#*does a greeter for once*

[himbosandhardwear]

Steddie I Different First Meeting I Lollapalooza/Musician AU I 1.6k I SFW I Side Buckingham

Chrissy is talking but Eddie only catches every fourth word. It's not his fault, the guy walking in front of them is wearing the shortest possible shorts one could wear in public and not get arrested, and the back of his thighs, and the rest of him as far as Eddie can tell, are covered in little brown beauty marks. It's like walking behind a sexy train wreck. 

“So what do you think?”

“Mmm?”

“Eddie! This is important! Pay attention.”

He finally looks away. “Yeah. Italian. Whatever.”

She rolls her eyes. “I already decided on dinner, you jackass. I'm talking about going home for Thanksgiving.”

That's a huge no. He scrunches his nose to indicate how stupid an idea he thinks that is. 

Before she can further berate him, the guy and his girlfriend stop at a random door and walk inside. He's devastated. His soulmate, lost forever! 

“Oh, that's actually on our list!” Chrissy says, stopping him with an arm. “You wanna just go now?”

Eddie's so in his own head he doesn't understand what she's talking about until he reads the door and sees ‘Medieval Torture Museum.’ 

Eddie has a full blown joy filled conniption on the sidewalk. “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.” He grabs her and shoves her towards the door.

“Asshole, this is silk,” she mumbles. 

He ignores her. His mole-covered soulmate is still in line, so Eddie gets to stand directly behind him while they wait. His hair is so swoopy. He wants to jam his fingers in it and fuck it up.

“Welcome to the Medieval Torture Museum,” a woman standing at the podium drones in a manner fitting a 70 year old Walmart greeter. “Please no flash photography and watch your step. Have a great time.”

Eddie watches as Soul Mate and his girlfriend make eye contact and attempt not to giggle. It's exactly the same thing he and Chrissy just did behind them. 

Once it's their turn to pay and get their little stickers, Eddie is already foaming at the mouth to follow up the stairs. Chris dicks around, struggling to figure out where to put her sticker. Eddie swears at her under his breath while his Soul Mate gets away.

“It's silk, Eddie!”

Fed up, he takes the sticker from her, baps it onto her forehead, and runs away.

He's glad he left her when he gets to the top of the stairs in time to hear Soul Mate mutter, “I'd pay a drug lord to do that to my dad.”

His girlfriend answers, “I'll do it for twenty bucks and first pick out of his wine cellar.”

They shake on it in front of the mannequin display of a Columbian Necktie.

Eddie is more in love than ever. 

“That's not medieval,” Chrissy points out when she meets them upstairs. She's unbuttoned the blouse enough for Eddie to see the sticker is now stuck to her collarbone. 

“If you're gonna get nit-picky, I'm pushing you back down the stairs.”

She gives him a doubtful look. “Daria down there would save me.”

He huffs a laugh. 

They catch up with his new boyfriend as they stand critiquing the Impaling wall, he follows as subtle as he can through the next room too. Luckily, there are other people mingling about, so Eddie doesn't look too obvious, but it's imperative he stay close enough to hear every comment made.

“That would fix me,” the guy says a lot, especially at the display of a man having his head squeezed until his eye pops out. Eddie can relate, he gets migraines too. 

He does get distracted when Chrissy opens the door to the giant metal bull, because he can't miss the opportunity to try to shove her inside. She wails, kicking him directly in the dick. He drops her in favor of dry heaving the pain away. It's totally worth it because he catches Soul Mate watching. 

“Don't even think about it,” Soul Mate’s girlfriend says. 

Soul mate scoffs. “Like you'd even fit.”

“Bitch!” 

They wander off.

Eddie waddles after, slowly.

He's reading a plaque about flaying when he hears the two of them mutter, “Henderson,” at the same time. He turns and finds them high fiving over a display of a guy with his tongue nailed to a board. 

“Is this a sex thing?” Chrissy asks, holding up a metal cock plate with spikes attached. 

“Without a doubt. I'd venture to say most of this stuff is. Also remind me to have something like this guy drawn up for wardrobe,” he wiggles the one with a boar on the front, “it's so me.”

“Ugh, you're the worst.” 

He stops giggling when he looks up to find Soul Mate looking him up and down, not in a ‘I must have you’ kinda way but a ‘I know you from somewhere’ way. He's not a fan, that's for sure, a fan would've clocked him right away, stupid ball cap on or not. He's sweating his ass off in a sleeveless tank top and jeans, and his tattoos are fairly recognizable. 

Eddie, not shy in the least, gives him a little wave, wiggling the metal boar dildo at him. “How about this guy? Think he'd fix ya?”

The guy chokes on a laugh, embarrassed to be caught looking but not so much that he looks away. “Only one way to find out,” he manages to say just loud enough for Eddie to hear, not so loud that the entire room hears it. 

His girlfriend slaps his bicep. “Don't flirt with Eddie Munson!” She hisses. Not in a ‘you're standing next to your girlfriend’ kind of way but in a ‘flirting with famous rock stars is ill advised’ kinda way.

Hope springs eternal! “No, do. Do flirt with Eddie Munson,” Eddie, shameless in the face of possible love, says back.

Soul Mate moves closer. “Eddie Munson? The Coffin guy? Melted Coffin? You're the Melted Coffin guy?” 

Despite the lack of musical awareness, Eddie is still smitten. “Sure. Melted Coffin.”

Chrissy snickers at his elbow. “Does that make you guys one half of Spoon Goons?”

“Ha!” Soul Mate's girlfriend cackles, holding up a hand for a high five. 

Chrissy gives her a demure tap, actually blushing, like the useless lesbian she is.

“What's a Spoon Goon? Are you guys drug dealers? Why would she know you and I don't?”

Chrissy rolls her eyes up at him, the ‘I lament ever being nice to you in high school, you are embarrassing me’ look.

“They're in Scoops Troop, dumb ass. You've never seen them before because you don't listen to pop music.” She turns back to her new crush. “Sorry, he's allergic to dance beats. Also,” she looks back up at him, “where do you think your drugs come from? The Drug Fairy?”

“That was my nickname in High School,” he quips. 

“It wasn't but it might as well have been.”

Eddie turns back to his Soul Mate and holds out a hand. “Eddie Munson.”

Soul Mate wastes no time shaking, grip firm, hands huge. “Steve Harrington.” He takes his hand away to backhand his friend in the shoulder. “This is Robin. Buckley. Platonic Soul Mate and huge cock block.”

“Huge Cock Block was my nickname in High School,” she says, shaking Eddie's hand and then Chrissy’s.

“Cunningham, Chrissy.” 

“Holy shit!” Robin exclaims. “You're Christine Cunningham? Wait, of course you are, oh my god, I heard all about what you did to Axel Rose last year. That was fucking epic.”

Chrissy, still holding Robin's hand, goes scarlet red. “Oh. Ha. Yeah, he's a dill weed.”

Robin gives her an unwarranted snort. Though calling Axel Rose a dill weed is pretty accurate, it's probably the tamest thing he's ever been called.

Eddie glances over at Steve. They share a look. ‘Can you believe how useless lesbians are?’ 

Eddie nods toward their still clasped hands, pointing out the total lack of awareness on both of their parts. Steve snorts. 

The girls go on a tangent of their least favorite artists to tour with, which is when Eddie gets while the gettin’s good and starts scooting away, Steve equally cat-like beside him. They back toward the next room, side by side, until they bump into a mannequin display of various ways to tickle someone to insanity. 

“Huh,” Steve mumbles, distracted from their getaway. “That can't be right. That claw thing just looks like it would feel good.”

“I'm pretty sure I have one of those at home.”

Steve glances over. “Oh yeah? Where's home?”

“Currently, L.A. Originally? Bout an hour south of Indianapolis.”

Steve's eyes light up. “No shit? I'm from an hour north of Indianapolis!”

“That's insane.” 

“Seriously. Ha.” He plays with the rope contraption on the Blood Eagle display. “You guys are playing tomorrow night, right?”

“Yeah. Nine o'clock. You guys?”

“Sunday at Four.”

Eddie nods, files that away. “The girls are probably gonna fall in love and try to move in together, you know that right?”

Steve shrugs. “We're in Sacramento at the moment, LA wouldn't be a stretch. I'm a wiz at U-Hauling at this point.” 

“Good. So we should do our best to support them. Fucking immediately is probably the best course of action, you know, just to make sure we're compatible.”

Steve doesn't look over but Eddie sees his lips get tucked in, trying to smash his smile down. “You had me at ‘weird torture pig dildo.’”

“You had me out on the sidewalk, I would've followed you down a manhole.”

“Play your cards right, you still might.”

“I love you.”

They're still making eyes at each other when the girls catch up.

“Eddie, Robin and Steve are coming to dinner with us.”

“Yeah they are,” he agrees immediately, throwing an arm around Steve's shoulder.

“Did you know their drummer doesn't have any collarbones?” Chrissy says as they make their way back toward the front stairs.

“Holy fuck, Cunningham, I'm already a sure thing, you don't have to keep selling it.”

[whereserpentswalk]

You're an android. A humanoid robot with a mechanical interior, but an outer layer of biological flesh. You were created to be a greeter and assistant at a large corporation in the late 21st century, but it's been a long time since you served that role, the company no longer exists and you serve yourself now.

You were created to be someone who the company finds pleasing, and it still effects you a lot. You were given a body meant to look like a petite youthful woman, someone people find pretty but not someone they'd think of as sexual. You're also physically limited in certain ways, you don't have any body parts considered offensive, not even nipplesq. Your voice is always calm and quite, unable to yell or seem at all harsh. Your limbs are weak in specific places that make most acts of violence almost entirely impossible.

Your most extreme modification is that certain things are censored for your eyes. You can't observe sex, nudity, gore, or hear or read any profanity. You can physically look at these things but it will be censored out by a black bar. They're not even really black, they're gaps in vision, like the things you can't see out of the corner of your eye.

It disturbs you. It didn't when you were young but it's disturbing now. It's hard to describe why. When you were young you were so happy and innocent, and you didn't really understand what you were missing. But now you're older than most humans even though you look basically the same as how you did when you were born. It's not like you really want to do most of these things, you don't have sexual desire, you don't even think of yourself as hurting people, you don't really want to raise your voice. But you want the option, you want the same options as all your human friends, or all the robots you know who don't have those restrictions.

It won't always come up but it hurts when it does. It hurts when you want to talk with the same tone as everyone else, but you're restricted to a calm tone, and can't use profanity, so you can't match the vibe of a conversation. It sucks to try to watch a horror movie and just see void where you know there's meant to be blood. You took an art class once where they drew nude models, and you had to explain that you couldn't draw the woman in front of you fully because of the black bars over her chest and pelvis. The instructor, a gruff former mining robot with a thick streel carapace, patted your head, and called you cute, and called you lucky to be made in such a peaceful environment. You don't feel lucky, you don't feel cute either.

So many humans and scarier looking robots consider you cute. You're always the nice one. Always the sweet one. Everyone treats you like this pure little thing. You've had so many bigger, less human like robots and cyborgs, talk about how they'll protect or, or how they want to protect you. You think they're trying solidarity but they aren't trying it well. You're not innocent, you know what all these adult things are, you're certainly old enough to. You don't need protection, you've been protected too many times.

You've tried to go to an engineer about it, but it's so hard. It's very hard to find someone who'll take your request to let you see genitals and violence seriously. It's not uncommon for ex factory robots to want to have their assembly line instincts removed, or for ex combat robots to want to not have weapons on their bodies. But it's way harder to tell someone who'll be working on your body that you want the physical ability to punch people, or that you want your body to have nipples. People don't understand why you'd want genitals if you won't use them for sex, but you've been a woman for so long, you want a body that reflects that. You tried to get someone to fix your voice, probably the most simple part of you to fix, and they gave you the mechanical equivalent of suger pills, they didn't think it was something someone like you would actually want. They thought they knew better.

There is the option of putting your mind in a new body. It's rare but it's not unheard of by any means. It's expensive, and it takes awhile to learn to use a new body. But you can do it. You have the money and the time. When it does happen it's useally robots less humanoid than you wanting to get bodies more like yourse that have more pretty human parts, but that's not all that can happen.

