meal?
you're pushing yourself in between other patrons, forgetting your manners. you're hyperfocused on simon, keeping track of his head bobbing through the throng of people.
he's made it outside just a little before you, using a brisk pace to walk down the sidewalk.
"simon!" you yell, watching him speed up a bit until he's a phantom around the corner. "simon!!!"
there are some stragglers outside, just a few eyes on the frantic girl holding her heels and screaming. you're sure they think you're drunk, but you don't care.
you scream simon's name one more time. it's shrill and blood-curdling and something you'd never expect to come out of you. you didn't get upset like this, and you know you're truly upset when you feel a tear hit your arm.
you rarely cried, but here you were, breaking down on the sidewalk outside one of the most expensive restaurants in the state. you take a despondent seat on a bench, trying to catch your breath and stop crying. you take your hair down childishly, and the thought of simon liking it sends you back into tears.
you're a blubbering, snot-covered mess when mike sees you. he's exiting the restaurant, asking for his car from valet when he notices you on the bench, staring blankly into the air.
you're beautiful, and he's unsure as to why you're sitting here in tears. no one else decides to check on you. he takes the initiative.
his hand reaches out to your shoulder and it makes you jump, shouting at him to back away from you. he holds up his hands, muttering, "hey, hey. i'm sorry, i don't want to hurt you. i just wanted to ask if you were okay."
you don't expect the voice that comes out of him. its suburban, syrupy tone doesn't quite match his look; his hair is freshly cut and it feels like there's not a single wrinkle in any of his clothes. they look quality, and expensive. the rings adorning most of his fingers give off the same vibe.
great. one of these guys.
"i'm fine," you snap, wiping at your congested nose with the back of your hand. "i don't need saving, especially not from a nice guy like you."
mike laughs, and you're embarrassed to admit to yourself that you like how it sounds.
"who said i was a nice guy? i just asked if you were okay." you shrink away, avoiding his eyes.
"it's not my fault that you give that off. sounds like a you problem."
mike doesn't stop talking to you, which is surprising. even with all the disrespect, he sits beside you and rummages along the inside of his jacket for something to give you.
you don't admit it, but you're thankful for the small plastic package of tissues. "everyone has problems. there seems to be one plaguing you right now," he leans into your shoulder, eyeing you intently. "wanna tell me what it is?"
you're still cleaning yourself up, taking another tissue out to wipe at your ruined makeup when the waitress marches out of the restaurant with two burly security guards behind her. she points to you with zeal, announcing, "that's her."
the security guards make their way over to you, disregarding mike as he asks, "woah, woah, what's going on?"
"this young lady tried to skip out on her bill." you shake your head irritably, standing to your feet. you're not even half the height of these dudes.
"i didn't, my date did. he put an expired card down to pay and then used the bathroom excuse to get out of it." mike shakes his head. in what world would someone try to escape a date with you?
"makes sense, but you still have to pay for the meal."
"how the fuck am i supposed to do that?" you screech, crossing your arms over your chest. "i don't have any money. i have to return this stupid fucking dress in the morning just so i can pay my rent."
the dress is nice. it's a black satin maxi dress with thin straps and a slit up the side. it's fairly simple, but mike can't deny how well it fits you, and how good you look in it.
"i don't know what you're going to do, but you better do something or we're going to have to call the police."
"fucking call them! i don't care," you retort, and so begins your back and forth with the security personnel.
"you don't care?"
"no."
"are you an idiot? you just don't care?"
"okay, one, i'm not an idiot and two, i really don't. this whole situation is fucking stupid. i can't pay the bill, okay? i don't know what to tell you."
"my mom always said that as a female, you should never be broke. maybe it's time for you to stand on that corner right there in that pretty dress and sell your---" the man is cut off by a sharp "hey, watch yourself. i'll fucking kill you." from mike. he steps to the security guards, who retreat a little when they realize he's not joking.
you don't know this man, not even his name, but he asked you if you were okay then and now, he's standing up for you, even after you accused him of being a nice guy. you make a mental note to apologize to him after all of this.
"i'll pay the fucking bill. how much is it?"
"it's $400, mr. schmidt," the waitress says, her face awash with red. Last name basis? How often did he come to this expensive ass restaurant?
mike looks at you and then back to the waitress, saying, "charge it to my tab. tip the bill." The waitress nods excitedly, echoing, "thank you, thank you, thank you" as she scurries back inside with the security guards. They give mike dirty looks the entire way back, giving up just before disappearing into oblivion.
mike faces you. He's a little disheveled in the eyes, the irritation he holds inside written all over his face. somehow, even his scowl is attractive.
you rub your hands over your goosebumped arms, the chill in the air wildly apparent. mike is instantly shrugging his jacket off and draping it over your shoulders, giving you a friendly smile. it's warm inside, and smells like the expensive department store colognes you snuck samples of as a kid. for some reason, you feel at ease.
"i'm sorry about your date. he sounds like a dickhead."
"yeah," you agree, biting at your cracked bottom lip. "i guess it's my fault. i really shouldn't have trusted a guy who planned his day by fives."
"hours?"
"minutes."
mike sucks air between his teeth, cringing at your words. "he sounds like a psychopath."
"maybe he was," you hum, using the lapels of mike's coat to pull it tighter around you. "dodged bullet."
"dodged bullet," he repeats, smirking down at you. his hazel eyes sparkle. you don't know why you feel so... positively unnerved yet tranquil in his presence. who was this man?
"mr. schmidt?" a valet worker in all white exits an expensive-looking, deep gray sports car. the interior looks like a spaceship, and you can't help but crane your neck a little further to get a better look.
you're not paying attention as the worker drops the keys into mike's hand and mike hands him a hundred-dollar bill he fished from his pocket. you're just focused on the car, wondering a million things. how much was it? how was its gas mileage? did it take premium gas or something more?
"do you need a ride home?" mike holds the keys up, jangling them in front of your face. you connect the dots and let out a loud belly laugh, completely blindsided.
"this is your car?"
"i...think so?" he teases, watching the happiness fall from your face. a ride home. why would you want to go home to be alone, once again collecting the jagged pieces of your broken heart from the floor?
mike instantly stiffens. "that was a joke," he clarifies, but you dismiss it with a raise of your hand.
"no no, it was fine, funny even. i just...i don't want to go home right now."
"do you want to come back to mine?" mike doesn't know if it's too forward, but it doesn't hurt to try. you needed company, and nothing would ever compel him to leave you here after everything. he catches the way your face twitches and raises his hands in defense again. "no funny business, i promise. just so you're safe, and not alone tonight."
you don't think over it very long. you'd been to plenty of strangers' houses, and this was only one night. you were sure you could trust this man. after your date from hell and nearly going to jail, what was the harm?
"okay, i'll come. thank you," you muse as mike leads you to the passenger side of his car. he opens the door for you, and you crane your head to him before you sit down. you're so close you can see the flecks in his hazel eyes, the freckles dusting the bridge of his nose, every single individual hair that peppers his jaw and mouth. it makes you forget your name.
"i'm y/n, by the way." he nods and smiles at you, wide and bright. suddenly, your legs feel like noodles.
"nice to meet you, y/n. i'm mike."
"mike," you repeat as you lower yourself into his car. "mike."
who knew where this would lead you?
been up all night writing this ayyeeeee, i write SO MUCH! going to work on writing blurbs, i promiseeeeeee. also this is very cute. i'm excited to delve into their story because it will be mostly pwp (for ficlets and blurbs) but definitely more structured for longer fics. can't wait to see where it goes!
#fnaf#fnaf movie#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#fnaf fic#mike schmidt angst#mike stands up for you & you're like ?????#you can't believe it#you'll fall in love with him instantly#i did#faire is writing stuff#faire’s mike schmidt <3#faire's (pornstar) mike schmidt <3
612 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's shenanigans time guys
So have this DpxDc idea.
So, the Justice League and the Light (OR villains in general) have two newish members, they've both been around for about a year and they're from the same plane of existence (a place called the Infinite Realms according to those who dabble in the occult)
And the two seem to have some serious beef with each other.
Wisp and Wrath are basicly feral cats hissing and hekles raised when they spot the other and their fights normally ends in draws. They're evenly matched and sometimes the two even fight to the point they are out of steam and just fist fight.
Needless to say everyone believes they totally hate each other and might one day kill (or end?) One of them.
So everything gets turned upside down when suddenly both factions of heros and villains are suddenly summoned to the Infinite Realms.
In a throne room.
In front of the Infinite King (or most commonly known as the Ghost King)
A King who looks very, very much like Wisp and Wrath (like yeah the two do sometimes look alike, like when they grin with sharp teeth and their hair color, but one has blue skin and red eyes for crying out loud!)
He's staring at them, glowing green eyes that seemed to just... know.
"Welcome to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." His voice echoing in the throne room and seemed to rattle them deeply, like a sudden chill in the early morning.
"I have summoned you all here for a single reason." He continued to say "Tell me..."
Here he paused, closed his eyes before leaning back on the chair then he smiled big and cheerfully asked.
"How are my kids doing in your world? Dan and Ellie arent causing too much chaos in their wake are they? They tend to go a tiny bit overboard sometimes but what siblings don't when they rough house you know. Tell me everything."
#danny phantom#danny fenton#crossover#dp x dc#blue rambles#danny phantom dc#writing ideas#random idea#dpxdc#dani phantom#danielle fenton#dan fenton#dan phantom#Danny is Dan and Ellie's dad in this one#ghost king danny#prince Dan#princess dani#One is Wisp and the other is Wrath#one is with heroes while the other is with villains#and they fight each other when given the chance#everyone thinks they HATE each other#but theyre just being Realm Siblings#meaning they go rough in their playing#who is who is up to you and whose on what side#Danny's been King for a while btw#he also knows which side his kids are on#he doesnt care as long as they dont cause world ending stuff#to much paperwork for the Realms#Danny summoned the two factions for a parent teacher conference tbh#he wants to know how his kids are fairing in their world
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
hi i slept through the utdr newsletter drop but i'm awake now and i looked at the video and tobert has now driven me nmore insane
"IF YOU SEE THIS TAXT THENS SOMETHING BROKEN WHERE IS THE PROMISE OF PERFECTION?"
"WHEN AN ERROR IS DETECTED I SEE THE INTENSITY OF MY FEARS SURGING THROUGH ME LIKE SUSPICIOUS WAVES"
my interpretation of this is that
1) he was promised perfection and definitely didn't get it, look at how glitchy he is now not to mention the whole puppet thing
2) i guess seeing errors/glitches makes him think of things that he's afraid of. wonder what those are
though "suspicious waves" is very, well, suspicious. is it the way that the fountain flows in waves? weird telephone signals? weird television signals? it's hard to determine
(i feel like showing spamton's regular sprite at the end was there to imply that this message has to do with him for real instead of the spamton value network spamtons)
also tried to determine the very last line on this warning message but i couldn't decipher it. here are some screenshots if you want to chew on it yourself. the sentence structures seem to be "_____ ____ __ ____!!! ___ ______ __!!!"
#harvey's new text tag#deltarune#spamton#deltarune speculation and unused stuff#edit: in regards to the two folks who said this might've not been a choice of tobert's and instead the rtvs team/#i think that's a completely fair thing to bring up but either way i still like the writing here; i think it's cool/#since it's about spamton i think it's still fun to connect what they came up with to him/
686 notes
·
View notes
Text
[Start ID. A redraw of the official icons of the ten named slugcats from Rain World, arranged in two rows: Survivor, Monk, Hunter, Nightcat, and Gourmand in the first, Artificer, Rivulet, Spearmaster, Saint and Enot/Inv in the second. Each is drawn in roughly the same pose as in the original art and fitted with speculative interpretations of their biology, and the second image is a “dead” version of this. For example, all ten have slug-like rhinophores in place of ears, cuttlefish-like colorful eyes with strangely-shaped pupils, cephalopod-like beak "teeth", expressive barbels or oral tentacles at the corners of mouths, spiny radulas, and the frilly mantle fringes of sea slugs, though otherwise their faces are squishy, simple and mammalian-shaped.
