#*for the express purpose of this dumb little comic*

[snackugaki]

this goes out to all my art homies who struggle with riseLeo’s shape language

[angel-of-the-moons]

Doppelgänger

Miguel x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Angst, self-image issues, mentions of childhood trauma, addiction, our mans has had it rough as fuck™

A/N: Brought on by this post from @tarjapearce and the comments i made (I'm sorry i am a ho for some angst sometimes) I'm merging ATSV stuff with comic stuffs because NO WAY IS HIS MOVIE DESIGN LIKE THAT ON PURPOSE WITHOUT IT POSSIBLY COMING UP IN FUTURE MOVIES ASDFGHJKL

Taglist: @tojishugetiddies

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You came home and it was quiet. Quiet and dark; and already you knew something was up. You left Miguel sleeping so you could attend to some meetings and paperwork at your office, and pick up a few groceries.

Miguel had been acting strange the past few days. You'd asked him if it had something to do with work and he simply shrugged the question aside, like it was a small chip on one of his broad shoulders.

You'd asked him what was bothering him again, and he simply stared at the carpet, muttering something you didn't quite catch, and he went straight to bed.

You were so worried you'd even texted Gabriel on your walk home:

Hey, Gabe...

Heyyyy! If it ain't my favorite brother's girlfriend!

You couldn't help but roll your eyes with a soft snort. You only have one brother, Gabe.

No no, chica, I meant that you're my favorite of any girlfriends he's ever had. 😂

Gabe that sounds a little... Bad. 😬

Does it? Woops! Anyways, what's up? My big dumb, brick-house brother do something to make you mad?

No, Gabe... He's acting weird. Has been for the past few days, and he won't open up to me. I'm worried.

You could see the chat bubble pop up over and over again with '...' signifying that he was in the process of texting. With how many times it popped up and went away you were expecting a bible scripture's length of a text wall.

But what you got instead made your heart sink.

He saw our mom. She... She brought up Tyler.

Oh, god. You knew that Miguel and Conchata had a rocky relationship. Miguel had told you why. It was so bad, even just recalling everything, that you felt Miguel's pain like it was your own.

You also knew that Miguel's biological father, Tyler Stone, was the one that manipulated him, that used him, got him addicted to Rapture and almost killed him...

But it wasn't even the real dose of Rapture. It was simulated. Just another manipulation tactic. It was overhearing that conversation that Miguel found out the truth of his heritage, and you could tell that nugget of knowledge permanently chipped his sense of identity.

Even moreso when he confessed to you about Gabriela--

Your phone pinged.

They fought. It was... It was ugly. I... I didn't know about Tyler. God, chica, I didn't know. Dad was...

You felt your heart flop, knowing poor Gabriel was shielded by Miguel for so long so he didn't have to suffer like he did at the hands of their gaslighting and manipulative mother, his sadistic sperm donor... Miguel wanted nothing more than to protect Gabriel from that pain.

Your fingers flew fast on the little keyboard, a few spelling errors here and there;

God, Gabri im sory you had to fidn out that way

I know. It figures Miguel would have told you, before me, tho. He loves you.

He loves you too, Gabri. God, more than you know. He loves you.

I know. He was trying to keep me safe and out of Mom's drama.

No offense, Gabri, but if I ever see that woman I'm rearranging her face with a shovel.

OMG. I mean... After the things she said to Miggy, I... Kind of want her to at least feel consequences of her actions, y'know?

Oh, she will. Don't worry. Thanks for telling me this, Gabri.

Go cuddle my big brother and tell him I love him, k? Let me know how he's doing.

OMW home now, I'll text you when he's feeling better.

KK, see ya.

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Yeah. You knew for sure Miguel was still heartbroken when you came home after that.

You put the groceries away, a somber expression on your face as a million thoughts went through your head.

God, of course Conchata had to come see Gabriel at the same time Miguel was there. You wouldn't be surprised if either she could have tabs kept on him, just to... to try and lord her power over him somehow, like he was still that scared little boy, holding onto his baby brother, being his shield and buffer from their parents' fights.

That bitch had to have had a hand in Tyler using him the way that he did, that she had to have known about--

Your mind was knocked away from those dark thoughts when you heard glass shatter.

You dropped the bag of apples onto the ground, the fruits tumbling out and rolling across the floor as you made a mad dash to your bedroom.

Noting Miguel wasn't in there, you turned to the adjoining bathroom door, seeing faint light come down from below, small wafts of steam rolling out.

"Miguel?" You frantically called out, knocking on the door and leaning your ear against the smooth metal.

You could hear shuffling and the tinkling of glass shards, as well as the shower running; but no verbal reply.

You knocked on the door again, hurried and a little too hard, your fingers hovering over the control panel.

Before you could push a button, the door slid open.

Miguel was in nothing but a pair of boxers, leaning over your bathroom sink, his hands gripping the marble countertops, threatening to crack the material. Beads of water rolled down his muscular, tanned skin; droplets of water dripped from the ends of his thick, wavy chocolate locks, the natural curls more apparent thanks to the water.

That's when you noticed it. Your bathroom mirror, shattered into a hundred pieces, scattering the counter, floor, and in the sink.

Bright, scarlet droplets were on the floor, steadily building into small puddle from his right hand, his knuckles split, shards of the reflective material sticking out of it.

"I'll pay for it." His voice croaked out, unable to lift his eyes to meet your horrified gaze. "I just--"

"Oh, god! Miggy!" You breathed, reaching out, taking a step towards him, only to wince and hiss when the pieces of broken mirror stabbed the soft, delicate soles of your feet.

You gritted your teeth as the glass crunched, but you grabbed Miguel.

Instantly it was like a switch flipped inside of him, Miguel's head snapped up and he looked down at you, seeing the bloody footprints you now left on your tile.

He looked terrified at what he was seeing. How you just ignored the shards in your body in favor of frantically digging around one of the cabinets for your first aid kit.

"Bebita... I..." Miguel choked out.

When you found it, you killed the shower and stepped into the glass once again, pulling him into your room, and onto your bed, your feet leaving bloody prints as you walked, like macabre rose petals being left in your wake. Miguel had a large enough stride that he was careful to avoid getting any in his feet, but the smell of your blood permeated the air, it made him sick to his stomach. Not with disgust.

With guilt.

Of course, you checked him over first, plucking out the shards of glass from his knuckles and cleaning the cuts out with wound wash, ignoring the blood welling up onto the tile floor of your bedroom from.

You carefully roll his hand as you try to wrap the gauze around his knuckles. "Miggy, can you hold your--"

"I'm sorry." He interrupts.

You looked up at him, and only then do you see his face. Framed in his wet curls, his face was shadowed and haunted, his eyes dark and as tumultuous in a maelstrom of anxiety and fear.

You bring your hand to his cheek, caressing one of his sharp cheekbones with your thumb. "Baby, it's okay. It's just a mirror, I can--"

He shook his head, as if your touch to his face burned him like a hot iron.

He leaned over, grabbing your legs and pulling your feet into his lap so he can assess the damage, and return the favor of cleaning and dressing them.

"You're hurt because of me." He whispered sadly, dabbing the blood away.

"I'm hurt because of the glass, honey." You tell him gently, letting him apply the "honey" to the cuts in your feet, sealing them.

His massive hands encapsulated your ankles, his thumbs rubbing small circles as the rough pads caressed your skin. Like you were made of the delicate gossamer of a butterfly's wing.

He sits like that, not meeting your eyes. And god, did that hurt you so badly. You knew how important eye contact was with Miguel, he almost always went out of his way to keep eye contact when he was conversing with someone. Having him avoid your eyes... hurt.

Because you knew he was hurting.

"Miggy." You breathed. "Talk to me."

You move your feet from his lap and scoot closer to him, moving your face until he locked eyes with you again, and you could see the pain and the tears fill his own as he looked at you; his full, pouty lips trembling in an effort to hold his emotions at bay.

His shoulders dropped low, and Miguel leans forward until he was practically bent in half, clinging to you, burying his face in your chest as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

You rubbed his shoulder with one hand, biting your lip as he softly cried into your blouse, your other hand combing through his messy wet hair.

You stayed like that, for what felt like hours. You weren't sure how long it was exactly, with the blackout curtains drawn and the lights off. The only light that dimly illuminated the room was from your bathroom, and the open door.

He finally calmed enough to speak, to explain why he shattered the mirror.

"...I look like him." Miguel said, his heart in his voice, his soul stripped down and naked with raw pain.

"Mig--"

"God, I look like him. That... that cabrón." He hissed, tugging your shirt in his fists.

"I look like that bastard that... that made me into this." The self-contempt in his voice broke your heart.

You kiss the top of his head, murmuring against him. "No, you don't, baby."

"Yes, I do!" He snapped, pulling himself away from you and throwing himself to his feet. He paced like an angry tiger in a cage, waiting to swat at whatever keeper dared enter his enclosure. He didn't notice that he was stepping into the sticky, dried blood trails you left.

"I have his--his face. His fucking face--" He said, gripping his hair in his hands, tugging as he started to hyperventilate. "My fucking nose, my fucking cheeks, my fucking lips--they're all him! I'm not allowed to be me, every time I look in the mirror I see him! I can't ever get away from him! He's a part of me, he always will be! I fucking look like him!"

You get to your feet, ignoring the throbbing in your soles as you dared to reach out, to touch the pacing tiger.

Your hands smooth up his back, gently, softly; then back down until they wrapped around his mid-section.

You feel him, how tense he is, how his muscles flex at your touch almost like he's bracing himself for some kind of blow that simply will never come from you.

You rest your cheek against his back, feeling how hot his skin was burning.

"Baby. You don't look like him. You aren't him, and you never will be." You whisper.

You plant kisses wherever you could reach, not letting him go, feeling his body shake with each shuddering breath as your soft lips made contact.

"More importantly, Tyler will never be you."

"I--"

You cut him off. "Listen to me... Did Tyler figure out multi-dimensional travel, build a strike force of super-powered people from across the multiverse? Does Tyler, almost every day, work to keep dozens--no, hundreds--of universes safe from monsters?"

He didn't answer.

"And did Tyler Stone protect your baby brother from your mother all these years?"

No answer.

"You are Miguel-goddamn-O'Hara." You tell him. "I love you, with trauma, quirks and all. I love your little scritch-scratches you make, the way your bottom lip pokes out when you pout, your crooked teeth when you smile. I love your ridiculously large body, I love how you hug me. I love the little snores you make when you fall asleep at your desk, how you crinkle your nose when you're about to sneeze.."

You feel his hands slowly rise to touch your arms where they're almost-locked around his larger frame.

"I love how sweet and gentle you are. I love hearing you curse to yourself when you shock yourself with your soldering gun... I love listening to you bicker with Lyla, or complain about one of the other Spiders bugging you." You place more kisses after each sentence; hoping each one plants a seed of love beneath his skin, to bloom into a garden that he can admire and love, not hate for the very skin he was born with out of illegitimacy and infidelity.

"Tyler Stone is not you. He never will be. He will never be as good as you." You sigh against his skin, feeling the goosebumps form in the cold of your room, now that the adrenaline of his anxiety was beginning to fade, and his body became aware of the water that was slowly drying and cooling his skin.

"I love you, Miguel O'Hara. You and no-one else. Don't ever think for a second that you don't have your own identity because of your genes."

He slowly turns in your grasp, looking down at you with raw, unclothed emotion as his hand touches your cheek.

"You're more than that. You're you, and I wouldn't have you any other way." You say, your tone set and jaw tight; every word you spoke carrying a hefty weight of seriousness and honesty.

He smiles, almost sadly as you feel the rough pads of his thumb against your cheek, the little talon there poking you but not breaking the skin.

"...I..." He said, his voice stiff as he swallows the lump in his throat.

"I really will pay for your mirror, you know."

You grin up at him and turn your face so you can kiss the palm of his hand.

"I know you will, Miggy."