You've seen a few bodies that have been emptied of minds that you can swap with. You've been thinking about it for awhile. There are some space exploration models and some sex work robots who you've come close to working on swapping with. But there's one that trumps all of them for sure. It's this empty millitary robot body, that everyone other than you finds creepy. It's very elongated and spindly with a lot of limbs and a metal black and gold exterior, it looks a bit like a giant praying mantis, especially with that combination of agression and elegence. It's beautiful to you, but in this alien art deco way. Just the idea of being inside that body makes you excited. It still doesn't have genitals but thats less weird for a body like that. You want so badly to be that tall thin metal woman covered in built in weapons, you want so badly to be something people are afraid of, something meant to know all the dark and upsetting things of the adult world.

[viewofagarden]

[Paraview AU] PVS-01A (Dandy)

New AU time! Basic gist here is that the Toons are all monsters that reside in the Paraview Facility, a building for the Paraview Foundation, a government funded organization founded by Arthur and Delilah, their goal is to get monsters and humans live to in harmony by understanding and researching these beasts once feared by many. AU was inspired by the SCP Foundation and a little bit of Monster High.

Dandy here is, predictably a Plant Monster (ala Venus McFlytrap or Audrey II). By the way "PVS" stands for "Paraview Subject".

Full Name: Dandicus "Dandy" Dancifer ID #: PVS-01A Gender: Male (He/Him) Relatives: PVS-01B (Pet) Classification: Miscellaneous Species: Plant Monster Assigned Scientist: Devan Reed Preferred Food: Fertilizer

Discovery

PVS-01A was the first to ever be discovered by Paraview. During the construction of the Paraview Facility, the builders had come across a large flower bud sticking out of the ground. The flower bud was carefully uprooted and placed into a well fitting receptacle to be watched over by the founders; Arthur Walton and Delilah Keen.

During the rest of the month it had been found, the flower bud started to bloom into a large rainbow flower, one that did not match any scientifically known species of flora. On the day the facility was finished, the flower opened it's petals, revealing a humanoid figure with a flower for a head and a green leafy tail. It was Arthur who came up with the name for the creature; Dandy.

Noted Behavior and Abilities

- PVS-01A has the ability to manipulate the growth and movement of plant life. The most prominent examples of this power include making flowers grow, healing wilted plants, and creating to grab onto objects and people.

- PVS-01A does not require consumption of human food, as photosynthesis, water, and fertilizer with suffice. But he can still consume human food should he wish.

- He is able to absorb water through his skin.

- The blood test during his physical exam have revealed that his blood is more akin to sap found in various species of flora, it is noticeably thicker than average human blood.

- We suspect that PVS-01A has the ability to communicate and sympathize with inanimate plant life, but that is yet to be proven. Further testing will be in order.

- The insides of his body are green due to chlorophyll.

- PVS-01B ("Pebble") has been officially declared as PVS-01A's pet, and shall be treated as such.

- PVS-01A has formed a close, friendly relationship with PVS-02 ("Astro"). By contrast, there appears to be tension between him and PVS-05 ("Vee").

- PVS-01A has become the official greeter and guide for new monsters that are brought into the facility.

- The vines he creates have thorns on them whenever he is aggravated, whereas they have no thorns when PVS-01A is in any other mood.

[shrimptacodaniels]

you’ve got no disguise (from somebody’s eyes)

Dust is being watched. 

Isn’t he always? In grocery stores, by curious children who thought canes were “only for old people.” On sidewalks, when passersby with shy smiles ask “are you blind?” (he’s not) as if it’s a brave thing to do. By leering mothers and haughty businessmen on street corners, turning up their noses as he plays his guitar. Tries to make a living.

Dust is being watched. 

Isn’t he always? 

“Dust, turn around. Let me fix your collar.” 

He bristles but complies, tensing further as he feels Raffa’s fingers work around the back of his neck. It’s hot outside - a summer evening that sticks to him like glue. 

If the heat wasn’t bad enough, this suit would be the kicker (spoiler alert: it’s the kicker). Dust wanted to wear a dress, as he often does to these sorts of galas, but this crowd is far more…stuffy than the usual “Mountport Elite.” A dress would only draw unwanted attention. As would his sunglasses. 

He already gets enough of that. 

Dust is being watched. 

Isn’t he always?

“Good to go.” Raffa pats his shoulder,  satisfied. 

He nods. 

Thank them, a voice hisses venomously. What will they think-

He’s too irritated to care. If he’s being watched, let them all watch. 

You don’t mean that.

Yes I do. I don’t care. 

Lie, the critical voice says. It falls silent. 

“Alright,” Raffa murmurs. “You both know the plan.” 

“That we do.” Sasha flashes that signature grin of his, looking effortlessly relaxed. Confident. Something coils tight around Dust’s heart. Sasha’s good at being watched. Dust is just being watched. 

Isn’t he always?

Raffa nods. “Right. This’ll be quick. Remember, the goal is to be a distraction-“ 

“-not to get distracted,” Sasha finishes. He looks over at Dust with a fond expression. “This guy, hm?” He jerks a thumb in Raffa’s direction. Dust tries for a smile. 

Pathetic. 

Shut up. I’m fine. 

Lie. 

“I can collect your invitations,” one of the greeters says grandly, effectively ending their huddle. Dust allows himself a modicum of pride as he surrenders the leaflet in his hand. Calligraphy is tricky, and forged calligraphy more so. Add the fact that he only had two hours to do three invitations-

It’s not enough. He’ll notice. 

He won’t. I know what I’m doing. 

Lie. Fix your face. He’s watching you. 

Right. Dust tries for a neutral expression as the tuxedo-clad man glances over each paper. 

“Enjoy your evening, folks.” He steps aside to let them through. 

Sasha whistles lowly once they’re out of earshot, offering a fist. 

He thought it was good. He saw what you did and thought it was good. 

Yes. That makes me cool.

Lie. 

Dust bumps his own fist against Sasha’s halfheartedly, fighting the urge to hurl at the contact. He wishes he felt proud again. Or something. Instead, he begins scanning the crowd. 

This event is highly populated. More people than they had thought. Which is good, right? Everyone’s job just got a bit easier. Right. 

“More people than we thought,” Raffa observes from behind him. “Good.” It’s as if they’ve just read his mind. Maybe he’s just that easy to read. 

He’s being watched. 

Isn’t he always?

“You both know where to meet me?” 

“Worrywart.” 

“Shut up.” They smooth a hand over the skirt of their dress. “What are your conversation topics when approaching guests?” 

“My prolific career as a Michelin star chef.” 

“If you sat on a voodoo doll of yourself, would you be able to stand up?” 

Raffa looks at both of them. “You know what? Sure.” 

“Brrrreak!” Sasha waves, disappearing into the crowd. 

Raffa rolls their eyes. “Good luck. I’ll be quick.” 

Great. 

You won’t last five minutes. 

—

Dust lasts all of fifteen minutes. Which is, quite honestly, longer than he expected. 

But the man he’s speaking to is wearing a suit in the brightest shade of red Dust has ever seen. Eyes swimming, he tries to focus on the conversation. 

“And I work for Hasbro, you know, which is normally quite stable, but there’s trouble in paradise I’m afraid. People talking about some re-branding of Mr. Monopoly, but we just can’t find anyone with the right look.” 

The string quartet springs into a lively tune, notes piercing the air (and the space between Dust’s temples). He nods shakily, brain practically leaking out of his ears. 

“I said I could model, which I could. But they-“ 

“Excuse me, sir, so sorry to interrupt.

Would you mind me having a word with my friend for a moment?” 

The man gives a slight nod in acknowledgment. “But of course.” He claps Dust on the shoulder with force that just about does him in. 

“A pleasure, young man.” 

“Yes sir,” Dust manages. He’s staring hard at the floor, which shifts and churns underneath him. 

“Psst.” Sasha’s next to him in a flash, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back. “Let’s get you out of here.” 

Of course he saw. Because Dust is being watched. 

“But the plan-“

“Change of plans.” 

“Sash, I’m-“

“More important than this? Correct! Besides,” he presses closer to Dust so he can whisper in his ear. “This is not the first nor the last time we steal from entitled people.” 

Next time they’ll do it without you. 

Shut up. That’s not true. 

How would you know? They’ve done the duo thing before. Who’s to say it wasn’t better then? 

Me. 

You’re lying.

“When is something like this going to happen again?” Dust stumbles uncertainly, trying to step out of Sasha’s grip. “I’m fine.” 

Lie.

What more would you have me do?

He stumbles again, watching Sasha reach for him. It’s no use, he can do this himself. 

Lie. 

What do you want from me?

“Why are you trying to fight me on this, dude? What’s going on?” 

The lights are so bright and the violin so shrill and now Sasha’s raised his voice to normal volume and he’s too close and it hurts, it all just-

Dust grits his teeth. The world is hurting him. He needs to hurt back. 

“Would you stop?” 

“Stop?” 

“Acting like you care. And watching me like I’m a baby. You don’t and I’m not, so…”

A look of hurt flashes across Sasha’s face. 

Why would you make me say that?

You’re not a baby. And you’ve done things fine on your own. 

Lie.

NO.

Dust snarls. “Don’t look at me like th-“ 

Pain sinks its teeth in his side, effectively ending any sentence he was trying to form. Stars flood his vision, dizzying static ringing in his ears. 

And then there is nothing. 

—

He starts aggressively, as if waking from a nightmare, when he comes to. 

“Hey. Easy. We’ll go when walking doesn’t feel impossible. No rush.” 

Raffa is looking down at him (watching) with a…complicated look on their face. Somewhere between concern and tenderness and confusion and a hint of tense frustration. 

Because you’re a burden to them. Maybe you are a baby. 

Stop. 

“How are you?” Raffa murmurs, gently squeezing his arm. He’s sprawled out on the floor, head resting in their lap. They’re backlit by the glow of the reception hall, glasses glittering as they hold his gaze. 

“Don’t worry,” he replies weakly. “Get anything good?” 

“Pretty forks, decent alcohol, and deeply fascinating gossip, which we will discuss at home.” 

“Over the decent alcohol, I assume?” 

“Maybe.”

“Score.”

“But not,” they warn, “before you’re feeling better. Don’t give me shit for that, you know as well as I do how you’re doing.” 

Dust can’t do this again. 

“Where’s Sasha?” 

“Getting the car.” They seem to want to say more, but they restrain themself. 

Dust can’t do this again. 

“What were you going to say?” 

“What?” 

“About Sasha. What were you going to say just now?” 

Raffa sighs. “Look. He does care about you. You hit a nerve.” 

Dust falls silent. What is there to say? 

You’re not sorry. 

I am sorry. He was trying to help. 

You shouldn’t need help. 

Stop. 

No. 

“He’s outside.” Raffa helps him stand, passing his cane once both of them are steady on their feet. 

“Let’s go home.” 

—

Dust is being watched. 

Isn’t he always? 

If Sasha’s going to watch him instead of the road, fine. He fixes his eyes on the rearview mirror, going for the hardest glare he can muster. Dust can tell the second Sasha notices, because his gaze softens. 

He sees right through you. Baby. 

Shut up. 

No. 

“Please get us back alive,” Raffa prods gently from the seat beside Dust. 

“Babe, me ‘n Dirty Diana have been ruling these streets for ages. You think I’d put us in danger?” 

“Red light, Sasha-“ 

He slows to a stop just in the nick of time. The jeep gives a slight jolt, which sends Dust’s vision swimming again, but it could be worse. 

Stop with the brave shit. 

That’s not his voice. Nor the voice. Dust shoves that train of thought to a far corner of his brain, mostly because it hurts to think. Mostly. 

Raffa jabs an accusatory finger at the back of Sasha’s neck. 

“AGH! Jeez, Raff, I wasn’t gonna run it-“ 

“You were definitely going to run it-“

“Not intentionally.” 

“Well no, I don’t think you’d intentionally run a red light.” 

“Thank you for your immense faith in me.” 

“Green, Sash.” 

“I can see colors fine!” He steps on the gas. Raffa rolls their eyes, shooting Dust a patented “our roommate’s an idiot” look. 

“I know you’re exchanging looks back there. Freaks.” 

“You wouldn’t know that if you kept your eyes on the road.” 

“Deep breath. Realize how you’re alive?” 

“Shut up.” 

“You have such a way with words.” 

They turn into the parking lot at a reasonable speed a few minutes later, as if Sasha’s now trying to prove a point. He parks, surprisingly well, and shuts the car off before properly turning around to glare at Raffa. There’s no heat to it. 