Cream-colored Survivor and yellow Monk both share triangular, bicolored spots matching their eyes (which are tan and brown, and two shades of blue, respectively), small, bumpy fringes, and relatively neutral looks on their faces. Defensive-looking Hunter is mostly a dull orange-pink, though their blobby fringe is a more violent red and their back is purple and marred with lumps. Nightcat is navy blue and flecked with dots of yellow and teal, their rolled rhinophores are a lighter blue, and their shading fractures into stars in some places. Gourmand is almost uniformly tan, their wide, very ruffly white mantle fringe bordered by a spray of white spots, and their beak sticks out from either corner of their smile. Primarily red Artificer, snarling, has yellow markings of multiple sorts, a prominent yellow dewlap and their characteristic dark scar taking out a chunk of its face. Rivulet is a darker blue than usual, with long barbels, red gills and rings, countershading, and a cheerful expression, sticking out their radula. Spearmaster is purple with orange accents, eyes and spots, a large fringe and spines down their back. Saint’s green caryophyllidia are marked by small, yellow diamonds, and their long, thin radula extends far below them. Enot is decorated with mottled red stripes, blue patches, yellow stars, and an uneven and almost cartoonish imitation of blush, though generally the same deep blue as Nightcat, a passive or almost slightly smug look on their face and their rolled rhinophores out to either side.
In the second image, nine of the slugcats’ eyes are crossed out, indicating that these are death icons. They look fairly the same, with mostly expression differences. Survivor is caught in the beginning of a threat display, a karma flower sprouts from Monk’s side, Hunter is burdened with overgrowing, purple and blue rot, Nightcat’s rhinophores are pinned back, and Gourmand looks mildly disheartened. For the final row, Artificer bites its radula between small plumes of smoke, Rivulet drops their expression, Spearmaster looks very startled, Saint looks almost entirely the same besides half-open eyes and their markings greater in number, and Enot grins confusedly. End ID]
If you'll excuse the unusually lengthy ID: the arena meme introduced by @pansear-doodles at long last after a nearly year-long wip status (or, rather, finished a month ago today to honor my own first time playing it!)
Design notes and shout-outs under cut! :]
The following people are some of those who’ve inspired my designs most since I started this eight months ago (or just inspired me to get a little weirder with slugcat biology), among many others for sure, and I thank them for it–but this is simply to bring attention to artists I find cool, and in no way an obligation to interact or anything :]
> @saturncoyote , @carpsoup , @charseraph , @gallusgalluss , @bitsbug , @dopscratch , and @0hmanit (and a special mention to dddeerbo and hunterlonglegs, who’ve since deactivated)!
Survivor: Surprisingly the hardest to pin down the colors for, since nothing with its sibling's palette seemed to match up right (I did have to add in a little blue somewhere for Monk, the beginning of making it clear how much I’m simply going based off of vibes for the colors of scug innards). I consider them, Monk and Gourmand to be part of the same gene pool of slugcats, and even possibly the same colony even if the latter isn't really related, so took a bit of Gourmand's coloring and fit them in with their inspiration: Goniobranchus verrieri. They serve as a bit of an introduction to my ideas of scug traits (i find it really fun how many people have thought to add so many silly sluglike fixtures of biology completely independent of me, buuut here I’m mostly talking about species variation), and like in-game they’re pretty average! They, Monk and Hunter have a couple scars sourced from a piece of Joar's concept art that I'm failing to find, those across the bridge of the nose, under the eyes, and across the rhinophores, respectively, and my Survivor interpretation features many on the back of the neck, as a result of survived lizard bites.
Monk: Their coloring is primarily based off the fact that I associate them with blue fruits, honestly, a bit because I was compelled to establish a familiarity with Rivulet, and lastly inspired by the spots of Goniobranchus kuniei (and geminus, less important to me as one of my characters is a kuniei instead, but more fitting). Between the yellow + blue and the circular marking in the center of their face, they’re meant to bear a little resemblance to an iterator that shares similarities with the characterization I’ve given them, and similar coding of her sibling can be seen on Survivor’s markings around the eyes. As both a “default” slugcat and one whose campaign I haven’t played, though, I can’t say I have much more to point out about em.
Hunter: The whole rot thing made for a really fun time drawing them, and while the color change on their back is a result of this, it’s also an excuse to relate them to Babakina festiva, arguably my favorite sea slug (mostly for sentimental purposes). And to Spearmaster, a fellow messenger slugcat, and it serves as a gradient between Hunter’s pink and the “traditional” color of Rot seen in the DLLs. Aside from their affliction, they’d actually be the plainest in terms of design, as they don’t have any patterns or quirks of body type, just the red + purple and strange lumps + possible malnutrition. I can’t remember if NSH had created them in particular or just...caught + released or something, but it probably wouldn’t be strange for a lab-grown slugcat to be simple like that.
Gourmand: Like the two above, they’re rather plain in terms of coloring and adaptation, and like the two above, I find that fun. I decided it would be nice to avert the “all slugcats being of the same body type, and Gourmand’s out of place as the exception” thing by just...adding more fat to all of them, really. I did want to emphasize their sheer bulk even so, both fat and muscular (not like I couldn’t have still gone further with it, of course, but slugcat anatomy can be a little obfuscating sometimes, and they were intended to look rather plush considering personal size headcanons and therefore the lack of proper gravity), and the thick and flounced mantle looked like a good addition, as per their sea slug Glossodoris hikuerensis. Unlike Survivor and Monk, I didn’t attempt to hold their resemblance to any particular other character (which means a little less to balance out the “default gene pool” thing), so those are all the design notes I have for em.
Artificer: The second slugcat I’ve ever played, or finished the campaign of, my favorite for at least a long time, and the first thing I did was give them yellow accents, the shape of which have troubled me slightly (not quite like the spots or stripes of the others). They’re both a little more appealing and more explosive-looking to me, and considering how early on I played Arti, actually present in some of my older art. It does give them a little resemblance to Saint (completely intentional, two slugcats with strange relations to karma), as well as the fact that its radula is green for familiarity with one of its children (at some point it was going to have all-green markings, even!). I’m generous with their scars, partly because it was fun to overemphasize the one on their face and partly because it does seem like a reckless slugcat, on top of the dangers of its explosive abilities–I’ll probably just keep adding more forever. Mostly-red sea slugs aren’t too common, but Hexabranchus sanguineus works for sure. The ridged, yellow dewlap can expand for combustion purposes, or something along those lines. Arti’s where I began experimenting with a lot of the mildly-offkilter features seen in my interpretation of slugcats, as they’ve once again been a favorite from the start.
Rivulet: I've obviously given other slugcats spots, deeply enjoy the bubbly-soda markings of other peoples' slugcats, and thought seal riv would be cute. Despite not too closely resembling it, they've been government-assigned Hypselodoris bennetti, for color reasons and for a couple sentimental ones. Originally, the colors of every scug were meant to match up with the custom colors I gave them at the beginning of their campaigns, (though Arti, Gourm and Spearmy are the only three who actually apply here, since I've only played through half the slugcats: I gave arti the yellow as mentioned above, gourm brown eyes and spearmy light pink spears, furthered by the outskirts pearl accompanying me and that palette all the way to moon. Tolerance training for eternity in hell cause I already knew about the maroon pearl quest). I initially gave them the colors of the bi flag for fun... but with the limited palette of this image, I was left without pink for a while and decided to see how they'd look in red. I then realized how they now wonderfully matched Moon, and besides, red's a sort of camouflage in deep water! As a side-note, the difference between their eyes and those of others always bothered me a little for anatomical purposes, and the cephalopod eyes were probably influenced by this!
Spearmaster: Inspired as much as possible by @notyourfunnyman ’s wonderful spearmy: designed in a way that helps it fit in with scavengers, at least between the long sensory tentacles, big ruff, back spines and slightly thin/distended anatomy, a form of defensive mimicry. I always had annulate rhinophores in mind, for a little diversity sure, but mostly because the shape reminds me of radio antennae and communication towers (seems fitting for the comms array and being a messenger slugcat)! I started searching for a real-life slug to give them just by looking up their rhinophore shape...and was met immediately and coincidentally with annulate-topped nudibranchs that fit them more perfectly than I could've imagined: Flabellina and surrounding clades, I think Paraflabellina ischitana works very nicely. The orange was completely unplanned, but there wasn’t a place for light pink among the other slugcats’ palettes, and importantly it likens them to both Hunter and Seven Red Suns a little more.
Saint: I am very much a non-furred slugcat enjoyer, with respect to those who aren’t, so figuring out the only visibly furred slugcat was an interesting challenge. I’ve decided that they likely have other, milder adaptations for help in the cold, mainly just more efficient fat storage, and what looks vaguely like fur is instead a bunch of tubercles (called caryophillia, for the second reminder out of three). Their inspiration doesn’t have these, however, Miamira sinuata’s numerous yellow and blue spots (not to mention...whatever’s going on with that shape) and general effect of being the only really green nudibranch I could find were probably perfect for a strange green echo. Not pictured, but their beak-teeth are tiny and flat to make a surface for grinding soft food against with the lack of a functioning radula, which is tipped with a specialized spiny “grapple-hook” for better traction/grip (not to mention the numerous little teeth running down the whole thing).
(Best part of hiding this under a readmore means edits will be seen by all reblogs, I'm mostly sure, because I completely forgot to mention! The spots on their forehead are simple eyes. Their camera eyes appear closed in-game, I like to believe their complex eyesight is rather poor anyways or otherwise reason that they aren't seeing out of those, and while this was far from her REASON for attunement with the world, it does help compensate for mainly viewing it through a canvas of simple light and dark. This, and the fact that their swapped-out "fur" is not only to commit to a lack of hairs but contributes to sensory input!)
Nightcat/Enot: I guess you could say I found the “these two are technically the same person” compelling. (E.g. similar colors, both very strange and enigmatic, and Enot/Inv/Sofanthiel’s remark during the dating sim about getting removed from Arena Mode.) I doubt they’re the only two slugcats in their body, considering humans with DID tend to have more than a few (and I find it very funny that a slugcat bearing resemblance to Nightcat appears in Gourmand’s ending. They’re allowed in the colony and Enot isn’t </3), and I have to credit @faelingdraws ’s art for being what convinced me on it! Their design inspirations come down to trying to balance a few different ideas: making the patterns and palettes of both look oddly similar (special mention to the stars, since those are fun to draw), basing them off of Felimare sechurana and juliae respectively, using blocks of color with the same placement as in Enot’s official art, and specifically making Enot look...biologically reasonable and imperfect, whilst also clearly trying to imitate human displays of emotion (what with...the eyes and blush on that one piece of official art).
Lastly, here’s just a lineup with notes on body shape and size. Most of the nicknames (existing to give a little more space, that’s all) are obvious, and while I can’t remember why I shortened Nightcat to Nox, it is in honor of my friend by the same nickname :]
#survivor rain world#monk rain world#hunter rain world#nightcat rain world#gourmand rain world#artificer rain world#rivulet rain world#spearmaster rain world#saint rain world#enot rain world#slugcat rain world#rain world#peridots-art#< feels like too long since that last tag's been used. i can say with certainty that the majority of the reason i haven't been just as#active here (not to mention not drawing as often since that's relevant) is just due to my life getting busier with a new school year but i#do miss putting my stuff here! and would like to reblog more on top of that.... so forgive not remembering exactly how to tag everything#(and how to write everything up there but to be fair it's not like long textposts were a staple of mine. i mostly just rambled and it was#fun hehehe.....some of those notes (parts of riv/spears mostly) were written around the beginning of the drawing itself)#OH i messed something up with the drafting and really did not mean to post it while tags were in progress! but regardless. i would've liked#to post it tomorrow to mirror how i was going to post it on JAN 29 a month ago......but it's not like i'm unhappy with this outcome :]#to sum it up really though it's been strange working on this for so long.....unfortunate to not get a chance to let it be seen and keep#experimenting with odd biology much earlier but i'm just glad it's out now cause i am proud of these!! it's been a lot of fun and slugcats#are still my go-to doodles :] if i had to end this off promptly though what's up with that secret pipeyard shelter as gourm that's not on#the maps. connected to vs_a04. doesn't appear on the miraheze or interactive maps for anyone strangely but i've only been there as gourmand#anyway! i'm sure there's a lot i could've said in the rush but goodbye dear reader anyway :]#i forgot spearmy initially. i'm so sorry
289 notes
·
View notes
Text
Children Behave (That's What They Say When We're Together), 1/2
AO3
It’s just after 10 pm on a Saturday night when the Party find themselves standing out on the edge of the forest surrounding Lover’s Lake, summoned by the “Code Red” Dustin had sent out half an hour before on their walkies.