"But I am curious... I felt like you were going to keep going with the affirmations." He said, raising an eyebrow slowly.

"Well, the last one..."

"The last one?" Miguel tilted his head down at you quizzically.

You grin at him again, your teeth showing and eyes creasing as you barely manage to reach around him, swatting his ass playfully.

"I also love the fact you have the nicest ass I've ever seen on a man."

He couldn't contain the snort that came out of him, and he reached up to cover his whole face with his other hand.

"Mierda..."

You giggle as you step around him, giving a playful swat to his ass once again as you walk by.

"C'mon, Miguel O'Hara. You got a broken mirror to clean up."

His shoulders lifted as he watched you, his eyes softer than you've ever seen as he smiled.

Yeah. You were right.

He was Miguel O'Hara.

And he was certainly going to pay you back for the smacks to his ass.

[gintrinsic-writing]

A Fuckless Year

It’s just a kiss, Legend tells himself. Just a kiss. One stupid, little kiss. This is, like, the least frightening thing I’ve ever faced. 

Oh hells, who is he kidding? This is terrifying. 

Ravio leans in ever so slightly. “Pardon? You, uh...” 

“What?” Legend blurts uncomfortably.

“You said good night, and then you…” Ravio clears his throat lightly. “You paused and looked at me. With your eyes.”

Legend almost laughs. Instead, he makes a sound like a dying frog, then waves both hands in denial. “How else am I supposed to look at you, idiot?” he asks, knowing exactly what Ravio meant. 

“Shrill,” Ravio accuses. Legend hopes the chain can’t hear them from the guest bedrooms. “You only ever sound shrill when you’re guilty!”

“I was—” Legend clears his throat and purposely makes his voice deeper. “I was not shrill. I’ve never been shrill in my life.”

Ravio pinches the bridge of his nose. The tips of his ears are endearingly pink. “Link…”

It’s just a kiss! You’re the goddess-damned Hero of Courage! Act like it! 

But instead Legend stands there like a loser, palms unreasonably sweaty, heart racing like it hasn’t since the last time fought that pig Ganon. He inhales slowly and counts to three, prepared to, well, do something, maybe, but Ravio suddenly holds out a hand. 

“Hey,” Ravio murmurs, expression soft and achingly affectionate, “let’s go to bed.”

Legend’s jaw drops before he can help it, and his entire face burns. “B-bed?” He yanks off his hat and runs a hand through his hair. He can’t seem to decide where to stare. “You—But I—We haven’t even—We should at least kiss first!”

Ravio’s face goes through at least four stages of grief, by Legend’s rapid approximation. Ravio slaps his palms together as if about to pray, then presses his fingertips to his lips. His eyes are comically wide. “Link, my hero, my best customer, my regular headache—what?”

“You were the one who said let’s go to bed!” 

Legend slaps a hand over his mouth as soon as he finishes shouting. They both wince in tandem, eyeing the stairs, but there’s no noise from the others. Legend just knows there’ll be embarrassing hell to pay come morning, though. He drops his voice to a whisper: “You said bed. Did you—Oh fuck, you didn’t mean…?”

“No!” Ravio whispers back. “I mean, not that I’m opposed, but.”

Legend’s throat is so fucking dry. “You’re not opposed,” he repeats dumbly. 

“Of course not! But just then, I meant sleep. Which people do in bed. You have a bed. Your own bed.” Ravio’s ears droop as his own dumb words catch up to him. “It was simply an invitation to retire for the night, separately!”

“But,” and Legend can’t seem to move past this point, Din burn him, “but you’re not opposed?”

“Ohhh my Goddess!” Ravio hisses. “What are you, some closeted creep? If you must know, then yes, I’m interested. I have been for a fucking year! Or should I say, a fuckless year, thanks to you and your stupid—your stupid—” He grips the air as if strangling some invisible menace. “You’re inept!”

Legend doesn’t think his self-esteem can get any lower at this point. “It’s not like you’ve been giving clues,” he begins weakly, but clearly that’s the wrong thing to say.

“Haven’t been giving clues? Haven’t been giving clues!” Ravio half-shouts. “The discounts? The lingering smiles? The robe slipping off my bare shoulder?”

Legend remembers that. He’s remembered it many, many times. “...Oh.”

Ravio throws his hands up in despair. “Oh, he says! Oh!”

The silence that follows is painfully, painfully awkward. At least on Legend’s part. “So…”

Ravio’s jaw works in silence for a moment. “Yes?”

Legend thinks dying must surely be less painful than this. “A kiss?”

Ravio holds up a finger threateningly. Legend wishes it wasn’t such a turn-on. “I swear to every Goddess in existence, after all you’ve put me through, if this isn’t the best kiss I’ve ever had, I’ll sell your hide for a single rupee.” 

“Wow,” Legend breathes. “You really know how to make a guy feel confident.”

“And I don’t need your stupid—”

Legend pulls Ravio in by his robe and slots their mouths together, kissing like each taste is a breath, like each spark is a measure of adoring warmth on an otherwise chilly night. He chases Ravio’s mouth and is chased in turn, until suddenly he realizes he's pressed against a wall and gasping from lightheadedness. 

“Rav,” he begins, having no idea what he actually wants to say. 

“Maybe…” Ravio takes a moment to simply breathe. “Maybe more than one rupee. Maybe fifty.”

“Fifty?” Legend repeats incredulously, then laughs. He hopes the others don't wake, but he doesn't really care if they do. “That’s it?”

Ravio licks his lips and presses closer. “Maybe a hundred, I’m not sure.”

“Sucked the math right out of you, huh?” Legend jokes, only belatedly realizing what an opening he has given the greedy salesman. 

Ravio’s grin is downright devilish. “Now there’s an idea.”

Legend prays. 

—

Part 2 (sort of nsfw)

[punkeropercyjackson]

Todomomo is literally the closest you can get to a autistic4autistic t4t ship without it being canon or intentional.Shouto's dad is an abusive hypermasculine prick who's implied to be misogynistic(teaching Touya his views on women as a kid,that they're 'useless' based off their genders)and Shouto wants to grow up to be the man he never could and refused to be and dosen't care about gender at all,much less conforming to it's roles and gets called a pretty boy a lot and is way closer to his mom and sister than he is to either of his brothers,Momo is the daughter of a rich couple who adultified her to the max in order to make her the ultimate 'proper prim lady' with little regard to her emotions and mental well-being and only care about her when she lives up to their impossible expectations and she had to get that 'I have to be perfect or else i'm WORTHLESS and NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR ANYTHING' mentality from somewhere and it's not like she wasn't isolated from her peers by not being allowed to be a normal kid in any way(her mom didn't even let her go festivals and she had to sneak off on her first one with a fear of her finding out in the back of her head the whole time!That is NOT normal behavior for your child to exhibit,Doña Yaoyorozu!!!)and she presents femininily in a way that's viewed as artificial by assholes but it's just genuinely who she's made herself to be!Shouto explicitly inhereted his mother's build and hates that he keeps looking like his dad as he gets older and Momo's said to look older than her girl classmates even disregard her body type and towers over most teen guys!!!

Shouto has a neutral expression that looks purely deadpan and just a bit angry/annoyed and he's awful at socializing and he's insanely good at flirting with Momo but IT'S NEVER ON PURPOSE and Momo has a resting smiling face as her default look and she gets scandalized at regular teen behavior and she's an expert at navigating social situations with practiced politeness and they both take things literally and don't understand the dumb kind of norms and have a special fondness for a particular food because it gives them comfort(cold soba + tea types)BUT ALSO!!!!They have matching additional food motifs(bubble tea specifically + strawberry based things)and cordinated outfits with their own aesthetics(their sweaters,,,,,,that got turned into a running thing in the games and i believe official art too)and are canon cat people(*insert that 'All cats have autism' pic here*)and Momo is a bookworm while Shouto is a comics nerd and Momo got into alt music thanks to Jirou and has a love for desserts and Shouto writes platonic love letters to Rei and perfers the spicier/savoury kinds of japanese food AND THEN THEIR ACTUAL RELATHIONSHIP

Shouto voted for Momo because he thinks she's the best they're is but didn't verbally communicate it to her because it never occured to him he'd need to and Momo admires Shouto just as much and said it outloud to his face from the start and Aizawa being the only that helps them clear up the mix up?????His old autistic man ass that's married to audhd icon Mic?So Shouto goes into detail to Momo's face too about how cool he thinks she is and that's when they officially becomes friends and he never shuts up about her to anyone from then on,this nigga's new special interest is his best girl friend he's got a crush on,and he did notice she was sad when no one else did in an earlier part but had no clue what to do or say to cheer her up so they spend time together now that they're really buds and they both know just what to say to eachother by the War Arc and Momo finds Shouto being a fucking doofus with geeky ass tendencies and moments she could make a youtube compilation out of it if she was lil meaner to be so attractive she says he's perfect for Prince Charming as a role in a play Class 1-A did in one of the novel's.Izuku broke Shouto out of his ice,Jirou and Mina broke Momo out of her doll shell and now neither of them need to mask but what brought them together was being next to eachother at their worsts and at their bests and only thinking the latter no matter what or who said otherwise.Including themselves

[blackstarchanx3new]

How do you draw up your comics so quickly? I've been wanting to get into making comics myself, but it seems so daunting lol

Was hoping to get some tips on how you draw them so well and so quickly /pos /nf

Omf that's a tough one. My honest first response is "All I do is draw all day" so please don't hold yourself to my standards I don't have anything better to be doing.

Basically it's a mix of stuff:

My art style is simple/character designs are simple. Backgrounds are simple, overall.

STUFF BE SIMPLE.

"Gets the point across" tends to be the idea.

Anatomy isn't perfect, gradients are used a lot, shading isn't always present, I try to limit my color pallets to be pretty small.

I have a bunch saved onto the side bar in Clip Studio. And I have presets like the borders of the panels as a pre-set so I don't gotta make a new one over and over again.

Short cuts are NOICE.

Art wise:

I start with a thumbnail. Just getting the idea/facial expressions of the character down.

Sketching is 2nd step but I have no examples because I delete those pretty quickly.

More similar to this so line art is WAY easier.

I change the sketch's opacity to like 20 ish and a light blue to see it better.

Then I do line art and add a neutral color under it to make coloring easy. I change this to black after ward to fill any gaps.

Add color and ba-bam

I use "Color burn" "linear burn" and Multiply in the layer settings for shading. Just depends on the circumstance.

I guess smth else I do is go by "Chapter" or scenes.

Smth that's helpful for some is writing a script and then drawing your stuff based on that.

Often what I end up doing is writing a script but using it as a guide rather than a beat by beat thing.

Referencing manga for inspiration is smth I do a lot.

Smth I'd recommend doing is making a one shot or a comic you purposely make to be short.

Longer comics are daunting but the best way to deal with that is to complete parts of em. XD It's like going through a video game. Beating each mini boss gets you closer to the final. Like instead of one big project, see it as a bunch of smaller ones.

Smth I do to let off steam from bigger projects is making stupid shit like this:

Like there's no point to it other than to be dumb and funny.

Keeping the story entertaining or fun even while doing a part you don't want too.

Sometimes you will just have to chug through a portion you dislike but is necessary. But staying strong really helps.

Pop on a freakin' YT video and zone the hell out is what I do.

Your art doesn't have to be perfect every single time, my comics at least, are free so anyone who complains is a little bitch.

Just do what makes you happy.

Huge thing to consider: Your art doesn't have to be held to any specific standard.

You don't even have to COLOR that shit if you don't want too lmao. There's no rules. You can color a sketch and post it. It literally doesn't matter.

A specific standard of what every webcomic should be held to is a lie. It doesn't exist. Go feral.

Draw backgrounds. Even if you suck at em. It helps give the world dimension hah.

That's what I've been trying to do.

Use your comics as a way to experiment.

Ghost Soulmate I wanted to try out this weird painter style for the shading/lighting.