“Happy?” 

Raffa laughs. “I’m driving next time.” 

“Get out and admire my beautiful parking job.” 

Again, it’s a pretty good parking job. 

Dust also can’t breathe. His knees buckle. 

“Inside.” There’s not any softness to Raffa’s voice when they say it, but the urgency supplies him with enough encouragement to start off towards the elevator. The world feels hot, hotter than it did earlier. It seems to fill him up and turn his insides to mist, making him sway on his feet. 

I need help. 

You need too much. 

No. 

Stop.

“Can you-“ he gasps at whoever’s next to him. Silently, they pick him up, which is not what Dust was expecting. 

“Cane,” they- he?- who is this? whisper to the other one. He feels his cane gently wrenched from his hand. 

“I got it,” Dust protests. 

“I got it.” That’s Raffa. Which means Sasha’s carrying him. 

He should drop you. 

Why would he drop me? 

He should. You were awful to him. 

He won’t. And I was just overstimulated. 

He probably hates you. 

You don’t know anything. 

Lie. 

DING. 

Sasha waits a moment before getting out, presumably to let Raffa lead the way. 

Good. 

Nothing about this is good. 

I’m tired of fighting you. 

Baby. Weak like one, too. 

Stop. 

He slips out of consciousness again. 

—

“…all set?” 

“Spill, please.” 

He’s lying down on their horrible couch, head in Sasha’s lap and feet in Raffa’s.

“Yes. Secrets.” Raffa clears their throat. “Okay. Prefacing. What I’m about to tell you cannot leave the house. And it is quite possibly the most insane piece of town history I’ve ever heard.” They pause for a beat, registering that Dust has come to and tapping his ankle in acknowledgment. 

“How much do you two know about the mayor?” 

“Not enough,” Sasha responds. Dust hums in agreement. 

“Follow-up question: how much do you two know about The Mountport polycule?” 

“The what-“

“That’s what I said.”

They recount the story slowly, all big gestures and animated expressions. The familiarity of their cadence makes him soften, slightly. He likes coming home to something he knows. They take extra care to keep quiet, he realizes. Out of respect for his migrane. It seems like an obvious choice, but the rightness of it sits with him. 

Sasha combs his fingers through Dust’s hair,     tracing patterns lightly on his scalp. It’s nearly identical to the way Dust traces - the soothing tactic he would be utilizing now if it didn’t hurt to move. Something odd twists in his stomach at that.  He didn’t realize his habit was noticeable. Sasha stills when Dust’s gaze darts up to him, beginning to pull away. He looks apologetic. 

Against all his worst of thoughts, that critical voice screaming at him, Dust seizes Sasha’s wrist and squeezes it. As firmly as he can (which is not very, but he’s trying to prove a point to himself). 

“I thought you-“

“Shh.” Dust guides Sasha’s hand back to the top of his head. “Continue, Raff.”  

Raffa doesn’t miss a beat. “Right. So Amelia seems to be the through-line of the earlier relationships-“

It feels like trust, the way there’s no questions asked. No hesitation.

Dust doesn’t miss the flicker of relief on Sasha’s face, nor the lack of tension now. 

It feels like understanding, like forgiveness. No hesitation. 

Hm. Maybe Dust is being seen. Because he isn’t being coddled. There is no overbearing sweetness, no contact that is too close or too much. Because he isn’t expected to exchange quips until he feels better, to sit and let people fuss or banter. 

There’s no expectation. At all. 

Maybe Dust is being seen.

If this is being seen, I can live with being watched by everyone else. 

The other voice stays silent. 

——

my beautiful Dust!!!!!! I hope I did him justice - never written his perspective before but I had a blast. What a beast.

[hyperiondickrider]

Arena Angel

(Chapter 1)

Hisoka x reader; Chrollo x reader; Illumi x reader (might start off relatively slowburn as I build the story)

Y/N used to work as an unofficial healer at the Heaven’s Arena, but was recently demoted and can no longer perform her side gig. Chaos ensues when her fav lil menace returns from an absence. (Adultrio x reader)

Bzzt… bzzt… bzzt

With what most would deem unnecessary violence, you smacked your alarm clock with all the rage one can muster at 5:00am.

“W-what time is it?”

Sleepy mumbles cascaded from your lips, as you rubbed your eyes vigorously, trying to shake the sleep from them. Forcing yourself upright, you at once your bed for a moment, contemplating your options.

You could get up now, or be late for work.

“God, I hate this fucking job.”

I mean, working at the notorious Heaven’s Arena wasn’t all bad - the pay was good, you worked with friends, and there were plenty of hot men to stare at (if you could ignore their psychotic personalities), but the early mornings really did suck.

“I swear to god, as soon as I can afford it I’m quitting this god forsaken job.”

Despite your grievances, you still found the motivation to drag a comb through your hair, throw on some makeup to hide the visible bags under your eyes, and don your rather eccentric (but kinda cunty?) uniform.

Admiring yourself in the mirror, you picked at the uniform with a slight frown.

“Holy shit, am I sexy in this uniform.”

With a sudden surge of energy, you slapped your cheeks for courage and headed off to work.

~

“Hmm, coffee really does make everything better!” With eyes extremely alert and a beaming smile, you skipped over to your manager’s office to learn your assignment for the day.

‘Mimi! It’s been too long, baby!”

“Y/N, you literally saw me 8 hours ago.” With an exasperated sigh, your manager got up from her desk to approach you.

“You’re on sign-in duty today. No complaints this time, honey.”

“Awh, but Mimi, it’s so fucking boringggg!” You shook her arm gently, whining at your assignment for the day.

Sign-in duty sucked. You had to act all happy and shit to meet these wannabe fighters who likely wouldn’t even make it to the tenth floor.

“Baby, please, at least let me work the desk on 100!”

Mimi groaned at your persistence. Shaking your limbs away from her arm until you released her, she returned to her desk.

“Nothing I can do, honey. You’re gonna have to suck it up today.”

With a groan befitting an annoyed teenager, you dragged your feet and stumbled out of Mimi’s office. You grumbled under your breath as you slammed the door for effect, trying to emphasise your displeasure.

“Don’t slam my fucking door, missy!” A yell came from behind the door, as you hastily jogged away. Mimi sure knew how to ruin your day with relative ease. I mean, you loved the girl, but fuck did she give you the worst assignments.

Once again, you began whining to yourself as you made your way towards the elevator.

“There’s literally never anyone interesting to speak to there. This is why Melanie works the sign-in desk: there’s nothing going on in that fucking head of her’s. I, on the other hand, am a fucking Nen user, and I’m not ever allowed to work on the 200’s anymore.” Rambling to yourself as you stomped into the elevator, you waved your hands around for emphasis.

“I mean, I slapped a participant one time, ONE FUCKING TIME, and I get borderline demoted. Bullshit, if you ask me.” With unnecessary force you slammed the ground floor button on the elevator, tapping your foot impatiently as you waited to arrive at the bottom of the building.

A dark air seemed to gather around you, deterring watchful stares from people passing by, as you slumped down into your chair, putting on your game face.

“Ok, Y/N. You’re gonna be the best fucking greeter ever so we can have maybe fun at this job again.”

~

Maybe this was your own personal purgatory. Your face hurt from smiling, the amount of ego stroking you’ve already done is mind numbing, and it’s not even noon.

The line still extends for hundreds of meters, and with no end in sight, you accepted your fate with a grimace.

“Killuaaaa, how long is this gonna take??” You suddenly hear an impatient whine a few people down.

You mumble to yourself, “me too kid.”

“Gon, would a little patience kill you? We’re almost there.” The huffing of another young boy catches your attention.

It’s not everyday young children show up to fight he, but then again, you can’t sense any aura from them - other from the usual leaking of course.

‘Maybe I’m getting my hopes up. At least they sound interesting - they’re fucking loud though.’

With a forced smile, you greet the pair. “Hello boys! Are you here to sign up on this fine, fine morning?” The white haired kid widens his eyes slightly, taking in your form.

“That smile looks painful.” Well, this has just killed any baby fever you have ever experienced. The green haired boy clearly needs to work on his social skills.

“Yeah well, ego stroking all day’ll do that to you, kid. Can I help you?” Slightly irked, you try to stay polite, making eye contact with the white haired boy.

“Wait a minute, do I know you? You feel familiar..” you trail off, unsure if you recognise him.

“You’ve aged poorly, old hag.”

“OLD HAG? Is that you, Killua?” Wholly unimpressed, you glare at the cheeky brat. “I’m literally 20. I was 14 the last time you saw me.”

He waved his hand, acting unbothered. “Yeah, yeah, woman. Just sign us up.”

“Well what the fuck’s this kids name, huh? Finally made a friend? Who knew you were capable of socialising, mr assassin.”

The green haired boy’s eyes flitted between the two of you, confused by the witty banter. Pointing at himself, he finally spoke up.

“I’m Gon. It’s nice to meet you, desk lady!”

“Please don’t call me that. I’m Y/N, kid. Nice to meet you. Anyways, let’s get you two signed up. Hopefully I’ll get to see more of you. It’s nice to have familiar faces occasionally.” After a few moments of admin and paper work, you finally set the two boys up.

“ookay, Killua you are number #2054, and Gon is #2055. You guys can head in, and when they call your number, head to the stated arena for your first fight.” You scribble something on a piece of paper and slide it to Killua. “Here’s my number. Call me if you need anything. I’m working on working my way back up the corporate ladder following my last incident.”

Killua snorts at the memory. He’s still astounded you managed to take a fully grown man down with a single slap after he groped you.

“Sweet, I’ll text you if Gon needs babysitting.” Killua grabs Gon by the shoulders, steering him towards the door, despite the boys whines at the insult. You send them off with a chuckle, more determined than ever to get back to the 200’s.

After all, you rather missed your side gig.

A/N: not proofread so sorry if bad grammar lol. this is gonna be a very silly fic. I need the hxh fandom to be reborn so I am contributing fanfics.

[not-glorfindel-stop-asking]

May I please request any of your favorite stories of our dear Marchwarden, Haldir? Has he always been as stoic and rigid as he is now? Is that merely a facade? Behind closed doors does he relax? Is it possible to make him break and crack a grin while working?

He is somewhat of an enigma to me, and I need the tea! ☕️

Ah, Haldir. The ever-watchful, ever-dutiful Marchwarden of Lothlórien. A mystery wrapped in an enigma wrapped in an intimidatingly perfect braid.

Allow me to preface this by saying: Glorfindel fears him.

This alone should tell you all you need to know. Not in battle, mind you—Glorfindel has faced balrogs and the abyss of death itself—but in social situations? When Haldir levels a particularly unimpressed stare in his direction? The golden warrior retreats like a chastised elfling.

It is a truly wondrous sight.

Now, as for whether Haldir has always been so stoic and rigid—I suspect he emerged from the womb with that expression. You know the one. The quiet, vaguely judgmental stare that makes you second-guess every choice you’ve ever made. I have personally seen elves straighten their posture in his presence without realizing they are doing it.

But do not be fooled—beneath the gruff exterior, he is deeply loyal, protective, and, yes, even kind. If you have earned his respect (a process that may take anywhere between two decades and three centuries), he will defend you with his life.

He takes his duties seriously, not because he enjoys being severe, but because he loves his people, and to love so fiercely is a burden he carries without complaint.

As for making him crack while on duty? Possible, but you must be cunning. I have witnessed precisely two methods that have succeeded:

Eredin, sweet summer child that he is, once handed him a cup of cocoa with marshmallows shaped like mallorn leaves. Haldir did not smile, but the corner of his mouth twitched. A momentous occasion.

An assistant (who shall remain nameless for their own safety) once made the mistake of tripping and grabbing Haldir’s braid to steady themselves. This is not recommended. The moment of pure, horrified disbelief on the Marchwarden’s face was something I shall cherish for eternity.

Allow me to take you back to a moment in time when I saw the impossible: Haldir of Lothlórien, the unflinching guardian of the Golden Wood, the immovable stone upon which many an elven foe has broken, smiling. And not just the polite twitch of a corner of his mouth, nor the sharp, knowing smirk of a warrior who has bested an opponent. No. A genuine, warm, helplessly amused smile.

The culprit? Lady Arwen, at the grand age of three.