“Dustin, seriously…what are we even doing out here?” Max demands with an exasperated flap of her arms as she hops off the back of Lucas’s bike, the pair of them stopping a few feet from the two others already dropped into the grass.
They approach the figures at the treeline quickly, the silhouette of one of Dustin’s many rotating ballcaps and Mike’s black curls–grown out so long they nearly brush his shoulders now–easy to recognize, even in nothing but moonlight.
It’s just the four of them these days, at least until the Byers manage to pack up their house in Lenora and move the family back to Hawkins. The party has been impatiently waiting out the days until summer begins as a collective, Dustin even rigging up a countdown clock that he updates them on every morning before school.
“Yeah, I really wish I knew,” Mike mutters in answer to Max’s question, the pair of them sharing an equally exasperated look, a rare show of solidarity.
“Reconnaissance,” Dustin interrupts, simple and curt, pointing from his position squatted down amongst the greenery. “Look.”
As one, Lucas and Max turn to follow the direction of his finger–where Steve’s familiar maroon BMW sits, about a stone's throw from Reefer Rick’s place.
“That’s…weird,” Lucas admits. “What’s Steve doing out here?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Dustin explains. “Steve wasn’t answering his walkie. He always picks up, he knows the Rule of Law.”
“How’d you even know to look for him out here, then?” Max asks, brow furrowed in confusion.
“Through the powers of deduction, my dear Mayfield,” Dustin replies, voice purposefully affected. “Something’s afoot. Of the Upside Down variety.”
Even the mere suggestion is enough to make the other three teens stiffen, casting wary glances at the darkened forest around them.
“Vecna’s dead,” Mike says, voice threaded through with sudden tension.
“And El closed all the rifts in Hawkins,” Lucas insists.
“She did,” Max agrees immediately, coming to the defense of both Lucas and El simultaneously.
“How many times have we said that before?” Dustin asks.
Max, Lucas, and Mike all share a cowed, anxious look.
“I’m just saying, it never hurts to stay hypervigilant. Especially around here. Don’t forget, Steve and the others tried to leave us behind, in this very spot, the last time.”
“Yeah, but…it wasn’t like we didn’t know what was going on then,” Lucas says defensively. “They would tell us, if Vecna was back.”
“That’s because we,” Dustin gestures emphatically between himself and Max, “were the ones to figure it out in the first place!”
“Come on, Dustin, he’s probably just…with some girl.” Mike’s face twists in a way that makes it clear exactly what he thinks of that. “I mean, it is Steve.”
“He’s not on a date, Mike,” Dustin rolls his eyes, his snippy tone implying the very suggestion is absurd. “Because if he was on a date, he would have told me. You think he would have missed the opportunity to brag about some hot Saturday night out he had planned? No. Besides, Steve tells me everything.”
“And yet…” Lucas holds up a finger, with the gravitas of someone interjecting in a court of law, “you still continue to insist he and Robin are dating, despite the fact that Steve’s told you a thousand times they’re not.”
“That’s not the same thing. It’s not my fault Steve’s too emotionally stunted he can’t recognize his own feelings for what they are,” Dustin waves a hand dismissively.
“They’re definitely not dating, dude,” Max says with a certainty that makes the boys’ heads swivel in unison to look at her, like she possesses some secret knowledge none of the rest are privy to yet. She ignores them, instead taking the binoculars from Dustin without so much as a question.
“It’s called Lover’s Lake,” Mike points out petulantly, “it’s literally a make out spot!”
“And the exact location of a former gate,” Dustin argues with just as much fervor. “Which Steve knows. Why would he be out here if it wasn’t because of something connected with the Upside Down?”
“I hate to break it to you,” Max interrupts, still peering through the binoculars, a slight smirk unfurling across her face, “but it looks like Steve’s definitely on a date.”
“What the fuck?!” Dustin squawks. “Let me see!”
As Max and Dustin begin a spirited game of keepaway with the binoculars, Lucas cranes his neck curiously.
“Ew,” Mike’s face screws up in exaggerated disgust.
“What?!” Lucas’s shoulders scrunch up towards his ears, defensive. “Don’t act like you don’t wanna know.”
“I definitely don’t, dude.”
“Admit it. You’re just mad because he didn’t tell you.” As she continues taunting Dustin, the corner of Max’s mouth tilts into a teasing grin. “Busybody.”
“Listen to what your boyfriend is saying, Max, and see reason. We need to find out if Steve and Robin finally got their shit together!”
“I already told you, they are so not dating,” Max rolls her eyes. “Besides, whoever he’s got in there with him? Has dark, curly hair. That sound like Robin to you?”
“Curly?” Lucas’s eyebrows shoot up. “Wait, you don’t think it’s–”
“Nancy?!” Mike gasps, completely scandalized.
“No, but I thought–Jonathan,” Dustin darts a confused look at Mike. “Unless…I was right, and they’re out here investigating something! I mean, come on, it’s Steve and Nancy. That sounds exactly like the kind of guns blazing thing that they would do.”
“It didn’t look like they were investigating,” Max mutters, “at least…not anything that wasn’t already inside the car.”
Whether it’s that last comment that sets him off is unclear, but from one blink to the next, Mike is suddenly charging out of the woods towards the car.
“Wait a second, Mike!” Max shouts, on his heels immediately.
One fleeting look between Dustin and Lucas is all it takes to send them rushing after the pair.
None of them is fast enough to catch up to his gangly gait, however, especially not with Mike Wheeler on a mission. In moments, he’s right on top of the Beemer, slapping an open palm impatiently against the window.
“Steve? Nancy?!” he shouts in petulant, disbelieving teenage outrage as the two figures inside spring apart. “Holy shit, is that you? Open the door!”
The question is followed by the sound of muffled cursing, and, apparently deciding the pair isn’t moving fast enough, Mike yanks repeatedly at the handle on the passenger side.
He’s nearly knocked backwards into Lucas, the other three having caught up, when the door finally pushes open under his hand.
"Nancy?!" he repeats in a screech to rival even Dustin’s loudest as the dark, disheveled curly hair they'd already spotted comes more clearly into view.
"Uh…" a deep, familiar voice pipes up, "sorry to disappoint, but–I'm definitely not Wheeler."
"Oh my God, you guys have gotta be fucking kidding me," Steve’s voice pipes up, and then he lets out a full-bodied groan, leaning across the console and pinning them all under his glare.
He's wearing his 'seriously pissed off' face, which is about two shades more intense than his 'pretending to be pissed off for the sake of saving face and riling them up' face. And at his side sits none other than…
Eddie Munson, who blinks over at them with wide brown eyes.
Part 2
#stranger things#steddie#dustin henderson#max mayfield#lucas sinclair#mike wheeler#steve harrington#eddie munson#brotp: babysitter's club#my writing#my stuff#my things#have something silly#fair warning: the party are meddling in this and everyone bickers constantly#but that's their love language#no beta we die like my braincells since i'm writing this while sick lol
298 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dogstock are typical of what are often deemed the ‘evil’ races in many other fantasy works. They were created by some higher force to be slaves, they are carnivorous by nature, they resemble animals other than human in dentition and build. They growl and bite and walk behind.
The Uhasr (a dogstock culture) are descendants of such slave-infantry that was abandoned when the empire that used them to capture the steppes decided the land wasn’t so profitable after all, and more pressing matters drew their attention elsewhere. Like tools left spent on the ground, the unneeded, excess dogstock were left to survive on their own in Hochkiskuph. The native peoples, of course, did not welcome them any more, or see them any less as oppressors when the hand released the lead. To the Hochkiskuph peoples, the Uhasr are a predatory ghost, an echo that consumes them even in absentia. To the Uhasr, one human is much like another, differing in number and equipment, but never in essence. Uhasr are a species of wild animal with a human face. Humans are prey on two legs. Humans smoke and poison uncovered dens on principle, Uhasr abduct and consume men and women and children all the same.
A common trend I have noticed in media which aims to humanize monsters, is that it often relies on passivity. Humanity is contingent upon kindness. The monster that is A Person only so long as they are a harmless thing at heart, something which can be understood and befriended. Their violence is reluctant, their hearts noble. Grace is a concession to the dominated. Only the toothless beast, declawed and pinioned and caged, is one which has earned its personhood. The ontological enemy supersedes the ontological man.
#haven't posted them much (all wips) but been thinking about the sphinxish people in my setting. same world as thrones#different part of the continent like 2 whole seas away#this is inspired by a shitty comic a friend is reading and also thinking some of the writing in the long way to a small angry planet re#hostile aliens really really sucked.#i want to talk abt this more so im posting it if you have thoughts i would like to hear themmmmm#i'm very cynical about this kind of stuff lmao#dogstock#im also reading tollkien rn so im thinking about ORCS#i dont actually like the lotr trilogy all that much but not even bc i think the writing is bad i just think its kinda boring. sorry.#thats not a very interesting reason to not like something i dont even think its not good im just not super entertained. rip#like not saying there is no issue with it at all writing wise there is very much to say abt how it is utterly and uncritically#white good black bad fair elves and dark orcs and shit like that#but i've liked things more that have bigger issues. hi pern. maybe i just like shlock! idk!#rambling. im keyed up hi#the gibberish in spookygibberish
94 notes
·
View notes
Text
sorry but no allyship from any corporate friendly sexually ambiguous pop star will ever be as meaningful to me as whatever the fuck my chemical romance has going on. frank iero notesapp binder merch tweet. gerard way bloody suit motor oil short shorts wizard cloak clown costume. ray toro tenderly kissing his bandmates. mikey way designing gay porn merch. “i am not a lesbian in the classical sense” “people want something from you” no one is doing it like them no one will ever do it like them
#authenticity is such an overused word and it barely means anything anymore but. thats what it is to me#i think whats interesting abt mcr too is that like. theyve always been gnc and open abt all of that stuff#but theyre still just doing whatever they want!!! and its like gay. even though it isnt it is. because theyre mcr. yknow#yknow how i was like patd used to be Actually Gay and now theyre just Coroporate Pride Logo? mcr is like. the opposite of that#obviously they are astronomically better than patd in every single regard so the comparison isnt totally fair. but you get my point#mcr#shut up riley#when will gerard write more gender songs. i want them
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
The degree to which Davos and Brienne are going to become reluctant BFFs, because their lieges keep coming to them complaining about each other, is UNREAL
or, more from this fic that's slowly eating my life
~
Their journey to the Northern army's camp had revealed a great deal about Lady Stark and her lords and petty chieftains: their patronizing generosity, their gruff suspicion of outsiders, and above all their mind-boggling obstinacy. Ned and Lyanna had been much the same, from what he remembered, and Stannis had seen shades of it in Jon Snow, though couched more gently than he'd expected from a bastard. He'd imagined — insofar as he'd imagined her at all — that Lady Stark would be gentler still, her mother's line warming that chilled Northern blood.
He had been disastrously mistaken. It was a wonder only one Stark had survived, but it was already clear that she had gathered the entire share of Stark mulishness.
"I have conditions, Your Grace," said Lady Stark. "If this alliance is to succeed in retaking Winterfell, I feel it right that you hear them." She placed the parchment in her hand carefully on his table and stepped back, hands folded primly.
She had requested, and been granted, this conference shortly after Stannis's army had made camp alongside the Northern soldiers. Stannis's tent had barely been erected when she came to him with this parchment, her wolf, and a determined expression. He had thought he'd listened to her enough on the journey as she'd prattled away with Shireen, but he was in the mood to be permissive.
Reading through her list of demands, he could feel the headache building along his jaw and up through his skull. "Have you lost your mind?" he said, for the second time in a week to an unreasonable woman.
Melisandre had brushed his question aside, but Lady Stark was not made of such supple stuff; she stiffened and glowered at him. "That is a peculiar way to agree to my terms, Your Grace."
"Your terms are rather more than peculiar, my lady," he said, tossing the parchment back on the table.