In FSR it was trying out a more anime style

Falling Cards is weird character designs + A FAR too ambitious story hah.

Bunny and Kitty was to see if I could do a shorter form story.

Biggest advice would be: Just try smth. You got no obligation to finish smth either. Just try it and see how it goes.

I'd recommend having an idea where your story is going before you start, but just starting ANYWHERE helps.

I tend to doodle my characters before I jump into their comic. Doodle them doing fun stuff before I go into the meat and potatoes of what I want them to do. I often have an ending in mind too before I start. You can fill in the gaps later.

Anyways that's all I got Idk if this was useful or helpful. X'D

[cowprintsillies]

Fic Update

Update for Ranboo’s Terrible No Good Guide to Freedom: The Long Way Round - Chapter 1 - CowPrintLilies, TheStanleyParableEnjoyer - Generation Loss (Web Series) [Archive of Our Own]

Haha I’m ignoring that i haven’t updated in three months ITS OK BECAUSE IM WRITING NOW AND I WONT BE LONG!! It’s getting done!! Soon to be posted!! Here’s an excerpt from the chapter in progress!!

---

The walk there is uneventful in a physical sense. Security, thank his lucky stars, hadn’t reared its ugly head yet as it so often did. Charlie wasn’t dumb enough to think it never would- he’d become intimately acquainted with its claws way too many times to think like that- but it wasn’t here yet. 

Emotionally, the walk there may as well have crushed him with a comically large piano and laughed in his face about it. Because something happened and they aren’t talking about it. Ranboo is the most courageous kid Charlie has ever met and probably ever will. Desperation only gets you so far and if that was all that was keeping Ranboo going they would’ve given up loops ago. Ranboo is one brave fucking kid. They had, for all intents and purposes, had to (whether those people came back or not) kill a lot of people to survive. And they had still gotten back up, gotten back to escaping. 

The kid trailing behind Charlie now looked like a few choice words would break them in half. It made something in Charlie’s chest crawl. Something not just happened, something changed. And he is going to fucking kill whoever did it if it’s the last thing he does.

Ranboo trips slightly as the flooring transitions from tile to carpeting.

Charlie doesn’t mention it.

The walk continues like this for the better part of 10 minutes. The odd Employee roamed idly about the floors, and Charlie would lead the way and Ranboo would follow meekly behind- save for whenever they steered Charlie from making a wrong turn. Sue him, he’s new to the whole “keeping his memories thing” and yes he may be a little bit overwhelmed with the whole thing because first of all it makes no logical sense for time to loop around them but then again Showfall Media makes no sense and he’s trying his best to be there for the kid because he gets a horrible familial burning in his collarbone whenever he thinks of what they went through and are still going through-

Ranboo tugs on the back of his shirt before Charlie walks into the side of a cabinet.

-and his internal monologue has become nonsensical rambling. Awesome, real helpful Charlie.

Ranboo is looking at him with the air of a kicked puppy. Or- no, more like the air of someone who just watched someone else shoot a puppy then put it in a meat grinder. Either way Charlie doesn’t like the expression on Ranboo's face. Their eyes don’t belong on someone so young. The poor kid looks like he’s been through the wars. It’s plain trauma. Charlie internally curses Hetch’s name into the dirt, as has slowly become a tradition whenever he thinks particularly hard about the situation. 

Charlie takes a moment to mentally slap himself back into the present moment, however shitty the present moment has proven to be, and takes stock of the surroundings. No immediate or imminent danger, save for himself almost giving himself a new bruise with that cabinet. Charlie then mentally slaps himself again because how had he managed to get so lost in his thoughts to not pay attention to where he was going? He knows first hand that this place is dangerous and he just daydreamed instead of looking out for Ranboo? Some good he’s doing.

First note of order is that they successfully reached the Puzzler’s Wardrobe Set which means that he can finally try and lighten the mood. 

Ranboo had been standing by Charlie, idly looking over the various assortments of clothes, wigs and miscellaneous items in an attempt to completely ignore the whole situation that had lead them here to begin with and had, like he said in his previous inner monologue: settled a growing rock of worry right in Charlie's chest. Whenever they notice Charlie looking at them they physically straighten up to try and look more put together than they clearly were. 

It’s weird. A lot of this situation is weird. Honestly weird is an understatement. Charlie should say something to break the strange silence coating the two of them, and he’s not sure why he can’t. A million words and questions come to mind such as are you ok what happened what did you see how can I make it better, all swirling and twisting together in one mass of fear, worry, anger and care. Everything knots together in his heart and by the time it’s reached his mouth no longer makes any sort of sense. He wants to say a lot of things. 

What's wrong?

Who hurt you?

What happened?

How can I help?

Please let me help you.

It will be ok.

But what came out of his mouth instead is-

“Want to dress up?”

[dreemurr-skelememer]

not really an ask but more so just a weird over the top expression post? it’s disgustingly personal but i’ve been thinking about telling you because?????? engngjghbggbb

so i’ve been kinda existing and looking at your work for quite some time. ever since the hikari yo flipnote back on sudo in i think it was 2017? and ever since i was hooked on your artwork and your animations. learning about hotarubitale and how someone was just making these things and having fun was so inspiring to me.

unfortunately i was kind of out of the undertale fandom at that time and i sort of just had you as an artist i liked to look at every now and again… and then you started getting back into errink and with that i discovered rsp and treehouse and i slowly started to look at your works again. rsp actually helped me process something in my life that i realized was a really shit situation… and i got out of it. treehouse has slowly been becoming a cute comfort to me as well. the cutlery animatic helped me process things in my life. i really loved how you explored niji’s grief in it and it was such a unique take on ink and RAAH!!

now i’m back at your blog, rereading rsp, rereading hotarubitale, looking at your art or your fun reblogs every now and it. just made me rediscover a lot of the joy i had in the undertale and by extension underverse lore again. all the things that you do to talk about your favorite little sanses and of course gin has made me really happy again? your art has inspired me and has taught me “it’s okay to draw the shit you like because someone’s gonna love it.”

when you reblogged your old comic about niji seeing hotarubitale again it sparked me to revisit my old aus i made when i was 12.., and now i’m recreating it, having fun, and im being a little goober imagining ink being all happy to see those dumb names getting a brand new fresh banger coat of paint

i sound borderline incoherent and i’m so sorry that im word vomiting to you at 2 am but i just really wanted to thank you for all these Feelings and for just doing what you do

oghhhhg...my god...... that hikari yo animation is so old, it's not even finished....... it always turns me into mush whenever anyone remembers me for my flipnotes and sudo, it holds a special place in my heart so it really means so much to me that you discovered me even that far back..... (this is the flipnote, if anyone wants it, lol)

im so happy to hear that you processed things thanks to rsp, it did the same for me :'( im glad you got out of it!!!!!! and niji's grief!!!! im so happy to hear that!!!!!!!!

this is so.....im so tender, im so flattered by all of this im really glad i can make u rediscover some joy in ur life. im genuinely so honored and flattered, i dont know what to say

and yes!!!!! it's true!!!!! also literally canon!!!!!!!!!! ink DOES see you having fun with your little works and AUs and hes having the best time seeing you creating and making and doing such good things with your work! thats his purpose!!!! thats who he is!!!!!!!!!

yorue welcome...youre so very welcmoe........im so honored to have helped change a part of you into something nice and positvie..........im so so soso honored and proud to have helped somebody. i want 2 cry. youre so welcome. literally anytime. im so happy to have done even this little thing for you

[and-so-he-rambled]

(A little Kaz centric Elite Force drabble I kinda finished but not really. Don’t think I’ve posted it yet.)

“Do you ever wonder why no one objected to a sixteen year old dropping out and moving away?” Kaz only talked about his feelings out of the blue.

“No, wasn’t Oliver’s mom arrested?”

“Yeah, his family is gone.” Katz shrugged. “But my family doesn’t care much. My older brothers are in jail, so’s my dad, and my younger brother is back in juvie. My older sisters don’t talk to me, and the youngest is already causing trouble. My mom is just happy I’m not in jail too. Oliver and I are alone, Mighty Med was all we had.”

“They were my family. And someone killed them. Oliver is all I have left.” Kaz’s eyes had a red tinge to them as he stared ahead, jaw set. “I like being here, but I will not lose my family again.”

Kaz was strange. Chase didn’t know how the super stuff worked, but he had a feeling that Kaz had never been a normal person.

“You won’t.”

“Good, and just so you know…” He turned to face him. “I’m the only one that gets to insult him.” For someone shorter and younger, there was a hardness in his eyes that made a shiver crawl up Chase’s spine.

“Is it weird that I think you’d be a good villian?” Chase took a step back and Kaz smiled, immediately reverting back to his goofy self.

“Funny, that’s what my probation officer used to say.”

.

Kazimeras was weird.

He reminded Chase of Adam, dumb and clueless, but there was something else. Kaz held the weight of the world on his shoulders.

The boy that had saved him last year was different. He stared off into the distance now, clenching his fists as he tried to rein himself. He tossed and turned all night, often only sleeping once he blearily snuck into Oliver’s bed.

They shared a trauma, but Kaz, for some reason, had been shattered by the loss of Mighty Med.

Chase thought about it all a lot, replaying recordings of Kaz talking as he tried to make it all make sense.

He always talked about comics and how it was all he read. About how being a doctor gave him a purpose.

And that purpose was now gone.

He found Kaz in the kitchen in the early morning, when the moon was still out.

He was hunched over the counter, surrounded by crumpled comic books that had worn edges.

“Kaz?”

The younger boy jolted, the temperature kicking up a few degrees as his shoulders went stiff.

“Go back to bed Chase.” His voice was thick with emotion, gone was the carefree light one that practically echoed his lazy smirk.

“What? No! What are you doing?” He looked closer to see he was holding pictures.

Kaz was silent before he took a shaky breath.

“Know what? Fine, sit.” He motioned at the seat next to him. “If you’re awake I’m forcing you to sit and listen.”

There were pictures of people and strange outfits smiling at Kaz while he made a face at the camera. Pictures of him and Oliver standing with blank expressions wearing scrubs and other things.

“So let me tell you about Benny.”

The stories he told never made sense, but he had this soft look on his face when he told them that made it okay. He talked about the nurses and recurring patients he knew well. It was weird how smart he could sound, able to recall every single comic book he had ever read down to the footnotes.

“I saw them. We went back, and I saw them. They looked funny.” His voice cracked a bit, even as he smiled, tracing the face of a lizard person. “All of them did. And we couldn’t fix them. It’s funny, we’re doctors, and we couldn’t fix them.

After a few more minutes Kaz calmly packed his comics away with more care than he had ever shown anything else. Chase had a feeling that the backpack he zipped up never left the building.

He followed him to bed and pretended not the notice Kaz slipping into Oliver’s bed again.

-

Kaz learned to love flying.

He had never liked heights, but ot was an escape from the chaos. Mighty Med was far from normal, but that chaos was work, and after he went home to a house full of tension and eggshells. Some days he very presence was irritable, other days he didn’t exist at all. Still, it was home, and it had always been that way.

But now Mighty Med was gone, and the people who saved people were beyond saving.

He had a new family now, all he had ever wanted, but they paid too much attention. Don’t touch that, don’t do that, where were you. Questions he wasn’t used to.

Up in the sky he was free from it all, unable to be reached by anyone but Oliver. Even high in the clouds he never got cold, laughing as moisture sizzled against his skin. This was his escape.

[maeamian]

I tend to be less amused by the genre of post where we laugh at the angry reviews of conservatives who don't like that there are queer people in art than many of you, that whole "I don't get it how could this be queer" and "How come they're shoving this down our throat now when the comics..." style comment about Sandman being the specific animus for this post.

