#ITS CANON TO ME. IN MY HEART

[twoa-plus]

in paradise

(spoilers for beast yeast episodes 9 & 10)

eternal sugar is, to me, the most tragic of the beasts (so far, at least). the others became corrupted versions of what they once were - everything fades eventually, so it’s best not to care for anything at all; an exciting lie will always prevail over fact, so why bother defending the truth; change is a neverending cycle of rises and falls, so why not just skip to the falls. eternal sugar, though, when faced with the reality that happiness is fleeting, did not lean in to pain. she clung to her role as “bringer of happiness” like a drowning man to driftwood. her desperation for everyone to be happy is quite possibly the most genuine thing about her. however, she does not trust people to stay within the bounds of the “happiness” she gives them - in order for her dreams of everyone’s happiness to come true, she must control them. there’s the whole thing with the “air that makes you hallucinate eternal joy when you breathe it” of course, but even the actual, physical ways that she grants people’s wishes lead to their total dependence on her.

sugarfly’s flight is symbolic of her freedom, in every sense of the word. there’s the obvious physical aspect, but what i’m more interested in is the emotional. sugarfly came to the garden unhappy with her wings - unhappy with herself - and her wish was for eternal sugar to “fix” her. this wish was granted. however, eternal sugar does not trust this to keep her happy forever - what if when she leaves, people don’t like her new wings? what if when she leaves, she realizes that there are so many greater issues in her life? what if when she leaves, she gets hurt? the obvious solution is, of course, to not let her leave at all. eternal sugar grants her wish, yes - but she does it in a way that leaves sugarfly entirely dependent on the garden. sugarfly’s freedom of movement has been taken, but it’s okay, there’s no need to fly in the garden. sugarfly’s freedom of spirit has been taken, her personality replaced by constant expressions of gratitude, but it’s okay - she’s happy.

pavlova is more of a difficult case since we don’t know nearly as much about him, so most of this is just speculation on my end, but i think it fits here. pavlova, the child, views love and all its complications as nothing more than strings in the beautiful tapestry of life’s narrative. every good story needs its ups and downs, so there’s no point in being upset when tragedy strikes - it’s all just part of the excitement, after all. pavlova’s wish, i think, was to return to (or stay within) this childlike innocence, this core belief that nothing in life is truly bad. eternal sugar granted this wish by making him an actual child - someone who has never had to face the realities of loss, yes, but also someone who needs caring for. she needs him to need her - need the garden - so that he will not (cannot) leave. if he doesn’t leave, he won’t have to accept the everyday pains of life. pavlova may be deprived of the ability to grow into the person he was meant to be, but he is happy.

the whole point of beast yeast 9 & 10 is that idea at the end of “happiness cannot exist without pain as its shadow.” in order to pursue what would truly make her happy, sugarfly first needs to accept who she is to begin with - a long, painful process, starting with the acceptance of her so detested wings as part of herself. in order to pursue what would truly make him happy, pavlova needs to grow up - he needs to learn that life is not a fairytale & he should not be a bystander in its story, that he shouldn’t take its highlights for granted. they needed to go through that pain to reach true happiness. eternal sugar cannot handle the idea of anyone going through any pain, however, so she had to make them stay as they were. their joy may be only surface-deep, but at least there is no pain.

pavlova & sugarfly are based on eros & psyche, respectively - a married couple. they were destined to be together, their fates intertwined - but their tale has been tampered with. their red string is holding on by a thread, and with the slightest touch it might snap.

and the worst part is that none of it was malicious.

[hinamie]

I'm always pushing you away from me / but you come back with gravity / and when I call, you come home

[rooniearts]

Hearing impaired Silver vs his biggest idol

Bonuses:

[klance-daydreams]

PLEASE read where the apple falls by @jupiters-junipers!!! you will actually just never be the same. like ever.

[eye-merely-jest]

hrrghgghbmnnmm x-men evolution nightcrawler….

i actually didn't care for him when i first started watching evo 'cause i thought him annoying as shit but now that is PRECISELY why i'm obsessed with him. Weird Kid™ kurt is just such an endearing concept and it's like he's just like me and I FUCKING LOVE THIS GUY SO MUCH

[theriverbeyond]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY LESBIAN JESUS

[juniemunie]

If we're not giving up, don't give up wherever you are.

That's a promise.

[goldieisontheinternet]

hes listening to his own bands music

bonus comic:

[shiremwa]

horror movie night with jacob!!!! ( ˶°ㅁ°) !!

[stickerfan69]

mirage i love you

[bbuzz28]

Memories

Old man Fiddlestan, my beloved-and what's this? It could be semi-canon compliant :O ?!?! Woof- this is one of the saddest things I have ever written. I know some of you gremlins (affectionate) love that sort of thing, but I don't. I like really really don't. This is my comfort ship, so I don't even know where this came from other than trying to figure out how they *could* work in canon. Truthfully though, I prefer my Fiddlestan heavy on the comfort when it comes to the "hurt/comfort" genre. This is my only “angsty” (i.e. no immediate happy ending) Notes-app fics, so don't get used to this level of sad from me lol.

“Stan?” an oddly familiar voice called. Mr. Mystery, Stan Pines, glanced up from the flyers he was organizing and found that Old Man McGucket stood in the doorway of his front door. The last tour of the day had just left, it was dinnertime, and he was exhausted. Stan rolled his eyes as he unfurled his tie, wishing Soos was still there to escort the crazy old man off his property. No matter what he did, the old hillbilly always managed to find his way back to the Shack. “Sweet Moses McSuckit, what are you doing in here? Shoo, scat, or whateva will get rid of ya.” Hearing no movement, he looked at the man again and found he was standing erect. His blue eyes were the clearest he had seen them in no less than a decade.

          Wait, what did he call- oh. Oh no.