In truth, the first one was not so peculiar: it said that should they regain the Keep, he would recognize Sansa Stark as Lady of Winterfell and Warden of the North in her own right. He would not pass her over in favor of some lesser Northern male relative, nor would he obligate her to marry and rule only as companion to her husband. Considering Stannis's own intention to ensure Shireen sat on the Iron Throne after his death, he could hardly begrudge her this.
Considering the other two stipulations, however, he felt very much inclined to begrudge her everything.
"Supposing your younger brothers turn up?" he asked, thrusting his chin at the parchment. "Or Jon Snow is legitimized?"
This question didn't faze her, he suspected because it was a question of logistics and protocol rather than a personal remark. "If Jon is made legitimate, I don't believe he would want Winterfell—"
"Duty is not a question of wanting, Lady Stark," he reminded her. "And the Lord Commander is—"
"The Lord Commander, as you say, is the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch," she retorted. "His life has already been pledged to the Wall. If he didn't abandon that cause in aid of my brother Robb, he won't abandon it now."
Stannis observed her. There was bitterness there, certainly, though less than he would have thought. Lady Stark clearly understood the ties that bound men to their duty, even if she did not like them.
"However," she continued, "Should any of my brothers wish to make a claim to Winterfell in my place, I won't stand against them." She paused for a moment, and added, "I have no wish to die at their hands out of misplaced pride."
Stannis clenched his jaw but let that go for the moment — it would be addressed soon enough. "You call me 'Your Grace,'" he said, tapping at the parchment, "Yet your second stipulation says that you will not bend the knee to me, even if I regain Winterfell for you."
"No, it says that I will not bend the knee to any claimant to the throne until they hold the majority of the kingdoms," she shot back. "The Lannisters hold the Crownlands, the Westerlands and the Reach at present. The Riverlands are still in chaos, the Vale has withdrawn from all alliances to sulk in their mountains, and both Dorne and the Iron Islands have declared for themselves, more or less. You can, at best, claim that the Stormlands still support you, though I've seen no evidence for it — they didn't march under your banner at first, did they?"
That was the second time she had brought up Renly, however obliquely. If she were trying to drive him mad, she couldn't go about it any better. "When I hold the North, my lady, I will have more land—"
"Setting aside the notion that it will be you alone who holds the North, you'll have more land and fewer men than any other region. If you wish to win against the Lannisters, you'll need more than mountains and glaciers fighting your battles. And if I wish to be Warden of the North, I can't keep the respect of my lords by swearing fealty to a man who has yet to earn it."
"I could have you burned for such talk," he said, getting to his feet and pouring himself some water, hoping it would ease the throbbing in his head.
"You don't burn nobles, you behead them," she replied cooly. "I should know. I was there when the Lannisters took my own father's head for supporting your claim to the Iron Throne. I have no intention of sharing his fate." She took a deep breath, and only then did he note that her hands had been clenched together, her right covering the balled-up fist of her left. "I won't take arms against you now or in the future, on that I give my word."
"And if I do have you beheaded?" he asked, putting the tin cup down before he crumpled it in his hand.
It seemed to amuse her. "Then my words will mean even less than they do now."
"They mean nothing, because you will not give them!" He pinched his nose and attempted to regain his composure. Surprisingly difficult, with this — child.
She regarded him for a moment. "You call me Lady Stark, Your Grace," she said, "but tell me, have you heard anyone else call me that?"
Stannis, thrown by the question, was forced to consider it. In truth, he had heard only Lady Sansa, though said with more reverence by her men and lords than he could ever recall being addressed himself. "You are Lady Stark."
"Not without Winterfell," she said, shaking her head. "It's more than just the home of the Starks, it is our…place in the world. We belong nowhere else. Just as there must always be a Stark at Winterfell, so too do we need Winterfell to truly be Starks." She gave him a pointed look. "Just as Your Grace needs the Iron Throne, and the fealty of all the Seven Kingdoms, to truly be king."
She was wrong, of course, but Stannis felt the same lurch in his belly whenever his footing slipped during a bout. "Perhaps your reticence has something to do with this last stipulation," he said instead, going back to the table and jabbing his finger at the third line. "Falsely accusing a king is treason."
"Is Lady Brienne falsely accusing you, Your Grace?" she asked, smooth as ice. Her hands were still clenched, he noted.
"I was nowhere near Renly's camp when he died," Stannis said, with perfect truth, even as he felt himself balanced on a knife's edge.
He had been nowhere near. He had woken up just before dawn with the lead weight of certainty in his belly, knowing what had happened — what the Red Woman had said must happen — and lying there, staring up at the tent's canvas, he had wept. Wept for the brothers he had loved and who had never loved him back. He would never know if Renly had had a hand in Robert's death; just as he would never know if he himself had had a hand in Renly's. Had he ordered Melisandre to kill him? Had he believed her when she said she could make such a thing come to pass? Davos had begged to tell him of what had happened in the cave that night, what monstrous thing the Red Woman had done to bring Renly's death about. Stannis had refused to hear it. Perhaps there was a sort of rough justice in facing his accuser now, the only one living who knew the truth.
"Lady Brienne has served me faithfully," said Lady Stark, "and my mother before me, at great cost to herself. I believe her testimony, Your Grace."
"Her testimony that I murdered my own brother."
Lady Stark regarded him steadily. "I will not insult either of you by declaring one more honorable than the other. But when I regain Winterfell, my duty as Warden of the North will be to adjudicate all such matters, and this falls under my purview. Even if you were crowned King of the Seven Kingdoms in the Red Keep itself, the North holds all persons, regardless of title, under its laws while they reside here."
"Renly didn't die in the North," was all he could manage to say.
"He died, Your Grace." Lady Stark looked almost pitying. "And for that, I'm sorry. I know what it is to lose your brothers. But on this point I will not waver."
"Is there any point on which you have?" he asked, curious.
She continued serenely. "Lady Brienne will be permitted to make her accusation publicly; how you respond to it is your affair, but if you prevail, you must give me your word now that she will not be held guilty of treason, nor will she be killed by any member of your party by any means." She put enough emphasis on the last two words to make her meaning plain.
"And if she prevails?" Stannis asked. "Your stipulations do not mention the outcome of the trial, only that it will take place." He smiled grimly. "Your father always said that he who passes the sentence should swing the sword, my lady. Will you behead me yourself?"
"I doubt either of us would find that a pleasant exercise, Your Grace," she said, her lip curling slightly. She didn't blanch, however; young as she was, she had seen worse. Had possibly done worse, if the rumors about the Purple Wedding were true. He'd not asked. "If you are found guilty, then you will ride south. If you win the support of the other kingdoms, the North will bend the knee to you. But you'll never come north of the Neck again. Does that satisfy?"
Stannis glanced down at the parchment again. There it all was, in black and white: the price he must pay for the North. The blasted girl had even provided a space for him to sign at the bottom.
"Not remotely," he said, but reached for his pen.
#got: bitches get stuff done#game of thrones motherfuckers#the more I write these two together the more I'm mad that they never got to meet#same with Tywin and Daenerys#(although that's mostly due to watching too many Charles Dance interviews where he gushes over Clarke's performances)#(as he should!)#but some of the most interesting characters never got a chance to meet and it's a TRAVESTY#anyway#I've read a fair amount of GOT fic and none of them so far have written Stannis-Sansa interactions the way I feel that they would go#which is as you can tell: poorly#just let them be bitches!!! god!!!!!!#also don't even worry brienne is absolutely going to kick stannis's ass even if she doesn't kill him#she should get little an attempted murder as a treat
67 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hey puff! So you said Hades is a "mess who hasn't spilled over" and there are definitely some warning signs even now - Artemis' dislike, the ominous grin in the last chapter does not bode well for Alex, him treating Minthe pretty badly and dismissively, being open about his attraction to Kore while acknowledging Minthe, eating Dio to shut him up and laughing about it (No Kronos flashbacks, Hades??) Of course he did a lot of this in LO too but that was framed as a good thing and you seem more self aware than that.
My question is are he and Kore still endgame with his bad traits? Or is Kore just hiding a much darker, more selfish side who would like all this?
Hades and Kore are both very, VERY complicated people with complicated backstories that involve both the good and the bad. They're both victims of circumstance as well as their own wrongdoings (even the ones that were well-intentioned, they're both walking the road to hell wink wink), they're both holding on to some pretty dark shit and we're going to be exploring plenty of both sides along the way. I'm obviously trying not to spoil anything, but I will say that Hades and Persephone are not going to have a cut-and-dry 'fairy tale romance' like what was attempted in LO, Rekindled is attempting to be a more faithful retelling of the original Hymn to Demeter after all (or at least its original themes and messaging). They're both incredibly damaged people with a lot of tightly-sealed baggage that DESPERATELY needs to be unpacked and we all know what happens to relationships built on those types of foundations ;0 So that's all ima say on that ~
As for the irony of Hades 'eating' Dionysus, hurt people hurt people. Though I wouldn't worry about Dionysus, he just projects his consciousness into berries, he's alive and well ;) As for Hades... let's just say you shouldn't eat berries possessed by the god of madness, guy is gonna have a harsh comedown LOL
#i'd be lying if i said i wasn't worried about how people are gonna react to their respective backstories once it comes time to tackle them#when i say dark shit i MEAN dark shit#i'm really excited to tackle both characters but it's also very nerve-wracking and challenging because i want to make the messaging clear#fair warning ahead of time tho-#it's gonna be FULL of content warnings#i really don't fuck around when it comes to character writing and tragic backstories LOL#i am NOT afraid to go for the gut-punching stuff#so yeah buckle up#we're gonna get through this together#ask me anything#ama#anon ama#anon ask me anything#lore rekindled#lore rekindled ama
110 notes
·
View notes
Text
I may not be a guild member (yet), but I stand with the WGA and will be striking in solidarity!
#writer's strike#wga#wga audio alliance#for clarity: striking as an audio fiction writer who isn't a member is a bit different#it means I won't write fiction podcasts for companies like netflix#but I will still be working on my own stuff and stuff with fiction podcast companies that aren't part of the wga#bc while we are working on it#fiction podcasts are not currently covered under the guild#but we're all working toward the same thing - better wages and fair terms for everyone!!
327 notes
·
View notes
Text
Bend or Break
[ @akibouken you’re to blame for motivating me to finally write this plotbunny down with your cute Luigi petting art. Sorry about the angst, but know that I had your artstyle in mind while writing]
[EDIT] : now on AO3
[EDIT 2] now with a "sequel"
*
The human would not break.
Bowser knew it from his eyes. No matter how terrified, cowardly, vulnerable he was, trapped alone in a hostile land at the mercy of a powerful king, crushed in his grip, threatened of unending suffering, the human’s eyes still showed, buried beneath the fear and despair, a determination to not give anything about the other one. All Bowser had been able to obtain were accidental slips born from confusion and panic: that they knew each other, that they were brothers. Nothing else since.
He wouldn’t break.
So Bowser decided to switch tactics.
After leaving him to stew an appropriate amount of time in the jails, Bowser had the human brought again to the throne room.
This time his hands were free: what was the need to tie them up, when fear bound him more efficiently than shackles? It added another subtle layer of humiliation to the ordeal: to be considered so little a threat that restraining him would be useless. None of Bowser’s enemies would ever let him walk freely and unbound on their grounds if they had the opportunity.
Sitting on his throne, he took his time to observe his prisoner at the bottom of the stairs. He was cowering, darting nervous looks around him in a vain search for an escape. He had none of the defiance that some captives showed Bowser in the past: no glaring, no proud stature, no insolent spitting at his feet. Not even the courage to look at him.
“Come closer.”
The human didn’t move from his spot.
Bowser narrowed his eyes.
“I won’t ask again.”
The human relented, slowly climbing the steps toward the thrones, his hands clutched to his chest, his shoulders hunched, trembling more and more with each step, until he stopped on the last one, his eyes downcast and closed as if expecting to be torched on the spot if he breathed in the wrong direction.
Bowser huffed in amusement.
“Are you scared?”
“Y-y-you know the-the answer”, the human managed to stutter with a nervous laugh, “Of c-course I am.”
“More than usual?”
“Why-what do you m-mean?”