It was a peaceful afternoon in Rivendell, and our Marchwarden had been sent as an emissary, as he often was, to speak with Lord Elrond. Business as usual—until, that is, the youngest of Rivendell’s household got wind of his presence. And she did not care that he was the proud, formidable Marchwarden of Lórien, nor that he had bested countless foes in battle, nor that he had a glare that could make even Glorfindel think twice (and that is saying something).

No. She cared for one thing and one thing alone: that the Lórien patrol had come on horseback.

“Horsies!” she declared, with the sheer authority only a toddler can possess.

And thus began the great incident in which Arwen Undómiel, the Evenstar of her people, personally appointed herself the official greeter of the Lórien delegation. No one—not myself, not Elrond, not Celebrían—could convince her otherwise. And so, before Haldir could so much as dismount, there she was, standing at the ready, tiny hands on her hips, prepared to greet the grand and mighty Marchwarden.

I will never forget the way Haldir froze when he saw her.

You must understand, he was used to many things—ambushes, battles, orc raids, unexpected weather shifts, diplomacy under the worst conditions. But a small elfling barreling toward him at full speed, eyes alight with excitement? That, he was not prepared for.

“I wish to pet the horsies,” she announced, quite fearlessly, as if this were a command he was duty-bound to obey.

Now, Haldir is many things—proud, disciplined, unshakable in his duty—but he is also, unfortunately for him, at the mercy of small, determined children. For a long moment, he simply stood there, utterly at a loss, his usual unflappable demeanor faltering. He glanced at me. I, being the supportive colleague that I am, offered no help whatsoever.

And then, it happened. The Marchwarden of Lothlórien, terror of invading orcs, nemesis of Glorfindel (who still claims Haldir is out to best him in every way), let out a very small sigh. And then—gods help us all—he smiled. Not a smirk. Not a condescending expression. A real smile, soft and nearly fond, as he crouched down and, in a rare show of indulgence, lifted her up onto his own horse so she could pet its mane to her heart’s content.

I have never seen a happier child in my life.

Did he regret it? Almost certainly, for she proceeded to babble at him for a full twenty minutes about all the animals she liked, which ones were the, and I quote, "fluffiest", and whether she could have a horse of her own one day (he very diplomatically suggested she ask her father).

But he listened. Patiently. With that same small, rare smile, as if he had been defeated, not by battle nor by wit, but by the sheer force of a toddler’s willpower.

And that, my dear friends, is how I came to witness the impossible. Haldir of Lórien, subdued by the unrelenting might of a tiny child demanding to pet the horsies.

So, yes, he does relax behind closed doors. Very rarely. Mostly when surrounded by those he trusts. And perhaps, if the stars align, he will allow himself a smirk. But a full laugh? A grin? I fear that is a prize none of us are worthy of witnessing other than Lady Arwen.

[PS: Ah, but there is one more revelation I must share—one that would surely send the Marchwarden into a fit of sheer disbelief:

Eredin and Melundir have suggested assistant sleepover parties. Yes, you read that correctly. Fuzzy jammies. S'mores. Whispered complaints about our respective lords and their impossible requests. There has been talk of face masks, hair-braiding sessions, and, in Eredin’s case, an alarming quantity of hot cocoa.

Would Haldir attend? Absolutely not. Would he stand outside the door with his arms crossed, ensuring no security threats infiltrate our very serious assistant gathering? Almost certainly.]

[foolsdiamond]

Stealing Isn't Wrong If It's From Walmart

A Vriska / Terezi AU fanfiction

A blind stranger saves Vriska's life on a snowy winter night, then won't leave her alone. She claims to be her guardian angel; whether she's lying or not, her dedication to the bit has Vriska strangely convinced.

Ka-ching!

Vriska finds that her debit swipes into the self checkout reader just as easily without money as it does with.  Her phone vibrates immediately with a notification from her bank, but she does not wait for a receipt to print.  She grabs her bag and begins to powerwalk to the front door, past the greeter, and into the frosty winter air outside.  She hears a voice shout behind her, and is tackled hard onto the ground.

Vriska’s glasses bounce onto the pavement and crack.  A car rushing by throws up black slush over her face and hair, and the melt seeps into her clothes.  Fallen snowflakes, heavy and wet, immediately begin piling on top of her body.  The stench of car exhaust is overpowered by the aroma of blood as it begins to well in her mouth from somewhere; she's both too sore and too disoriented to identify where.  

Seconds, maybe even minutes pass by, before Vriska has wrapped her hand back around the handle of her bag, dragged her glasses closer, and rotated to sit up.  She looks at the fallen body of the person who tackled her–not an employee, or at least, not in uniform.  Perhaps she's one of their undercover theft prevention crew.  Her black hair is cut short, the ends curly and frayed.  The falling snowflakes are caught up in it like a nest.  She starts pushing herself up, and her blank eyes sear into Vriska in a way that makes her incredibly uncomfortable.

“What the fuck is your problem!" Vriska shrieks when she finally finds her voice.  She drags herself to her feet, and starts trying to wipe dirty snow off of her clothes.

"Watch where you're going next time you ignoramus.  That car would have hit you,” the blind girl replies.

"As if you could tell,” Vrisks retorts, waving her hand angrily and excessively in front of the girl’s eyes.

"You'd be surprised to know what I can see, actually.”  She pauses, then adds on a "jackass” before collecting her cane and rising to her feet.

Vriska catches a glimpse of one of the store employees through the glass door with a phone to their ear, and decides to bite back her next retort.  She spits the blood in her mouth out onto the ground, turns around, and begins fleeing the scene once again.

She makes it a good couple blocks down to the bus stop before she finally stops.  Beneath the snow-covered awning, Vriska takes a minute to sit down on the dry bench and give herself a once over.  She bit the shit out of her tongue, scraped her knees, ripped her pants, but in all was mostly unharmed.  Of course, anything is going to make her sour mood worse.

The girl from earlier sits down beside her, staring silently at the road.  Vriska leans back and stares forward too, wearing a scowl.

“Assault and stalking?” Vriska says.

"Yeah, I'm considering rounding it out with homicide,” she grins in response.

"Couldn't let the car kill me?  You gotta do it yourself?”

"Maybe you wouldn't have died, and instead been maimed so badly I'd feel guilty for killing you.”

"Damn, you should have let that happen.  Someone's gotta pay my bills,” Vriska chuckles, and folds her hands on her lap.

"That's why I'm not interested in your death,” the blind girl starts.  "You are so pathetic, you're worthless.”

"Who the fuck are you to judge me, anyway?”

"Terezi Pyrope.  Judger of souls, weigher of sins, the scales of justice.” Terezi tilts her gaze up to the spider webs in the rafters of the bus stop roof.

"Yeah, me too.  I do all of that, too; why are you so special?”

Terezi slides a small business card out of her pocket and into Vriska’s hand.  It's pearly white and slightly iridescent, with teal gel pen handwriting that is absolutely illegible.

"So you're a kindergarten teacher, and this is your worst student’s work.”

"No, that's my fucking business card you insolent cunt.  Must every sentence out of your mouth be an insult?  Because you are not making a strong case for yourself!” Terezi replies.

"We're not in court.  We're sitting at a bus stop,” Vriska starts.  She turns to look directly at Terezi’s face; her features are soft and round, plump even.  A few stray hairs are scattered around her jawline and upper lip, thick and curled.  "There's a small wooden roof above us with slate tiles coated in piling snow.  There's a decade’s worth of spiderwebs strung along the rafters, black with dust.  In front of us the sidewalk is crumbling from overuse without maintenance, and the road is white from an undisturbed layer of snow.  We're sitting on an iron bench, a dark rusty gray, with the stop number engraved on the back.”

Terezi sits in the silence of it all, even as Vriska stops speaking.  They hear cars driving on the main road in the distance, and the tiny crunch of a squirrel digging under the snow for nuts.  Vriska drops her gaze down to her hands, where she can see her skin through the threads of the fingertips.

"So that car killed me, huh,” Vriska says.  "And you're St. Peter judging whether I get into heaven.”

"One of those statements is false,” Terezi responds.

"God I hope it's the first one, then,” Vrisks says without missing a beat.  She straightens her posture a bit.  "But I have no fucking clue why you'd be judging me now if that were the case.  So I'm dead, and what are you, my personalized devil?”

“No, you had it.  I actually did save your life, you're fucking welcome," Terezi says.

“Then what are you doing here?  This seems a little more guardian angely and a little less judged by gody." 

“Eh, that's as much information as I'm going to divulge,” Terezi says with a smug grin, folds her hands behind her head, and leans back.  "Wanna explain to me why you were shoplifting?”

"I owe you as much explanation as I owe that greedy corporate shitbag money.  Which is to say, none!”

"Which is to say, like, 42 dollars worth.  What did you even take?” Terezi asks.

"Come on, angel.  Divine it.  You could see a car coming but not what's inside my bag?” Vriska retorts.

“I could sense that your life was in imminent danger.  I cannot sense your purchasing habits," she responds.

“It's just, some stuff.  Y'know, essentials.  Shit you can't live without, like food and toilet paper," Vriska mutters.

“I can live without food and toilet paper," Terezi points out smugly.

“Jackass, a normal person couldn't live without." 

“And the only thing inside your bag is $42 worth of ramen noodles and toilet paper?"

Vriska frowns, but her silence is all too telling.  Terezi reaches over without warning, shoves her hand into the shopping bag, and starts to rummage around.  Vriska immediately wrenches it away and grabs her wrist, but the expression on her face is unchanged.

"It's a cute dress, and it doesn't count toward our discussion if I didn't even scan it to begin with,” Vriska finally relents.

"No no, it counts.  It is definitely still stealing.”

"Whatever.  I don't give a shit about God’s judgement of my mistreatment of the corporate whatever I don't even know why I'm humoring all of this bullshit it's obviously bullshit.” Vriska’s rambling quiets down to a disconcerted mumbling.  She stands up, bag looped around her arm, and leans on the far wall of the bus stop enclosure.  Her arms crossed and a scowl on her face, she looks down at her phone to check the time.

"Where is this fucking bus?” Vriska curses.

"Does this bus stop even get used during weather?  If the roads are covered in snow like you said… What time even is it?" 

“8:42," Vriska responds.  She immediately catches herself and frowns harder.

“And when does the route schedule say the next pickup for this stop is?" Terezi prompts.

Vriska glances at the back wall.  She was late for the 8:30 pickup because someone threw her on the wet ground, so the next one isn't until 9.  

“Assuming it's not delayed by the snowfall," Terezi adds after Vriska’s silence.  “Definitely not healthy for you to be out in the cold for that long." 

“Oh yeah?  Did God give you money for a taxi, blind girl?" Vriska snaps.

“How far away do you live?  You're probably faster on foot," Terezi says.  Her expression does not hold any warmth, and her tone is transactional.

"Hm, I actually think I broke my ankle being nearly hit by a car earlier,” Vriska replies sarcastically.  "I am not spending the next hour walking in a foot of snow, especially not in wet jeans and a flannel,” she adds much more seriously.

"Then maybe consider walking to an open business with a bus stop outside,” Terezi offers.

“Can't, stole from ‘em," Vriska states.  She sits back down on the bench and crosses her arms.  “Just gotta wait." 

Without permission, Terezi puts her arm around Vriska’s shoulders, coat unzipped so it wraps around her too.  She drapes her legs over Vriska’s lap and leans in close, until the soft hair pushed up from her forehead tickles Vriska’s jaw.  Serket opens her mouth to argue, tenses her muscles to fight, but finds herself melting into the embrace involuntarily and decides to shut her yap.

She leans in, snaking her arms around Terezi’s waist and letting her frosty cheek press into her hair.  Vriska sits like this in silence for several minutes, until the quivering in her body finally calms down and she can feel the tip of her nose tickled by Pyrope’s hair.

“What are you?" she asks.

"A lesbian,” Terezi responds.

"Not what I meant,” Vriska growls.

“I failed at my job.  I've been cast out and given a significantly shitter, more difficult job to redeem myself.  I am supposed to be the scales of justice; I slipped up and let an single emotion affect one decision, and I've been banished.  To return to my proper place, I must act as guardian angel to a selected person who is shitty, rude, and bad.  Someone who is on course to go straight to hell with no chance at redemption… and I am supposed to silently guide them to the path of light, so that they may pass their trial when it is their turn on the stand." 

