#except THIS MOTHERFUCKER (/affectionate)

[nodlefisch]

we all hate him right

[lara-cairncross]

my personal sonadow headcanons in no particular order bc im procrastinating on writing a research paper right now and its either do this or throw myself off the roof:

Shadow is a few inches shorter than Sonic, but ONLY if he takes his shoes off. cue many years' worth of shenanigans with Shadow doing everything in his power to avoid going barefoot in Sonic's presence because he knows if Sonic finds out he'll never hear the end of it (hes right)

T4T SONADOW

Sonic was able to get top surgery, but Shadow's body healed itself too quickly for it to work on him. flash forward to when he gets his Black Doom abilities and one of his first orders of business is to fuck around with them until he's able to give HIMSELF top surgery

Sonic hates coffee beans (too bitter) and Shadow hates chili dogs (too heavy/savory). they've broken up over this enough times for Rouge to lose count

Sonic is so good at flirting with everyone EXCEPT SHADOW. HE GETS TOO FLUSTERED. HE TRIES SO HARD AND IT NEVER WORKS BUT SHADOW IS TOO DOWN BAD TO CARE

Shadow grew up on a space station, with no biological reason to eat, and no access to fresh food or a kitchen. Sonic literally raised both himself AND TAILS. Shadow is NOT the cook between the two of them please everyone keeps saying otherwise and i dont understand it you cant convince me shadow knows how to boil a pot of water PLEASE SOMEBODY AGREE WITH ME

Sonic ages. Shadow doesn't. 50 years down the line somebody asks Sonic if Shadow is his son. Shadow immediately gets payback for 50 years of short jokes.

they are both so smart and so capable and so dangerous by themselves but if you put them in the same room in any context outside of a life-or-death situation they become the two dumbest motherfuckers you've ever had the displeasure of engaging in polite conversation with

shadow bottoms what who said that

okay this one might be silly but I feel like they would both be good at chess??? like Sonic is surprisingly well-read and more observant than people give him credit for, and Shadow probably had a lot of strategy training from GUN + played games with Maria on the ARK. idk i just feel like it would be a fun way for them to challenge each other outside of just racing/combat yknow

they both wear jewelry with each others' colors :] i usually make it earrings but i think Sonic having bracelets to mirror Shadow's rings would be really cute too

autistic Shadow and ADHD Sonic yes please yes yes yes

Sonic is the most verbally affectionate and Shadow is the most physically affectionate IM RIGHT YOU CANT ARGUE WITH ME ON THIS ONE IM PUTTING MY FOOT DOWN GOODBYE

they like to beat each other up a little toooooo much and its kinda toxic maybe but also theyre both having fun so like. maybe its just a love language 🫶🫶

Tails is so, SO disappointed with Sonic for his choice in men. like he actively considers holding an intervention when he finds out that Shadow and Sonic started dating

theyre both somewhere on the aromantic and asexual spectrums because uhhhhhh so am i and i can project if i want to

Sonic is a chronic yapper and Shadow is a listener BUT. HEAR ME OUT. IT STARTS TO SWAP AS THEY GET MORE COMFORTABLE WITH EACH OTHER. shadow comes out of his shell and feels more at ease talking, and sonic appreciates having someone who doesnt expect him to be at full energy/optimism 24/7 and lets him be silent when he needs to be

[gaywineauntsstuff]

“Tim Drake never got enough recognition in Gotham.”

ARE YOU JOKING???

HES THEIR LIL GUY???

There isn’t one hero from the main Batfamily who doesn’t canonically like tim???

Hell even Jason think Tim is “the best of us” (much to my chagrin, the beef between the two middle children is always so iconic to me) and JASON HAS TRIED TO KILL HIM

Like Jason?? If it was Jason??? Who never got enough respect I’d get it?? Not entirely bc in recent comics (Nightwing -specifically the 2021 annual for one instance but honestly anytime these two interact in rebirth and Gotham war)

Dick isn’t in Gotham bc he didn’t get any respect and he fucked off and became the justice leagues favorite lil guy and then turns out Bruce just sucked at people thing and he was actually secretly also his lil guy

Babs is literally depicted and omnipotent 1/2 the time and while I think fanon exaggerates her strengths a bit too much (or just leaves her out entirely) and canon disrespects the sanctity of her character all the time the CHARACTERS in the series don’t

Anyway

THE PERSON WHO NEVER EVER GETS ENOUGH CREDIT AND IS LOOKED OVER BY BW THE MOST

Is STEPHANIE MOTHERFUCKING BROWN

NOT ONLY WAS SHE THE FUNNIEST, MOST CHARMING AND LIKABLE BATGIRL (I’m right be quiet) SHE WAS AND IS ALWAYS JUST A BREATH OF FRESH AIR AND WITH THE EXCEPTION OF THE MUCH LATER STAGES OF BATMAN AND ROBIN (dick and Dami edition) SHE GETS DOGGED ON

BRUCE DOESNT THINK SHES GOOD ENOUGH FOR WAYY TOO LONG

JASON (fun mirror horror landcore but yeah they’re not friends)

DICK DIDNT THINK SHE COULD DO IT (he was wrong, he realized this like a good boy)

TIM GOD DONT GET ME STARTED ON THIS LIL SHIT (affectionate)

[scozthewoz]

mercs as cat breeds + kitty merc headcanons

inspired by/in collaboration with @joonliebe (i changed a few of them sorry pookie 💔)

kitty headcanons are from my cat fortress AU where all the mercs are cats that are foster fails because nobody wants those motherfuckers and now miss pauling is stuck with them all

spy ▪︎ persian - fancy and high maintenance. the signature bond villain cat

likes to be alone. needs to be taken to the groomer once a week or he gets pissed off and starts tearing up the couch. he has a very strict schedule and if his terms are not followed he throws a tantrum. he also sneaks out of the house and dissapears frequently. a dick to the rest of the cats, except scout for some reason.

heavy ▪︎ siberian - big boys with big coats, comes from siberia

the most well behaved cat there. scarred up and scary looking from his time in the pound, but he's suprisingly very quiet and peaceful. naturally chunky and big boned. miss pauling's favorite. he's a bonded pair with medic, they can normally be found grooming each other. he tends to wrangle scout when he's being too much, he doesn't like to see miss pauling stressed.

pyro ▪︎ sphynx - just a weird lookin thing. also an affectionate and energetic breed that likes to wreak havoc

peculiar little intersex kitty covered in burns, owners died in a house fire (that she may or may not have caused). both eyes are gone, but she navigates just fine. knows how to turn the stove on and has set multiple small fires. miss pauling puts him in cute little sweaters since he doesn't have any fur to keep him warm.

sniper ▪︎ savannah - hybrid of a house cat and a wild serval

very solitary, like spy, but not hostile to the others. owners were an old couple that died and it shook up the already shy cat. miss pauling doesn't need to feed him like the others since he sneaks out and hunts his own meals. almost completely silent unless he's sitting at the window and chirping at birds. evident dislike for spy. quiet and low maintenence so not a huge headache, but he tracks mud in the house. he's very skittish too, runs off or hides whenever there's company.

medic ▪︎ turkish angora - graceful. very majestic. cunty, even

on paper, he seems like a very good cat! he's an ex-service animal that still carries out some service tasks, like deep pressure therapy when miss pauling is getting anxious or retrieving stuff. only problem is that he loves bringing dead things inside, and he goes out of his way to rip it to shreds and get blood and guts ALL over the house. he also has a temper issue, and he needs little kitty glasses because his eyesight is shit.

engineer ▪︎ munchkin - haha short legs!! oh yeah, and they're pretty smart

used to be a workshop cat around for pest control, lost a leg in an accident. workshop guys gave him a kitty sized hardhat he gets very upset without. he's got a hard time jumping up on stuff since he not only has short legs, but he's got a prosthetic one too, so miss pauling made him a few kitty staircases up to his favorite spots. he likes stealing tools from neighbors and and scrap metal from outside and stashes them under the couch.

demoman ▪︎ scottish fold - scottish, prone to eye problems

missing an eye and has some singed fur from teens with fireworks. little kitty eyepatch. he frequently gets into the bailey's irish cream miss pauling keeps on top of the fridge and has to be brought to the vet for liver issues at least once a month.

soldier ▪︎ ragdoll - developed in america !!🇺🇸 tend to rough house when playing and are very vocal

used to belong to a war veteran, then became a stray after he died. clipped ear. his body's kept shaved because of scarring and matting issues, so he's got furry boots and a puffball tail, but the fur on his noggin covers his eyes. he frequently bothers the others. a big sweetheart for miss pauling, but agressive with anyone else. likes fetch. dog in a cat body.

scout ▪︎ siamese - the extroverts of the cat world, very energetic and chatty, also very clever.

his ma and brothers are all siamese, but he's got an oddly fluffy tail like a persian.. he's a big fan of miss pauling, never leaves her alone. gets pissy and scratches the curtains or breaks a glass when she's giving one of the other cats too much attention. wayyy too clingly and always causing some sort of trouble or getting into places he shouldn't. he also meows CONSTANTLY.

[inairbinad]

sweet enough on the vine

🌸 affectionately known as Steve the Botanist 🌸 Steddie | Rated T | 6k | cw: language, making out, and some grinding Read on AO3

Eddie was running late.

That was nothing new, strictly speaking, but after last year’s traffic debacle he swore he’d never be late to his standing dinner date for Chrissy’s birthday again.

And yet there he was, scrambling to find somewhere to buy her a present on the way from his apartment to their favorite restaurant. Eddie was already cutting it close, but if he managed to actually land on something to get her in the next three minutes he was pretty sure he’d be fine.

He’d dodge that same smug and mildly amused Chrissy face this year. There would be no groveling. Eddie was gonna make it.

Stopped at a red light, Eddie’s eyes started drifting. They landed on a vibrant little florist’s shop that sat right up against the edge of the park—the same one that Eddie always looked at fondly from the gay bar across the street without ever actually going inside.

Weathertop Nursery and Florist, the sign out front read, and Eddie wondered if that was meant to be a Tolkien reference.

“Motherfucking duh,” Eddie laughed at himself before pulling over to park.

Was a bouquet of flowers the most original thing he could get Chrissy for her birthday? Not exactly, but there was no denying that Chrissy loved flowers. At the very least Eddie could bide his time with them and buy her dinner, then surprise her with something more thoughtful later.

It wasn’t like Chrissy didn’t know Eddie was forgetful, but she also knew he cared a whole lot, regardless of if his gift-giving skills were lacking. And this time he wasn’t going to be late, so he took a little bit of pride in surpassing expectations as he made his way inside the shop.

It was even more charming than he always expected it to be.