“That you’re a coward, and an easy target.” The human flinched at the harsh words but didn’t protest. “Everything about you screams that you’re used to being afraid. Easy to bully and push around, running and hiding at the first sign of danger, unable to defend yourself.”
It didn’t take a genius to guess any of that. He had met Toads braver than his man.
“Yet you stand up to me and refuse to yield. Why, I wonder…maybe because you’re also used to facing danger with someone by your side? Someone who protects you and keeps you safe.” From the way the human flinched as in caught red-handed, he got it spot on.
“You think he’ll come for you. Because he’s your brother.”
“M-Maybe. What would you know about f-family?” the human spat in the most aggressive tone Bowser had ever heard him use.
The prisoner didn’t know that in any other circumstances, Bowser would have torched him alive and ripped him apart limb from limb for such disrespect. Instead, he leaned forward with a low hum, not aggressive enough for a growl, but enough to make his prisoner yelp and cover his head in his arms.
Bowser let the silence weigh in the room for several seconds. After a moment, the human peeked out from behind his arms, and looked confusedly as Bowser sat back down in his throne.
“I have news about him. Your brother.”
It had the effect of a bob-omb on the captive: stunned, gaping, unwilling to believe it. It was enough to make him forget his fear for a moment, with something looking like relief daring to peek through.
“What-how…I thought-?”
“I have spies. Eyes and ears in every kingdom. Their reports take a bit of time to arrive though. I hoped you’d be faster to give me answers, but well.”
The human was burning to know more, he could see it, but afraid to ask. Afraid of what Bowser could ask in exchange, or of giving something away in his eagerness? It did not matter, as Bowser curled his claws to inspect them, as if disinterested by the matter, before talking again.
“They told me he is in the Mushroom Kingdom.”
“Mushroom …?”
“A quaint little place, far away from here. All green hills and mushroom fields, full of friendly faces, safe and soft. The kind of place you’re not in a hurry to leave. You’d love it.”
“How…” the human shut himself up, biting his lips for several seconds before finally asking in a quavering voice, “how …is he?”
Bowser held back from smirking as his prey took the bait.
“They told me he’s doing very well there, your brother. Has been there for…hm, about as long as you have been here. A month, by now? ”
“That long?!”
“He’s settled there quickly, from what I heard. He’s learning the local ways. Got himself a cosy place. Made friends all over the place, including the princess.”
“The…princess?”
“Who wouldn’t like her? She might be my enemy, but she's a delightful woman. Brave, clever, fascinating, beautiful to top it off...and from what I was told, she's sweet on him too. Not that he minds, on the contrary, he's always around her...I wonder when he'll finally come for you.”
He didn’t mention the reports of the red-clad human throwing himself from dawn to dusk over training courses to get stronger, no matter how many bones he would break in the process. Nor that the princess had to stop him by force from going alone in the wilds when he had grown desperate from impatience. He didn’t mention the rumours about the kind-hearted human obsessed with finding his missing brother to the point some worried about his sanity.
Instead, he took in the nervousness growing in his prisoner’s face; the growing questioning of what he had taken as granted. The shock of the realisation that help would not come. Because if his brother wasn’t held back, if he was free and in good health, why would he take so long? Bowser observed the expression of the man coming to the dreadful realisation that this time, he was truly alone.
“What…what if you’re lying? What says he’s even still…still okay?”
Bowser frowned outwardly at the accusation, but he was internally satisfied. His captive was now grasping at straws, clinging to a desperate hope that he had not been betrayed.
“Because if he was dead”, he stated calmly, “I wouldn’t need to concern myself about him anymore, and if I had captured him, I would brag about it for all to hear.” He narrowed his eyes, staring straight into the human’s gaze. “You might find it hard to believe, but everything I told you, since you first arrived in my walls, was the truth. Whether you like it or not.”
“I…I don’t believe you. He’s not like…like you said.”
The words would have been defiant if they weren’t said in such a small, wavering voice. He didn’t believe his own words.
Was there bad blood between the two humans right before their arrival? Or did he have doubts before, about the strength of their bond, but pushed down deep under denial and illusions? Had he feared to be abandoned before? This was a man who couldn’t bear to be alone, used as he was to a partner, a protector against the world’s fury.
He wanted, more than anything, to feel safe.
“Come closer.”
This time, the human obeyed right away, stepping forward as if in a daze, his haunted eyes fixed to the ground, until he was standing right in front of Bowser. One more step, and he would have stood between his legs.
“You asked me what I would know about family. More than you think, as I have one myself.”
The wide blue eyes looked up to him, surprise piercing through the anguish in them.
“…A family? You?”
“A son. My pride, my joy, my greatest treasure. I had to leave him in my capital for his safety during this conquest.” a melancholic smile escaped him as he thought of the last time he had seen Junior: his son had been so proud to show him his new spells and had insisted to come along with him. It had broken his heart to refuse, but he had been firm in his decision.
“If anyone” he raised his fist and clenched hard enough to break stone, “anything, dared to take him away from me, I would tear this world apart from earth to sky and burn it to the ground to find him. I would sunder entire kingdoms before allowing anyone to even slow me down."
He let the hidden question hang in the air. A simple, innocent question with an answer that terrified the human to his very core.
Would your brother even do the same?
Maybe he would have been certain of the answer before. But here, now, after what he had just heard? He couldn’t trust it anymore. He was lost, away from the stability of his life, with nothing solid to stand on.
His head held low, his eyes hidden by his hair, the human’s shoulders started shaking. A choked sob escaped him, then another, and he covered his face in his hands as he wept, gasping for air between his tears.
Bowser held out his hand and, gently, wrapped it around the human’s back before pulling him closer. The human flinched but didn’t try to move away as Bowser rubbed his hand up and down his back, shushing softly through the whole time. Comforting. Safe.
His fingers moved to the man’s head, combing through his hair with the utmost care. It seemed to help soothing the man, his shaking slowly growing fainter, as well as his sobs. Finally, with a final sniffle, he pulled away and wiped at his eyes, Bowser’s massive hand still curled around his tiny body.
For the first time, Bowser noticed the dark bags under the human’s eyes, his haggard features, the dirt and sweat and tears all over his skin and clothes. Bowser’s thumb, almost as big as his captive’s head, pressed against his cheek, stroking it slowly.
“You’re exhausted.”
The human leaned into the touch, eyes half closed, giving the smallest nod.
“Yes.” He breathed out, so softly Bowser could barely hear it.
“I’ll have you brought to a more comfortable cell.”
“Why would you even do that?” The human murmured, closing his eyes completely and letting out a long, weary sigh. “I’ll be dead soon, won’t I?”
“What makes you think so?”
“You kept me alive because you wanted info about my brother. Now your spies know probably more about him than I do. I’m past being useful.”
He sounded too calm about it. Exhausted, yes, but most of all resigned. Taking what little comfort he thought he had left before his end, as if his tears had washed away his will to live.
Bowser tilted his head. Carefully, his thumb pressed under the human’s chin, pushing it up until he was facing him, his eyes still closed. Waiting for the claw to sink into his throat.
“Look at me.”
He obeyed, opening empty, defeated eyes that stared blankly at the king.
“Why should your worth always be tied to your brother?”
The human blinked from the unexpected answer. Bowser only smiled softly and moved his fingers to the scalp of the captive, returning to a gentle stroking of the soft hair, which lulled the human into closing his eyes again, this time with a relaxed sigh.
“I can’t wait for you to meet my Junior. He’s a very bright lad, very curious. He’ll have so many questions about your kind.”
Then, with the most gentleness he was able to muster, Bowser finally pulled his hand away, and for a moment the human followed the movement, before opening his eyes suddenly and stopping himself, but not before the king noticed it.
“Now leave. Take some rest.”
This time, the human hesitated before moving.
He finally turned and descended the stairs. Slowly, almost reluctantly; a bone-tired exhaustion in his steps, but for the first time since his arrival, he had stopped shaking in fear.
Bowser rested his elbow on the throne and his head on his fist, following his prisoner’s movements with a satisfied smirk.
The human would not break, but soon he would bend.
#super mario bros#mario movie#bowser#luigi#bowuigi#sort of ? in the loosest sense of the term#Bowser is not nice to Luigi here fair warning#Ista writes#my writing#my stuff#I don't care if everything about this is jossed in the movie it's an AU anyway#Bend or Break
287 notes
·
View notes
Note
Mike x reader, with reader who works long hours during the daytime and Mike working at night which results in them barely having time to see eachother besides from dinner and bedtime
oh, you wanted angst fr 🥲 i think it could go either way, but honestly angst is what stood out to me first. i’m going to make this sadder too, just because i can 💜
to crumble (mike schmidt x reader)
tags/warnings: angst, pain, prescription drug mentions, fluff and cuteness in the beginning but not for long. mike fucks up, reader picks up his slack. things just don’t work! let me know if i missed anything! mndi.
this is long, sorry ;-; there are also probably a million errors in this, please ignore 💜
part 2 here: 🏳️
all i can think ab is the unbearable pain that replaces the love in your hearts as time goes on.
you’ve been together for half a year. things were fun at first, but once you decide to move in to help with abby, you start to see the cracks in the foundation.
in this one, reader works two jobs (bc let’s face it, this is unfortunately realistic); teaching from 9-4 and cashiering from 5-8:30. mike doesn’t want you working two jobs and you didn’t want to, but you knew that your salaries combined wouldn’t keep you afloat. abby’s school is expensive, and so is everything else in life. the extra money you get from cashiering gives you guys flexibility.
every morning at 6:30, monday to friday, you wake up alone. even though you know it’ll probably be empty, you still reach your arm over to run it over mike’s side. it’s always cold and flat, completely untouched.
you brush this off at first; it's one of the things that comes with him working overnight and you know he needs this job so that he can keep abby. you want that for him and know that love is sacrifice.
you wake abby up and start getting her ready in between fixing yourself up; brushing her teeth while you brush yours, letting her get a few more minutes of sleep in while you throw on your clothes, guiding her through packing her bag while you make breakfast. by that time, closer to 7:30, mike is finally walking into the house.
his eyes are hooded and surrounded by dark bags and you can tell he's exhausted from the way he hangs his things up lethargically. he kisses abby, who's running around collecting things, on the head, then ambles over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and kissing along your neck.
they're soft, gentle actions that make you forget about not being able to do things like this at night. it doesn't matter when you have mornings with him, even if it's only 30 minutes before you have to go. you giggle and reach a hand up to his cheek, kissing him on his other one.
"missed you," you whisper.
"missed you too," he mumbles back, planting a kiss on your lips before stalking away to ask abby something.
you all eat breakfast together, and then you're slipping abby's coat over her shoulders before you put on your own. you usher her to the car and give mike one last kiss before you leave, a deep one that you hope he feels all day. when you pull away, you can see the affection sparkling in his eyes, low and tired but expressive nonetheless.
"i love you," he whispers, his sleepiness masquerading as love-drunkeness.