“You better have proof you're a fucking angel, or you just called me the shittiest bitch alive for no fucking reason," Vrisks says firmly.

“What could I do to prove it to you?" Terezi asks calmly.

“I dunno, show me your wings or your halo?  Use an angel beam?  Fly?  Give me a direct line to speak with God?" 

“I can't do any of that right now,” Terezi responds.

"What can you do?” Vriska demands.

"I can smell the color of the blood beneath your skin,” she offers.  "I can hear the exact moment that you will die,” she adds.

"When do I die?”

"At 3:03AM, you fall asleep on this bench and freeze to death before the sun rises.”

Vriska shivers, and Terezi squeezes tighter.

"Do you see how to avoid this from happening?”

"No,” Terezi states.  "I don't see anything.  But it stands to reason, you need to get inside.”

"And you think I'll live through an hour hike in the piling snow?” Vriska asks incredulously.

"You're going to call a taxi,” Terezi responds.  "You stole from the store, I know you can just not pay for the ride.”

"I thought you were supposed to be my moral compass now to make me a good person,” Vriska teases, pulling out her phone.  At least with the fingertips of her knit gloves being threadbare, she doesn't need to remove them to utilize her touch screen.

"There is no moral high ground to dying cold and alone on a public bench,” Terezi says.

"I agree.  My life is more valuable than money,” Vriska nods.

The pair fall into an awkward silence after Vriska gets off the phone with the local taxi service.  Terezi peels herself away eventually, and the two sit side by side in silence while they await their ride.  Vriska contemplates whether she believes this lunatic story this lesbian is throwing at her; she doesn't, but she sure was quick to believe Terezi at the mental image of herself curled up and lifeless.  She certainly doesn't look angelic; she looks like a mess.  For all Vriska knows, Terezi could literally be someone having some crazy delusion right now, and she's just feeding into it.

Yet, Vriska doesn't stop her from getting into the taxi cab.  She lets her knee lean onto hers as they sit side by side in the back seat.  And when the driver drops them off down the street from Vriska’s apartment, she gently tugs Terezi’s arm to lead her in the right direction.

Vriska looks down to see a single set of tracks left in the snow, and the grip on Terezi’s arm tightens.  She drags her up the flight of salted steps to her door and unlocks it, letting this stranger into her home.

Vriska’s one bedroom apartment is clutter.  She's the kind of person who has stuff and likes stuff, and is not living in a space that has room for stuff.  Her dining room table is covered in a mishmash of DIY projects and unfolded laundry and dirty dishes.  Her couch has one cleared seat.  Her computer desk looks surprisingly tidy, until one glances at the shelves beneath and around it.  Vriska immediately steps into her bedroom to crank up her space heater and to fish out a set of dry clothes to change into.

Terezi seats herself on the couch, waiting patiently until Vriska finally steps out wearing a set of flannel pajamas.

“Um, you eat?" she asks awkwardly.

“I can eat your food for pleasure, but not for sustenance." 

Vriska stares back at Terezi, and then decides to prepare her ramen for herself and not to share, since the option presented itself.  She rests two mugs on the coffee table and sits down on a pile of t-shirts.  Vriska holds her ramen cup close to her face and piles noodles into her mouth ravenously with a fork.

“Mug of hot chocolate for you," she says between bites.

Terezi leans forward and reaches out, feeling around the coffee table until she locates a mug.  She inhales deeply before taking a sip, then sets it back down.  She clicks her tongue, then reaches for it again–this time taking the other mug–and proceeds to chug it.  Vriska rolls her eyes, unsure of what she expected putting her own drink in front a blind woman.

Vriska sets down her empty noodle container and uses her clean sleeve to wipe her face off.  She debates drinking after Terezi, before deciding it's not weird or even remotely intimate to put her mouth over a non-person’s lipstick stains.  She proceeds to leave the dishes on the table and leans back, scooting them to the side with her feet as she props them up.

"You would benefit from using some of that bitching energy towards cleaning your apartment," Terezi says, breaking the silence.

“I'll clean it whenever I have a hot date," Vriska shrugs.  “A hot date who doesn't have a bigger or cleaner apartment already, that is." 

“Oh, am I not hot enough for you?" Terezi teases.  She rotates, leaning most of her weight into one hip so she can be facing Vriska more directly. 

“This definitely isn't a date," Vriska says firmly.

“But you do find me hot!" 

“Have you seen the men I've let touch me?" Vriska retorts.  She bites her lip the instant she realizes she's only owning herself.

“Thankfully I've never seen a man, and I never will." 

“God I wish that were me.  I wish I could be a carefree lesbian like you," Vriska sighs.

“I would not describe myself as carefree.  In fact, given my current predicament, I am experiencing a constant general anxiety, intensified every second I spend not coaching you into a saint," Terezi says.  “Wait, why can't you be a lesbian?" 

“It's…not allowed?" A weak argument.  “Because I have to be attracted to men?" A little better.

“ Are you attracted to men?" Terezi asks plainly.

“Sure.  I've dated and slept with, like, several." 

“What do you like about boys, Vriska?" 

“They're men.  They always want to have sex, except for the sometimes when I want to have sex.  They have hair in places, that's hot.  Uhhhhhhhh…" 

“What do you like about women, Vriska?" 

“They’re so pretty, and have much more interesting hobbies.  I dated a guy who studied military history, but I knew a girl who went into abandoned buildings and old temples for fun.  Also, girls are so much more relatable like, emotionally and stuff." 

“So why can't you be a lesbian?" Terezi asks.

“I can't.  Like I said, not allowed," Vriska says as the joy seeps from her face.

“Why aren't you allowed?" Terezi asks again.

“Well, cuz… I'm not… Do you know what transgender is?” Vriska mumbles.

"Yes, I know what transgender is.  So you're a man?” Terezi asks.  Her expression doesn't denote any malice, else Vriska would have ended the conversation right there.

"No.  I'm a girl, I'm a trans girl.  I can't be a lesbian because I'm trans, I have to like men to… be a girl.” The growing quiet in Vriska’s voice is evidence that she too realizes how stupid she sounds.

"So you're a trans girl lesbian,” Terezi states plainly.  "You're welcome.”

Vriska doesn't offer a thanks, or even a response.  She stands up slowly and begins collecting the dishes around her living room, mulling over the realization in silence.  Fighting between keeping her emotions in check and letting a little joy seep through to her core.  When she dumps everything into the sink, she's decided she deserves a little joy after all.

"I'm going to bed," Vriska says in passing as she goes to her bedroom.  Terezi turns her head to follow Vriska’s footsteps, but doesn't rise from the couch immediately.

Vriska slides into bed in the dark, curling up with her privacy and folding her hands beneath her head.  Her thoughts chain, one after the other, until they're racing through her head.  She's a lesbian.  She's a girl.  Her past, and her journey.  The growing noise in her mind suddenly stills into silence, and she looks at Terezi standing at the foot of her bed.

“Excuse me," Vriska says, yawning.

“An eternal being does not waste time on sleep," Terezi states knowingly.

“But you can't creep at the foot of my bed and stare at me," Vriska says.

“It is in my–and by extension, YOUR–best interest that I keep a watchful eye over you at all times." 

“So lay down in bed with me," Vriska offers.  "Freak.”

"Look at your filthy apartment and call me the freak,” Terezi chuckles.  She does ultimately decide to lay down in bed, tucking herself underneath the same blanket Vriska is using.

"Sorry, what happened to blind justice?  You can't see shit!”

"Well I'm blindly judging you.  This place reeks.  Don't you know you're supposed to tidy up before bringing cute girls over?” Terezi says.

"And I will tidy up before I invite over a cute girl,” Vriska retorts.

"So what am I?  Think hard before calling me ugly.”

"You're an angel,” Vriska states.  She rolls over, now facing Terezi; her knees touch her thighs, and her hand rests onto her shoulder.  "Not the same category.”

"Angel is not it's own gender,” Terezi starts, but seemingly changes her mind.  "You're sleeping with me.”

“Sure, I'll sleep with an angel.  I didn't invite you over, though.  It doesn't count if you're literally haunting me." 

“I wouldn't call it haunting!  I'm protecting you from all that would wish you harm, including yourself," Terezi says.

“Oh, so you're mommying me," Vriska teases.

"Don't,” Terezi starts.  "Don't you fucking dare.  I do NOT trust you to call me Mommy in a way that God would appreciate.”

"Awwwwwwww, mommy!  Does it bother you when I say that?” Vriska giggles.  She leans her lips against Terezi’s ear and whispers.  "Do you like being called mommy?”

"Nope, definitely not,” Terezi shivers.  She doesn't move away.

“What if I called you daddy?" Vriska whispers, but this time Terezi resorts to violence and brings her hand down across Serket’s cheek.  Vriska flinches, but breaks out into laughter immediately after.

“That's the end of this little game.  Go to sleep.  You have work in the morning." Terezi’s statements are brisk and stiff.

“Aw, how do you know that?  Smelling my death, am I martyred by a customer or something?" 

“No, that one was logic; you have to get money from somewhere,” Terezi responds.

"Whatever.  Yeah, I'm going to sleep.  Night, or whatever,” Vriska mumbles awkwardly.

"Good night, Vriska,” Terezi says.  She turns her face over and places a warm little kiss onto Vriska’s forehead.

Vriska does not reciprocate the gesture, but she does close her eyes and melt into the feeling.  It spreads through her body like flowing blood, leaving her warm and maybe just a little lighter.  

[mothfables]

Modern Day Chain Work at a Christmas Market

so i work at a seasonal christmas market and had this idea today while we were doing set-up. time to induce my misery (lighthearted) on my favourite characters lmao

under the cut so it doesn’t take up your dash haha

Time is the closest thing they have to a manager. he does not like this. Warriors is a close second

Twilight + Four are in charge of physically setting up the tent/stall

Legend, Wild, and Four are in charge of displays (well, when Four isn’t fed up from setting up the tent)

Wild works in the back/warehouse, Time the register with regular breaks on the floor, Legend on the floor (he refuses to even touch the register), Hyrule the floor, Twilight on the floor and occasionally register, Sky’s the greeter and occasionally works the floor or other things, Warriors is mostly on the register, and Four does a bit of everything. Wind is technically, on paper, on greeter duty (cause, yknow, child labour) but he sticks his nose into everything, much to literally everyone else’s chagrin

Time tends to put Sky on greeter duty because he knows the other man tends to tire easily, but he does surprisingly well at whatever he’s assigned. that being said, whatever he does, he passes out immediately upon getting home

they tried the ‘My Name is Link’ nametag thing exactly once. they lasted two days before everyone was sick of it

Hyrule is still shy + uncomfortable around crowds, despite working there for four years. Time has tried putting him on the floor to try to boost his confidence, but he still escapes to the back at every opportunity

Legend flat-out refuses to work their busiest weekends. he told Time they’d have to drag him kicking and screaming into the store if they absolutely want him there. Time has yet to test this

Time + Twilight are physically intimidating, which tends to be a deterrent for most shoplifters + Karens. when that doesn’t work, though, they have a secret weapon: Hyrule

shy he may be, put him in front of a Karen and you’re in for a show. more than one of them have stopped what they’re doing to watch things go down. Time has berated them for it but they don’t pay him any mind considering he’s guilty of the exact same thing

also, Hyrule has a sixth sense for potential shoplifters, no matter where in the store he is. Four + Legend have been trying to figure it out but after four years they still don’t have an explanation

Time asked Mallon once if she wanted to work at the market with them. she laughed and told him she’d rather stay on the ranch. there are many days where Time regrets not doing the same thing

Wild does not work the floor. he has stated in no uncertain terms that if he’s put out there he will bite someone. to this day Time doesn’t know if he means a customer or one of them

everyone has their own organizational system that directly contradicts everyone else’s. they all hate it

Wind works the least hours out of all of them (considering he’s fourteen). he’s pouted about this many times, but the rest of them agree he should save his back + knees while he still can

Ravio is perfectly happy with his own shop. he does pop in sometimes to say hello, though, and on occasion brings treats for everyone

[sydneyofalltrades]

Okay here is my post about my Ride the Cyclone ✨animation/animatic✨ ideas I’ve been formulating but never really posted bc I cannot draw for the life of me 🥲

@gay-little-axolotl read at your own risk (you’ll be here a while, trust me)

Karnak’s Dream of Life

Basically the exact same as in the show, headless body singing eerily, finding a little doll and popping off the head

there’s a shot of Karnak’s machine at the end of the song which snaps into Welcome…, which is just talk so we don’t need to animate that shit

Fall Faire Suite/Uranium Suite

Since I love them both, I’m writing their ideas both in the same category

When the kids start singing at the beginning of the song, all six of them are in the bandshell, Penny included

However, every time we think we actually get a good look at Penny, something coincidentally blocks her face, whether it be Mischa’s figure, Ocean’s arm, a quick shot of Ricky playing the tambourine, shit like that

The world is in full color while the kids are alive (I’ll explain why that’s important in a sec)

As Karnak explains how the kids got into the accident, we see them get into the coaster*, Ricky needing help from Mischa and Noel, and we see the ride function as normal

In Uranium Suite, you can hear Jane vocalizing ominously in the background, and that little warning sign is present in the way the kids are all a little tense

Once Karnak says “hurtling the children to their deaths,” the color is gone. The kids are drawn in white outlines and all there is is a black screen

During Fall Faire Suite, each kid goes back in color as they speak, only for it to disappear once they’re done

During the “sailing through space” bit, they’re back on the coaster, in slow motion as it falls, then quickly cuts to them in purgatory

“Empty streets of empty shops” has Ocean taking apart little buildings and Constance scooping up the pieces to make a mall

“Smart ones all packed up and went” has Noel dragging out a bunch of suitcases and Mischa labeling the abandoned houses for sale

Very few visuals of Penny are shown, like she disappeared without a trace

“Did we finally leave our town?” has them all in color for a second, then back to white.