Where, like, obviously someone who sincerely wrote those things would have drastically missed the point of the show, but there's a key word in that phrase 'sincerely', a I don't think they're actually operating in a way that adverb applies. I think this scenario is a bit more like that Sartre quote, that they're just fucking around with words because serious people believe in words and they believe in power, fundamentally this isn't different from that news clip the other day where people got mad at Cracker Barrel for introducing their non-meat sausage, no one actually cares about the sausage qua the sausage the sausage is a stand in for how a large movement in our culture is tending towards greater inclusivity and the people who don't like inclusivity don't like *that* and that's what the yelling is about

I think something that people miss when they pick out the absolute point-missingest ones to highlight how dumb our foes are is that said foes don't care they're being dumb on purpose and also, we, the audience, aren't the actual intended target, they don't care if we laugh. The actual point, I think, and the place of critical stress, is on the publishers and creators, firstly they need a one star review that won't get scrubbed for calling someone a slur and will pass the extremely generous faith of the moderation algorithms over at Amazon/Twitter/Whatever and possibly even a casual human perusal, "I hate gay people they put gay people in this" is gonna get that review removed but "I was confused by the presence of gay people" sounds like it's in good faith if you refuse to apply any context to anything, which those algorithms and their overworked moderators do.

The other thing that I think we miss is the scale, we're just looking at like... the four dumbest reviews and going 'oho' but when you're the creator, if you're looking at your reviews you go 'Jeeze there's hundreds and/or thousands of people hating this for this specific reason' and depending on why you were putting that art into the world that can hit you in a lot of ways but plenty of them extremely discouraging. I'm drawing on my experience here as a part of a mildly successful YouTube channel and knowing a few other people with them as well, but that sort of backlash can absolutely make an artist go "I would like to not touch this live wire again" which is far more the point than expressing any sincere confusion about anything. Anyhow this is probably too many words about something that doesn't really matter, I definitely am not *so* annoyed that I think you shouldn't, but it does feel a little bit like by highlighting this sort of review you're helping (not substantially or anything) with their actual goal of making it more annoying to make diverse art.

[lordoftablecloths]

vent post i guess i dont know i just wanted to write stuff down instead of just go ing to bed and crying over it you can just scroll past it

im fine im sane im noramal im so unbleiveably cringe ,, the only person i have irl- fuck, or even online for that matter- to show the dumbass things i write is my silly little dumbass younger brother who doesn;t understand what im trying to get at and i guess its not his fault, i seriously doubt he's spent unhealthy amounts of time making various short scenerios in his head about charcters he came up with and eventually trying to give them a story and write little things about them in google docs because where else am i supposed to put this and its just ,, he doesnt know wht im trying to do and i dont know how to explain it to him because the "history" i gess behind it is so fucking complicated by now that these characters arent even the same characters as they were when i originally created them, other than some physical attributes and their names and he just knows them as the random cringe shit i made up in middle school but so many years have passed by now that these stupid fuckers whose only purpose to serve is to make me stop remembering that i exist and ive gotten too attatched to them because who else was i supposed to get attatched to when i was going through an identity crisis at the time- and, quite frankly, still fucking am- and it was so much easier to pretend i dont exist and just project my flaws and insecurities and underlying subconcsious thoughts into these charactes that no one knows about except me and oh god im just created a long ass vent post on tumblr that no one's going to read and no one understands the story behind fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck whatever ill go ahead and post this unfinished thing because no one's going to get it either way ill probably delete it later if it doesnt get buried under reblogs

dont think too much about this i just got sad because my brother was giving me a bunch of criticism on an outline of a story i was working on- which is fair, i need to take criticism- but he only knows the characters in it as their semi-formed cringe versions so i chickened out half way and now i feel bad because i was really proud of this thing for the whopping span of like one day before i decided to show it to another human person instead of letting it rot away inside of me like i usually do and now i feel bad about my writing skills

im trying so hard to just take his words with a grain of salt because this kid does not have nearly as much experience with writing as i do, but i feel like im copying too many of my inspirations (DnD, generic fantasy story about defeating evil creature, silly tropes, etc,,) which sucks because that was just like the first two pages of the outline and theres nine fucking pages and like the second half of it was what i put the most effort into and i felt like the ideas were really origianl but i could make myself let him naturally get to that part of the outline because i was starting to feel really bad and wieerd and oh god he is looking at ideas i havent ever expressed to another human person even though i am very familaiar with because i came up with them and they havebeen in my head for at least a year or two by now and have been haunting me ever since so instead of skipping ahead to the parts that were really good in my opinion but would have made no sense without context i just told him to piss off i gues s

i dont know. i feel dumb. i feel stupid. ive put so much effort into this stuff and the concept that ive been wasting my time feels like too heavy of a weight to handle. god none of this porbobably nmakes any sense ,,,,,,,,, i guess this is why i feel miserable when the fanart and shitpost memes i post get a comically larger audience and attention than the art relating to my silly goofy ocs, because these stupid fucking characters are all thats keeping me going . call me cringe, but is it still cringe if the concept that maybe i too can be around people that love me and instead of having to like me in spite of my faults love me for them keeps me from fucking killing myself is it still cringe?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around, does its fall even make a sound? (shit piss fuck sorry i dont remember the original quote and all i can remember is tha t one line from that one musical i dont remember what it was)

if an autistic moron that cant even talk to a cashier without having a panic attack makes a universe full of fictional characters of his own cfreation then an alternate universe, then several alternate universes, then a spin off from that original universe and etc etc but its all just on google fucking docs and no where else except deleted excerpts from a dead wattpad account, did he ever even create anything at all?

its pointless. its all so fucking pointless. its a waste of time. why do i do this at all. its so fucking pointless. it makes no fucking sense. you cant just make a story with characters in it, then make a fucking fantasy au of that universe with the same characters but with different designs and wildly different personalities and then make a whole fucking complicated lore-filled story about the fantasy au version while the original universe's story is still left mostly unfinished like forget about a first draft of the text i havent even finished the first ddraft of the outline yet buckarooooooo

okay fuck you guys thats all i want to tell you im going to go pretend to myself to try to go to sleep and then cry now

[2xplusungood]

Still absolutely goddamned furious that Valve managed to get away with Weapon conditions so not only do you have to gamble real money but whatever you get is statistically likely to look like absolute dogshit like how the fuck is this acceptable like imagine playing a gatcha game and your pulls have a 80% chance to have their character portraits to have varying degrees of wear and tear ranging from "a few creases" to "absolutely impossible to see the portrait becuase of the rips, tears and dried jizz stains" I mean this shits just downright disrespectful like you don't GET new skins you gotta pay for the chance to fish them out of the dumpster. Even the fucking Gun Mettle comic was were the mercs went from "The best mercenaries money could buy" to "a bunch of useless idiots who quite frankly don't even DESERVE CSGO weapon skins"

Maybe it really is time to let the game die, Valve has gotten way more money out of it than they rightfully deserve at this point. Like enjoying this game after all these years and so much developer mishandling requires pushing so much shit to the back of my mind that it's exhausting. It is FUCKING HORRENDOUS just how little work seems to actually go into this game vs how much money it makes, and that's WHY Valve has left it to fester, becuase all they have to really do is pull entirely random shit from the workshop every fee months and call its half-ass implementation into the game an "update" and everyone, including MY dumb ass will continue giving them our money becuase we refuse to accept that the days of hopping on a server full of friends is long gone after Valve purposely starved out every vanilla community server.

I cannot express how much it hurts me to have seen all the fun of late 2000s Steam slowly be sucked out and the communities I used to cherish the time I had with slowly die out, and I hate how the standard practice for the gaming industry in general for the past decade has been "Implement shitty practices until they become standard"

[tobi-smp]

you might be able to expand on this in a way that’s smarter then me, but honestly; i think technoblade apologists rely far too much on word of god for their analysis.

like, it feels like every time technoblade (the character) is analyzed in the context of the Text Itself, the fans will say “that’s not what techno intended” or “he didn’t think that when acting techno”.

this is probably because cc!techno cares so little for the the fourth wall. but as someone who analyzes techno it also annoys me. “cc!techno didn’t plan to kill anyone canonically during doomsday, cc!jack just challenged him” regardless of what your cc intends, c!techno still bombed a country and shot at other characters, and for him to think there would be no casualties in that is ridiculous.

this fourth-wall-breaking honestly gives quite a few issues like this; techno acts like killing tubbo was unimportant or even funny because “it’s minecraft” and anyone still angry at him about that is just irrational. obviously, because c!tubbo still has to live with the scarred body and the huge amount of trauma, this makes c!techno seem like a Huge Dick. but pointing that out always gets so many angry responses.

rivals duo enthusiasts make so much “techno heals and cares for dream” content, but in actuality techno wants his lore to be only funny so he says “i’m not getting tortured. that seems like a you problem.”

i’m not saying that techno isn’t nice— because he is, to ranboo and phil and niki— but because he participates is HUGELY SERIOUS topics (bombing a nation twice, tommys exile, terrorism and taking hostages, dreams torture) and then acts like he doesn’t care, it just makes him look…. Bad.

i dont really know where i was going with this. basically i just wanted to complain about how one of the most argued about characters doesn’t even seem to be serious about the serious parts of the lore.

perhaps you can somehow expand on this in a way that’s smart T_T

Honestly, techno apologism takes techno's word as absolute truth Way too often in general (both in character and out). which isn't unique to techno fans by any means, but it's particularly bothersome because it leaks out into how they talk about other characters, All The Time.

a quick example would be techno arguing that l'manberg was corrupt because tubbo was given presidency without an election. the reality of the situation was that they were in the middle of a crisis (a war that just came to an end, the death of the president with no one to take his place, and the destruction of the entire nation), so it Wasn't under normal circumstances. l'manberg would've then held elections every couple of months had they not been exploded before that could happen. (there's also the fact that nearly everyone that'd be a part of l'manberg was there and could've voiced their concerns, instead the crowd cheered. they didn't get a ballot but they still expressed their approval).

and of course things that he says about other characters being taken as word of god (him wholesale inventing the character flaw that tommy sees himself as a hero with the theseus speech despite the fact that tommy denied it right then and there. or cc!techno making the joke that tommy's only facing the consequences of his own actions, Twice.)

but more on the topic, there Is a massive tonal difference between techno's viewpoint and everyone else's, and that's completely on purpose ! but that creates some of the worst discourse this fandom has to offer Because techno involves himself in serious lore while still insisting on carrying his non-serious roleplay style.

when you take his word on it and Only his word on it it strips other characters of their nuance because he doesn't see or Care about their motivations or the context behind them. that's why it's so easy to paint the butcher army as purely evil from his perspective. Technoblade doesn't care about releasing withers on l'manberg, Technoblade doesn't care about having shot tubbo, Technoblade doesn't care that quackity is terrified of him, so why should they? why should anyone?

people refuse to see the butcher army as a response to technoblade's actions because technoblade doesn't treat his actions as if they have weight. and so quackity is taken to the fandom alter to be sacrificed as an uncomplicated villain (either alongside tubbo or while painting quackity as a manipulator who coerced the rest of the butcher army), and this Long before las nevadas was a part of the lore.

but then of course, if you look at his actions and attitude from any other perspective (minus philza) he just looks, Cold.

he's bombing l'manberg because of a failed execution and philza's house arrest but he won't even acknowledge that tubbo's execution or his destruction of l'manberg was something that he should've apologized for. he painted tommy as a dehumanizer because tommy chose to stand by his best friend, but techno is risking the lives of people who haven't wronged him without remorse because philza (his best friend) got hurt. he's angry at tommy for betraying him (to the point that he's indifferent to his literal death), when he refused to take tommy seriously over feeling betrayed with tubbo's execution and when He was the one who lied to tommy during their partnership.

he refuses to engage with other characters on an emotional level because that would suck the dumb fun out of his actions (and I don't mean dumb fun as an insult here, I love his roleplay style when it Isn't tonally dissonant from everything around it). but from the other perspective that comes across as indifference to suffering, willful ignorance, hypocrisy, or just outright cruelty.

which just isn't how his character Should be read with how its being acted, but it's the only way To read it in context.

techno wants his character to be the comic relief on the server but he still wants to involve himself with heavy lore, which would still be Possible if he was fine playing a villain (just look at jack and niki with their team rocket arc). but the problem is that he presents his character as emotionally disconnected from everyone around him outside of a select handful of people (and even then, he won't engage with certain things seriously for fear of being pulled into serious lore) while still wanting his character to be read as good (or at least lighter on the gray morality scale).

the solution to this would be a more careful implementation of techno's involvement with the lore. keeping him involved in conflicts in a way where his character doesn't bump elbows with the darkest aspects of the server. either by having him Not involved with things like doomsday or having him involved in a way where he isn't an instigator, Or by technoblade the content creator taking the L and taking his roleplay more seriously when he involves himself in serious lore.

instead we have the insistence that it's not technoblade's fault that people died when he killed them because it doesn't fit with how cc!techno wants to engage with those events.