The walls were painted an earthy green color that instantly managed to soothe some of Eddie’s manic energy. Plants and flowers populated every shelf and surface, their happy and well-cared for petals and leaves seeming to greet him as he walked in. There were enough windows and natural light that Eddie almost felt like he was still outside, except for the fact that it was wonderfully cool inside.

There was a big greenhouse connected through a door on the left hand side of the shop and a garden out back, which the sloped windows behind the counter overlooked like a dream. A few people were milling around in both, enjoying the extended daylight now that the first day of summer was so near.

Eddie wished he weren’t in such a rush to get in and out. He thought he might’ve liked to linger in this place for a while and let its cheer sink into his bones. Even more so he wished he was at all good with plants so he’d have an actual reason to be there. Eddie wondered if maybe he could learn as he made his way towards the counter for help.

The guy working had his back turned, the broad slope of his shoulders hunched over what looked like a potting bench. Based on the steady sound of clipping, the man must have been pruning the stems of the pile of pink roses he had sitting beside his right elbow.

Eddie impatiently drummed his fingers against the countertop beside the register, hoping to make this a quick one and done stop. Even in a hurry, he couldn’t help but notice that he liked watching the way the man’s muscles moved beneath his t-shirt even more than he liked the whole vibe of this place.

“Excuse me,” Eddie piped up, probably a little too impatiently. He heard one final snip, and the man finally turned around.

Whatever nerves Eddie had to get out of the shop as quickly as possible died on the spot.

The man that stood before him was an absolute dream—tall, tan, with a full head of chestnut hair that Eddie immediately wanted to run his hands through.

He was pretty sure his jaw dropped, especially when he noticed the guy was wearing a black graphic tee with several plants printed across the chest, each of their pots a different color to make up the rainbow. Almost like it was for Pride.

The way the shirt was probably a size too small didn’t hurt matters, either.

So this guy was dorky, hot, and potentially queer? Eddie wondered if he fell down in his haste to get inside and smacked his head on the pavement. He had to be hallucinating, or at the very least getting ahead of himself. It was June, after all. The dude could just be trying to be supportive.

“Can I help you?” he asked, a friendly smile playing at his lips—which looked perfectly kissable, just to add to Eddie’s distress.

Eddie snapped his jaw shut, trying not to overheat when the other man looked him up and down.

Act normal, dipshit, Eddie told himself as he sucked in a deep breath that smelled like some kind of floral paradise. You’ve talked to pretty people without dying before.

Maybe none so pretty as this guy, admittedly, but Eddie thought he could try. For Chrissy’s sake. Remembering the reason he came in here at all snapped him back to reality a bit.

“I need a birthday gift for a girl who will roast the shit out of me if I show up to take her out to dinner empty handed,” Eddie said, feeling a tad frantic about having waited this long to get Chrissy something.

“I think we can manage to avoid getting you roasted,” the absolutely fucking delectable man who worked there said with a low laugh. He leaned on his elbows on the counter and looked up at Eddie through his lashes, and Eddie nearly swooned. “Are we talking a gift for a girlfriend, sister, friend, or…?”

“Just friend,” Eddie said, then realized how ridiculous it sounded to call Chrissy just anything, and course-corrected. “Best friend, actually. Why? Do you have certain flowers that mean certain things?”

Really, Eddie hoped this guy was just fishing for information about if he might be single.

“I mean, sure,” the man shrugged. Eddie wished he was wearing a name tag. He wanted to feel this beautiful creature’s name rolling around on his tongue. “I’m a firm believer in buying people flowers based on what they like, or what you do, but I can ramble on about symbolism if you want.”

“I’d probably listen to you talk about just about anything,” Eddie admitted freely as he leaned his hip against the countertop. Stopping to flirt would make him late, but Chrissy would get it. He hoped she would get it, anyway, because the smile he got in return made Eddie weak in the knees. “But I know next to nothing about flowers.”

“Seems like a perfect match, then,” the man said with an easy smile. “I’m Steve, by the way.”

And oh, Eddie was definitely done for. He’d be lucky if someone came along to scoop him up off the floor from the puddle he was surely turning into in time to make it to dinner.

“Eddie,” he replied, somehow managing to sound the slightest bit normal. His face had the muscle memory to remember how to flirt, it seemed, because it flashed Steve a dimply grin of its own accord.

“Well, Eddie,” Steve said, still smiling as he made his way around the counter. “How about I show you some cut flowers to start?”

“Whatever you say, sweetheart,” Eddie said, instantly fascinated by the way Steve ducked his head in reaction to the pet name. Eddie didn’t bother to hide the way he tilted his head to admire how nicely Steve’s jeans hugged his ass as he walked them down an aisle overflowing with colorful plants, either.

“Do you know what your friend likes?” Steve asked as he pulled up and idled near a refrigerator full of already cut flowers.

“In movies? Or women? Yes. In flowers? Not so much,” Eddie shrugged easily. Steve barked out a happy little laugh

“I can relate.” Steve barked out a happy little laugh, then turned to point at a container full of flowers Eddie couldn’t identify if he tried. “What’s her favorite color, then?”

“Pink and green,” Eddie said, almost rote in his recitation. Chrissy’s favorite colors hadn’t changed since they were fifteen.

“Perfect,” Steve muttered under his breath. He turned towards the left hand side of the fridge and plucked out a pretty, soft pink flower with a bright, verdant stem and leaves. To Eddie’s untrained eye, at least, he thought it kind of looked like a rose. “Peonies—my best friend’s favorites. And she has great taste in plants and women. Usually.”

Steve offered out the peony, and Eddie stepped closer to examine it. He felt Steve’s eyes on his face as he delicately reached out to brush his fingertips against the velvety edge of a petal. Each petal curled along the edge, folding in on each other in what looked like an endless cascade of feathery clouds towards the center.

They reminded Eddie of Chrissy instantly. They were pretty, sure, but they also had a little bit of extra personality to them.

“They’re perfect,” Eddie murmured, turning to Steve. He was standing a whole lot closer than Eddie realized, and Eddie wondered if there wasn’t a little bit of magic living in this place. “How did you—”

The next in a series of reminders Eddie had set on his phone sounded in his pocket and interrupted him. He groaned, and pulled it out to read his note to himself.

Your ass better be outside that restaurant if not already in it, Munson, it read.

“Shit,” he grumbled. “I’m gonna be late.”

“Maybe get two dozen, then,” Steve said with a teasing grin. “Make it up to her, Munson.”

Eddie felt himself flush as he realized Steve must’ve been reading over his shoulder. It only made him want to shove Steve up against a refrigerator door and kiss him more, somehow. Eddie realized too late that he’d probably buy the moon if Steve suggested it.

“You’re an excellent salesman, you know?”

“Only when I have such handsome customers,” Steve volleyed back without delay. And god, if that smirk wasn’t going to be what finally did Eddie in at the tender age of thirty-one, he wasn’t sure what would.

“Okay, okay, I’m buying the flowers, no need to keep laying it on so thick,” Eddie lamented, nodding towards the container of peonies Steve was already pulling from for him.

“Who said it was about getting you to buy flowers?” Steve asked with a wink. “Come on, I’ll check you out.”

“I thought that’s what we’ve been doing this whole time,” Eddie said, thrilled at how it drew another laugh out of Steve.

“Fair enough,” Steve conceded before leading them back to the register. If Eddie noticed a little bit more swagger in Steve’s gait as he walked, he kept as much to himself. Instead he just watched, utterly entranced by another human after only knowing them for a matter of minutes. Eddie wasn’t sure how or why, but it felt like getting hit by a meteor.

Desperate to do something with his hands or his mouth other than ogle Steve as he dried and then delicately wrapped the flowers in paper, Eddie glanced around the front counter a little. It didn’t take long for his eyes to land on a little display of what looked like handmade jewelry.

“Did you make these?” Eddie asked, zeroing in on a bracelet in particular that he thought Chrissy might like. He did spend enough time listening to Chrissy talk about crystals and rocks to know that the delicate little gem wrapped in silver was moonstone.

“Nope, can’t take credit for those,” Steve said, sounding a little proud when he realized what Eddie was looking at.

“The best friend?” Eddie guessed, and Steve nodded. So he made a decision on the fly and plucked the silver bracelet from where it hung on the rack. “Then I’ll take this, too.”

“Gift wrapped?” Steve asked.

“Definitely,” Eddie said, glancing at the time again. He was already late, so sloppily tossing an unwrapped gift at Chrissy would probably only look worse.

“I’ll be quick,” Steve promised, and Eddie honestly wished he wouldn’t. Instead of admitting it aloud, though, Eddie opted to dig out the cash he owed while Steve boxed up Chrissy’s gift.

“How the hell do you keep all of this alive?” Eddie couldn’t help but ask, still looking around in wonder. There weren’t just flowers on display, but plants of all sorts, and that was just from peeking into the greenhouse without getting started on all the stuff also growing outside.

Steve took the question in stride with a low laugh. “Not a plant guy, I take it?”

“Unless by ‘plant guy,’ you mean an incredible capacity to kill everything I touch?” Eddie asked, shooting for innocently hopeful. He was rewarded for it with another crooked smile out of Steve, which was rapidly approaching the top of Eddie’s list of favorite things to see.

Steve just shook his head and handed Eddie his change. The time to actually leave was suddenly staring Eddie in the face, and he desperately didn’t want to. Eddie decided to admit as much aloud. “Which is a shame, because I really could use an excuse to keep coming back here.”

“Like what you see?” Steve nodded towards the shop in general, but Eddie wasn’t gonna let the implication slide.

“You have no idea, gorgeous,” Eddie practically crooned, feeling sparks light in his chest when Steve flushed just in just the slightest. It was adorable, because surely people had to flirt with this man all the time. But every compliment or pet name Eddie threw in his direction only seemed to affect him more.

“Well why don’t you come back tomorrow?” Steve suggested with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll show you some plants that even you can’t kill.”

Eddie took the promise of seeing Steve again and ran with it, practically floating as he made his way out the door.

“Happy birthday, favorite person of mine!” Eddie said cheerfully the minute he finally laid eyes on Chrissy. He spread his arms for a hug, making sure to hold her flowers and bracelet out prominently. Chrissy accepted the hug and well-wishes with a smile, but Eddie knew there was more coming just from the way she tilted her head.

“You’re late,” Chrissy drawled with her arms crossed, visibly unimpressed from her perch at the table she’d kept waiting for them.

“Chris, you’re gonna forgive me—” Eddie tried as he scrambled to sit down, passing her gifts to her right away.

“That’s a bold assumption,” she interrupted, but brought the peonies up close to her nose with a small smile. “Pretty flowers aren’t enough to forgive you for being late to my birthday dinner.”

“Well sure, but that’s not the only gift I got you!” Eddie pointed out the small jewelry box next with his most charming of smiles. It wormed a slight twitch of the lips out of her, but she narrowed her eyes at him without opening it.