“Stan…ley? Did I…did I do somethin’ wrong?” the other man asked, his hands twisted in knots in front of him. Memories flashed through Stan’s mind; Ford falling through the portal, Fiddleford finding him passed out in the lab, working together to bring Ford home again…being together. Being happy. They had been happy, if just for a little while, hadn’t they?

Then there was the cult, and his discovery of the damn memory gun that had finally ruined everything they ever built. He took a hesitant step forward, a thousand thoughts roaring in his mind at once. “Fidds? Wha-what do you remember?” A bandaged hand snaked up and rubbed over the faded scar on the side of his head “I…don’t rightly know. Did we…I think we had a fight? I just woke up in the…in the dump. N’ I don’t have any shoes. Do ya know why my arm is in a cast?” Fiddleford looked so lost.

Stan knew in his heart that all of this was fleeting- “clarity” would hit Fiddleford every few years after he had finally wiped his mind of himself. Almost like his brain was trying to jumpstart itself back together. The first time they thought it was a miracle but…it didn’t last. It just started a trend that would follow them both for the next almost thirty years. Fiddleford would seemingly “wake up” and be lucid for a few weeks in the beginning, then eventually only a matter of days. It had been so long since the last time that Stan would wager, they only had maybe a few hours together if he was lucky.

The last time Fiddleford was himself…they had fought. Stanley thought he had figured the only way Fiddleford could stay; he needed to remember. Remember everything he had ever forgotten. At the time, Fiddleford had been unwilling to try. He didn’t think he could handle it; he knew he had forgotten what he had for a reason.

Stanley had gotten as close to begging as he ever had in his life since surviving Tijuanna, and when it had no effect…Stanley had told Fiddleford to leave and never come back. He had left that night, and by the next day he had faded away again. After a while, Stan thought his last words had been the final nail in the coffin that was Fiddleford’s mind. He carried that weight along with every other mistake he had ever made. But here he was. Fiddleford. His Fiddleford.

He took a deep breath before he opened his arms up. “Hey, don’t worry, it doesn’t matter. I’m right here.” Fiddleford rushed through the doorway, melting into Stanley’s open arms. “I went away again, didn’t I?” Stan could feel Fiddleford’s tears soaking into his chest, his own whispering at the edges of his eyes. Yes, and you will leave again. You will leave me and I will be alone all over again, you fucking asshole. “Hey cowboy, didn’t I just say not t’ worry about any a’ that? You’re here now, n' that’s what matters. You’re…you’re home.” A haggard laugh vibrated through the smaller man’s chest into Stanley’s own. “I know I keep tellin’ ya, tellin’ me not t’ worry is like” “…tellin’ a fish t’ stop swimmin’; I know Fidds, I know.” Fuck was really the only conscious thought that went through his head as he held his one-time lover. He couldn’t believe he was doing this, again.

Fiddleford looked up, eyes wide and searching Stan’s face. “How long do ya think we have?” Stan shook his head, unwilling to lie even if it eventually wouldn’t matter because he wouldn’t remember. You’ve always been the only person I couldn’t lie to. “I dunno, it’s been…a while. Probably not very long.” Fiddleford closed his eyes before he said “I need ya t’ know somethin’, Stanley.” Stan started to shake his head. “Fidds, you don’t have t-” The look on the other man’s face shut Stan right up-he had always had that ability. Stan wished he didn’t miss it as much as he did. “I need ya to know that even when I’m not here…I miss you. The part of me that’s somewhere in here-” A weathered hand tapped the side of his head to emphasize his point “ misses you. I’m just so sorry, Stanley. Sorry that I’m a coward. I’m sorry that I’m not strong enough to be here all the time…but I’ll never stop tryin’. I’ll always try n’ come home to ya.”

Stan thought of the thousands of times he had chased Old Man McGucket, the neat little character that Stan had to compartmentalize his Fiddleford into when he wasn’t himself, out of the Shack. How many times he had found him curled up like a cat on the back porch. How every time they “met”, McGucket would say how nice Stan was or how good he felt to be around him “for some reason.” How many odds and ends McGucket would gift Stan from the dump for exhibits at the Mystery Shack with a large smile and nothing substantial behind his eyes.

It would be so much easier if he would stop trying to come back. Maybe the hole in Stan’s heart the size of the sweet, certifiably insane man would scab over. How many times had Stanley mourned him? How many times was he willing to hurt himself? They were now nearing their sixties, how long was he really willing to do this song and dance?

What’s one more time? he softly thought, his hand coming up to tenderly cup the grizzled face of Fiddleford Hadron McGucket. Mad scientist, friend, and unfortunately for them both…the love of his life.

“I miss you too, Fidds.”

[hinamie]

Blushing yuuji please?

u make a compelling argument

[jeriafterdark]

Yes, Cloud. Good, very good.

Twitter

[oneroomjestershow]

Loved in every universe

[solargeist]

"you scared meeeee~!"

[ganondoodle]

did a little sketch yesterday that i really liked and tried to get it done today just so i got literally anything to post- but i fell into the trap of 'making sketches to elaborate and thus really stiff and non fun' (for me), ... soooooo .. im redoing the whole thing

but the idea was a mummy ganondorf for my (yes still existing) totk rewrite; i wanted to make him more scary looking and also emphasize just how horrid it must be to be kept in between life and death by having your heart grabbed by a cold and vengeful magical hand for thousands of years (in this case the ancient queen .. which i also tried to sketch despite not showing up aside from her dissolving hand)

the spell starting to fail and his body being more damaged in some parts (jaw being only the bones left for example) and his chest open from being slowly eaten up by the queens magic, the ribs contorting around it like its a gravitational pull- sounds cooler than it looks bc this sketch did not work out, so im saving the details for the .. hopefully, better version