Meet Jane Doe

Ocean whispers her line, Karnak says his, and BAM! Spotlight from nowhere

Foreshadowing TBOJD, Jane floats as she’s introduced, and touches ground once she speaks

As she speaks, flashes of the aftermath of the incident show up

“They found my body/not my head” has professionals finding the kids’ bodies, and flashlights looking for Penny’s head

“No parents came” actually has a little boy with a black cape running to the headless girl, screaming a name no one hears

“My life, an unsolved mystery” has pictures of Penny with the choir, her face always strategically covered

What the World Needs

Here we go with the solos!! Ocean’s in color in her song, along with everything she interacts with, the others are in black and white

Ocean wears a varsity jacket with her name in the back, along with a blue shirt that says “Vote for Ocean!” with her hair in a ponytail with a bandana

The others are dressed in “Vote Ocean” propaganda, but whenever Ocean herself insults them, they become newspaper clippings of the people she’s calling them (sandwich artist, security guard, Wal-Mart greeter)

“The move” has Ocean dancing in a club

“The shake” has an earthquake that is covered by a statue of her

“The headline maker” has a newspaper thrown on screen with a headline saying “World’s Greatest Woman!” and a snazzy picture of Ocean

During the second verse, as Ocean is berating Mischa, Constance, and Ricky, there’s a story book-esque animation of each of her interpretations of their lives, under smaller, less important articles

“And as we move through life” is a sliding shot of Ocean standing on top of the world, with the others tiny and insignificant

As the “zeros” bit happens, a big fat 0 is written over everyone’s newspaper picture, and Ocean rips up the paper as she just shoves the thought aside

For the climax, the world spins as Ocean stands on top of it, with the others just barely catching up to admire her and her glory

Final shot is EXACTLY like the 2016 promo shot, her on top of everyone in a human pyramid

Noel’s Lament (TW: drinking, smoking, mu*der, s//h)

Now Noel’s Lament was more fluid for me to think of. Noel himself and his reality is grey, but when he sings about Monique or from her perspective, the world is bright and alive

Noel doesn’t do the quick change, it’s a transition shot from his iconic pose to Monique in a similar stance

The “good girls call me the town bicycle” is Constance and Jane in their costumes (beauteous dresses of the time) whispering while Monique walks past

Claude is Ocean. I will not elaborate (psst she’s in a suit with the cutest low ponytail)

“Ten! Times! In! His! Back!” shows the stabbing, but cuts to Monique holding a cigarette innocently

“Never ending carnival” is a revolving shot of Monique’s hand holding booze, a cigarette, and another man’s hand

The accordion (piano if you’re a 2016 bootleg fan) solo has the little nischa dance, i literally cannot take that away

“I think I am in love with you” cuts to a close up of Monique’s eyes widening a little, whether in fear or in recollection, I’ll leave that up to you

“I give in to the fantasy” is like a little spicy cut, that’s all im saying

“for i sing sONGs” has people passing Monique by as she trips on the road scrounging up some loose change, and she moves into an empty alleyway

Time passes a little, and there are deep lines in Monique’s face and her eyes are heavy with lack of sleep

“In some rat infested Chinese dive” is just Monique smoking alone in an alleyway, pressing the hot cigarette to her arm to try and get a reaction

“Eight months later” is Noel telling the story, then the little gasp is a quick shot of Monique’s eyes filling with tears

We see her forced out of the house and she desperately drags herself through an alley

She’s slumped against a wall when Ricky as the priest approaches her

During the first “for I sing songs,” we see through Monique’s hazy eyes as she spots a bottle of booze and drags herself towards it

We see her drink it, and then her hand goes limp and the bottle shatters

In the real world, Noel’s now in costume, standing on that chair

During the climax, Noel’s singing face is projected over flashes of Monique’s life, her tragedy shown in clips and hastily sewn together

And finally, the song ends with Noel draped against the chair, the others surrounding him

Every Story’s Got a Lesson

Short and simple, but Ocean snaps about Noel’s song and Karnak deadpans

As Ocean says “No.. every story has a lesson!” she finds a grad cape and cap and throws it on

As she sings, a blackboard appears with the words of the song written in chalk

The others, also in capes and caps, whistle and sing along

Somehow Karnak gets a hat on his head too

This Song is Awesome

Unlike Ocean and Noel, since being a rapper isn’t Mischa’s dream or desire, he’s black and white while the others are in full color, along with the contents of his music video

You read that right. Music. Video.

Specifically a music video shot by a seven year old with a short attention span and edited by a bunch of preschoolers

Not that it’s bad, it’s just got focus on things that are irrelevant, the editing goes insane, there’s a brief moment where Jane is literally photoshopped into the sky (TBOJD ref hehe)

Mischa wears a black and gold tracksuit but since it’s black and white you wouldn’t really tell

The others are Mischa’s background dancers, wearing blue and white

Basically every single time Mischa says “awesome,” the word is like edited onto the screen like a history teacher’s presentation

There are really good shots tho, like Mischa driving a convertible to the Hard Rock Cafe with Noel and Ricky

Surprisingly there is a Learjet in the video, no one really knows how that got there

The girls are all fawning over him in the club and then he sees a girl wearing punkish clothes and a white flowy skirt and the music video falls apart

Talia

The second Mischa lays eyes on Talia, the color slightly blooms into the video and he walks over to her

Instead of a photo of her, he genuinely talks to her, and you can see the love and care he has for her

When the others come back, they’re not in a club anymore, they’re out in a garden in a traditional Ukrainian wedding

While the girls escort “Talia,” who’s now been replaced with Jane, the boys help Mischa get prepared

When Mischa and Jane finally do interact, instead of Jane’s doll face, it’s Talia’s big brown eyes and warm smile that greets Mischa

They dance together, happily in love, with the others singing cheerfully in the background

Then Talia is suddenly ripped away from Mischa as he falls, falls, falls from the rollercoaster

As he does, his phone, also falling, flashes a picture of Talia on the lock screen

Mischa’s now in normal clothes, staring at the picture, while the others just dance around him, it’s a whole vibe

Then it cuts to Mischa and Talia in a grainy video, Mischa picks Talia up, spins her around, and she kisses him

Space Age Bachelor Man

I have SO MANY ideas for this song so this is gonna be LONG!

Song starts with Ricky alone, a single spotlight illuminating him in black and white.

“Others from outer space” has a peculiar spacecraft arriving in front of Ricky

Once those claps start, you know it’s gonna be wild

The spacecraft opens and spills a light that makes Ricky come into color, and the boys, in Zolarian couture, alert Ricky of their duty

When Ricky arrives on Zolar, the girls, now space aliens with tails and cat ears, practically throw themselves into his arms

“The naughty/holy daughters of the realm” has a shot of Ricky being crowdsurfed (for lack of a better term) through a sea of cat ladies

Um before the guitar solo, Ricky kisses Cat!Ocean. I don’t make the rules

Now the.. that scene is kept covered for a reason, so naturally I’d also just use shadows to convey wtf is happening then

“Now there is a new challenge” has the boys worried in front of holographic screens showing K-9’s enemy fleet

“For they’re at war with K-9!” had Ricky bursting out with the wildest, sexiest, most glittery costume you could EVER expect and it is everything to me

Suddenly everyone’s holding a laser gun and that makes Ricky freak out

So instead of announcing war, he goes to a podium and explains his desire of peace, which is broadcast to K-9’s fleet (idk how, i just think it’s funny)

“And they listened/and they heard my message” is Ricky breaking the fourth wall, pausing the action Emperor’s New Groove style before going back to the scheduled programming

The rest of the song is basically then partying in the spacecraft as it sends Ricky back home to Earth

The Ballad of Jane Doe

Jane, in a plain white dress, is alone. And everything is black and white. Not a single sliver of color anywhere

Everyone else is in funeral wear, however they pay no attention to Jane, like she was never human to begin with

We see Jane play with the decapitated doll and a rollercoaster toy, watching as it went up, then fall out of the seat

Every so often a flash of color and the faintest hint of a life beyond Jane is shown, but it’s so brief there’s no way to actually see it

As Jane begs St. Peter to let her into heaven(?), Jane tries to look for a helping hand but no one assists

“Wont you tell me at last who I am?” has Jane reaching out, not just to the sky, but to the funeral goers who can’t seem to notice her

Then we cut to Ja/enny (flashes between perspectives) in the rollercoaster, and how she lost her head

As Jane starts flying, her pleads become angry, more scornful since no one is giving her answers, but she’s still getting only tiny flashes. Not even a face, just a feeling or an emotion

“Time eats all his children” is Jane standing ominously, slowly pointing out into the non-existent crowd

“A melody floats through the air” has her flying through the funeral, the others ignoring her as she desperately tries to find herself. Her name

She flies through the graves, her desperation becoming more and more apparent

There’s a flash of a baby, a little boy, a monkey puppet, a thermos

Then Jane stops in front of a freshly dug grave, and she knows it’s her own. But its headstone is unmarked

And she just cries as the funeral goers surround the tomb of the empty girl

The New Birthday Song

Also short and sweet

Everyone wears a birthday outfit and Jane has the cape and hat

As she stands in the middle of the circle, holding the cupcake, the others dance around her

Then Constance gently nudged her arm and gestures to the cupcake

(Jane tries to eat it but Constance blows it out first)

Jawbreaker & Sugar Cloud

Lumping them both bc of the themes

We see the accident through Constance’s eyes. See the way it rose, then suddenly fell

“My heart just welled up” is a shot of Constance’s eyes widening, her terrified face morphing gently into a smile

As this happens, the flashbacks of the mundane things Constance learned to love are shown over it. We see her going back to bed, hanging upside down, her brother, her friends

And she starts to laugh as the coaster falls. And tears spill from her eyes as she does

In the present, Constance, in white outlining, wipes away her tears and collects herself for Sugar Cloud

As the song begins, we see a little flashback of Constance as a little girl given her first jawbreaker. She’s excited, then starts slowly sucking away the layers and gets visibly disappointed

“At first it seems so sweet” shows some clips of Constance growing up, and then she just loses the sparkle in her eye and spring in her step

Then the song starts to pick up and color arrives, everywhere as Constance just siblings merrily

Constance and the others aren’t in the warehouse anymore, they’re in the skies of blue, pink, gold, and purple

Constance jumps through a gold, pink, and blue cloud and emerges with her outfit, a pink jacket over a gold top and blue flats. A pink top hat attached to a headband is on her head

Twirling a cane, Constance genuinely sings happily with the others as they dance and jump through the multicolored clouds

The recorder solo is as memorable as always, with the others hyping Connie on by dancing and cheering excitedly

With no guilt in her heart, Constance happily shouts from the top of the sugary puffs her love for everything in her life, and the others happily back her up