[sixeyesgojo]

The dead reader made me sad how about something a bit funny but dark based of a comic Tapas called Undying Happiness (it’s been dubbed on YouTube too if you wants to go see it) where the main character falls in love with a guy who’s family has the ability to be able to regenerates wounds even from a skeleton. So do you think we can the cast react to a basically immortal reader?

I like this idea! I also checked out the source material and man, that was SOOO FUNNY lmaoo

Thanks for sending this ask, anon! I think my readers deserve some calm before the storm that’s about to come lol

Summary: undead!reader messing with Team Gojo because why not ;)

Characters: Team Gojo + Sukuna x undead!Reader

Content warning: major injuries (loss of limbs?), mentions of blood

A/N: This is the post anon is talking about: leaving them behind hc

Gojo Satoru

After a while, he will start making jokes about it. You’re not exactly amused at this fool joking around while you’re bleeding out. Gojo is still a little worried (it’s a secret, don’t tell anybody) because he’s firmly convinced that this technique has to have some kind of drawback but it does not. Or at least there hasn’t been any ever since you discovered this ability.

The first time, he would be slightly taken aback but not entirely surprised. You just lost an entire arm; blasted away until only your bones remained but you didn’t even flinch? How in the world?

Truth to be told, you were already kind of used to this. Having to deal with this frequently (including all the “Aren’t you more of a curse?” questions), you already half expected something of the sort of him as well.

However, after processing what just happened, he’ll just shrug. This man has seen more in his life than any other Jujutsu sorcerer ever could, starting from as early as his baby days, thanks to the six eyes. Nothing bothers him all too much.

He’ll just treat it as if you are using Reversed Cursed Technique, just like Shoko.

“Babe, what are you doing? Losing an arm again? Oh my god, that is sooo 2017. Come up with something new to shock me with!” he snickers. “Satoru, I swear you are doing this on purpose,” you got mad while holding the space your arm once held. The bloody substance dripping right through your fingers as the lost limb slowly regenerated. 

“It’s really no wonder people constantly ask me why I haven’t exorcised the curse who is sticking to me!” he laughs. You pout, “Rude! I’m not a curse.”

Itadori Yuji

The first time, he is absolutely freaked out. He tries to frantically stop the bleeding in the most clumsy way ever; hands shaking so much it would have the opposite effect. You? You’re calm and you try to calm him down by saying “it’s just an arm” and he goes “JUST AN ARM? THAT’S A LIMB THOUGH???” even more frantically. He already has a few screws loose up there and he knows it but hearing you say that so casually makes him rethink all his decisions in life. It takes him several minutes to calm down. Even though he is a sorcerer now and has seen his fair share of shit happening, including the sopping hole in his chest when Sukuna ripped out his heart, this tops all of it.

After a while, he will be more at ease but still very very worried about you. He doesn’t like seeing you get hurt, even if it’s just a small scratch. Yuji is very relieved when he sees the flesh and skin building back, may even be a little bit fascinated but also grossed out. He will definitely ask you lots of different stuff about it.

“Does it hurt when it does that?” he looks at your regrowing limb. “What do you mean, Yuji?” you give him a quizzical look. He points at your limb, “That. Does that hurt?”

“Well, of course losing a limb hurts but I have had this ability for the longest time, so I got used to feeling the pain. If you mean regrowing this, then no. It tickles a little, I guess?”

The look on his face was priceless.

Fushiguro Megumi

After a while, he will still be frantic at first but then it finally clicks. His head goes “oh, right.” and he calms down, the tension visibly leaves his body, because by now, he knows it’s not that big of an issue anymore. That does not mean he ceased to help you take care of it though - and he does a great job at it.

The first time, he thinks you’ll die on him. The boy is so frantic, his mind goes blank. His chest will break out of his ribcage soon, he feels, but then he sees your calm face. Utter confusion descends down on him; what the hell was happening? Why weren’t you screaming in pain? Why was your facial expression so calm? Maybe it was a shock?

But no, you were calm all over and simply said, “Whoops?”

Consider him confused for his entire life now. He doesn’t understand what’s happening at all and his mind is set on helping you nevertheless.

"Ugh, I’m bleeding all over your uniform. I’m so sorry, ‘Gumi,” you mumble as he patches up what he can. “That’s fine, I can just wash it later,” he bluntly states, his eyes hyperfocused on your wound.

“I’ll wash it for you! I owe you that, it’s the least I can do,” you offer. “Just hold still for now, so I can contain the bleeding - don’t want you to bleed out on me. It’d be a hassle.”

“Hehe, sorry,” you say sheepishly.

Kugisaki Nobara

After a while, she will simply proceed to beat the shit out of whoever did this to you first. She will beat them into a pulp and then exorcise them (in case it was a curse). It’s a little comedic for you to see her get worked up over this after seeing it so many times but at the same time, it melts your heart a little.

The first time, the girl rushes to your aid immediately, telling Fushiguro to handle this curse. “Are you okay?” she asks you and her voice is trembling audibly. It was a stupid question to ask, she thinks. But she doesn’t expect to see you stupidly grin back at her, “Yeah, I’m totally fine, don’t worry about me. This will take some time to grow back but it will.”

Grow back? What? She’s confused. Are you pulling a prank on her? It has to be a prank, right?

“No, this isn’t a prank, I’m serious here,” you laughed.

"You really think you can hurt them without facing repercussions, huh? You are so dumb; I almost feel sorry for how stupid you are, thinking that, when I am right here. Now let’s get ready for a game because I can and absolutely will drag this out; learn your lesson!” Nobara yells at the curse and you only chuckle.

Ryomen Sukuna

The first time, he just clicks his tongue in annoyance, looking at whatever hurt you with fiercely glowing eyes. There would be hell to pay for them. He is annoyed at whatever hurt you but he knows he can fix you easily with his Reversed Cursed Technique. This was so inconvenient, not fun. Quickly, he eliminates the source of your pain and turns to you. He had expected you to have passed out. However, once he sees the wound slowly closing up, a strange grin forms on his face and he starts hollering loudly, “What the heck is that, pet? That’s amusing.”

After a while, he will just sit back and watch as you handle it yourself: free entertainment for his bored soul. He may or may not be generous enough to speed up your recovery with his own Reversed Cursed Technique but I’d rather not count on it because it depends on how he is feeling after you finished the battle.

“Oh? You seem to regenerate a little faster now, even without my help. You take more and more after me, did spending all that time with me turn you into a curse now?” the King of Curses sneers loudly. “Heeey, I’m not a curse! But I would feel better if you helped me out with it instead of sneering at me,” you pouted. For a moment, he seemed to think, “No. It’s amusing.”

[hxseok-honee]

blossom || part 12

blossom [part 12] || I'm happy being okay

[‘cause all i need is to see you blossom out, blossom out, blossom out]

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a/n : i have no idea who i love more!! hobi or yoongi!! no idea!!!

_______________________________

When Y/n wanders across the grounds later that morning, just past 7am, she’s checking her phone to make sure she’d read Hoseok’s text properly.

The forest? What the hell could we have to do there this early?

Convinced her sleep-deprived mind is playing tricks on her, she almost misses the head poking out from the treeline just ahead, followed by the body of a tall boy she’s come to be very familiar with.

“Y/n!” Squinting at the person with burning eyes, exhausted out of her mind, she finally sees that it’s Hoseok. He’s waving excitedly, arm stretched high over his head as he uses his whole body to beckon her over. He’s got a thermos in his free hand, which he holds out to her once she stumbles over to him. She takes it curiously, so he reaches out and uncaps it for her while he explains.

“I woke up this morning expecting to see you and Yoongi still passed out in the common room, but you were gone! And when I checked my phone, I saw you guys had stayed out instead of going back to Slytherin, so I figured you haven’t slept.” Pulling away with the cap in his hand, he points into the open container with a smile, so she peers into it. Hot steam billows out, followed by the smell of freshly brewed coffee. She looks up at him, a gesture of appreciation on the tip of her tongue, but he only waves her off.

“Not all of us can be energized by life -- some people are weak and require caffeine.” He grins impishly when she scoffs, the gratitude gone as she reaches out to nudge him with her elbow.

“Well, this weak human thanks you for supplying her with her daily fix.” Hoseok grins widely, his smile bright and pleased, and she’s amazed, as she tends to be, that he can be so infectiously happy all the time.

“Anything for you, Y/n -- besides, I need you awake and alert for today’s activities!” Lifting the thermos to her lips, she sips straight from the bottle, savoring the heat it brings her in the cold November morning. She doesn’t respond while she drinks, only raising an eyebrow questioningly at him. He lets out a small giggle, waving her into the forest as he heads back to the trees. She sees then that he’s got a backpack on, seemingly empty. She assumes it’s bottomless, one of the many everyday conveniences of being a wizard. Swallowing her coffee, she hums at his back while she follows.

“What are you hiding in there?” He glances at her over his shoulder with a shy smile.

“Patience, Miss Y/l/n.” Rolling her eyes with a smile, Y/n decides to just trust the sunny boy in front of her. While she follows behind him, she notices that she recognizes this path, an inkling that’s confirmed when they finally step into a clearing they’d only been in one other time. She gasps, the sound loud in the quiet morning, and Hoseok turns to walk backwards while he talks to her, his smile wide.

“I told you Wiggentrees grow fast, didn’t I?” Just there, in the middle of the clearing where they’d planted a seed not a few days prior, is the sapling of a tree, almost 4 feet high now. It’s clearly taken root, growing steadily in the bright, open space, the sun’s rays coming down prettily on it as it sways gently in the breeze. Hoseok watches with a fond smile as Y/n heads for it with wide eyes, passing him with a quick glance in his direction, her expression full of wonder.

“But we just planted it! It was just a little mound of dirt, like, 72 hours ago!” Hoseok nods, knowing she can’t see it.

“It’ll be fully grown probably within the week-- ah ah!” He steps in quickly when he sees her nearing it, hooking his fingers into the hood of her sweater and stopping her from getting any closer. She looks back at him in confusion, comically child-like as he holds her hood up behind her. “I know you love bowtruckles, but I promise they’re not as cute when they’re doing their job.” He gestures with his chin down at the ground around the tree sapling, and when she follows his eyes, she sees there are two little green heads poking out from the dirt, tiny eyes peering up at her cautiously. She lets out another quiet gasp, enamored by the little creatures.

“I didn’t even notice them… they usually have leaves sprouting out of their heads…” Hoseok releases Y/n while she talks, her voice nothing more than a whisper as she crouches to get a closer look at them. She hears Hoseok settling down on the ground beside her, and when she turns to him, he’s setting his bag in his lap and opening it. Reaching inside, he pulls out what looks like a metal breathmint container, small enough to fit in his palm.

Glancing up at her, he pats the ground next to him, an invitation. When she sits next to him, her back is straight and she’s got her hands in her lap, cradling the thermos of coffee as she looks at him attentively, waiting for him to direct their next move. It makes him smile sweetly, seeing her trust his expertise in herbology so fully. He hands her the container silently, explaining in a low voice when she looks at it curiously.