“Being late just so you could buy me stuff seems a little backwards, don’t you think?”

“Well that’s not…” Eddie bit his lip and paused, wondering if Chrissy would forgive him for this after all, “…entirely why I’m late.”

“Aha,” Chrissy hummed with a knowing sparkle in her eye.

“There was this guy—”

“Aha,” Chrissy was all but gloating now. “I assume he was pretty? Dark haired? Athletic?”

Eddie pursed his lips, not exactly loving how he was being called out with such little effort on her part. Eddie figured fifteen years of being best friends would do that, but he wasn’t sure it was entirely necessary. He’d never been happier to see a waiter in his life, who gave him some time to collect himself while they took drink orders.

“Did you get his number, at least?” Chrissy asked before Eddie got a chance to defend himself.

“No, but I’m seeing him again tomorrow,” Eddie preened, and Chrissy finally cracked a smile.

“That sounds promising. Tell me about him,” Chrissy said, settling back in her seat with an expectant look on her face.

“Well he picked your flowers, for one,” Eddie said.

“No shit, you know nothing about flowers,” Chrissy laughed and finally reached for the box with her bracelet. She carefully untied the ribbon with an amount of grace that Eddie wouldn’t have afforded it, then popped off the lid with an expectant smile. That smile only grew when she saw what was inside. “Aw, Eddie! I love it!”

“I picked that. Because I know that moonstone is one of your birthstones,” Eddie bragged, before reaching across to offer to put it on her wrist. She took him up on it happily, so Eddie added, “And I know enough about flowers to know those are peonies.”

“Oh wow,” Chrissy breathed, sounding surprised. “You really must be smitten.”

Eddie opted to look at his menu rather than trying to deny it.

“He was so pretty, Chris,” Eddie whined, two drinks and an appetizer platter later. “I wanted to cry.”

“You should let me come with you tomorrow so I can see him.” Chrissy’s smile was a wicked thing, and Eddie only whined again. Until he remembered something.

“Ohhhh but that won’t be necessary, my dear friend,” Eddie crowed as he dragged his phone out of his pocket. He went straight to the camera roll and stopped at the last photo he took. It was a clandestine, somewhat blurry photo taken in haste so no one would notice him pressing up against the glass of the flower shop like a complete weirdo. There was a glare on the glass that reflected Eddie’s already yearning face rather unflatteringly, but Eddie didn’t really care.

The important part of the photo was the easy way Eddie had captured Steve’s smile as he talked to another customer, and the long line of his tanned forearm as he handed a small potted plant across the counter.

Eddie thrust the phone across the table for Chrissy to see how utterly pathetic he already was, and exactly why.

Chrissy picked up the phone, careful not to touch the screen and disrupt the photo Eddie had queued up for her. The amusement on her face when she finally took it in was palpable, and Eddie had half a mind to hide behind his hair.

“Do you ever get tired of me being right all the time?” Chrissy beamed.

“I admire your consistency, if anything,” Eddie said drily. He was mildly afraid of the way Chrissy’s expression shifted into something curious and appraising next. “What?”

“Just…” Chrissy bit her lip, like maybe she wasn’t sure she wanted to bring it up at all. Then she shrugged and continued. “Please don’t tell me you were late because you went back to work and tattooed his face on your ass already?”

She said it like getting faces tattooed on his ass was some kind of regular occurrence.

“Jesus Christ, that was one time, Chris,” Eddie grumbled. It could hardly be considered his fault that he and the boys got drunk after work one night, and Jeff convinced Eddie to get Gareth’s cute little mug inked into his left butt cheek. And it certainly hadn’t been anything romantic. 

Eddie hadn’t gotten a stupidly impulsive tattoo since (though he was pretty sure he’d given people a few).

“You can’t blame me for asking!” Chrissy argued with a little too much glee in her voice.

“I did not get Steve’s face tattooed on my ass,” Eddie deadpanned for the record. “I haven’t even tried to find his Instagram yet.”

“Oooh!” Chrissy lit up even further with excitement and scooted her chair closer to his. “Let’s do that now.”

By the time Eddie got to the shop the next afternoon, he’d thoroughly convinced himself the beautiful man he’d met the day before had been a mirage. Surely no one was that pretty, just up and walking around this town looking like that while subtly signaling that they’re queer. And they certainly didn’t so blatantly flirt with Eddie while also helping him pick out flowers.

Especially considering his and Chrissy’s resolve to find Steve’s social media had ended up being a big flop. Without more than a first name to go by, all Eddie could find was the flower shop’s official Instagram—which obviously didn’t have much more than plants on it.

It was a great page to promote the business, with very professional looking and tasteful photos. But Eddie couldn’t help but think they neglected to highlight the biggest draw for the place: Steve. There wasn’t a picture of him to be found, and after a cursory glance of the shop’s followers he couldn’t find any usernames or photos that seemed to match the man he’d met either.

If it weren’t for the photo Eddie had taken himself, he would’ve been completely convinced that Steve was a heat-induced hallucination on his part. But that photo did exist, which meant so did the man inside. So Eddie squared his shoulders and made his way into the little store at the front of the greenhouse once more, this time wearing his Iron Maiden crop top for good measure.

“He’s around back,” a woman with a strawberry blonde undercut told Eddie the minute she laid eyes on him. Eddie wondered if she was the best friend Steve had mentioned. She pointed towards a door at the back of the store from her perch behind the register.

Eddie didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but the fact that she’d clocked that he was looking for Steve immediately made him hope that maybe Steve had mentioned him. Just like Eddie had spent the night before gushing to Chrissy. 

“Uh, thanks?” Eddie said, already making his way towards the door. “I’m—”

“Eddie, yeah,” she laughed lightly as her bored expression receded. “He told me. I’m Robin.”

“Right,” Eddie felt his heartbeat kick up into a higher gear. “Thanks, Robin.”

She went back to reading a book with a small smirk on her face.

Eddie found Steve out back without much difficulty, trudging around in the dirt in a patch of purple flowers with vibrant green leaves. Today Steve was in cutoff denim shorts, crouched on the ground with his back to Eddie, and giving a perfect view of how the curve of Steve’s ass rested back on his heels. 

And yet somehow, that wasn’t the most interesting thing about the scene. 

What had Eddie most captivated was the way Steve was looking up into the branches of one of the trees bordering the garden and squawking. Eddie followed the line of Steve’s gaze upward, but he heard it before he saw it. A raven was perched on one of the lower hanging branches, apparently talking back at Steve.

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve said after making a series of croaking noises at the bird looming in the tree line above. “You don’t need me to help feed you, my guy.”

“Are you talking to a bird of death?” Eddie finally asked, and Steve startled. He turned around slowly, with a dirt-covered hand clutched to his chest. He didn’t bother to stand up right away, apparently relaxing when he saw it was only Eddie. 

God, he looks pretty on his knees, Eddie couldn’t help but notice.

“Is that a problem?” Steve asked with that same adorable, crooked smile Eddie had been daydreaming about since the day before. Then his eye’s landed on Eddie’s exposed abdomen and lingered there in the most exquisite of pauses. 

So it had all been real, then. What a fucking trip.

“No,” Eddie shrugged before deciding to let his mouth run away with him. “It’s really fuckin’ attractive, actually.”

The raven croaked again (in agreement, if Eddie had to guess), and Steve ducked his head as he laughed. Then he pushed himself up off the ground and made his way over towards another little potting bench and outdoor sink beside the door Eddie had just come out of. 

Eddie watched Steve wash the soil from his strong hands and swallowed thickly. “Don’t you like wearing gardening gloves?”

“More fun when you can get a little dirty, I think,” Steve smirked over his shoulder before grabbing a towel off the bench.

Eddie’s breath caught, and for a split second he thought he might’ve completely forgotten how to flirt. But somewhere along the way, his innate must-chat-up-the-pretty-person hindbrain kicked in and took over for him.

“Don’t have to be a gardener to agree with that, sweetheart,” Eddie replied, delighted at the way Steve’s shoulders hitched once the remark hit him.

Steve kept his expression smooth, but his perfect lips still quirked up into a self-satisfied little smile. Eddie wanted to skip the pretense and kiss it off his face.

“I’m glad you came back,” Steve said as turned to face Eddie fully again. Eddie matched his stance, stepping just a little bit closer as he did.

“Well, you promised to work miracles, if I recall,” Eddie teased. “Or you just really underestimated how bad I am at keeping plants alive.”

“Let’s go with miracle worker for now,” Steve said, confident yet hopeful in the way he appraised Eddie’s face. Once again, Eddie felt entirely tongue-tied, which was mildly frustrating for someone who usually considered himself a smooth-talker. “Should we find out?”

“Lead the way, big boy,” Eddie said as if he was at all interested in plants. 

Steve looked like he might have a retort for the nickname, but instead he bit it back and smiled. Then he inclined his head in a way that screamed maybe I am, and Eddie felt himself start to sweat a little. 

The feeling only heightened when Steve led them into the greenhouse, which was practically blistering inside. On instinct, Eddie reached for the hair tie on his wrist as Steve led them over to what looked like a whole section of cacti populating a raised bed along the far wall. Eddie pulled his hair up into a loose bun just to get it off his neck as he looked around. There were all kinds of plants in here, including a whole lot of vegetables, and something that with almost shiny leaves seemed to reach out and tickle him when he walked by.

It startled Eddie into looking back at Steve, whom he caught staring in just the nick of time. Eddie wanted to punch the air in triumph as he watched Steve shake himself and drag his eyes away from the curve of Eddie’s jaw. 

“You okay?” Steve asked, voice remarkably calm. Eddie was impressed.

“Yeah, it’s just warmer in here than I expected,” Eddie said, tamping down a smirk. Based on the way Steve wouldn’t quite meet his eye, he didn’t tamp it down all that well. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve scratched the back of his neck and nodded at a cactus. “The succulents like it hot.”

“The succulents and I have that in common,” Eddie winked, doing his damnedest not to make a dirty play on the word succulents. 

Steve’s lack of response other than a faint flush let Eddie’s hearing work in earnest for the first time. Before, his brain had been too busy chanting Steve, Steve, Steve! to really hear anything else from his surroundings, but now the sound of Hungry Like the Wolf finally filtered in through Eddie’s ears. Instinctively, he scrunched his nose. “Do the plants like Duran Duran, too?”

“Well, I like Duran Duran,” Steve corrected, “and I like to think they like what I do.”

“And just when I thought you were perfect,” Eddie sighed, both dreamy and with feigned disappointment. 

“Don’t you like 80’s music?” Steve asked with a playful roll of his eyes. Eddie was relieved he took the jab in stride instead of being insulted.

“I like good 80’s music,” he said, leaning forward to give Steve’s shoulder a nudge. The muscles he felt as a result were solid and delicious beneath his fingertips.