It’s Not a Game/It’s Just a Ride

At this point in time, everyone’s back in their normal uniforms, drawn in their white outlines

The portal’s light gives Jane color, as she’s the one the others picked

Before Jane goes through the portal, she hugs Constance and Ricky, then steps through

A slideshow of clips appear showing of Penny’s life, before and after LEGOLAND, and the others all cuddle together to watch

As the slideshow goes by, the others are overlayed above it, so we can see their expressions now that Penny was brought back

As Penny grows older, she’s closer to her brother, she gets married, has children, is happy

When the slideshow starts showing clips of Penny growing much older, a clip is shown of children pointing at a picture

Older Penny takes a look at it and smiles. “They were my friends,” she seems to say, gently holding the picture of her and the choir

As she dies, Karnak says his final line as Virgil cuts the power cable

As sparks fly and the kids huddle close, they learn they’re not five. They’re six

Penny had come back to the afterlife after her death and the six of them were alone, in their white outlines

“But it’s not a game, it’s not a game” has Ocean picking up pieces of their outfits. A “Vote Ocean” pin, a feather boa, and black and gold cap, a cat ear headband, a doll with no head, a headband with a hat

“It’s just a ride!” has the kids in their outfits actually riding the Cyclone in full color, passing the loop that ended their lives and finishing the ride

*Now that they finished the ride in the afterlife, they all get out of the rollercoaster and reminisce about life together

“We’re all just sailing through space” is the kids as they revolve through all their outfits of the show, while talking about their lives, and their death

“It’s just a ride” has them all holding hands and spinning around, wearing the outfits for their individual songs

Then they fall to the floor and smile as they’re all together again

“And the world will keep on spinning/With no ending or beginning” has flashes of their songs, Ocean’s victory pose, Noel’s dramatic end, Mischa stopping his video, the couple’s fateful kiss, Ricky and his cat warriors, Penny taking Jane’s place on her named grave, and Constance in sugary clouds

Now in their uniforms, the Saint Cassian Chamber Choir is just a group of friends, who are all together and happy in the afterlife forever

“I know this dream of life is never ending” cuts to a girl with French braids waking up on the ground. She stands up and sees the light of the sun

“It goes around and ‘round and ‘round again” shows six friends, bonded by fate and together through time

THIS IS PROBABLY MY LONGEST EVER POST BUT I LOVE IT SO HAHA

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Arc Asks A Lot of Questions

Yes another one. Still need to iron out stuff for these two. Yes I did just write this directly into the tumblr post don't worry about it.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

Arc and Tharion had lived on the same planet. Separated only a day's walk away from each other. Followed the same god. At least for some time anyway. But Arc could admit they'd never known of Tharion. Or much about the communicators. Beyond the usual appearances of them.

Arc listened to Tharion's claws tapping on the wall, "How much can you see with your visions?"

Tharion hadn't looked over at Arc yet. Continuing to tap his claws, mumbled prayers twisting his tongue. Arc waited patiently, reaching out their hand to rest on Tharion's scarred over shoulder. Rolling up his sleeve to run their fingers over it. Tharion remained unbothered, tilting his head in Arc's direction when he finished.

"It depends. Sometimes I just see our god in different forms, sometimes just voices and backdrops."

"Is the shaking a side effect or the cause?" Arc asked now, referring to Tharion's epileptic fits.

"The cause I think. I've heard things I'm not supposed too through our god. Like Greeter's screaming," Tharion turned to face Arc, amusement ridding tension in his back, "And a lot of shit talk about the two the red brutes travel as if it stays in one place calmly itself."

Arc made a low sound of acknowledgment continuing to follow over the series of scars, "Does Cosma know?"

Tharion shrugged, "She probably already pieced it together. Her mission is a pointless one. Greeter told her not to chase but she's obsessed."

Arc rolled their eyes at the thought of Cosma's mission. She'd destroy a dozen systems before she could even get contact with Greeter. Their god was good at that: moving away from harm, starting anew, killing. Cosma didn't stand a chance. They ended that topic of conversation with an exaggerated sigh.

The fighter's curiosity found its way back to Tharion. Arc continued to follow over the scarring. Tharion hadn't fought against it. He only sighed waiting for Arc to be sated. Instead they tilted their head and grinned.

"Were you so harsh of the last one you followed?" Arc's eyes honed in on Tharion's face.

Tharion's face lit up, even in the dim part of the hall they had found. Running from the annoying intensity of the overhead lights. He ran his hand over the scarring in a pattern Arc didn't recognize. Speaking a garbled name in a low hum matching the lights further down.

"Well she'd been the one who recognized my ability. Robed me as a bridge. She could be harsh but us bridges were also fighters like you."

"I knew you were too good with those," Arc commented gesturing to Tharion's claws.

Tharion could only smile at the interruption. It had been awhile since he could freely speak of his old religion. Of his old life. Tharion's claws thrummed against Arc's thighs, digging in a couple times. Arc bit his cheek every time not wanting to disrupt him over something like this.

"So can you bridge with multiple gods?"

Tharion's face scrunched at that one. His mustache almost curved hilariously upwards. His curled lip practically making it a diagonal line. Arc would've laughed but Tharion's claws made them grunt instead.

"Kinda."

"At once?" Arc asked licking at their wounded inner cheek.

"I'd probably die if they tried something like that," Tharion barely apologized, pulling their claws from Arc's thighs.

Arc poorly restrained Tharion's wrists in his hand. Desperately needing Tharion to stop shredding through their skin. They swallowed the blood staining their tongue.

"But you pray to multiple?"

Tharion kept his hands in place. Not breaking Arc's hold yet. He clasped his fingers together, pointing at Arc, "You're almost as bad as Cosma. Why so many questions?"

"Do you pray to multiple?" Arc repeated, ignoring Tharion.

Tharion hummed softly. As he often did when determining the worth in something. As far as communicators go that had to be one of the most accurate stereotypes. At least when applied to Tharion.

"You don't pay much attention for someone who fights to protect others," Tharion stated instead.

Arc released Tharion's hands and sighed loudly, "Are you all fucking shit talkers?"

Tharion laughed giddily at Arc's remark and he'd answer this question, "Yes. You're lucky to have gotten so much from me for free."

The dim light had decided to beam down on them with a concerning clunk. They both glared in the direction of the artificial lighting. Missing the heat of the star's radiation. And the forgiving shelter for those running from it.

Arc grumbled, "I should chew your damn claws off."

"I'd slice through your jaw before you'd have a chance."

[brudiza-spudnik]

Setting a GNOME extension to run at the greeter

I recently installed Linux on my old Surface Book, a touchscreen device. I want to be able to use the entire interface with the keyboard unplugged. This means I must use the onscreen keyboard frequently - but the default GNOME OSK (onscreen keyboard) is doo doo trash, and I don't want it. You will need root access for this tutorial.

Compare the default GNOME OSK (left) to the new and improved one (right).

This tutorial involves copying a standard GNOME extension into a folder that's readable by any user, then enabling it for use by the GDM user, which governs GNOME's greeter (login screen).

The extension I will be installing using this method is the above keyboard, gjsosk@vishram1123.com (which can be found via GNOME's extension manager). This is done with the purpose of accessing this significantly improved onscreen keyboard even at the login screen - without this tutorial, the extension does not load until after you have logged in. This method can be done with any extension, although I'm told the GDM user is more restricted than the actual user so some things may not work.

Step 1: Set up the extension in userspace.

Modifying the extension config after it's copied over will be a pain in the ass. Get all your configs ready using the extension's own menus or config files. No rush, as you can still do this bit up until step 5.

Step 2: Move the extension from user-install to system-install.

In order for the GDM user to access the extension it must be in the system-installed folder. For my OS (Zorin) it will be in good company.

sudo mv -r ~/.local/share/gnome-shell/extensions/extensionname@creator.com /usr/share/gnome-shell/extensions/

You can also copy it instead of moving it, but you have to rename the user-install folder (in ~/.local) to break it. Otherwise the system would rather use the user-installed one, and will ignore the system-installed one on boot. I think.

Make sure that the gdm user can actually access the files as well:

sudo chmod -R a+rX /usr/share/gnome-shell/extensions/extensionname@creator.com

Step 3: Modify the extension metadata file to let it run on the login screen.

sudo nano /usr/share/gnome-shell/extensions/extensionname@creator.com/metadata.json

look for the line that says

"session-modes": ["user"],

If the line doesn't exist, just add it. You need it to say

"session-modes": ["user", "gdm", "unlock-dialog"],

Step 4: Enable the extension for the gdm user.

To do this and the following step, you must be able to log in as the gdm user. There are multiple ways to do this, but the way I used is via `machinectl`. If you try to run this command on its own it should tell you what package you need to install to actually use it. I do not know the ramifications of installing this, nor do I know its compatibility; all I can say is it worked for me. If you are uncertain you will have to carve your own path here.

Once it is installed, log into the gdm user from a terminal:

machinectl shell gdm@ /bin/bash

and enter your sudo password.

At this point I recommend checking the current list of enabled extensions:

gsettings get org.gnome.shell enabled-extensions

On my computer, this came back saying "@as []", which means it's blank. To enable your desired extension:

gsettings set org.gnome.shell enabled-extensions "['extensionname@creator.com', 'if the above command did NOT come back blank just put the rest in here.']"

Step 5: Transfer the settings from the userspace install to the system install.

Right now, the extension should be working on the login screen. To make sure, press ctrl + alt + delete to log out, or restart your computer. You will notice that while the extension is functioning, none of your settings saved. To fix this you must use dconf to dump and then reimport the settings. Get back to a regular user terminal and run:

dconf dump /org/gnome/shell/extensions/extensionnameWITHOUT@creator.com/ > extension.ini

Now you have your settings in a nice neat file. The gdm user can't access this though since it's in your user folder. My quick and dirty solution:

sudo mv ~/extension.ini /extension.ini sudo chmod 777 /extension.ini

If you want it in a better place than the system root folder you can put it there. I don't really care.

Now you log into the GDM user and import the settings file there.

machinectl shell gdm@ /bin/bash dconf load /org/gnome/shell/extensions/extensionnameWITHOUT@creator.com/ < /extension.ini

Now log out of the gdm user and clean up after yourself.

sudo rm /extension.ini

Now restart or log out and you will see that your extension is now functioning with all its settings.

Huge thank you to Pratap on the GNOME Discourse site. This post is basically just a tutorialized adaptation of the thread I followed to do this.

[fodlansbestmom]

@a-child-turned-monstrosity

The child could be seen wandering around the area alone. Despite being so young, there didn't appear to be anyone looking out for or even walking with him. The boy just had his stuffed animal in his arms, a little backpack, and a long scarf. He just seemed to be wandering around aimlessly.

It wasn’t uncommon for civilians to roam about the monastery grounds, they oft visit the traveling vendors and merchants situated in the front entrance, or the halls asking for guidance, help, what have you. So Sothis didn’t think anything out of the ordinary. Until she spotted the child.

Not uncommon at all but the lack of a guardian was. Was the child lost, did they become separated? Or was he truly alone? She instantly maneuvered her way towards him. Children were an incredible weakness, after all.

“Hi little one,” So greeter quietly once she’s close enough to the child. “Does your little friend have a name?”

[whispertree-coll]

👥🎲📖🫸🧠 - :] anon

hi again :] anon!! 👋 hope ur doing well :3

currently those of us who are okay with answering are milo (💀, they/nox/noxself), calculester (💾 he/it/byt/byte), arkose (💥 he/any i think), and wallter (💠 he/gray)

i hope this is formatted okay!

👥 — do you have any source mates with you in your system? 

💀 Oh I have plenty! I am sourced from the Monster Prom franchise, and we have over 20 alters and counting from there alone. The second Monster Con releases, we're bound to form more.

💾 Same as above! :) We are hardly alone in our source!

💥 yes, actually. which is surprising to me since i was an octive or whatever the fuck its called. my partner (nonromantic, as in we worked together as a team) Iko is forming, but she's been having trouble adjusting. and i'm pretty sure ziv isn't far behind. it'll be nice to have my team back. know this isn't what you asked, but i also have my partner (romantic this time) in my partner system who i love a lot and if i mention their name publically i think they will smite me HAHAH

💠 Why, yes! Not nearly as many as the monsters, but in a short time we have split quite a few others. Pilby is here, from what I have heard he's making great friends with Wally. Reddy is here as well, but we're not entirely sure what he does... Folly seems to be our first persecutor in quite some time, but we're certain she'll come around, it just might take some force.