“I thought you might like to do the honors -- they’ll like you a lot more if you’re the one giving it to them… they might even remember you later on.” Popping the lid open, she sees that the mints once inside have clearly been eaten, the container kept for storing something else -- wood lice, to be exact. The small black insects squirm around inside, still alive, and Y/n can’t even begin to wonder how Hoseok had acquired them so fresh.

“How…”

“Growing up a plant nerd in a muggle household made it pretty easy for me to be fascinated by magical plants and their inhabitants once I got here… you wouldn’t believe how often I have to pick wood lice from the plants at my apartment when I go home.” Y/n blinks down at the little bugs before turning to Hoseok, a question about what he'd just said lingering on the tip of her tongue. He gestures to the two bowtruckles when they make eye contact, continuing the conversation before she can ask, and she wonders if he’d seen her curiosity and purposely avoided it. It seems distinctly unlike Jung Hoseok to hide something, but she lets it go when he starts talking.

“They’re still babies, by the way -- you were curious about not seeing the leaves on their heads… They’re still taking root, just like the tree…” He trails off, pointing to the container of wood lice in her hand. “But those are their favorite -- they’ll love you for sure if you give them that.” Glancing back down into the metal tin, Y/n smiles, finding it incredibly endearing that Hoseok had brought her out here just so she could befriend the bowtruckles.

Reaching out without a word, she tips the container slightly, letting the wood lice roll out onto the fresh dirt around the Wiggentree. The two baby bowtruckles had disappeared back underground in the time she and Hoseok had been talking, having apparently decided that these large humans were no threat to the tree as long as they stayed away. Now, they poke their heads back up, honing in on the meal laid out before them. Hoseok and Y/n watch quietly as they clamber out from beneath the dirt, crawling over to the wriggling lice and scooping them up in tiny arms. They return to their burrows to eat in peace, and Hoseok turns to Y/n while they wait, opening up his bag with excitement.

“So! I brought you out here to make evil stick bug friends, but I also thought it could be nice to do this, too.” Y/n watches with a sip of her coffee as he retrieves an entire wicker basket, contents covered with a damp paper towel. He sets it down next to her, smacking the back of her hand lightly with a playful glare when she tries to peek inside. “Patience, I said.”

Y/n rolls her eyes, unable to stop the smile that spreads across her face when she hears his quiet giggle, his joy truly infectious. He reaches back into the bag, setting out two pairs of scissors, a stack of twine, and a roll of thin, green tape. He does allow her to pick that up while he sets his bag down, explaining with a small smile.

“It’s floral tape… kinda like washi tape for flowers, I guess.” Y/n spins the roll around on her pointer finger, humming in contemplation as she puts the pieces together.

“So, you brought flower tape, flower wire, flower scissors, and--” She points at the covered basket with an inquisitive look. “--fresh flowers? Hopefully?” Hoseok smiles sheepishly, peeling the damp towel back from the basket, revealing a variety of flowers, all different types and colors.

“Welcome to the Jung Hoseok Flower Crown Process?” He waves his hands dramatically, but his voice is hesitant, like he’s unsure if she’ll even like this idea. It makes her smile, the fact that he’d gone out of his way to let her into this private part of his life even though he’s insecure about what she’ll think. Peering into the basket curiously, she picks out a small purple flower, twirling it between her thumb and pointer finger carefully.

“You know I won’t be able to do this as well as you do, right?” Hoseok smiles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders as he sees that she’s clearly curious and not about to tell him she thinks this is dumb.

“Don’t worry about how it looks! It’s just… kind of like my puzzles, in a sense -- a good way to sit and not think for a while. It helps me process whatever's going on in my head without the actual... processing part.” He grabs the stack of twine, running a length of it into a circle between his fingers before snipping the end with scissors. Tying the ends together, he reaches out and sets the crown of wire experimentally on her hair, smiling when he sees that he’d guessed at the size of her head properly. “After the night you had, I figured we could either talk about it while we do this, or we could just do this and not talk about it… up to you.”

Y/n stares at Hoseok while he goes back to his twine, unrolling a bit more and snipping when he thinks he’s got the right size of his own head. When he ties it together and sets it on his hair, she snickers -- it’s too small, sitting on his head like a little hat instead of a crown. He breathes out an embarrassed laugh, the tips of his ears going red when she takes it from him, switching it out for her properly sized one.

“Allow me the privilege to make your tiny crown into a really ugly tiny crown?” He smiles at her request, nodding as he lays out some of the flowers on the ground before them.

“It would be my honor to wear your really ugly tiny crown.”

--

“Okay, and then you just twist it… around… like this-- okay no, not like that-- you know what? It’s perfect, Y/n. I love it.” Y/n groans loudly when Hoseok laughs, shaking his head at her poor recreation of his work. The crown he’s making is a perfect mix of purples and blues, some white flowers peeking through to create a nice winter arrangement. Hers is… not quite the same. The colors are there, but the flowers hang lamely off of the twine, very obviously not secured to the wire despite Hoseok’s best attempts to get her there.

It’s close to 9am by now, and they’ve been working at the flower crowns for almost an hour already -- there are two finished ones next to Hoseok, but Y/n’s still on her first, having started and restarted a million times to try and get it right. The baby bowtruckles sit perched on her shoulders, having decided not long ago that she was worthy of their affections after the meal of wood lice. They croon quietly, swaying in the wind as they watch her work -- she knows they’re not particularly engaged in her struggle, but she definitely feels like they’re judging her right now.

She watches as Hoseok ties up the ends of his third crown in an hour before offering the loose bits of flower in his palm to the bowtruckles. They lean in curiously, climbing into his hand and picking at the purple petals with small sounds of interest. He smiles down at them as he lifts his hand to Y/n’s shoulder, helping them return to their previous spots so they can examine their new possessions. Y/n watches him closely, not even realizing she’s staring until he’s meeting her eyes self-consciously.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Y/n blinks, biting at the inside of her lip with a shake of her head.

“Just wondering how I happened to meet someone as lovely as you.” Hoseok’s flushing red almost immediately at the unexpected compliment, and it makes Y/n laugh quietly. “You know, you can be pretty shy when you want to be, Hobi.” He purses his lips, twiddling his finished flower crown between his thumb and pointer finger as he thinks.

“I’m not really used to having friends… this is kind of the first time I’m doing any of… this, I guess.” He gestures vaguely to their setup, but Y/n notices that he’s mostly gesturing between the two of them, and she sees that by ‘this’, he’d meant them.

“How’d a guy like you go 7 years without making any close friends?” She curses herself as she asks -- she hadn’t meant to be insensitive, and she certainly hadn’t meant to word it like that. But Hoseok only smiles, his eyes taking on a faraway look as he stares down at his lap.

“It’s funny… that question used to bother me a lot. Especially first year.” Y/n groans internally, dropping her head to her chin in shame at her own idiocy. The bowtruckles let out quiet complaints, disgruntled by her sudden movement. Hoseok chuckles under his breath, reaching out and setting his finished crown on her head when she lifts it to eye him cautiously. “Don’t worry, I’m not upset. I just thought it was interesting.” He takes another pause, humming while he thinks about how to explain this to her.

“My life… has been remarkably unremarkable. I’m healthy, I study hard, and people generally like me without trying too hard to get close to me because I’m a little weird.” He lists these things as facts, even going so far as to tick them off on his fingers while he talks. Y/n finds herself disagreeing silently, thinking of no less than ten different things that make him undeniably remarkable. But she doesn’t say anything, letting him finish.

“It’s kind of a blessing in disguise -- no news is good news right? So, if there’s nothing important to say about me… then that means I’m doing enough to get by successfully. I’m okay where I’m at, and I’m okay whether I have people… or not.” Y/n furrows her brow, entirely confused by him.

“But being okay isn’t the same as being happy.” He blinks when she says it, not having expected the way her voice wavers, the way her eyes fill with an emotion he can’t place right away. If she’d been anyone else, he would have mistaken it for pity. But it’s not. She seems upset, like she’s frustrated that she’s trying her best to understand him and failing. It makes him smile -- no one’s ever tried that hard.

“What if I’m happy being okay?” He lets it slip out, fully aware that it’ll only upset her further -- how could it not? She’s so different than him, someone who isn’t satisfied just letting things happen around her. It’ll confuse her, the way he sees his own life, and he figures it won’t help to say what’s on his mind without explaining everything. Because she won’t understand unless he says everything.

But he doesn’t want to -- he doesn’t want to ruin the day they’re having, and if there’s something he’s come to know about Y/n Y/l/n in the time he’s known her, it’s that she cares. She cares about everything -- her friends, her feelings, and most recently, him. And he just doesn’t want to worry her, not today. So he smiles at her furrowed brow, setting a fingertip in between her eyebrows so that she’ll release them from their torture.

“Tell me about Yoongi.” Y/n blinks, taken aback by the sudden change of topic. He grins widely, eyes turning into little half moons as he laughs at her expression. She shakes her head, not sure where he’s taking this.

“What about Yoongi?” Hoseok leans over, plucking her admittedly bad flower crown from her hand and setting it on his head -- it’s somehow gotten smaller in the time she’d been working on it, pinching and squeezing at the twine. It sits on his hair like a little flowery top hat, but it makes her smile, so he leaves it there. Then he picks up a yellow flower and spins it in his fingers slowly, plucking all the petals off as he goes before offering them absentmindedly to the bowtruckles while he explains.

“Well -- you’re confused how I ended up here, a 7th year with only one good friend that didn’t show up in my life until 7th year--” Y/n smiles shyly, realizing he’s talking about her when he gives her a knowing look. “-- but what I’m confused about is you. We already established last night that you're his metaphorical safety blanket, and I wanna know how that happened. And how you ended up here, a 7th year Gryffindor whose best friend is a Slytherin… so tell me, Miss Y/l/n. How does a lion like you end up with a perpetually horny, unapologetically heinous snake of a best friend like Min Yoongi?”

Y/n smiles at Hoseok’s unflattering description -- painfully accurate, to be fair -- and thinks about Yoongi. She thinks about everything he’d said to her only hours prior, still drunk but feeling surprisingly emotional. He’d always been honest with her about everything that passes through his mind -- he does lack a filter, after all -- but he’d never brought up their friendship until then. None of it needed saying, really -- she’d always known what they are to each other, but it’s different knowing where his mind goes when he’s unsure of himself. It made her feel protective of him in a way that she can only guess he feels about her most of the time. So she doesn't feel right telling Hoseok what she means to Yoongi -- but she can say what he means to her.

“Min Yoongi… is everything to me.” Her lips are moving before her brain can catch up, but now that it’s there in the air between her and Hoseok, she knows she means it. “I think maybe that’s why I’m having such a hard time understanding that you’re happy being okay… that you’ve been perfectly happy not having someone the way I have Yoongi. I don’t get it because I wouldn’t be who I am if he hadn’t come around.” Hoseok tilts his head, somehow fascinated by her -- the way she says it, it’s obvious she’s been overcome with emotion. He figures these thoughts must be fresh -- that maybe she and Yoongi had had some moment of vulnerability that morning and he’d asked the wrong thing at the wrong time.

He'd only wanted to hear more about her life, something real, and it was clear she didn't want to discuss her ex-boyfriend. So he'd thought her best friend might be a safer topic, something he's not so sure about anymore. But she’s only smiling, almost laughing as a thought crosses her mind, and he thinks maybe he hasn’t just opened a fresh wound with his curiosity.

“The thing about Yoongi is… he’s an only child in a rich pureblood Slytherin family. He’s got the perfect life by all standards -- he gets everything he wants when he wants it, and he says what he’s thinking without caring how it’ll affect anyone because it doesn’t really matter to him. He’s spoiled beyond belief -- he’s arrogant, rude, cold. Some people hate his guts -- apparently, even our friends need a break from him sometimes… and I guess I get it. He can be really terrible sometimes…” Hoseok frowns, not seeing how this can be headed anywhere good -- she’d just spent a full minute insulting the guy. But she’s smiling again, peering down into her now-empty thermos with eyes full of affection.