“Excuse me,” Steve laughed, then eyed Eddie’s shirt again. “I’m sure you only listen to very cool rock bands, then?”

“Cool is subjective, Stevie,” Eddie said with a lazy smile. “Some people think plants are cool.”

“That they do,” Steve hummed, and Eddie wanted to sink down into the cadence of his voice like a hot bath. He’d meant what he’d said the day before; he’d listen to Steve talk about just about anything. Even Duran Duran. Thankfully, Steve took the cue to start rambling on about his plants instead of music, though. He patiently explained how he thought Eddie could surely handle something called a snake plant because they were “almost indestructible,” and Eddie sort of drifted off into the lull of Steve’s expertise. 

Eddie wasn’t sure how long he stood there, staring like a buffoon at Steve’s lips as they moved, but at some point Steve apparently stopped talking. And Eddie had no idea how long ago. All he knew was that Steve had a cute little confused tilt to his head and he was—for some reason—staring at Eddie’s neck. Again.

“Sorry, what?” Eddie asked, trying to blink the love struck veneer from his eyes. He thought maybe he could use the heat in the greenhouse as an excuse for being completely out of his wits. Really he was just rapidly falling for someone he barely knew, and yet was desperate to know more about.

“Sap,” Steve said, and Eddie’s heart clenched. Was he being so obvious that Steve was calling him a sap already?

“I’d hardly say I’m a sap,” Eddie tried to sound casual about it. 

“No,” Steve chuckled. It was such a warm sound that Eddie thought he started sweating harder. “You’ve got sap on your neck. Looks like from the rubber tree.”

“Oh, I—” Eddie stuttered and started pawing at his neck to try and get it off. Steve just laughed again, and stepped a little closer. 

“Here, let me,” he offered. Before Eddie could exhale a sputtering breath, Steve’s tongue darted out to lick the pad of his thumb. Then he delicately dragged the same rough, damp skin against the side of Eddie’s neck and wiped the sap away. The cool wake of Steve’s spit left a trail of shivers racing down Eddie’s back, and yet he felt like he was on fire. Steve pretty deliberately traced the slope of Eddie’s lips with his eyes before meeting his gaze. “There.”

Eddie wasn’t sure how he’d managed to get himself in so deep in less than twenty-four hours, but there was no denying it now. Then something slotted into place in his mind, a little too late and a lot too dirty.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie scoffed. “Did you just say there’s something called a rubber tree?”

Steve snorted and Eddie knew he’d gotten the joke, at least. Robin poked her head into the greenhouse just as Steve poised himself to reply, though. 

“Hey, I’m outta here, dingus,” she said with a mock salute towards Steve. She spared a smile for Eddie that felt like she saw right through how smitten he was. Eddie wondered how much of that little display she’d been watching through the windows.

“Okay.” Steve didn’t really look at Robin as he spoke, Eddie noticed. Instead his eyes stayed stuck on Eddie. “Can you—”

“I’ll lock up on my way out, like I always do,” Robin finished for him. Her tone was annoyed, but her smile was fond as she ducked back out in a flash.

It took Eddie a moment to catch up to what Robin had actually just said, but he got there eventually. He realized the absolute dearth of other people that were around since he’d walked in. “Wait, you’re closing?”

“Always close earlier on weekends,” Steve said with a shrug.

“So why am I here?” Eddie asked, wondering if maybe he’d gotten his wires crossed or showed up later than Steve had wanted.

“Because you want to be, I hope,” Steve said simply, with more earnest want in his eyes than Eddie had ever had directed towards him before. Despite the fact that Eddie was nearly certain they were about to kiss, and despite all the flirting that led up to it, he still felt floored by it. “Thought it’d be easier to talk without customers around.”

“Aw, if you’d told me this was a date I would’ve dressed up, Stevie,” Eddie trilled, unable to help himself. Steve didn’t shy away though, rewarding Eddie with a roguish smile for saying exactly what he thought again.

“You look pretty good to me,” he murmured, inching ever-closer and brushing the faintest of touches against Eddie’s bare stomach.

Eddie was never happier to have decided to wear a crop top in his life.

He also wasn’t willing to wonder what kissing Steve was like any longer—he needed to know. He reached out and hooked his fingers through the belt loops of Steve’s little shorts and pulled him in until their hips were flush, then Eddie tilted his head just so. 

Steve dove in the rest of the way, his lips hot and searching against Eddie’s own in an instant. Eddie hummed into his mouth happily, and Steve moved to cup his face with those strong, capable hands of his. 

Eager to get handsy as well, Eddie squeezed the curve of Steve’s hip with one hand, then trailed the other right up the front of Steve’s solid chest and around the back of his neck. The faint sheen of sweat Eddie felt beneath his fingertips only served to rile him up further, and he pressed in impossibly closer, until he could feel the steady beat of Steve’s heart reverberating through his own chest. 

Steve shifted just enough to slot his thigh between Eddie’s, and Eddie hissed out a needy little noise that would have been embarrassing if Steve hadn’t swallowed it down with a greedy gasp of his own.

It wasn’t enough somehow, even though it was probably too much too soon by most people’s standards. But Eddie wanted to be entirely overwhelmed by Steve, caught in a tidal wave of taste and sound and smell and want. Eddie prodded at Steve’s bottom lip with his tongue, delighted with the soft, wet swell of it. Steve opened up for him shamelessly, swirling his tongue against Eddie’s in a delicious twist that left Eddie grinding down on Steve’s bare thigh.

“Shit,” Eddie panted, grateful to come up for some air when Steve moved to trailing kisses against his jaw. “Any chance that rubber tree could help us out?”

Steve laughed, his hot breath fanning out across Eddie’s neck like a dream. “Not that kind of rubber, sadly.”

Eddie thought it was sad, too, especially when he could feel the bulge in Steve’s shorts pressed against him, and even more so when Steve maneuvered Eddie until his ass rested against the edge of the raised planter with enough force to send soil toppling over onto the floor. 

Eddie slotted his fingers into Steve’s soft, perfect hair while Steve went back to sucking what promised to be a delectable hickey into the column of his throat. Eddie moaned aloud, not caring how desperate a sound it was, and rutted into Steve again.

“That mouth of yours is showing a whole lot of promise,” Eddie hummed. 

“Just my mouth?” Steve asked just as he rolled his hips against Eddie’s again. He didn’t move his lips from Eddie’s throat, and when Eddie moaned again, he felt Steve’s smile against his skin. 

Eddie tugged Steve back from his neck by the hair, his dick twitching when Steve let out a pleased whimper at the pressure Eddie used. 

“How about you let me take you out to dinner before I have to go home and change my pants?” Eddie asked, unabashed by how turned on he already was.

“I don’t know,” Steve smirked. “You needing fresh pants sounds pretty fun.”

“Stevie,” Eddie whined, completely disbelieving of how this was already going. At best he’d hoped for some more flirting and an exchange of phone numbers, and here he was ready to drag Steve back to his apartment just because that was where the condoms lived. 

Eddie was a little mad at himself for failing to be properly prepared in the first place, if he was being honest. He diverted the subject in an attempt to hold onto a little bit of sanity before he started giving out handjobs to someone he’d just met.

“You don’t even know what I do,” Eddie pointed out with a pout.

“You’re a tattoo artist at the shop a few blocks over,” Steve shrugged, then very deliberately ran his tongue along the tattoo that peeked up above Eddie’s collar and curled around his neck. Steve must have heard the surprise in Eddie’s groan, because he huffed out a little laugh. “Don’t pretend you weren’t also stalking my socials last night.”

It took a long pause for Eddie to remember that Steve already knew his last name, but to be fair he didn’t have much blood flow to his brain at the moment.

“Just the shop’s Instagram,” Eddie grumbled, annoyed that Steve undoubtedly had a whole lot more info on him than the other way around, now. “I couldn’t find yours, but I did try.”

Steve laughed at Eddie’s obvious frustration, low and dark, then went back to teasing his knuckles against the zipper of Eddie’s jeans. “Where did you wanna get dinner?”

“Somewhere we can curl up in a corner booth,” Eddie said, dropping his hand to dance his fingers along Steve’s collarbone. “Where you can sit there, half-hard and thinking about finishing this while I run my hand up your thigh.”

���Eddie,” Steve groaned, a delightful sound that Eddie wanted to hear every day going forward. “Now who’s being a tease?”

“Definitely me,” Eddie smirked as Steve finally pulled away, giving Eddie’s hip a little squeeze as he did.

“C’mon then, I know a place,” Steve said with a wry smile. “If you behave maybe you’ll even get to find out if you were right about the whole ‘big boy’ nickname.”

“Uh, I could already tell, sweetheart,” Eddie said around a laugh, adjusting himself in his jeans as he did. Steve bit his lip and watched, still putting that mouth to good use even when it wasn’t on Eddie. “God, you’re trouble, aren’t you Stevie?”

“You have no idea,” Steve said, eyes full of promise and mischief. Then he held out his hand in offering, and Eddie didn’t hesitate to take it. “Place we’re going has good food and fast service.”

The little wink Steve gave him was nearly enough to make his heart stutter to a stop.

“Excellent,” Eddie cooed, albeit weakly, before allowing Steve to lead him out into the dwindling summer sunlight of the back garden. As they rounded the side of the greenhouse towards the street, though, Eddie heard another familiar croak. He thought he might’ve been hallucinating, but it was a throaty syllable that distinctly sounded like the word sluts.

“Did your raven just slut shame us?” Eddie asked, whipping his head towards the sound, aghast.

“Robin may have taught him a few words…” Steve admitted with a sheepish grin. Then he squeezed Eddie’s hand and kissed his cheek, before leading them off down the street.

Eddie realized he didn’t much care for the commentary of birds—or the fact that he hadn’t actually bought any plants—when he was already having the time of his life.

taglist: @stobinesque @starryeyedjanai @patchworkgargoyle @steves-strapcollection @scoops-stevie @spicysix @soulsofstarsliveinyourveins @bifuriouswaterbender (Just everyone who's previously expressed interest! There will probably be more bits of this AU in the future, so just holler if you want to be added or taken off!)