"i love you, mike. get some rest, okay?"
you drop abby off, wishing her well, before you're alone for the next 12 hours. it often drags. at your teaching job, you feel as if it's just passing you buy in waves, everything whizzing past you at light speed. you're aware that you're in front of the kids, but then you just blackout. you're thrown into autopilot, and you do this over and over until your lunch break at 1. you text mike to pass the time.
sometimes it's something silly, like "god i do not get paid enough" or "a kid just ate glue /: send help", to which mike will respond "😂😂😂" or "lol you deserve millions (:". he makes you laugh, and it's enough to help you push through the end of the day.
he picks up abby from school, asking her all about her day and what she wants for dinner. he'll text you what she says so you know what to expect when you get home, like "meatloaf 🍖🍞 (:" or "chicken alfredo 0: fancy".
for you, transitioning from teaching to customer service was easy; all you had to do was maintain that same autopilot: smile on, eyes alert, prepared for anything. no one suspected a thing when you could keep up and answer their questions.
mike helps abby with her homework, scratching his head with the eraser of a pencil when he draws blanks on a math or history question. abby only sighs, telling him about something off-topic. "art class is much more interesting."
mike starts dinner while you're closing up at work, sweeping the front end of the store and counting down your drawer. he lets abby help sometimes, and they usually have it ready for you by the time you're home at 9.
abby meets you at the door, and you hug her tight, picking her up and waltzing her back into the house. mike is setting the dining table, greeting you with a sleepy smile and, "the queen has arrived."
you all sit down and eat, and it's another one of those moments where everything feels okay. the last 12 hours didn't matter when you were able to have this at the end of it.
you tell abby and mike about your day over spaghetti, spilling details about prideful parents and spiteful customers. abby laughs all throughout, asking questions about being a cashier. mike just listens, eyes and heart floating between the two of you.
you clear the table while mike goes to get ready for work, and a wash of dread passes over you. your brain knows what's happening next. you'll kiss him goodbye, clinging to his hoodie sleeve for a second longer than you should, and then you'll settle down with abby, bathing her and reading her to sleep. then you'll be alone. it will just be you and the screech of infomercials until midnight, and then you'll be off to sleep, snuggling into a pillow that smells like mike.
you push the feeling away, shaking your head and hands and doing just as you know. there's the kiss, the night routine with abby, and the moment you sit on the couch, surrounded by tv light and the croaking of cicadas.
mike doesn't text during his shift unless it's an emergency. it makes you sad, but you understand. security requires focus, and you require sleep.
for a while, this works. it's what you and mike have to do to make ends meet, and while you both think that it'll only get better with more time at it, it doesn't.
you still wake up alone and go through the same rhythm, but when mike comes in around 7:30, it's not 7:30 anymore. it's 7:39, then 7:45, then 7:58. the latest he's ever been, so late that you're not able to eat with him. he shrugs it off when you mention it, kissing your cheek and retreating to the bedroom to sleep.
you drop abby off as usual, and go to work. work. work. work.
mike starts missing your lunch break texts, sometimes dozing dangerously close to when abby's school lets out. while your class works, you bitterly stare at your text conversation. your unanswered "shaping america's future is kinda sick" message stares back at you until it's replaced by abby's school calling. your heart drops to your stomach as you step out of the room to take the call, answering the phone with, "is she okay?"
mike didn't pick her up. she's out at 2:30 and it's 3:30 now, and she's crying and scared because he didn't pick up the phone, and she always calls him first.
you leave work in a flurry, asking a fellow teacher to take over, and you speed to abby's school, not caring about tickets or police or anything. you only want to get her home.
mike is dashing out of the door when you pull up, wrenching a sobbing abby out of your backseat and clutching her close. "i'm sorry, i'm sorry, i'm sorry," he breathes, smoothing her hair and looking up at you with regret etched into every feature on his face.
you try your best to hide your upset, ushering everyone inside before changing into your work clothes. you were going to be late, but you shake it off. abby was home and that was all that mattered.
"hey," mike reaches out to you when you're on your way out. his fingers graze their way down to your hand, and it makes you wish that you could stay home. "thanks for that. i've just been super tired lately and i overslept and---"
"it's okay, baby," you give him a tight lipped smile and a kiss on the knuckles. "just don't let it happen again."
it happens again. and again. and again. it happens so many times that abby starts to think mike is forgetting about her, and you don't know how to get that out of her head. she cries about it more and more with each time you have to pick her up. he stops running out to apologize, still asleep inside.
you rush into the bedroom. he's splayed out over the bed, snoring loudly with his arm hanging over the side. you find an orange pill bottle on his nightstand. an old ambien prescription.
you argue with him before work sometimes.
"what do you need ambien for?"
"i can't sleep."
"but every morning, you skip breakfast to sleep."
"i do fall asleep, but i started waking up out of it. i just take the ambien to help me fall again."
"what time do you take it?"
"i don't know, y/n."
"why are you lying to me?"
"i'm not."
"what time?" you cry, grasping at your chest. a sharp pains thud through your ribcage, and you literally sob. it feels like your heart is tearing in two. "you stare at times, mike. what time do you take the ambien?"
he doesn't answer you and he doesn't know why. it would be so easy to tell you that he takes it at 9 or 10, and that he believes he'll be able to wake himself up around 2 but he doesn't. he can’t sleep without the ambien. he needs it now because he kept himself up in the early days of this, mind toiling over their situation, the endless reassurance that this would work sending him into insomnia.
you leave when he doesn't answer, wiping at your watery eyes and runny nose.
you cashier as a shell of yourself. abby stops asking mike for homework help, and eventually he stops cooking dinner too, trading all that time in for extra sleep after picking her up. you have to explain the situation to your retail store manager, just in case mike forgets again, and start looking after abby more. mike only ever made time to spend with her on the weekends, content with awkward moments over lunch and low energy bickering.
the lunch break texts stop. the dinner texts stop.
he's dressed and ready to leave when you get home these days, prepared to exit as you enter. you don't know what to say as you face each other in the doorway, eyes focused on anything but each other. you don’t even kiss anymore.
"i think abby's asleep already."
you shake your head. "i think she's really sad. she hasn't been coming out of there like she used to. she misses you."
"i miss her too, of course. i'm just busy."
"all you do is work, mike," you deadpan, exhausted with him. you never thought you'd ever get to a point where you looked at mike, the sure love of your life, with disdain, but you felt it creep into you ever so slightly.
"yeah, i know. it fucking sucks, but it's what i have to do to keep abby."
you scoff, scooting past him to take your coat and bag off. "as if you're going to keep her by leaving her at school everyday." it's supposed to be under your breath, but the disdain creeps onto your tongue, bitter and raging, and you say it aloud, to his face.
his jaw clenches and his brown eyes burn, staring you down with an unrelenting severity. you hunch yourself over, dropping your head and sighing out, "mike, i'm sorry. i didn--"
he leaves without another word.
how it got to this, neither of you know. not even the weekends healed anymore. mike caught up on sleep, you caught up on grading, and in your downtime, you avoided each other. for him, it felt easier than being around you. you were irritable all the time, a quick fuse with any word he could think to speak.
for you, it seemed like it was what he wanted. time away from you, from abby, from everyone; time to be alone and recharge for the only thing he ever did, the only thing that was keeping his sister in his care.
you didn't even remember what his touch felt like, what he tasted like. the man that you loved had become but a memory, a ghost that passed through your plane. you’re able to imagine his fluffy hair, his perfect smile, his laugh, his rich smell, but none of it mattered. he didn’t feel like yours anymore.
you suppose it was the same for him, with you existing in the same space but only tangible to him some of the time. he would catch glimpses of your smile, laughing at something on your phone, or talking to abby, meet your eyes when you shuffled back to the bedroom from the bathroom, rimmed in red from crying for the last 30 minutes.
he starts sleeping on the couch, unable to even lay beside you.
mike does a lot of crying. a lot of screaming into his pillow, wondering why he fucks these things up so badly. you do the same, wondering why you stay in situations that hurt you.
this goes on for longer than you two would like, so long that you don't even celebrate your one-year anniversary.
the day passes without noise, mike sleeping and you working.
a prequel of sorts : x
THIS WAS SO FUCKING LONG MY BBBBBBBB OMG. i did NOT mean to go this deep in, i just felt SOOOOO MUCH! my little brain got sad ): i could go deeper into this too one day, breaking up moments into specific little blurbs or ficlets d: let me know if y'all even enjoyed this lmaooo off to write for Halloween lol
#mike schmidt x reader#mike schmidt#mike schmidt angst#fnaf angst#fnaf movie#fnaf#fnaf fic#faire’s mike schmidt <3#this was painful#kind of tired so it may be ass but#it feels painful#imagine your relationship just falling to pieces 💔#i made this so long#whoops#faire is writing stuff#josh hutcherson
879 notes
·
View notes
Text
"Nice place you have here," says Desire, sliding into the booth opposite Hob.
Hob, unfortunately, recognizes them by voice alone. Desire speaks with the melody of an arpeggio, smoothed into oblivion by the sustained press of a piano pedal. Drag without release, in comparison to Dream's resounding deep notes.
"Never seen you here before," Hob says, instead of get out of my pub. He doesn't actually need to start a fight.
"I've decided to respect my brother's play set for now," Desire says archly, as if this is a huge consideration on their part. "He's been through so much recently, after all."
"And you've been so much help with that," Hob says.
Something dangerous flashes briefly in Desire's eyes, and Hob remembers how fickle they can be. Like fire, Dream had said.
Then it subsides. "Careful, Robert," they say easily, leaning on their hand, "one might think you've chosen a side."
No thinking about it, Hob thinks. "Families shouldn't have sides."
"Oh, ours isn't supposed to," Desire agrees. "And yet."
And yet. "Is there something in particular that has you breaking your self-imposed generosity today?"
It's one day before his and Dream's usual meeting, after all. That can't be a coincidence. Technically, they meet all the time now, but they always keep June 7th for nostalgia's sake.
"I simply enjoy the atmosphere," says Desire, leaning back in their chair. They thrust out a hand, and a rainbow flag flutters off the wall into their grasp, drawn by their whims. Desire drapes it over their shoulders.
"I guess that makes sense," Hob says.
Desire raises an eyebrow.
Hob gestures at them. "Desire. Isn't that your thing?"
They give him a crafty smile, a little teeth, that suggests Hob's going to learn something he may not entirely like. "Well, it is certainly of interest to me."
"Of interest," Hob echoes. Might as well say fire was "of interest" to a pyromaniac. "Isn't that what you do? Dream makes dreams, and..." he trails off.
"I am Desire," they say. "So, in a way, I feel all desires at all times. Yes, even yours, Robert." They pat him on the cheek, and wink. "I know what you feel."
Hob's cheeks heat, but Desire doesn't linger on it, thankfully.
"But, my own desire? Hm, no, not in the way you would think."
"But you--" Hob doesn't know how to phrase the confusion in his mind.
Desire runs their tongue along their lower lip. "Are you calling me a slut, Robert?"
"Would take one to know one, I suppose," Hob says before he can even think about it, and Desire laughs, bright and loud.
"You are so cute. You would be delicious if you weren't obsessed with Dream. But, no. I can feel desired," Desire says, emphasizing the past tense. The objective nature of it. "But that, while certainly tasty, is not quite the same as feeling it oneself, now is it?"
What might it be like, Hob thinks, feeling a pang of sympathy for them despite how they've treated Dream, how he'd automatically marked them as an enemy in his mind, to be surrounded by wanting and not be able to feel it?
"I... guess not," he says. "So you don't want anything?"
Desire shrugs. "I enjoy things. But if I can't have them, it simply passes like--" they pull off the flag and let it flutter to the floor "-- a gust of wind. And I move on to something else. Otherwise, I chase others' desires. Your inn is full of them. Desires for peace, for belonging, for change and magic and-- yes, lust, too, but more of an undertone. It is..." they run their tongue over their teeth, thinking. "Aromatic."
"What does desire 'taste' like?" Hob asks.
"Why don't you tell me," Desire says.
"I'm not going to lick you," Hob says, and Desire cackles.
"Open offer," they say. "Be all metaphorical like Dream, then."
"Alright, fine." Hob decides to indulge them, because he has actually learned something interesting today. "It's like... the smell of a good meal. You don't quite... taste it, exactly? But you can imagine tasting it."
"Good answer," says Desire, and steals his drink for a sip. "I knew I could count on you to listen, Hob."
Hob's not sure if it's the tone, like something long undecided has now been settled, or if it's the use of his old nickname, but suddenly the afternoon tilts, and Hob realizes with a swoop in his stomach that they're here for a purpose, and not just poking at Dream.
The Endless almost never communicate directly, Hob knows this. Goddammit.
"I've spent a lot of time in these sorts of places, you know," Desire says, gesturing around. "They are right--" they interlace their fingers in example "--in the center of my realm."
"Depending on the year, I would have thought you and Despair together," Hob says, wary now that he's realized this is coming to some sort of point.
"A common assumption," Desire says, nodding like a teacher whose student is getting on the right track. "See, people often think my twin and I are opposites. Desire, Despair." They hold out both hands separately again, then clasp them. "But they don't have it right. Hope is the opposite of Despair. Do you know what the opposite of Desire is?" They reach across the table to tap their sharp nails against his sternum. "Shame."
"And that's... part of your domain, as well?" Hob guesses.
"Indeed. Who could know shame as well as one who desires? They both--" they lay their hand flat to his heart "--live here."