“But he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I’d do anything for that asshole, no questions asked.” Hoseok breathes out a laugh, unable to believe how quickly her tone had changed. “We had a class together first year -- it was Potions. And I remember feeling so awkward because I hadn’t gotten to know anyone in my house except Jungkook and Taehyung by that point, and their schedules didn’t match up with mine. So I was just sitting there alone in a room full of Slytherins and Gryffindors that had already paired up, and there were some snakes trying to gang up on me because I looked sad and lonely in the corner waiting for class to start.” Hoseok nods, but he simply can’t imagine a version of Y/n that would be anything but headstrong and sure of herself.

“Imagine my surprise when this… obnoxious, bratty Slytherin stands up from his seat with his stuff and just leaves his housemate to come sit next to me.” Y/n laughs under her breath, lifting a finger to one of the bowtruckles and smiling when it latches on, climbing into her palm peacefully while she thinks back to that day.

“He was so annoying, Hobi -- I wanted to smash his head in. He just kept bragging about his family and how cool he was and how much money he had. It seemed like he already had all of Slytherin hanging onto his every word, like they all wanted to be his friend. And then he just grabs me and goes ‘anyway, this is my new friend, so if you mess with her, you mess with me!’, and I just remember thinking… ‘Who is this dude and why do I want to punch him in the face?’

“And then he just kept showing up… he was everywhere, and I couldn’t seem to get rid of him. But it was weird… after a while, I didn’t want to get rid of him. He was just always there. And it started to get to the point where I didn’t feel right if he wasn’t. Because I’d stopped being shy and lonely when he was around, and I liked that feeling. I needed him. He was rude and annoying, and as we got older, he was horny and gross and always off hooking up with someone and then telling me about it in an unnecessary amount of detail.” She cringes, thinking back to the literal full-body nude photo she’d gotten last year, completely unsolicited. But rather than enrage her the way it had then, she’s only amused now -- because of course Min Yoongi would send her a nude without realizing how messed up that is. It’s just who he is.

“He’s probably the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met. But… I wasn’t myself if he wasn’t around, so never once did I think about what my life could be without him. I could never have become the Gryffindor that I am without the Slytherin that he is. So, yes -- everyone sees him as this gross, loud asshole with more confidence than anyone can handle because that’s exactly who he is. But… that’s not what I see at all. All I see is the person that made me who I am.” She trails off then, suddenly shy and very aware of Hoseok’s eyes on the side of her face.

“That was… a lot, wasn’t it?” Hoseok smiles, shaking his head.

“No… never. I loved hearing you talk about him. It makes me happy that you have someone like that in your life -- and it makes me feel grateful for him, oddly enough. I wouldn’t have met this version of you if it hadn’t been for him. And I quite like this version of you.” The ends of his ears are painted pink when he says it, but it’s nothing in comparison to the blush on Y/n’s face. She’s never met anyone quite like Jung Hoseok -- never been around anyone so unconditionally good -- but she can tell even now that he’s probably going to change everything. It certainly doesn’t help that, as she looks at him, the only thing that comes to mind is what Yoongi had said to her while they’d watched the sun rise not even 4 hours prior.

“I know this started as me being upset because you’ve been slacking on our best friend time, but… that Hoseok guy’s gonna be good for you -- I can tell.”

[rosiehunterwolf]

little things

Prompts: Hugs and Crying

Word Count: 3,251

Characters: Lloyd and Kai

Timeline: Immediately after episode 18 (Child's Play)

Trigger Warnings: Trauma, Brief panic attacks

Summary: "Enjoy the little things in life, for one day you'll look back and realize they were the big things."

-Kurt Vonnegut

Lloyd’s tired of being left behind. How is he meant to be the green ninja when he always has to work harder, train better, and wait longer to go on missions with his team? He wants nothing more than to be their equal.

At least, that’s what he thought he wanted.

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The trip back to the Destiny’s Bounty that night was thick with tension. No one spoke, but Lloyd could feel Kai’s gaze boring into him.

He wished the fire ninja would look at something else. He didn’t want to think about what he was looking at.

It had been Lloyd’s choice, and he knew it. Not that his range of options had exactly been wide when a huge, ninja-eating monster had been looming over them, but he had made the choice nonetheless.

He just hadn’t expected it to be like this.

He had thought that not being a little boy anymore meant he got to become stronger, fight better, and, of course, accompany the ninja on their missions.

But he hadn’t thought about the way his legs would become so much longer suddenly, forcing him to concentrate so he wouldn’t trip. Or how his hair would dangle too-long in his face, or how the green gi, on which the sleeves and pant legs had been rolled up a ridiculous amount of times, now fit perfectly. Reminding him too much of who he was and what he was meant to do.

Most of all, though, he hadn’t expected the gaping ache in his chest, like someone had ripped out his heart. He didn’t understand where it came from or what it meant, only that the sparkling display racks in the windows of Doomsday Comix had never felt more distant than they did now.

Their arrival at the monastery couldn’t come soon enough, and Lloyd began to dart down the hall, anxious to get away from the prying eyes of the others. Before he could get far, however, a hand snatched his wrist, and he looked back to see Kai staring at him apprehensively.

“Hey, bud. We’re here for you. You don’t need to go running off on your own.”

Lloyd shook his head. “I’m not. I just wanna go take a shower.” The voice that came from his throat wasn’t his, it was too deep. He didn’t even recognize himself anymore.

Lloyd repressed a shiver of dread, realizing Kai was still looking at him expectantly. “I got… there was a lot of rubble and dust when the Grundle caved in the roof, I just wanna get clean. I’m fine.”

Kai stared at him for a long moment, and for once Lloyd couldn’t read the expression in his eyes. Relenting, he let out his breath, dropping Lloyd’s wrist. “You’re not. But whatever.”

Lloyd merely nodded, realizing that wasn’t the most reassuring answer he could give, but being reluctant to hear his own voice again.

Forcing himself to turn away, he headed down the hallway, passing the ninja’s cabin and heading towards his room a little way down.

Uncle Wu had cleared out the small storage room for him that first night he had stayed on the Bounty, and it had been his ever since. He had appreciated the gesture, to have his own space away from the others, and it had always been a comforting little place for him.

But now, as he gazed around at it, the room itself wasn’t the only thing that was small anymore. The bed in the corner was no longer large enough for him, the mirror mounted on the wall was too low down, the Starfarer comics piled on the nightstand were too juvenile and suddenly much less interesting.

Lloyd sighed, rubbing his hands over his eyes. There was no point lingering here. He might as well go take a shower like he had promised Kai.

But when he pulled open the drawer on his dresser, he paused, gazing down at the clothes.

Everything was too small. Of course it was.

Lloyd took a deep breath, running a hand through his hair as he tried to push down the bubbling panic in his chest.

One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten.

Letting out his breath again, he grabbed a pair of old, baggy pajama shorts that had always been too big on him anyway, and an undershirt from his gi.

Slipping through the halls, he made it to the bathroom at the end of the ship and quietly pulled the door shut behind him.

As he undressed, all he could focus on was his body, how it was bigger and older and different now. He forcibly shoved the thoughts out of his head before he had a breakdown and stepped into the shower.

Lloyd turned the shower as hot as it would go, barely even noticing as the water scalded his skin. He didn’t know how long he stood there, only that the water kept getting colder and colder until his teeth were chattering. Not even bothering to wash his hair, he stepped out of the shower and grabbed a bath towel, pressing his face into it.

He couldn’t do this. He had thought he could handle it, but he couldn’t. Lloyd was barely clutching on to the last threads of his sanity, and he needed to get out of here.

Quickly changing into the shorts and undershirt, he walked over to the window and carefully pushed it open. Stars twinkled at him from the dark sky, and he glanced down. The bathroom was at the top of the ship, just behind the bridge, so it was about a twenty-foot drop to the ground- easily enough to break a leg.

Biting his lip, he grabbed onto the window frame and pulled himself out, gripping onto the side of the ship as his feet found purchase on the windowsill. As he slowly stood, he accidentally caught sight of his face in the reflection in the window and nearly slipped, gasping sharply as he just barely caught himself from falling.

Get yourself together, Lloyd. You’re still yourself, just a little older. Stop being such a crybaby.

Reaching up for the edge of the roof of the bridge, he hauled himself up and crawled back from the edge a bit. Staring out over the trees, the soft glow of the city in the distance, he glanced down at his hands. Fingers too long, palms too rough.

He hadn’t known it was going to be like this. All he had done was age up a few years. It was a small sacrifice to make, seeing as the Grundle would’ve killed them all otherwise. It shouldn’t have been that big of a deal. Lloyd shouldn’t have been acting so selfishly.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, curling up into a ball.

For the first time that night, Lloyd let himself cry.

---

Kai paced back and forth across the hallway. “Ugh! Why do I let him leave? I know he always locks himself in his room and never comes back to talk to me!”

Zane frowned. “I know this is difficult and confusing for you, Kai- it is for all of us. But Lloyd’s always been much less straightforward than you. Perhaps we should try a less direct approach.”

“You’re saying I should just let him sulk alone for the rest of the night?”

“What I’m saying is that maybe we should just give him a little time to himself, time to process, before we all go barging in to speak to him.”

“Just because Lloyd thinks he wants to be alone doesn’t mean he should be. Isolation isn’t going to solve anything.”

“Kai,” Cole sighed, “that’s not what we’re saying at all. This is just a sensitive situation for Lloyd, and we don’t want to provoke him the wrong way.”

“A sensitive situation?” Kai barked. “Don’t you think I know that? But I’m telling you, he needs someone! Don’t you see? That’s what he does! He tells us he’s fine, but he’s not! Of course he’s not! And- and I want to help him, but I can’t. When he needs me most, I have no idea what to do. Augh, why did I let him come with us? I knew it was too dangerous!”

“Kai,” Zane put a cool hand on his shoulder. “Calm down. There’s nothing you could’ve done.”

“Nothing I could’ve done?” Kai blinked up at him through watery eyes. “I was supposed to protect him.”

Nya squeezed his hand. “You can’t blame yourself for this, Kai. You can’t.”

“I’m not trying to. It’s just… hard. This isn’t some small little mishap we can go back and fix. This is big.”

“I know, but he’s strong. He’s going to get through it. I think Zane’s right, we should tread lightly. Although,” she paused, her brow furrowing, “I am starting to get pretty worried about him. He’s been in there a long time.”

“Wait,” Jay frowned. “In his room?”

“No, the bathroom.”

Kai’s head snapped towards her. “Wait, what? Did he go in there again?”

Nya shook her head. “I’ve been watching the door. He never left after he went in the first time.”

Cole glanced between them. “How long has he been in there?”

Kai’s gaze darted anxiously towards the bathroom door. “He went in there to take a shower nearly an hour ago.”

Cole’s eyes darkened. “Yeah, that’s too long. Let’s go.”

They hurried over to the bathroom door and the others hovered anxiously behind as Cole rapped his knuckles on the wood, leaning his ear against it. “Lloyd, you okay in there?”

There was no answer.

Cole knocked harder, and Kai could feel the anxiety building. “Lloyd? Bud? We just wanna talk.”

“Okay,” Nya breathed after a moment, “Lloyd’s as stubborn as a mule, but he doesn’t purposely worry us like this. Something’s wrong.”

“Zane,” Cole said, the struggle to keep calm evident in his voice. “Can you pick up anything?”

Zane stilled for a moment. “My sensors don’t detect any sign of movement.”

Kai’s heart skipped a beat. “Get me in.” Shoving past the others, he lunged for the door handle, yanking on it- but it didn’t budge. “He locked it! Why would he lock it?”

“We need a lock pick!” Jay yelped. “Nya, do you have a bobby pin?”

“I can get one, I’ll be right back!”

“Lloyd!” Cole yelled, banging on the door. “Open the door! Don’t do anything dumb!”