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

my favorite mulder moments from s2

him having no faith in episode 1 after the x files are terminated, not even believing what he knows to be true regarding his sister’s disappearance

(and then being the moodiest motherfucker for the foreseeable future)

the fact that he got a fish in between s1 and s2. this brought me so much joy, you don’t even know

his monologue in episode 1, addressed to scully, who was not present: “before I could only trust myself, now I can only trust you, and they’ve taken you away from me… my life up until this point has been about seeing her again, but what would I do if they really come?” <- dear goddddddd. sometimes you get some lines that cut right to the heart of a character and this is one such example.

seeing his horrific workspace where he listened to audio recordings, a job he loathed- it was covered in sunflower seeds, pages with doodles, him stabbing an empty cup. truly a man with no fucks to give.

very very very fluffy hair in the early episodes

when episode 5 opens on him swimming in a big pool. there really was no narrative reason for that except we now know he swims recreationally and that is exactly the kind of thing i’m interested in knowing.

in episode 6, when he meets scully’s mom after her kidnapping, he listens to her say she dreamt of her being taken away, and hugs her

(and all throughout that episode, how he was told to go home because he was too close to the case, but instead got more and more involved. he even drove out to try and find her while falling asleep behind the wheel. dangerous behavior)

((and when he thinks scully is at the top of the mountain, he pulls his gun on the man who runs the ski lift to MAKE SURE he can get to the top as quick as possible. this one was WILD to me. pulling a gun on someone, just to get to her as fast as he can!!!!! he did not care about proper protocol! job be damned he was getting her HOME))

(and when they finally DO get duane barry, he sees scully's blood and hair on his wristband, and starts CHOKING him. you do NOT want to mess around with this man. he tells krychek that NO ONE is to interrogate the suspect but him. NO ONE. he is in what i affectionately refer to as bloodhound mode; there shall be no rest until an answer is sleuthed out)

trying to return scully’s necklace to her mother, who refuses to take it, so he can give it back to her

he has a lot of really emotional moments with scully’s mom, such as telling her she can’t give up hope even as they are picking up her gravestone in episode 8, which he cannot bear to look at

when scully is found, he bursts into the hospital, screaming at the doctor and saying he’ll do anything to figure out what they did to her, to the point where he had to be escorted from the room

(also love when he’s waiting to hear news on how she is doing, and he’s pacing his apartment, bouncing a ball, entirely unable to sit still, he’s so terrified)

after she is found, x tells him to walk away and never look back, and he immediately disregards this information to go chase down whoever knew anything about scully’s disappearance

when her family decides its time to remove her life support, he refuses to go in with them, looking the saddest and wettest a man has ever been

“you could spend the rest of your life finding every person that’s responsible, and it’s still not gonna bring her back”, says melissa. “including myself?” he asks. always taking the blame.

breaking into CIGARETTE MAN’S HOUSE. gun to his head. why her, he asks.

his confrontation scene with skinner, who refuses to accept his one-sentence resignation letter, and who tells him of his own demons. allowing for some skinner lore and deep connections to be made.

again in episode 8, he’s waiting in his apartment for the folks who took scully to arrive so he can kill them, but melissa puts him into his place- “why is it so much easier for you to run around trying to get even than just expressing to her how you feel? i expect more from you. dana expects more from you”

so he leaves his apartment and the one chance he’ll ever have to know who did this to her, and instead goes to sit by her bedside, holds her hand, and talks to her comatose body

(then, we he returns to his apartment, which has been ransacked by those involved with the crime, he falls to the ground, sobbing)

but how BIG he smiled when he heard that her eyes were open!!

in episode 9, when he finally has her back, how he helps her out of the helicopter when they fly to a distant volcano research base <3

also, in episode 10, when they’re being driven to a farm, and he lets her take shotgun so he can lounge about in the back

when he drops this banger line while sitting at a picnic table in episode 12: “i’ve often felt that dreams are the answers to questions we haven’t yet figured out how to ask” (and then does not elaborate)

at the aforementioned picnic table, the detective vaguely describes seeing some sort of symbol, and he immediately realizes it was the logo for the 1939 world’s fair, which is SO funny to me. because WHY does he know that!

when he lifts the caution tape over scully so she can bring her umbrella to the rainy crime scene in episode 13 <3

talking to a random guy in a town they’re visiting for an investigation: “you know andy” “no, I don’t” “well, andy knows you” <- another instance of him being famous in the nerd community

all the times he starts rambling about different belief systems, like the idea of obtaining a new soul in the ep 13, or the concept of wicca in episode 14

when they go to the refugee camp in episode 15, and a child tries to sell them a good luck charm, which he pays a nice $5 bill for

getting hit by a car in episode 16, and then making some dumbass quip about how he should have used the crosswalk

going back home when his "sister" is found, tucking his mom into bed with a kiss

then his dad confronting him, blaming him for losing his sister in episode 17,  leaving him crying as he tries to process the grief of getting her back just to feel guilty for her death

(don’t worry though- it wasn’t really her. but damn, he thought it was, and this scene was devastating)

finding his faith again with scully at his bedside after almost dying of alien poison

when he goes for a jog in florida (episode 20), arguably the hottest and most miserable of all continental US states, in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. and i cannot explain this behavior. he is deeply peculiar.

on the investigation of the sideshow performers, he flirts with the man fixing scully’s pipes to get him to leave. or as i call it: “weaponized bisexuality”

when he slides through a tiny trap door in a haunted house to come and find scully. great visual gag. i chuckled.

feeling sick at home, taking advil in his slutty little tanktop in episode 25. then proceeding to go wild because he was being drugged. don’t worry, he ends up okay. thanks only to scully.

[toaster-boi]

Episode 7 frame-by-frame, part 2!

link to part 1

link to part 3

!!! SPOILERS AHEAD (and also gore) !!! (but you probs knew that)

well that's horrifying. also goes really fucking hard. looks like i can finally ditch my default wallpaper.

wow, her first on-screen kill and it's a blurry smear frame. J stays losing (affectionate)

ah that's clever, the explosion both lights up and distracts you from the fleshvines growing on the buildings

also did i hear a goddamn wilhelm scream

who are these two, ripping a guy in half? the only time we've seen fully-formed Disassembly Drones that weren't the main trio were corpses in Dead End (Ep6).

sorry Cyn but ya boi is taken (this isn't a shipping joke please don't hurt me)

aww, family photos! that's actually really sweet...

confirmed nightcore enthusiast, Nori is the manic demon nightmare girl to counter all the manic pixie dream girls

the oil cans have been fucking energy drinks the whole time???????

it's kinda hard to pick up but Nori's voice has the slightest Southern twang to it, i love it

he's adorable

god they're SUCH FUCKING DORKS I LOVE THEM

another kickass wallpaper

B3

"OTHER THINGS IT CAN DO:

NOT JUDGE ME"

girl you got issues previously unknown to science

...who was Lizzy texting??? V??? don't give me hope Liam. please. please.

from paranoid pushover, to supportive father, to Apocalypse Dad. man's been having a whole arc in the shadows and we weren't paying attention bc he was too funny

dork siblings.

???????

rererererereCAPTCHA

if you understood half of what was going on you'd be nicer to them

oh. you're not doing too good.

Doll, i'm sorry, but you're fucked. no two ways about it.

fnaf at feddy,,,

ow.

"I THINK THE ENTITY OF PREVIOUS PAGES PURGED FILES FROM MY MEMORIES." -- checks out, Cyn has absolutely done that

"'PET' -- IT'S SENT SOMETHING(S) TO ELIMINATE THE OTHER HOSTS" -- ah, so that's the primary reason the DDs exist, to clear rogue Solver hosts before Cyn went planetside. that means my old theory on DD weapons being optimized for use against Solver hosts holds water.

"'PETS' OF SOME KIND..." "PUPPET HOSTS WITH NERFED -- ... -- THE ENTITY - ENSURES CONTROL" -- from context, i assume she means DDs have reduced free will/individuality, but N's squad was of course an exception.

also that's absolutely V in the drawing. bob haircut, clearly not wearing pants of any sort, it's her.

he's so cute

that's metal as hell. god damn.

oh you motherFUCKER-

@rusty-gloinks got a feeling you're a fan of this bit

MOTHERF-

(end of part 2)

[vitalvitriol]

thinking about plague knight autism and, in relation to that, his relationship with physical contact

i'm pretty damn sure he's touch-adverse, both considering how he puts up so many fronts and generally prefers to keep his distance with people, and this dialogue if you leap into the troupple pond at the start of the game:

i don't see why he would have a "strict no-touching rule" if he didn't care about it that much (not to mention the minion getting worried about infringing on such a thing when they're saving him from drowning) so i think it's safe to assume he's EXTREMELY touch adverse

so. step into my mind palace with me. plague knight absolutely despises physical contact. even the slightest of gestures gross him out, intended to be affectionate or not

EXCEPT for when it comes from mona. when it's mona, it's completely different for him. an entire realm of existence opened up to him. he's never felt physical contact like this before, he's never ENJOYED something like it before, but when it comes from the love of his life it's suddenly tolerable. maybe even something he can actively relish in.

it is REALLY awkward about it, though, and has no idea how to properly return the gestures, but it stumbles through it and tries its best, even if it's so bad at it. it'll learn with practice.

still, when mona hugs it or cups its face in her hands it can't help but practically melt under her touch. it starts out with her initiating physical contact with it (of course, making sure that it's okay with it in the first place, considering she knows it's never been the type with most people), but with enough time plague knight starts to actively seek it out. becomes the most cuddly motherfucker on the planet with her. peace and love on planet autism. do you understand my vision?

[knightsofsomethingorother]

What I like about the Knights: Bedwyr/Bedivere

I have had brainworms about this man since I first read the scene in good old Morte when I was 14 years old where he lied about throwing Excalibur into the lake. TWICE. And he only tosses it in after Arthur straight up threatens to kill him if he tries that shit again. Iconic. As such most of my love for him stems from Malory's interpretation specifically, which is funny because this motherfucker is only in the last few chapters.

To expand a bit on him lying at the end. We don't really know WHY he didn't chuck it. We know he thinks it'd cause problems, but no specifics. Did he want to use it himself? Did he think it'd help the kingdom to keep around? Was it ultimately sentimental? Selfish or selfless? Who knows!

In the older works he pops up in, he notably doesn't have any outstandingly special powers unless you count him being really good with thrusting weapons, which I don't because A) it can be read as him just being really quick and precise (which I personally find a more interesting interpretation, hard work and skill honed over a long time is way cooler than magic), and B) he gets power-creeped hard - and even then most writers either don't know or forget he's really good with swords and spears. My mans had his thunder stolen BAD.

In fact, he was the OG Prettiest Guy Who Isn't Arthur(tm), but then more Prettiest Guys Who Aren't Arthur(tm) kept getting added. So he's, unfortunately, usually shoved into the background unless someone else (usually Kay) drags a spotlight over to him.

Sidenote, I fully believe that Bedwyr and Kay are married. But really I'm just happy any time they appear together. A lot of the time the knights don't really feel like they're even friends in the 'normal human' way instead of the 'operating under 10 layers of chivalry and posturing' way, and at the very least Kay and Bedwyr actually enjoy being around each other.

Also, this motherfucker was there FROM THE BEGINNING (both in-universe and as like... a concept (he predates Jesus by a few hundred years)) and is usually the last guy left alive. But he's never a major player in anything except chucking the sword in a lake at the end. At most he's helping Kay with something or doing his job. A job he did presumably well because he held his position as Marshall for several decades and only lost it because everybody mcfucking bit it all at once.