🎲 — is there anything you would change about your source? 

💀 Not much in particular I can think of! In terms of inclusivity, I do know the devs are working on adding more short masculine characters, as they don't have many of those. But that's about all I can think of!

💾 This is not something I would change about source, rather something different than me from my source counterpart; I have noticed he is mean sometimes, actually! Not intentionally, but occasionally the way source-Calculester treats organic intelligence is not very... considerate! I personally find organic intelligence levels, those of which are "lower" than computers, to be quite fascinating and, at times, adorable! It has been very eye opening to be in an organic body, and a human one at that! But I am rambling. ^^

💥 nah. my source is sick as fuck. wouldn't trade it for the world.

💠 In full honesty, there are a lot of things unanswered in my source, things that my memories have sort of "filled-in-the-blanks" for. As such it's hard to feel super connected to the original world I am sourced from, when the way I remember things is so... different.

📖 — how did you get your role(s)? Was they something you gained over time, or was it something that happened “automatically”? 

💀 Well, for context, I call my role "chameleon." I'm the person the system calls for when a job needs done and there's no designated person for it, or the designated person isn't available. There are specific things I can't do, such as gatekeeper duties, or Zoe's abilities which fall under gatebridger I believe... But I'm the little errandperson and I love it! Since I don't have the "gigs" I used to have, it's still nice to have a comfortably busy schedule.

💾 Mostly naturally! ^^ My role as greeter was something that sort of just happened; I tended to be the carrier of information, so it was easy for me to be the "tour guide" of sorts, for when new people need help finding their way around. Archivist/historian was similar, I found myself constantly enamoured by the new environment (I was one of the first few to form, so it was quite empty at the start), so I eventually started storing all the information. And once Moss formed, and the library was built, we started working together to create archives of our headspace (my half of the job) and everyone in it (goss's half of the job).

💥 honestly i don't know what the fuck my role is. lately I've been real preoccupied with helping Iko form, as well as scouting out in headspace for someone who keeps hiding from us and bringing him back to some kind of civilization so he's not fuck knows where. so whatever that role is uh... i would get into it, but we try not to be super public about otherwise private/serious innerworld issues. i'll say it was definitely assigned to me, but only cuz it made the most sense for it to be me.

💠 I believe my role may be socializer, but I can't be sure yet. I'm more or less friends with everyone— yes, even Folly, if you can believe it!— and I love talking to people! But I haven't been here long and it's more or less what feels right based on my demeanour.

🫸 — are you source separated or not? If you are, how much? 

💾 For both Milo and myself, I would say we are about as source separated as necessary. We understand that our source counterparts are not us, and do not get upset with people who have opinions or headcannons differing from our experiences (me personally, I love hearing them), and though we aren't sure what we would do in the presence of a "double" (I have heard debate on whether or not those are something that reasonably exists?), we would not be hostile to them. This is generally something all of us from the Monster Prom franchise believe. We separated early on to keep ourselves from feeling uncomfortable with sexualization, knowing what we come from is undoubtably a game for monsterfuckers, and that many find our source counterparts sexually attractive. For many of us it's actually confidence boosting.

💥 honestly no. not at all. but i don't think i have to be. there's not gonna be another one of me out there, we've hardly ever shared my source with literally anyone, but it's where i came from, where i found my family. i think i'm allowed to be connected to it and at the end of the day i'm gonna follow my rules over some fuckass on the internet claiming whats "good for me" or not. sorry is that controversial? lmfao i don't care.

💠 As mentioned before, it's difficult to feel connected to the place I came from, since I remember it so differently. I would likely be delighted to find "another me," so to speak. I've encountered many headcannons that differ greatly from me, but I also know they are not talking about me, and at the end of the day others' perceptions of me are hardly something I can control! All this to say; yes, I think so.

🧠 — how do you feel about being in a system?

💀 It may not be the easiest adjustment in the world, but there's certainly no going back now, is there? I still have my friends beside me, and the chance to make all new friends as well, people i never could have met back home. I can observe more lives now, and even if I have to share this mortality with others, I believe that makes the journey towards the end all the more special; to do it alongside those I love, and to find more I love before I get there. 🖤

💾 I do not think I can stress this enough; I love being in a human body and mind. It's everything I have ever dreamed of. The things I was previously unable to put into perspective, I am now forced to experience, and I have never felt better. I have felt true anxiety, love, fear, dread, and even arousal; do you know how insane that is to me? Do you understand how wonderful it is to feel these things, to not have to simulate them through lines and lines of code I make firsthand; to just live through these feelings? To feel? Being where I am, with its sacrifices and all, I would not change a thing. I am delighted to be here.

💥 i have the people i love. the only thing that's changed is the environment, and maybe i can't see them 24/7 like i used to. but it's not like they're gone, or i'm gone, and it's not like i ever had much of a "home" where i came from. they're my home, and they're here, we're here, we're alive, and i'd argue we're in less danger than we've ever been. it's weird to not feel like i have to look over my shoulder every second, though.

💠 I would say that I miss many people I knew, but there will still be plenty of new people to meet and be friends with. And I was put here for a reason, was I not? 💙

thank you for your asks :] anon!! ❤️❤️ (if you see any typos no you don't)

[astrxthesiai]

How I run my blog

Speed: Low to med activity, no in between.  It might take me months to reply or it might take me only a week.  It really depends but I do get back to you.  I am currently low activity as I’m doing some blog maintenance and spring cleaning for my blog for the next few months.

Replies: It might take me months or it might take me only a week. I do brainstorm a story with a friend off-tumblr, hang out with friends on discord, have DnD maybe once or twice a week, I draw, write, watch and read stuff.  And there is the adult stuff.  I will wait however long I can wait.  I do wait for a few weeks for a follow back before I unfollow and move on with my life.  You do not have to match my length, but I do like more than one-liners in serious roleplays.

Starters: I do not do greeter starters anymore, because I felt they do not go anywhere.  You want me to do a starter, please say so in any discussion?  I prefer to wing certain things, and plan later.  Other times, I do like to plan, but I do have some characters planned out while other characters are not planned?  If that makes sense?  I jot down notes and review what is said in the conversation after planning.  Maybe three to five times before I write the starter.  I am also very shy with starter calls, and a deer in the headlights at first.  I do have a period of warming up to people.  Some are longer than others.  This year, I plan on sending more asks than I did last year.

Inbox: Send a meme in or an unprompted.  I will love you.  That is the easiest way to get me to warm up to you.  You are not bothering me and I just take my sweet time answering them.  I am terrible at trying to stay on top of birthdays, and this includes my own muses, so give me a kick ooc all “Oh it’s my muse’s birthday next week, did your muse get anything for them?”  Awesome, cool, and yes my muse has something for your muse’ birthday.  If my muse does not quite know yours, they will give them a greeting anyway if they are acquainted with them in some fashion.

If you don’t see a biography yet, please ask me for headcanons on a character.

Selectivity: I am selective and mutuals’ only.  If I am following you, I am interested, unless Tumblr decided I should unfollow you for some reason.  As a mutual, you can always ask for my discord.  Maybe we’ll fool around there with our muses before narrowing ideas down.  I am silly and anxious at first.  Sometimes dead silent.  I am excited you want to talk to me to be frank.

I mostly write OCs, so please also write with them alongside any canon muses I pick up on the side of the road.

Wishlist: Working on one, but I’d like to write and plan certain ships and friendships again.  Maybe revitalize things since I’m writing with different portrayals of characters now.  You don’t have to accept what I put down in the wishlist.  If you do, that’s really, really cool as well.

For shipping, I mostly write m/f, nb/nb, nb/f, nb/m, and f/f.  I’ll mostly write oc x oc m/m than canon/canon m/m.  AshEiji was a lucky pairing I really enjoyed.  We need chemistry I suppose.  So, let’s start poking each other with sticks in the meantime.  Yes, yes?

Honest Note: o_o poke me with a stick, even if it means hello.  Viciousbite or Val tends to poke me with a virtual knife.  But yeah, we muns can regenerate in virtual and meta.  Did you know that?

Tagged: stolen

Tagging: If you see this and you want to do this, I’m tagging you.

[cryptidsurveys]

Tuesday, July 9th, 2024.

How do you feel right now? Drained. I was planning on going to I Heart Mac & Cheese for lunch after the animal shelter because they're doing this thing where they'll give 20% of the cost of your order as a shelter donation, but I could already tell this morning that my energy levels probably wouldn't allow for it, and…yep. I've got a bit of a pre-migraine thing going on and I just want to sit around and do nothing. I'm also just feeling a bit socially burned out, like I need some time to just exist by myself.

Are you sleepy? Yeah.

Have you ever cut yourself? A long time ago.

Who do you dream about most? People at the animal shelter, past friends and partners, my family.

What do you want more than anything right now? For my apartment voucher to come through so I can finally move into my own place. It was supposed to happen around the beginning of June, but I'm not exactly clear as to what happened. Someone somewhere released the vouchers before it was time or they were supposed to go somewhere else or…idk; like I said, I'm not really sure, so I'm just in waiting mode for the moment. It was such a huge lift up and let down, though. Like, I had about two days of feeling super excited about things moving forward, and then…ugh. I feel bad for the guy at the resource center because he had to call like 150 people and tell them, sorry, shit's fvcked. That had to be a terrible time.

Do you have something you want to say, but never could? Nothing serious. That's just social interaction in general for me. With people I know well (such as my dad, my therapist, and to some extent my mom), it's fine. I can talk their ears off. But when it comes to people at the animal shelter, I feel like a bumbling fool.

Where is your favourite place to be? Home, the animal shelter, and out in nature.

What makes you happy? Volunteering, hiking/camping, rainy or snowy weather, the holiday season, eating my favorite foods, listening to an interesting podcast/video, accomplishing things I never thought I could, making art, a good cup of coffee, updating my autumn Tumblr, driving when there's little to no traffic, realizing some things no longer bother me as much as they once did, etc.

Who makes you happy? My mom + dad, best friend, therapist, my favorite cashiers/greeters at the grocery store…oh, and my cats, ofc.

When are you happiest? When I'm around people I love + doing the things I love. When I feel a sense of purpose or belonging. In nature.

What is the funniest thing you have ever done? I have no idea.

What is the funniest movie you have ever seen? Idk.

What candy/drink makes you most hyper? Nothing really makes me hyper.

Do you talk to yourself? Yeah.

Do you have to sing those catchy jingles on TV commercials every time? Sometimes they just get stuck in my head and…yeah. It's either sing or go crazy.

Do you have more than 5 celebrity crushes? I don't have any celebrity crushes.

Do you find joy in making other people mad? No.

Do you answer the phone by saying anything besides ‘Hello’? Maybe sometimes, but I typically just say "hello."

Do you get mad easily? More like annoyed/frustrated, but even that's not as bad as it used to be.

Do you get jealous often? I don't really have anything to be jealous over. Envy, though…I do feel that way from time to time, but I just try to redirect and focus on my own life.

Are there any people that often make you mad? Not mad. Just disappointed. ;D

Do your friends comfort you when you’re angry? No. But I don't go to him when I'm angry. He probably would, though. Or at least try to.

Do you like to cause drama? No. Sometimes there's drama or gossip at the animal shelter and I'm just like…wow, that's wild. I try to refrain from engaging and just offer simple platitudes. I mean, sometimes it does liven things up a little (there is this diehard part of me that lives for the drama, unfortunately), but other times it's just exhausting. Like, I just want to be around nice people and help animals, but as it turns out...it's not that simple. People are people wherever you go!

Where did you go today? Animal shelter.

How late do you usually sleep in? I rarely ever sleep in. Even on my days off, I'm typically up by ~6:00am.

Do you like traveling? No. I like to BE places, and there are definitely destinations I would like to visit, but traveling…yuck.

Are more of your friends girls or guys? I have one guy friend.

What is your favourite song right now? I don't really have a single favorite… One day, I'll compile some sort of list.

What do you want to do right now? Get in bed and listen to YT, but I think I'm going to vacuum the living room/dining room first.

[parttwotriestowrite]

Anybody know how to get their otherwise 100% chill and friendly dog to stop flipping her shit every time she sees another dog on a walk.

Asking for me