Hob supposes he himself has had plenty of desires over the years, and plenty of shame too -- though not necessarily over the same matters.
"Hence," they spread their hands wide, "my presence. The duality of Desire."
"So what do you do?" Hob asks. "When you're here because of shame, I guess."
"I am always both," says Desire. "But." They smile sweetly, and it actually does look sweet, for once. "I am merely here to hold your hand."
Hob must look at them with an expression of vague disgust, for they snort and roll their eyes.
"Not you, Robert. You!" They gesture broadly at the entire inn. "Death is always going on and on about serving humanity. I know how to do my job too, you know."
They frown at him, at the idea he might think otherwise, and it's-- it's actually kind of sweet, how much they care about this. It really is.
"That's sweet," he says, and Desire grumbles. Hob can't help but smile.
"I take the charge of those who live in the heart of Desire very seriously," they sniff. Their gaze slants over Hob's shoulder, watching something across the room. "Relatedly, if that man at the bar follows through on his desire to say something homophobic to those children on their date, I am going to shoot him."
"Ooookaaayyy," Hob says, snapping his fingers in front of their eyes until their attention turns back to him. Hob's bartender will handle any issues; he would really rather not have an Endless making a scene.
Desire smiles placidly at him. "What was I saying? Ah, yes. Desire and shame go hand in hand. Almost like dreams and nightmares, you might say."
Hob goes still again, on instinct. "Right."
"My sister and I are very close, even if we are not, actually, opposites. Dream and I were close, once." They drag their finger around the rim of Hob's glass. "Wanting. Dreaming. So similar, and yet, so different, too. It hurts, to really let yourself want what you've dreamt of. It hurts to desire, don't you think? It's sharp, like a blade."
"Yes," Hob says. "It is."
"Mmm. But shame... shame is like a heavy, warm blanket. It makes you want to just--" they mime pulling fabric over their head-- "disappear. My brother and I have a very complicated relationship. Perhaps, one day, we will be on better terms again, and he can tell me about his desires, and I can tell him about my dreams. I would love to know what it feels like."
Hob isn't sure if he's putting the pieces of this meandering conversation together correctly, but whatever he is picking up on, he doesn't like the sound of.
"Dream is always going on and on and on and on about the importance of dreams and it's so annoying but you know what? I'm starting to think he's right." They give Hob a warning glance. "Do not tell him I said that. But, yes, I'm afraid that desires without dreams hand in hand are just--" they slide their hand across the table and let it stop at the edge. "Impotent. Static. And god knows what good dreams even are without desire but Dream will never admit that."
"So you're what," Hob says, even though he knows this is not what this is about, "trying to mending fences?"
Desire smiles sunnily. "I just want him to call me. I'm bored, and he's spent far too much time in my sister's realm recently."
Then they stand in one fluid motion.
"What are you saying," Hob asks. He feels sort of faint, whiplashed.
"Oh, I've said nothing, I'm doing nothing. I merely don't want to have to fill an empty seat next June, that is all. I'll be far too busy." They wink, and then they're gone.
Hob sits still for a long time, after. He's still not sure he understood... all of that. He understands that the Endless aren't supposed to interfere in each other's affairs and that sometimes riddles result.
What he does understand is that if Desire, of all people, has decided to be helpful, then he definitely has something to be concerned about. Something he needs to do something about.
He shakily drains the rest of his glass, then stands. Hob has never gotten anywhere by being static.
Time to go try to do something about it.
#this might not make a goddamn lick of sense i'm sorry#i'm just thinking constantly about the idea of the endless not experiencing their own realm#the idea of hob as a person almost defined by hunger and desire as basically the personification of hunger? but who can't feel it themself?#compelling to me#and also desire and dream's relationship which is so fascinating to me bc listen there is still love there i know there is I KNOW THERE IS#also. maybe desire as a character as a sort of patron saint of queerness. idk just throwing stuff at the wall#hoping i remembered correctly that hob and dream's meeting is in june otherwise thisll be realll awkward#hob gadling#my writing#desire of the endless#seriously does this make any sense. any?#hm ok what i've determined is this only makes even some sense if you're like. mired in sandman meta XD and know a fair amount of comic#spoilers. ok i can live with that
423 notes
·
View notes
Text
Au idea I'll probably never write:
Steve as seven au, BUT he escapes at the same time as El in season 1. They get separated after Benny's, when seven tells eleven to run and definitely kills a couple government agents to give her more time.
So the a plot of will being missing and Mike finding El? Standard canon except El is ALSO looking for her brother and is worried about him. She sees that he's mostly safe and tries to help find will but also insists she go to her brother soon.
B plot of barb and Nancy...idk I haven't really thought about how that'd work without Steve's kickback. Maybe they go to a party (like actual party not the five person hangout) together and get separated and no one notices barb disappear from the edge of the lawn. Idk
The C plot is seven, kinda bloody and definitely cold, wandering out into the middle of the street, and one Robin Buckley almost running him over with her bike. She immediately clocks "guy who seems pretty fucked up" about him, and offers him a ride to her house. But Robin has never been the most coordinated of people and biking with a(admittedly probably too skinny) teenage boy sitting in her package rack is hard, and combine that with a guy driving like the devil's after him, they end up swerving of the road.
Eddie steps out, apologizes profusely, and offers them a ride. seven is sceptical, especially when both of them pause when he tells them his name, but does end up in the van. He finally gets a chance to breathe once they get to the Buckleys', and Robin gets him some leftovers.
He sits in front of the tv set to a blank station, tucks his head into his shirt instead of blindfolds, and tries to see El.
He sees her older, with flowers braided through long hair, laughing. Too far. He sees her with short curls, a patterned button down, eating something in a cone beside a mustachioed man. Too far again. He sees her tiny, scared, holding his own small hand. Not far enough.
Finally, finally, he sees her as she knows her now, mostly, standing beside a group of children and in front of a monster in a large room.
Eddie and Robin have no idea why their new friend? Has turned the tv on to static and is hiding in his shirt, but figure he's had a rough day. He pops his head back out, blood dripping from his nose, and grins, telling them he knows where his sister will be.
Anyways blah blah blah El sees where people ARE Steve sees where people have been/will be (based on where/who they are right now. Futura is constantly in motion etc).
Idk season 2 would happen very similar as canon minus stancy break up (they never date and are just friends) (also Steve tells Robin and Eddie he and El are safe and they pass it on to the kids) El finds Kali, Steve fights demodogs, etc etc.
But I want a (pre?) season 3 scene where Robin and Steve are hanging out as soulmates do, door closed because they are discussing Sensitive Subjects (gay shit) and giggling like schoolgirls. Hopper, in all his disappointed dad glory, opens the door and starts in on a rant about keeping the door open three inches.
Steve, bitch that he is, just tilts his head to the side and says "but that is for when we are with people we date. I am not dating Robin."
Hopper, not yet picking up what's happening, sighs. "Kid. It's about propriety. You can't be alone with Robin, because what if you do start dating. Then it's. You have to set an example for El!"(it would be a nice move bringing up Older Brother Responsibility, except...well.)
"but we aren't. I am dating someone else?"
"still need the door open three inches, pal. When El is home, at least"(El is almost always home)
"we do! And you complain about the loud music!"
"wait. Who are you dating? I thought Nancy was dating Jonathan still. She barely comes over." Hopper please pick up what Steve is putting down oh my god.
(hop has forgotten Robin is there and she is trying very hard not to make noise but Steve keeps meeting her eye sometimes because dear god. truly an iconic moment in friendship history.)
"yeah obviously. Eddie comes over all the time, though."
"what does Ed- oooh. Ah. I see. That's why you keep the door open even though he complains."
Steve nods like Hopper is the dumbest man on the planet. He might just be. "Yes. Because you said El had to and she asked why I didn't have to so then I started to leave it open when Eddie was over. At least Eddie doesn't laugh at you to your face"
"Eddie laughs behind my back?"
"he said you didn't know we were dating but I told him of course you knew, the door is open three inches."
Hopper clasps Steve's shoulders and looks him in the eye. "Steve, I need you to keep telling him that. And not mention this very awkward conversation we had."
"because he was right."
"he doesn't need to know that."
That's all I got lmao (also check the tag ramble I added lol)
#steve Harrington#robin buckley#eddie munson#el hopper#platonic stobin#steddie#steve and el#steve and hopper#steve is seven#finda writes stuff#hopper versus his childrens' boyfriends and his ongoing mission to have SOME authority over them#but anyway i love steve is seven aus but only really see ones where he escapes before el so thought this would be nest#*neat. also i love hopper adopting steve fics hehe#hop goes to joyce after this and is like. okay so he didnt tell me but thats because he thought i knew am i a bad dad#'hop. what are you talking about' 'steve and eddie are dating' 'yeah. what about it' 'i didnt know'#'theyre all over each other' 'so are him and robin! i thought they were just affectionate!' 'oh my god' 'no one else can ever know joyce'#'eddie sleeps over all the time' 'robin does too' 'the nicknames' 'robin calls steve babe' 'the whispering?'#'once AGAIN he and robin ALSO do that. how was i supposed to know he was dating eddie when he and his best friend also do that stuff?!'#'okay. thats fair jim. but what about the kissing' 'joyce.look into my eyes. he also. kisses. robin.' 'are all three of them dating?' 'no'#'huh. on the lips?' 'sometimes. its a playful smack.' 'and eddie?' 'okay admittedly. now that i think about it. very different than Robin
664 notes
·
View notes
Note
Who in sskk would you say has the higher IQ?
IQ as in, conventionally smart? Then definitely Atsushi does. I'm sorry. I've said it many times before, but I don't think Akutagawa is a particularly perceptive person. Or witty. Or intelligent in general. It's due to external factors, he never got the chance to have anything that could resemble a proper education; but it's also a matter of his nature, he's just so impulsive, and narrow-minded, and stubborn, he really has the thickest skull ever. But seriously, especially in a world full of geniuses, Akutagawa simply doesn't shine for sharpness of mind, and is way too impulsive and instincts-driven to be a person that relies on reflection or rationality. Everything that Akutagawa does is the epitome of irrational, it's one of the greatest appeals of the character.
Atsushi is smart,,,, I've talked about this also, and I think it's less sustained by canon than for Akutagawa, but I like to think he's a very observant and perceptive person whose intelligence doesn't show because he's constantly surrounded by geniuses, but still he is smart. When it comes to observations skills, I find it easy for him to have them due to his childhood of ill-treatment and abuse: as a defense mechanism, he learnt to be especially observative of people's behaviour in order to tell what sets people off and be able to prevent any escalation, I think that's a widely shared abuse survivor experience. Something among these lines is shown in chapter 51:
I also think Atsushi is a very fast learner. He's observant, and that results in him constantly absorbing other people's knowledge. He's often asking for explanations for Dazai and Ranpo's reasonings, and although I know more often than not it solves an expositive role in the storytelling picture, there's still the fact that it makes Atsushi a person who's constantly trying to understand the reality surrounding him. Atsushi is also shown to be very cool-minded and calculating in fight: from him sliding under Akutagawa and attacking him from behind successfully eluding having to face him front-off in chapter 4, to him retracting his tiger limbs to escape Rashomon's bonds in chapter 12, to the strategy he elaborated with Tanizaki (and his ability to catch up on that) to defeat Lucy in chapter 16, to his attempt to outsmart Fitzgerald in chapter 34 (that, although failed, was still driven by rational thinking nonetheless), and the list could go on. The way in fight Atsushi is shown to ponder over and implement the advices people like Dazai or Mori offered him further makes me believe he's really good at absorbing information. And Atsushi is probably book smart, too! He's compelled by reading to the point he would even risk the orphanage director's punishment just to sneak into the library and read (not explicitly supported by canon, but I can take a guess). According to the second guidebook, he spends his leisure time borrowing books from the library and studying. Overall, he really seems to be rational in all the places Akutagawa is on the contrary driven by impulses¹.