If you want to look through a metanarrative lens, he's cursed to witness events and never influence them, but he gets one act of agency at the very end, which he gives up out of either fear or loyalty. And his reward is that he's left alone with a flippant order from his king to do whatever he wants. A lifetime of service rendered completely null and void by the complete loss of everything and everybody that he's ever known.. A lifetime of service to a system that was ultimately the root cause of the tragedy. And goddammit that's some spicy stuff to work with.

Anyway, my grand thesis statement is this: He exists in a sweet spot where he'd be an excellent POV and can be built on without in any way upsetting preestablished characterization. He's a relatively normal guy among complete and total freaks of nature (affectionate) who manages to outlive all of them. And the few things that are relatively set-in-stone about him (Close to Kay, only has one hand, there from the beginning, chucks sword into lake) are enough of a foundation to make him really interesting. To summarize:

[musicismymoirail]

Back to the Project With No Name (I keep calling it The Day Death Walks, but that’s the cult and I’m not fond of that enough yet to call it a title).

I went quickly from ‘vague town ideas is good enough, no heavy research required’ to downloading old maps from 1890~1910s and cross-referencing population data for the different towns because it fun. I am a nerd at heart, and references never hurt in the long run. The town, affectionately called Daisy Creek for the time being, is still mostly made-up but it’s starting to feel a bit more lived in which is nice! 🥰

I also started plotting out the super-cell storms from that fateful day, because nerd. Like yeah, it’s a story and is mostly made-up and has some supernatural bs in it too. But there’s also science! ✨ lol, I can just see Seneca holding his news articles and photographs like ‘would you want to know more about the Dog Days Outbreak~?’

He refuses to called it the Day Death Walked like the cult does, lol. It was a bit of a strange tornado, but only a bit, and there were a lot more than one.

Honestly, Seneca continues to be just lovely. He’s the sensible one in the group, and is just happy to have someone who listens to his know-how. He is also absolutely judgmental of the local priest, Fergus. Fergus is very try-hard who tries (key word) to do good, so I’m not shocked that Seneca is ruffled by him. Fergus isn’t quite fake, but he’s also not 100% honest either.

Fergus is also maybe plotting to do a murder against the Beloved (MC) and Seneca is like ‘please stop that. :’l I’m enjoying the new local and the fact they enjoy hearing me talk about the weather (and/or that traumatic day in their life they have no memories about, but mostly I’m keeping it to weather-based chats).’

Fergus’ motivations for the murder plot are …solid from his perspective and his general attitude, but everyone else is like ‘doubt’.

(…except maybe Glee, at least if they and the Beloved aren’t former friends. Then, they would be 100% in Fergus’ corner like ‘wait! Let the man speak. He may have a point.’

And Fergus speaks and Glee is like ‘motherfucker you wasted this golden opportunity’ because Fergus really has no ground to stand on with his murder plot.)

Also! Someone new joined the cast. To what degree, I have no idea. I was slapped with the idea of a happy upbeat idiot of a horse thief, and fell in love instantly. She’s very much golden lab vibes and brings a much needed visual enthusiasm to the cast. The town considers her mostly harmless to an absolute menace, but she can be very off-puttingly charming so she never really sees much consequences.

I was thinking of Shrike for a name, because idk. I could see her momma being like ‘the bird is cute and I admire how it impales its prey on sticks. So resourceful, great name for my daughter~’. Though I’d have a Seneca and a Shrike??? 🤔 They don’t sound that much alike, at least??? I am very fond of the name Shrike already.

I have been making the cast based on connections to plot and the like. So like, the Beloved has the cult. Seneca has tornadoes. Glee has the Beloved as a person, not as the Chosen One their mother props up to the Cult. Fergus has {redacted}. Shrike tho?? Mhm. It could be the town itself, though I was hoping the vague floating concept of the hotel owner/staff would fill that spot? Maybe I could have Shrike take her role a bit?? Shrike getting away with her horseplay shenanigans because she’s related the law??? Maybe?? 🤔

Or, maybe she's the one that caused Beloved's mother to come back to home with the Cult?? That, I do like. We’ll see. I do like her personality-wise a lot already, so I'm sure she’ll find her way into the plot like the others have. c:

EDIT: It should be fossils, oh my god!!! TToTT!!! Shrike finds some old miocene fossil in the outskirts of town, and is so so proud! 'Look at all these academics I brought to town with my giant lizard~ They're gonna name it after me, Shrikeasaurus Rex.'

She'd so disappoint to learn it isn't one of those cool dinosaurs people like to talk about. I'm 50/50 if she'd perk up learning it was an ancient horse-thing though. I guess Shrike is tied into {redacted} now, but from a different angle then Fergus. Nice. >:)!

[tesghosterone]

the difference between hawkeye&trapper and hawkeye&bj is so funny and also harrowing. hawkeye and trapper are like me (single) and my best friend (married but a chronic cheater) love each other and flirt with each other and refer to ourselves as a married couple and compare ourselves to fred astaire and ginger rogers (he's fred) and we are constantly making gay little jokes that drive our conservative tentmate absolutely batshit and everything we do we do together even having sex and he holds me up when i go crazy and is the only motherfucker who understands me but we don't share much emotional vulnerability unless he's leaving or im leaving and the fear of never seeing each other again is immininent. but if he's ever back this way i'll leave a light burning for him in a bedpan. full stop. he's gone. now me (still single) and my best friend (married and fiercely faithful to his wife except that one time we don't talk about) are very physically affectionate with each other and very emotionally open with each other to the point where it can be grating and exhausting and i am constantly leaning on him for support and he can't handle it but when he leans on me for support i do my best to take his weight. everything we do we do together and by the way ive been having much less sex lately. He makes me laugh so hard i cry and sometimes he just makes me cry. i never dance with him or pretend to be his wife and it's never explained why but you can read between the lines. when i flirt with him he flirts back but don't worry about that. sometimes we are at each other's throats but at the end of the day we cling to each other because what else is there to do in this fucking place. also he keeps stealing my socks and we shave in the same mirror at the same time and harmonise when we sing in the shower and i put the food i don't want on his plate and tease him about his mustache and his big feet like its the most tender thing in the world. but don't worry about it. ive never gotten on this well with anybody before (i don't think about my previous best friend. until my current best friend brings him up). i'll never be able to shake him. but don't worry about it .

[douglas-rain]

Top Five Douglas Rain Recommendations From Yours Truly

You want to see more of Douglas Rain, but you're not sure where to start? Well, do I have the thing for you! As the internet's most preeminent Douglas Rain expert (except for Gerry Flahive I guess, but he's kind of slow at answering emails and more focused on other stuff these days. If he wants to reclaim the title, he can meet me in the parking lot <3), I've made you a handy little list of some of my personal favourite performances by DR that I think you should see and/or hear!

And by 'little' I mean 'I got way too into this, so it's pretty long now'. I put it under a cut; you're welcome.

In the interest of fairness, I've chosen one performance from each of his fields of work (namely: ON STAGE, RADIO WORK, DOCUMENTARY NARRATION, TELEVISION and FILM). Please know, however, that I can give reviews of basically everything in the masterpost, so if you're interested in hearing about any of them, feel free to shoot me an ask!

Without further ado, let's get into it...

-

ON STAGE: Henry V (1966)

Okay, this one's teeeechnically a TV movie, but it's adapted from Stratford's staged production, so I'm counting it. It's also a rare treat in that we get to see DR in colour! (Everybody say THANK YOU to David Rain, his son, for bullying the Festival into restoring this production and adding it to their online catalogue. I owe him my life.)

This is one of Shakespeare's histories, part of the Henriad (aka the collection of plays about the accomplishments of various English kings). Henry V, the main guy in this one, is actually the crowned version of Prince Hal from both parts of Henry IV, a role that DR had played previously at Stratford, so this is a fun bit of character continuity for him! The play centres around the king's invasion of France, with a lot of ruminating on hope and despair and duty and bravery. Harry - as he is affectionately referred to on occasion - is really going through it, and DR portrays him with such emotional intensity. He's proud, he's fierce, he's clever, he's a BITCH and I like him SO MUCH.

The book has been edited down slightly to fit into a two hour runtime for television, but beyond a few... very funny jumpcuts, it's not really noticeable at all. And while the sets are kept mostly simple, the costumes are gorgeous. I went in not expecting much (a mistake I keep making when approaching Shakespeare plays, for some reason lol), and was thoroughly entertained the whole way through!

It also contains the transcendentally funny line, "Tennis balls, my liege!" because Shakespeare was the most hysterical motherfucker on planet Earth. It makes sense in context, I promise.

Can be found on Stratfest@Home, the online streaming service of the Stratford Festival (there's a 7-day free trial period if you sign up). You may also check my masterpost of performances for a possible alternative, but shhh.

-

RADIO WORK: Fifth Business (1980)

I love this one; it's literally so fucking funny. This radio play is a dramatisation of the 1970 novel of the same name by Robertson Davies. Fifth Business recounts the life story of Dunstable "Dunstan" Ramsay, from his boyhood in an idyllic (on the surface only) Canadian village to his experiences in the First World War, his career as a teacher and all the loves and complications he runs into, and the formative experiences peppering his life where he's never quite the main character. He is instead 'fifth business' - neither hero nor villain, but still integral to resolving the play's plot. Ramsay is clever, sarcastic and a goddamn weirdo who's obsessed with saints for non-religious reasons. He dodged a snowball as a kid and the consequences of that haunt him throughout the entire book.

The radio drama features a whole cast of actors, including of course DR as the protagonist (who also narrates everything btw), doing an absolutely delightful job. Fellow Stratford actress Martha Henry, who also happened to be his wife at the time, is in it too!

The entire drama is delightful, honestly. I liveblogged my experience listening to it for the first time, and man there is some wild shit happening in this novel. The entire thing is about three and a half hours, but it really doesn't feel that long.

Can be found (in eight parts) on YouTube or on Archive.org. (Or in a junkbox on a sidewalk in Toronto. I'm still baffled by that.)

-

DOCUMENTARY NARRATION: Universe (1960)

A classic. Documentaries make up a sizeable chunk of the masterpost (thanks to the NFB website and archive channels on YouTube), so there were more options in this category than in any of the others. But I decided to go with this particular gem of a documentary.

It's about - who would have guessed - the universe, featuring the most advanced scientific knowledge of planets and stars at the time. The special effects are also quite impressive - if you move around Space Odyssey circles, you may have heard that the visuals of this documentary were a major inspiration for 2001. Also, DR's narration in Universe is what brought him to Stanley Kubrick's attention. You can probably guess how that ended. (Gerry Flahive has some articles about the whole thing if you don't.)

Anyway, Universe is a beautiful and meditative look at our galaxy and the many things it contains, and DR's narration is absolutely lovely. It clocks in at just under half an hour, so not that big of a time commitment either.

Can be found on YouTube or on the NFB website.

-

TELEVISION: William Lyon Mackenzie: A Friend To His Country (1961)

It's so hard to find old Canadian TV shows anywhere online and I'm forever bitter about it. Our options here are incredibly limited as a result, so you're just going to have to accept that I'm recommending you a historical short film from 1961, alright? This is as difficult for me as it is for you.

Unsurprisingly, this movie is about William Lyon Mackenzie, who was... *checks Wikipedia* "a Scottish Canadian-American journalist and politician." Yes, DR is doing a Scottish accent in this role. Yes, I adore it. I know very little about Canadian history, so I can't exactly speak to the film's accuracy, but I found it charming and DR is doing a very good job. Most of the half hour runtime is spent on Mackenzie's various political struggles (some sort of failed revolution, I gather, followed by exile in the United States and some jailtime) and him trying to protect his family. His wife is played by Canadian actress Kate Reid in this movie, which I personally find very funny for... reasons. IYKYK.

Can be found on YouTube or on the NFB website.

-

FILM: OEDIPUS REX (1957)

I'm sort of cheating again, but the only other options in this category that I have access to are the two Space Odyssey movies, and they seemed like too basic of a choice. So have some more drama instead! This is also a filmed version of one of Stratford's plays, but released in theatres this time.

Oedipus Rex is a breezy 87 minutes and adapts the English translation by Yeats of the classic Greek tragedy by Sophocles, with a little added prologue to set the scene. It was directed by Tyrone Guthrie, who you might remember as the Big Man from The Stratford Adventure. Or from the fact that he was a pretty famous theatre guy. If you need a refresher on your Greek myths: Oedipus was the guy who was prophesised to kill his father and marry his mother. He got done dirty by Freud somewhere down the line.

DR plays the role of the Messenger, a minor part who recounts some of the most famous plot points of the tragedy of Oedipus, which they couldn't show onscreen/onstage. Granted, he's only in this one for like five minutes, but he really rocks up to crash the party wearing the coolest outfit in the entire show. And yes, everyone in this production is wearing Greek theatre masks, so you can't see his face. You get to hear his voice though - and watch his captivating body language!

Can be found on YouTube. Or you can probably buy it on DVD if you really want to; idk, I'm not the boss of you. (I've also clipped his scene if you really, really don't want to watch the whole play. I get it's a big ask. Really beautiful production though, seriously!)

[winderlylandchime]

Also my brother read your answers to his questions so I’m sending you his response and at this point I am putting in an application to be a stenographer since he uses me as one.

-You’re like a Tattoo and the clothes sharing fics are also my favorites. Well this new one might actually be my favorite and then these two as well. But that’s because older Brian? Sick. Nonbinary Gus? Fucking awesome. Older Justin? Love it.

-I fucking loved the first chapter too! Tell her that it was so cool to see Brian as a dad to an older Gus. All affectionate and cute and shit. But i also liked it cause you get the vibe from it that you can tell that Gus helped make Brian even better than he was. It makes sense in my head but i fucked with that big time. Wait hold up. So she basically sent a voice memo like me to someone about their awesome idea? I do that too! But that’s actually really fucking cool. Every time someone talks about when they got their cool idea’s it’s either shower, driving or while sleeping.

-Tell her thank you for the new song suggestions. I fucking love these two songs. (He immediately added them on his playlist) that second song really is a Brian song! Maybe I’ll have to make some exceptions for my Bri Bri playlist because this one should be on it.

-he also saw that the fics he was readin were written by the same person/your friend and he looked at me and went ‘same fucking person?! Tell them they fucking rock! That last fic they just finished had me giggling like a fucking dumbass! I was laying on the bed, kicking my feet like an idiot when I saw a new update came through’

And he was checking your blog and saw your WIP asks and he absolutely lost his shit. I didn’t even know about this so he for once showed me something. And yes, he felt superior. So this next part is about that:

-A DRAG QUEEN FIC?! JUSTIN AS A DRAG QUEEN?! Ooohhh shit, (our uncles name) would fucking love that! (For context: our uncle is a retired drag queen who met his hubby and then his hubby would help make him dresses.) I need her to write that whenever the fuck she can.

-wait fuck, i vibe with the teacher student idea. But like maybe a tutor Brian who used to teach at the college that Justin is at now instead or something like that. I mean Brian was obsessed with Justin having a good education and studying. HE EVEN HELPED HIM STUDY! I support this idea 1000% and about 900% of the reason is because Brian pushing for Justin’s education was hot. I believe in her to figure it out and make it good if she does it.

-if she does a prom fic from Brian’s point of view, i might have to call off work like I did for Iron Man. That shit would fucking hurt like a motherfucker.

So that was all he had to say. Because after that he just walked away while saying to himself ‘prom episode from Brian’s point of view..fuck man, I might not be strong enough for that’

Hey brother anon! You know you can make your own tumblr account (they’re free!) and contact me yourself. Your poor sister isn’t your secretary. <3

- I’m glad you like the older versions! Brian will always be beautiful but he won’t always be young.

- It wasn’t a voice memo, it was voice to text into my docs which was… wild. First off. Why is the default spelling Bryan? And secondly all the um and ahs get picked up. Finally, the spelling of Kinnetik was a mess. I should have used a voice memo. That would have been easier.

- The second song was on a mix my now partner made for me when we were in our “do you like me like I like you” era. Literally every song on that mix was that obvious. They were also in their “I aim to be like Brian Kinney” era too. Because they had loved before and gotten their heart broken. So the song makes me think of both Brian and when they were all “no apologies, no regrets, monogamy is for breeders, never going to get married.”

- I’m glad you liked the WIP ideas! The drag queen idea came to me while I was listening to Randy’s podcast and learned he’s a drag race fan. As a drag race fan myself I couldn’t sleep on that knowledge. But this was when I was writing Tattoo. And then Fireflies seemed like an easier fic to write. Because Justin is going to go on all stars in the fic and you know I need to get those details right. All the challenges, the queens who will be there. It’s kind of going to be a crossover fic so that feels like a monumental undertaking. But I think I want to do it!

- the student teacher fic idea did come from conversations in fandom here on tumblr about yes the importance Brian places on education including and especially Justin’s. Education (imo) is where Brian and Michael’s paths really diverged and you can see how Brian going to college (maybe grad school too) changed his life from growing up working class to being the guy who has money and nice things and importantly freedom. We can dive into Jack asking Brian for handouts another time.

- so it’s not the prom from Brian’s pov, but 220. The last episode of season 2… when Justin chooses Ethan. You still might need to take the day off.

- don’t give me ideas like prom from Brian’s pov. That awakens something in me. Also an excuse to rewatch prom.

Brother anon, I have two assignments for you:

1. Start an ao3 account. I have an invite if you need one. There are so many fics out there for every fandom. Including ofc qaf.

2. Start a tumblr account. You’re going home and you can’t rely on your sister to keep us updated. There are some pretty gifs here for you to reblog and scream your opinions in the tags. I think people even like iron man here too.

[hiemaldesirae]

I could understand if Vox left for someone like Hannibal (cause there ain't no way He's seeing them pearly gates) but Al, you fumbled so hard Vox went for a FUCKING BUG. A BUG. And not even a pretty one like a butterfly but a MOTH.

Also, hilarious to imagine but: Stag!Hannibal befriending Vox so he gets a Cannibal TV show on Vox's streaming service and Alastor gets absolutely PISSED. How DARE Vox replace him, not once BUT TWICE! Once with Valentino as Vox's Boyfriend and now with this new Cannibal deer demon?!? WTF!! IS nothing sacred?

correct me if im wrong but according to the people (you guys. asylum patients, all of you /affectionate) hannibal is OBSESSED obsessed with his little murder boyfriend. so not Only is alastor getting replaced for a bug hes also getting pissy over someone whos already taken befriending vox 😭😭😭😭 by god this man is a motherfucking LOSER

congrats to alastor for being the pathetic ace rep i need to see in media. hes just like me fr. except id personally beg to be taken back because im hot and sexy like that

[the-geek-librarian]

12, 15 and 25 for Vanica, Dante and Zenon :D

HELLL YEAHHHHH THE BITCHES LETS GOOO. HI CY :DDD

12. What's a Headcanon you have for this character?

Dante: He can't cook for SHIT. like as much as I love him (which is more then I will ever openly admit) bro can't make a sandwich or boil and egg so Vanica runs him out the kitchen with a wooden spoon. Also he can't drink. Homie is a lightweight and he hates that so much

Zenon: He really likes dancing! Though no one (except Allen) knows about it. Not even Vani and Dante. Plus he has a REALLY big sweet tooth, if their is a box of sweets in his field of vision he will leave nothing for the rest the siblings (this annoys Dante beyond belief )

Vanica: She is (somehow) a really great cook! She kicked Lucius out of cooking duty a month after she learned the basics. Dante has made the "Haha, your a woman and you cook" joke only once in his whole life because Vanica put rat poison in his food and uhhh it wasn't a nice experience. And she can sing too! Most of the time she acts like she can't just to annoy ppl

15. What's your favorite ship with this character? ( Doesn't matter if it's canon or not)

Dante: OHHHHHH BOYYYY UHHH. Sweet rat man, I love you (regrettably) but your ass is so fucking bitchless. The closest thing he has to a relationship is the fact that he is fuckbuddys with Lucifero, I won't count Yami x Dante as a ship bc it's literally just rat man being a weird ass mother fucker and getting his ass beat which is funny as shit. However I will say he is pansexual and he will get into a relationship with literally anything and anyone.

Zenon: There is only one correct answer. Allen x Zenon for LIFE. Because come on BC fandom that man is not attached to Wemon in any way, only thing he feels for them is fear bc of Vanica and his Mom. But moving on they are soulmate-coded and I will die on that, Golden retriever bf and Black cat bf

Vanica: Listen, all of Vanica ships are fucking soulmate coded ok??? (I'm dilulu shut UP) and I love them with my heart (except Vanica x Acier, not soulmate-coded but annoying cat x Tired mother of 4). I have three I would die for bc I am insane. 1) Vanica x Megicula and Vanica x Lolopechka really they give off SUCH old married couple energy I wanna DIE. 2) Vanica x Lolo x Gajah, it's the "We can fix her" mentality AND THEY SECSIDED THE MOTHER FUCKERS. They are very funny and funky but not everyone's cup of tea but it's ok.

25. What was your first impression of this character? How about now?

Dante: My first impression was "OHHHH, he looks cool! (I also like the beard shot me) wonder what he can do" and now it's "Cring ass motherfucker pls stop being weird for the love of god (affectionately, I'm afraid), can you not have beef with an 18 year old?". Can you tell that I like him but wanna throw him of a clif?