It's like… A physics law when it comes to sskk, that Akutagawa will have the most despicable trait while Atsushi has the trait that is conventionally considered the best; or at least that's as far as my characterization of them goes. Atsushi is beautiful, Akutagawa is ugly². Atsushi is polite, Akutagawa is rude. Atsushi is pure, Akutagawa is stained. Atsushi is smart, Akutagawa isn't. Atsushi is lovable, Akutagawa is destined to cause repulsion in everyone he meets³. In the end, none of this matters: they're no different where it counts, that is, Atsushi isn't any more morally just than Akutagawa is. Atsushi in not any more good than Akutagawa is (I actually suspect the contrary is true). But as far as appearances go, it's still important to portray them as opposites, because Akutagawa being unlovable and Atsushi receiving all the love Akutagawa didn't get for being his contrary - even though deep down they're the same - is almost everything their relationship is about. It's also a big part of why they act like they do towards each other: it's source of Akutagawa's bottomless envy for Atsushi; it's source of how devoted and loyal he will grow to be for him - reaching the point of giving his life for him -, because he can't see Atsushi as anything but perfection. It's source of confidence and of that certain justified hatred towards Akutagawa Atsushi feels because to his eyes Akutagawa is about the worst person to have ever walked on earth. It's source to their wish to annihilate the other as the opposite they can't exist at the same time of. It's the reason Akutagawa had to die, because he's not the good one. Overall it's also expression of Akutagawa's thematic struggle to be good and unavoidable failure at that because of the constraints of a narrative that never wanted him to be good.
But I also think they can make it work. More precisely, I think sskk can make it work when both of them can overcome and defeat the narrative dichotomy they found themselves stuck into: by recognizing that deep common ground of “we're the same” and that where it matters, in morals, neither of them is better or worse than the other. The Beast universe exemplifies that for us readers, but they don't know Beast, so they'll have to realize it by their own. About that, I think Akutagawa already caught on, because he was faster to call out the hypocrisy of Atsushi's good guy façade, and from that it's a short distance to realizing that, as much as he hates to admit it, at his core Atsushi is not that different from himself. It's taking a little more for Atsushi to realize, because it's harder to get down from that higher moral pedestal he believes himself to be on, but with his whole reevaluating Akutagawa after he stopped killing and sacrificed himself for him (and then saved him again. And then showed him how formidable of a team they are when they find a common ground.), I think he's getting there.
Tl;dr: Atsushi is smart and Akutagawa is stupid and yes it fits their personalities, but way more importantly it's consistent with the themes they carry that translate in what their relationship is like.
¹ For further reading on how Atsushi can be witty, please refer to @/gloomierdays's tags on this post.
² For further reading on how Atsushi and Akutagawa's looks can be used to reflect their characters themes, please refer to this post.
³ For further reading on how Akutagawa being not smart (as far as conventional definitions of smart go) ties to his character themes, please refer to this post.
#Answering this exactly one month late I'm so so so so so sorry#To be fair if I didn't set my mind on writing dissertations for every ask I get I'd probably be able to answer them faster#Seriously again I deeply apologize for taking so long ///////#atsushi nakajima#ryūnosuke akutagawa#sskk#shin soukoku#bsd#bungou stray dogs#mine#people asks me stuff#I don't even think Akutagawa likes reading lol.#I think he's so restless and impatient‚ his attention span is really far too low to sit down and read something leisurely.#This might as well be my most fandom unpopular sskk opinion of them all ajkfafliugefligwfkqwjyg
50 notes
·
View notes
Text
APWH preview snippet!
Since I'm actively trying to work on getting the next few chapters out, I thought I'd share a little future scene with some hints of Jonsa with all you lovely people! This bit is from like, a few chapters in the future bc it's the in-between that's giving me fits right now :)
(Fair warning: this is unedited and subject to change! That being said, it's such a fun scene that I can't imagine ever nixing it :D)
“Does he even know that they have to avoid the press?”
“For the last time-“ Sam sighed, sounding completely exasperated, “Dickon knows what they can and can’t do- he’s got enough practice not being photographed from when our dad was the secretary. Not to mention spending time around you when that exposé on your crazy grandfather came out two years ago.”
“I just-“ Jon sighed, blowing a stray curl out of his face. “You didn’t see how freaked out she was when the press caught us at that performance in White Harbor. I thought she was going to have a full-blown panic attack.”
He was immediately derailed by Gilly plopping little Sam down in his lap and shoving a bottle into his hands.
“What’s this all about?” he raised a brow, adjusting the baby on his lap, allowing him to latch onto the cuff of his flannel shirt and start gnawing at the fabric. “You going somewhere?”
Gilly shot him a withering look, but he saw the amusement in her eyes.
“I-“ she gestured, imperiously, “Have not had time by myself to shower all week-“
“Sorry, love.” Sam winced, looking up from his pile of paperwork. “I can take a break from these-“
“Not your fault, Sam.” she waved him off. “You warned me about this conference at the beginning of the summer.” a grin played at the corners of her mouth. “Besides, it works out well- Jon needs a distraction right now from the fact that Sansa’s on a date with your extremely hot and conventionally attractive brother.”
“Hey!” Sam looked wounded, and Gilly rolled her eyes, pressing a kiss to his forehead.
“You know you’re my favorite Tarly.” she wrinkled her nose. “How long have you been working on this presentation? You smell like the baby spit up on you.”
“Guess I’m next in line for showers.” Sam said, mournfully. “Unless-“
“Nope- I need my own time right now, Samwell. Did you even hear what I said about why Jon’s bent out of shape?”
Jon had known Gilly since Sam and she had met up north while the two of them were in college. Sometimes, it was hard to reconcile the timid, scared girl she had been with the woman who was currently devoting all of her remaining energy to busting his balls.
“Don’t tell me you’re worried about Sansa with my brother.” Sam snorted, shotgunning another cup of coffee next to him the way Jon was used to seeing undergrads do with jaeger shots. “I mean, this is Dickon we’re talking about. Used to bring wounded animals home to take care of them Dickon? The same guy who cried when we had movie night and Gilly and Rhae wanted to go see ‘Love, Simon’?” He shook his head. “Look, as far as guys she could be out on a date with right now go, Dickon’s kind of the best case scenario. She’ll have a nice time, and he’ll be a perfect gentleman.”
Jon blinked at him, silently turning to look up at Gilly, who rolled her eyes and sighed.
“You’re hopeless, sweetie.” she kissed him on the forehead again, wrinkling her nose. “He’s not worried that things will go wrong- he’s worried they’ll go a little too well.”
“You’ve been spending way too much time around my sister.” Jon muttered, narrowly avoiding little Sam’s grasping reach for his glasses, managing to get the baby to latch onto the bottle before he destroyed any more of Jon’s eyewear. “You even sounded like her just then.”
Sam blinked for a second, his head whipping between Jon and Gilly.“You’re jealous?” He asked, incredulously. “Of Dickon? Wait- you like Sansa?”
“Got there in the end.” Gilly sighed, affectionately patting him on the shoulder before going to shower, leaving Jon and Sam behind with four cups of coffee, one baby, and approximately five brain cells total between the two of them.
“You like her.” Sam repeated, like it was a giant revelation.
“What are we- in middle school?” Jon hissed, immediately turning his head down to smile and make faces at little Sam while he fed him, before glaring up at big Sam again. “I don’t- I mean-“
Sam was just shaking his head.“Of course you do.” he laughed. “Should have guessed- red hair and a damsel in distress? You were doomed from the outset.”
“Shut up.” Jon muttered, flushing. “It’s not like that.”
“Then why are you worrying about Dickon for fu-“ Sam glanced nervously at the baby, “-god’s sake? When Gill was meeting my family for the first time, I remember you told her not to worry- that my brother was ‘one of the best guys you know’ and ‘practically a golden retriever’.”
Jon could tell that Sam, who could not raise one eyebrow without the other, was desperately trying to do just that.
“I don’t know.” He muttered, moving little Sam to his shoulder to start burping him. “Look- I’m attracted to her, alright? It’s a fu- er, a giant disaster that I’m gonna ignore for the rest of my life.”
“Seriously?”
“Stop trying to do that with your eyebrows.” Jon complained. “It’s giving me motion sickness. And yes, seriously. I’m not even going to consider that- it’s just a stupid crush. Besides,” he sighed, rubbing little Sam’s back comfortingly, “Robb’s already dealing with enough right now with this whole Sansa situation- can’t imagine telling him I think his sister’s attractive while he’s being forced to suddenly confront all of his guilt and self loathing every time he looks at her.”
“That whole bro code thing of never dating your friend’s sisters never really made sense to me.” Sam shook his head, gulping down more coffee. “I mean, I’d be thrilled if you decided to date Talla, because I know you’d be good to her.”
“Yeah, don't think she'd quite go for that, mate.” Jon snorted, standing to bounce little Sam around gently. He was just grateful Sam hadn’t said anything else about Robb.
“Eh, wouldn’t count you out completely.” Sam shrugged, smirking. “With that hair, you’re pretty enough to be a girl- maybe that’d be enough for her.”
“You are so lucky i’m holding the baby.” Jon muttered, still bouncing little Sam, who picked that moment to spit up spectacularly down Jon’s back.
“Well, that’s three of us who’re gonna need showers now.” Sam grinned, looking thrilled as all get out that it hadn’t been him. “Wow- his aim is getting better.”
“I’m going to remind him of this when he’s a sulky teenager.” Jon grumbled, wiping spit-up off his shoulder as best he could. “Look- no gossiping with Rhae about this, please. She thinks she’s such a good clandestine agent that she doesn’t always realize that Robb is better at sniffing out her plots than she thinks.”
“Alright-“ Sam sighed, looking back down at the massive stack of paperwork in front of him. “I make no promises for Gill, though.”
“Gilly could give some of my Uncle’s colleagues at the WIA a run for their money when it comes to withstanding interrogation.” Jon snorted.
“Probably true.”
“Where did your brother take Sansa?” Still holding onto a now much happier baby with one hand, he reached down the other to take a gulp of his own coffee.
“He said something about going out towards the Tyrell Estate.” Sam shrugged. “They probably drove out there to see the gardens- he’s said it’s a good road to take his bike out on.”
Jon promptly spat out his entire sip of coffee, staining the front of his shirt as well as the back, and frightening little Sam enough that he started to cry.
“He took her on his motorcycle?”
Gilly picked that moment to reappear, completely clean and with wet hair, blinking at the scene in front of her.
Sam, who couldn’t seem to stop laughing, was desperately trying to calm down the baby, who had started wailing, while Jon’s entire front was covered in coffee and his entire back was covered in baby vomit. Not that he seemed to notice, as his face was white and he was making a series of angry looking hand gestures at her husband.
“I really can’t leave you three alone for five minutes, can I?” she sighed. “Do I even want to know?”
#my writing#my wips#writing wips#just APWH things#jonsa#fanfiction wip#God bless Gilly like for real#YES Sansa is on a date with someone else here#muscleman golden retriever McAttractiveness#Aka dickon tarly#unsurprisingly jon is not having a great time about it!#in fairness to sansa the plotline directly preceding this and kicking off her doing some traveling was pretty rough on her#so our poor girl really deserves a giant muscley golden retriever with a motorcycle#and to just have a good time with someone who isn't wrapped up in all the stark drama/disaster/mess etc.#jon can deal with it rn bc it's really a 'you snooze you lose' kind of situation#sam's usually quicker on the draw but he's very sleep deprived here#and working on some stuff for a pathology conference#not at all going to be relevant nope no sir#writing sam and jon interacting vs jon and robb is so fascinating#they're both jon's besties but there's a very different dynamic to the two relationships#in fairness Robb has like SO much complex childhood trauma and is kind of seriously going through it right now#but his scenes with jon always have this sort of darker edge to them#like an 'i've known you my entire life and know everything about you for better or worse' type deal- deeper but darker#it's more akin to a sibling relationship? but also not? they are both going thru it#my headcanon is that anytime jon starts getting too gloomy and angsty gilly just straight up shoves the baby at him#and then waits like twenty minutes#Gilly: 'it's free babysitting!'#generally it works pretty well#jon's like '404 error does not compute' as soon as sam says the word 'motorcycle'#also when sam says 'the secretary' he means randyll tarly was the secretary of defense
28 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
awakenastronaut
Seokjin's Diary
yuryyukhnovich
yury_yukhnovich
dvs1mn
Car Crazy
cherrys-acid
Golden.Thoughts
yanderetheumbrellaacademy
The Umbrella Academy