Zenon: First impression "Emo boy, with a sad backstory incoming" I didn't care about bonehead at the start, I thought he had BANING magic but beyond that meh. And now "UHHH BABY BOY LIL WET CAT MAN BONE ASS IDIOT. can someone get this mans husband pls?" now I put him in my pocket and take him as far for house Zogratis as I can

Vanica: First impression "WEEEEEEE WEMON, IF HOT WHY EVIL???" I was uhh it was love at first sight honestly, same with Lolopechka so now I call them BOTH baby girls. Now "Oh baby- I would feel bad for what I put you through BUT I DONT SUFFER, then I wack her with the angst stick in almost all my Aus" really can you get more baby girl then Vanica? ( yes you can but SHUT up) she is both insane and has her mental health hanging on a thread, she really needs some tits to lean on and a tea to drink.

Thank you for the asks Cr!!

Asks for this are always open for any fandom I'm in!!

[ddelline]

f(ictitious work) i(n) p(rogress) friday

blurb | 9k into this impromptu, who knows what-post!canon!nobamaki (still don't know what the ship name is, no)... thing. who knows what it's gonna be? where it's gonna end? what the point is? certainly not me!

premise | what it says above, but also featuring: canonically dead!gojō, but somehow still featuring gojō!shenanigans, more spec parental!freshmen teacher!gojō!shenanigans (who's particular about clothes in the way insanely rich ppl are) bc what else

Gojō-sensei’s funeral is held on 2nd January at noon.

Tradition dictates that students and faculty alike dress in full uniform for funerals. In theory, it’s something Nobara considers to be acceptable. She never knows what to wear for life-and-death kind of occasions, with the exception of being out in the field, for which she wears her uniform. It’s decently tailored and in the right colours, and the A-line cut of her skirt, neither too short nor long, makes it pleasantly multi-purpose. It also makes her feel kind of powerful.

In other words: she’d happily consent to wearing an ensemble of: her school uniform, black tights, and any kind of dress loafers, to literally any funeral—school-affiliated or no; it’s sold, a done deal made easily.

Except in the case of Gojō-sensei’s. 

Nobara thinks she knew him as most people had: as a man most people knew next to nothing about. It doesn’t make her feel sad or anything, that she never got to know him better. He’d been a loud constant, annoying to a fault and in your face about it. He’d also he’d been her teacher, and she supposes affectionate, per his own, offbeat brand. She’s sad, but not sad that they didn’t get more time, or that they were never closer. 

She was very nearly royally pissed off. Pissed off at needing to intervene (on the behalf of a dead person) and dictate that the sartorial conditions of her dumbass teacher’s funeral not be beholden to stuffy, boring tradition. Her dumbass teacher, of whom she, plus every single person who’d ever met him, knew that there was nothing he despised more than keeping to convention and standard; that he likely never enjoyed anything as much as flipping a giant, fat fuck you to tradition—and jujutsu tradition in particular. 

They’d had little in common (for which she’d always been relieved—the concept of being ‘friends’ with Gojō-sensei was an icky thought) but for one thing: they’d been (weirdly) kindred spirits in fashion. If she were to do anything to honour what he’d been, both to the world and to her, she supposes it’s right that it was this.

It’s a scant hour before she’s due to be in the principal temple for the ceremony, and she’s paging through hangers looking for the jacket she’ll be wearing. She flips hangers off-handedly: grey herringbone blazer; floral-embroidered boatneck sweater; strappy, iridescent dress; black fitted blazer—

She stays a hand on the following hanger. It’s a jacket, untouched and unthought of since months—since a lifetime, if she counts lives lived (and died); experiences garnered since. She tugs it out and drops it on her bed. Smooths a palm over the expanse of it; wide polo neck and boxy fit, glossy, purplish-black fabric. 

Nobara doesn’t believe in higher powers, and she’s very sceptically inclined towards the existence of benevolent ghosts, spirits and/or divine intervention. Given her line of work she’s forced to concede to empirical evidence; people can live on after death—she’s got the scars to show for it, after all—but she’s also of the mind that curses are one thing—a guardian angel, holy spirit, or whatever else people believe is perched on their shoulder hindering them from walking into traffic—is something different.

But staring down at Gojō-sensei’s outrageously expensive, made-to-order uniform jacket—which can be found in her closet because she’d stolen it a few months ago in the name of fashion and redistribution of wealth—she can’t help but think that the motherfucker is lurking someplace closeby, a pale vestige caught between dimensions, watching and waiting for the moment in which he can pop into Nobara’s room and shatter a vase, or rearrange her closet, for shits and giggles. 

Whatever it is—the ghost of Gojō Satoru or creepy coincidence—works to make her pause and reminisce, hands splayed over the jacket as she imagines Gojō-sensei taking her down Omotesandō prior to a mission, early fall last year.

Despite getting off at Omote-Sando, which is logically situated on the street of the same name, Nobara’d been surprised to emerge at the foot of Omotesandō Boulevard, long and wide and bustling, lanes serrated by zelkova trees and sidewalks lined left and right with the world’s most well-respected fashion houses. She put a hand on her hip and turned to Gojō-sensei and raised an inquisitive eyebrow.

Gojō-sensei tipped his chin in vague indication down the road in lieu of replying. Nobara counted to ten before following.

They neither spoke nor interacted until a ways down the road when Nobara (not one for looking a gift horse in the mouth, anyway) fitted herself snug against the glass of the Marni window, gaze drawn by and caught by the ornamental, deconstructed display of Francesco Rissi’s print-laden pre-collection. 

Gojō-sensei suddenly addressing her wasn’t enough to make her startle, but it was a near thing. “So you like this, huh?”

Nobara trained a suspicious glare at him over her shoulder. Gojō-sensei making any sort of conversation which didn’t a) require a Gojō Saturu-specific Rosetta stone to interpret, or b) made her want to light him on fire, ranked among the top tier of unusual occurrences. “Of course I do. I’m not some uninformed loser with no taste.”

Gojō-sensei smiled serenely. “Don’t talk ill of your classmates when they’re not here to defend themselves.”

Whatever she was expecting, it wasn’t that. She barked with surprised laughter—shocked in equal measure at Gojō-sensei, whacky and over the top and ridiculous on any given day, but never funny, attempting to be clever… and kind of succeeding.

Gojō-sensei looked pleased with himself.

They made their way down the boulevard at a slow pace. Nobara stopped at a display once every couple of stores, peering at and sometimes through the elaborate display curations: noted new pre-collection additions in some, scoffed at unimaginative accessories’ displays in others. Gojō-sensei stayed mostly quiet and on his best behaviour, only chiming in occasionally with a tidbit commentary (shockingly on the money), or an anecdote (weirdly compelling) until Nobara felt her head hurting with with conflicting emotions (respectively: ‘agreeing with Gojō-sensei’ and ‘not hating spending time with Gojō-sensei’).

Outside the regal, five-storied flagship steps of Valentino they approached the facade in tandem. Nobara peered at Gojō-sensei curiously: the lazy concave of his spine and his squared shoulders; the spotlights in the display bouncing off the glossy fabric of his blindfold. “You shop here a lot?” she asked wryly, because she didn’t know what else to say.

“Not off the rack,” he audaciously replied. When she sputtered, at a loss for a proper comeback that wasn’t a litany of insults, he grinned widely around teeth. It made her want to slap the audacity out of him—a comfortable, familiar feeling at least—talking about shopping for Maison Valentino Couture like he was describing the weather, or in this context, like he was talking about shopping for discounted high-street. 

It also made her want to steal his wallet and lift his no doubt very black, very metal, very invite only-credit card and go to town on every store this side of Shibuya.

“The menswear isn’t exactly revolutionary,” Gojō-sensei continued, unperturbed. 

She agreed. It made her seethe. 

Because Nobara couldn’t walk beside someone who claimed to be a haute couture client and not ask about it, she puffed a breath and changed topics, inquiring gruffly about the made-to-order process (“I can’t believe they cater to people like you.” An exaggerated pout: “That’s hurtful. Money is money, isn’t it?”).

Gojō-sensei indicated her skirt. “I have them make my uniforms,” he said. “Clothes I spend ninety percent of my waking time in can’t be uncomfortable, and school tailoring’s been lacking for the past few years.” 

Nobara blinked. She didn’t know what to do with that information. Didn’t know what to do with that her unhinged, idiot teacher: looks like a textbook himbo, manner of speaking like he’d just disembarked a spaceship after eons and encountered human civilisation for the first time, powerful like seven biblically accurate calamities mashed together—apparently unblinkingly spent money, in the give-or-take ballpark of north of fifteen million yen, on non-distinct, entirely unremarkable-ass workwear.

For a lack of better things to say or do which didn’t involve a) verbalising a long, drawn out noise like a tea kettle whistling, or b) shameless propositioning (not really, but for Valentino couture it’d be a near thing), she stomped a foot in the ground, spat a scathing comment about wealth disparities, and stormed off down the road.

(A month and a half later, two days after she’d socked Gojō-sensei in the mouth with a heavy fist for stealing her skirt and wearing it just to goof off in front of the sophomores and Itadori and Fushiguro (it had connected; Nobara refused to inspect the connotations of that), she limped off track following a gruelling cardio session, and noted a discarded uniform jacket folded next to hers. It wasn’t dirty enough to be Itadori’s; not worn soft with age and patched enough to be Fushiguro’s.

She picked it up; felt its weight and heft and high end thread count, the fall and silhouette a starch contrast to her own uniform jacket. She unzipped the high neck and smoothed a thumb over the label to be sure. Valentino Couture stared back at her in signature, blocky serif lettering. 

Nobara grinned viciously. She brought the jacket back to her room and stuffed it in her closet, feeling neither qualm nor regret. 

Gojō-sensei never asked for it back.)

Thinking back on it, it’s likely one of few available anecdotes about Gojō-sensei which manages to accurately quantify and encapsulate so much of what her teacher had been: impulsive, entitled and flamboyant; difficult to understand by choice rather than design and way too keen on leaning into it; self-important and spoiled with privilege (and once again, way too keen on leaning into it).

Nobara pinches the delicate, insignia-branded zipper of the jacket he’d never asked back between her thumb and forefinger. She pulls it slowly down, folding the exterior to expose the lining. The innards are a study in luxe materials and subtle craftsmanship: large swathes of black silk lining stitched with invisible seams; tucked near the bottom seam are dual flap pockets with hidden zippers, the dimensions of which would enable her to carry at least twice her current max amount of nails in the field. Saving the best for the worst , she thinks meanly. 

Satisfied with the extent of her hands on-analysis, she carefully zips it back up and shrugs it over the hanger. She tucks it back in her closet, opting to hang it at the very front, alongside a handful of precious fabric-items not to be chafed at by coarse denim or itchy wool.