“Talk to us, bud!” Kai cried. “Please!”

“I’m back,” Nya huffed, skidding across the floor and holding out the pin. Jay snatched it from her hand and jiggled it in the lock, gritting his teeth. The others waited apprehensively as the seconds ticked by.

Jay pulled back with a sigh. “It’s not working.”

“Lloyd,” Kai moaned, “Open up!”

Cole glanced at them. “Should I break the door?”

Zane hesitated, then nodded. “Do it. We can always replace it later. Lloyd is more important.”

Everyone except for Cole stepped away from the door. The earth ninja held up his fists, and they glowed amber, the light spreading down his forearms.

“Stand back, Lloyd! I’m coming in!” Cole lunged forward, punching in the door and sending splinters of wood flying.

Kai darted to his side and stared into the bathroom, his breath caught in his throat.

Jay stepped around them, pulling back the shower curtain. Empty.

Just like the rest of the room.

“He’s not here?” Cole asked. “I just destroyed the door for nothing?”

“That’s impossible!” Nya yelped. “I saw him go in, and he never left! I’m positive.”

Kai’s eyes lingered on the far wall. “I know where he went.”

The others followed his gaze towards the open window, and Jay’s eyes widened. “He went out the window? That fall could seriously injure him!”

Kai shook his head. “He didn’t go down, he went up.” Glancing back at the others, he added, “Perhaps Zane had a point about the whole subtlety thing. Let me go talk to him first.”

The others exchanged reluctant glances, but stepped back.

Kai pulled himself out the window, balancing carefully as his fingers found the edge of the roof’s shingles. A chilly breeze hit him in the face, but he ignored it, hauling himself the rest of the way up with a soft grunt.

Lloyd was sitting a few feet away, curled in on himself as he stared off into the distance. Kai slowly eased his way over to him and the two sat in silence for a while.

Kai forced himself to look at the boy and felt a tug on his heartstrings. The way he sat there, so quiet and still, was as unlike Lloyd as his new appearance.

Kai shook his head. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that. No doubt Lloyd already had enough of those thoughts going through his head. This was still the same person. He was still Lloyd. He was still his little brother.

Kai leaned closer, allowing his shoulder to lightly bump against Lloyd’s. The green ninja gasped suddenly, as if just realizing he was there, and quickly scrubbed at his eyes. The action made him seem more like the young child that had been left behind. That, and the fact that he was shivering.

“Dude, you’re freezing!” He glanced down to see Lloyd was only wearing a pair of baggy shorts and a light tank top. “Why aren’t you wearing any proper clothes?”

Lloyd’s cheeks flushed, and he dipped his head, muttering under his breath.

“What?”

“I don’t have any proper clothes, okay?” More quietly, he added, “Nothing fits me anymore.”

Oh, Lloyd. “Hey, why didn’t you come to me? Y’know I’ve got way more clothes than I’ll ever wear, me and the guys would be more than willing to share stuff with you. And we’ll take you shopping, too, so you can pick out some stuff of your own. How does that sound?”

Lloyd sniffed, wiping an arm across his face. “Yeah, that sounds… that sounds good.”

“Here.” Kai slipped his sweatshirt off and draped it over Lloyd’s shoulders. “It’s not exactly warm out. Don’t make yourself sick.”

“Thanks.” Lloyd pulled the sweatshirt tighter around his shoulders, and Kai felt a small swell of relief as he noticed it was still a little big on him. So his little brother hadn’t grown up completely yet.

“Bud,” he said gently, “it’s fine if you come up here, but tell us before you do next time, okay? We were worried about you.”

Lloyd looked down, still refusing to meet his gaze. “Sorry. I just… didn’t really want anyone to follow me.”

“I know, but you can’t be alone forever. It’s not going to fix anything.”

“Being together isn’t going to fix this, either.”

Kai winced. “Not physically, no. But we’ll be here for you emotionally. We’ll help you heal.”

“But I can’t-” Lloyd stopped, sighing. “Sorry. I’m being selfish.”

“Selfish? How is any of this selfish?”

“Because! You guys were risking your lives, and I made the decision that saved you, yet I’m regretting I did!” “First of all, you’re not regretting you saved us, you’re regretting the other consequences that came out of the choice. Second, it wasn’t much of a choice at all. The Grundle backed you into a corner- literally- and that was the only logical solution at the time. It’s not fair. It shouldn’t have been you. You shouldn’t have been there. You shouldn’t have been forced to make a decision like that. But you were. So you have every right to be upset, every right to complain. That is not selfish.”

Lloyd finally turned to look at him, a helpless, floundering expression on his face.

Kai took pity on him, putting an arm around him. “Lloyd, I’m here. Whether you wanna talk, or scream, or cry, or just need someone to lean on, I’m here.”

“I… I don’t know what to do, Kai. I don’t feel like myself anymore.”

“You are. You’re still the same Lloyd, still our friend, our little brother, our charge. This changes nothing between us. We’re gonna take care of you, okay?”

Lloyd sniffed, putting his hands over his face, and Kai elbowed him gently. “It’s okay to cry, y’know. No one’s gonna judge you for it.”

“But I… I’m not a little kid anymore.”

“So? Everyone cries! It’s natural, and it doesn’t matter how old you are! I’ve cried, I’ve seen Cole cry, Jay cry, I’ve definitely seen Nya cry, and Zane- well, actually, I haven’t seen Zane cry. But that’s only because he’s a nindroid and physically can’t cry. He still gets upset sometimes, though.”

“I know, but… I just feel like I should be able to handle things better.”

“Are you crazy? I’d go insane if I suddenly just aged several years in the span of seconds. Compared to me, you’re handling it like a champ.”

Lloyd didn’t look at him. “Not really. I feel like a wreck right now.” His last words caught on a sob, and Kai glanced over at him, apprehension budding in his chest.

“Are you okay?”

Lloyd blinked rapidly, trying and failing to stop the tears spilling from his eyes. “Not really.”

“Can I hug you?”

Lloyd hesitated but nodded, and Kai wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Lloyd’s shoulders, pulling him close.

Kai didn’t know how long they sat there, but it was a while before Lloyd broke the silence. “Do you think the Final Battle is coming sooner, now that I’m older?”

“I don’t know. But whenever it is, I’m gonna be there. Even if that means I have to kick Garmadon’s ass for you.” He bit his lip, grinning sheepishly. “Shoot, I didn’t mean to say that in front of you.”

Lloyd snorted. “I already know that word.”

“Wait, who taught you that? Was it Nya? I bet it was Nya.” “It wasn’t any of you. I grew up at Darkley’s, what do you expect? That isn’t the only choice word I know.”

Kai’s eyes widened. “Don’t you dare tell Zane, he’ll have a fit.”

A brief smile flickered across Lloyd’s face, the first once Kai had seen all night.

“Hey, if I’m grown up now, I should at least get to use some bad words once in a while.”

“Not happenin’, bro,” Kai grinned. “You’re not that grown up yet.”

“I could be fifty and you’d still say that.”

“What can I say, you’ve got a baby face,” Kai smirked, putting his hands on either side of Lloyd’s head.

“Stop that,” Lloyd grumbled, pushing him away. “‘M not a baby.”

“You are, and no dumb tea can change that.”

Lloyd bit his lip, trying to look away, but Kai forced his head to turn, looking him in the eye.

“Lloyd. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend like it’s all fine. Let it out.”

Lloyd gasped, half falling into his lap, and Kai gripped him tight. It’s gonna be okay, he told himself. He’s going to be okay. We all are.

Lloyd’s path had been difficult from the beginning. It wasn’t fair that all this had been thrown on him- he was just a kid, even now. But it had been, and Kai had an awful feeling that this wouldn’t be the worst hardship his youngest teammate would have to endure.

But next time he would do better. He was one of the four elemental masters of the elements of creation. It was his job to protect Lloyd, to keep him safe.

It made his heart break to see Lloyd, usually so spunky, so unshakable, like this, and he was going to do everything in his power to make sure it didn’t happen again.

But for now, he just hugged the green ninja.

He hoped, with time, it would be enough to heal him.

[viridianllamasinthesilentspace]

Sorting Bucky Barnes (MCU)

Note: I’ve had some exposure to the comics, but pretty minimally, so this Sorting is mostly based on Sebastian Stan’s portrayal of him in the MCU. Especially because according to the few of my friends who are either really into the comics or who are really into all things Bucky, the Bucky in the 616 comic universe is portrayed differently enough that it would likely affect his Sorting.

※

From what we see of him in “The First Avenger”, Bucky Barnes’ prioritizing of Steve is unchallenged, and one of the most telling scenes of his Slytherin Primary is in the bar after his rescue, when Steve asks him if he will “follow Captain America into the jaws of death?” and Bucky responds:

“Hell, no! The little guy from Brooklyn who was too dumb not to run away from a fight. I’m following him.”

This isn’t Bucky being willing to go back to war because it’s the right thing to do, or because he’s driven primarily by any kind of idealism or altruism—with a statement of both affection and purpose, he’s saying that he’s going to war because Steve is going to lead him there. He’s in it for Steve, and not Captain America. He’s there as the person who got into fights, not when someone was wrong like it was for Steve, but when Steve needed someone to bail him out. And, not just confined to showing his priorities, that line is Bucky reminding Steve that he was worth following before he was Captain America, too. It’s affection and expression of worth, and in this context, is an example of how warm Slytherin Primaries can be from inside their inner circle.

Bucky stepping in when Steve is having trouble with bullies is the loudest place where we see him taking a protective stance, but not the only place; he protects Steve emotionally, too. This nuance is mostly attributed to Sebastian Stan’s acting, but post-rescue when Steve is leading them all back to the camp and they cheer for his success, Bucky is only smiling until Steve is no longer looking at him. Immediately after he’s unobserved—by Steve, not by everyone else around them—his face falls and we see how hard the whole situation has been on him.

This is a type of self-sacrifice that we see commonly in both Loyalist Houses. Their care and drive to protect the people important to them (even if that’s just about everyone) will trump their own self-care in situations where those people need them more, or when the risk or harm their helping places them in is (in their own eyes) easily outweighed by the good of helping their important people. This behaviour points to Bucky being a Loyalist (Slytherin or Hufflepuff) Primary, but without the evidence of Bucky doing it for many people, or feeling guilty about not doing it for many people, the signs point to Slytherin over Hufflepuff.

His Secondary is likely also Slytherin, as he falls into the “always a joker” category of social interaction, poking fun despite all circumstances, even dire ones.

[Steve finds Bucky strapped to a table in one of Schmidt’s testing labs and quickly releases him from it.]

Steve Rogers: It’s me. It’s Steve.

James ‘Bucky’ Barnes: [groggily] Steve?

Steve Rogers: Come on.

James 'Bucky’ Barnes: Steve.

Steve Rogers: I thought you were dead.

James 'Bucky’ Barnes: [aware of Steve’s new size] I thought you were smaller.

This continues when he’s uncomfortable and when he’s bantering. It’s a very “Slytherin Secondary” type of defensiveness, with an intentional edge of being untouchable. Bucky presents himself as too witty, too sharp, too able to bat back everything that gets thrown at him, and therefore safe—even when he’s not.

Johann Schmidt: No matter what lies Erskine told you, you see, I was his greatest success!

[Schmidt removes his face mask and reveals his face as the Red Skull to Steve and Bucky.]

James 'Bucky’ Barnes: [to Steve] You don’t have one of those, do you?

We don’t get to see much of him before he goes off to war, but what we do see seems to have a Hufflepuff Primary model. Shown as the one to tug Steve off to just have fun for once and to socialize, Bucky enjoys being with people and out in crowds and events. He cares about whether or not the girls he brings as dates for himself and Steve have fun. Steve isn’t his only priority.

But Steve is his main priority. Bucky is less invested in the moral part of his Hufflepuff Primary model than he is in the social fun of it. We have very little material to work with, but it seems like he mostly thinks that caring about other people and valuing their happiness is a fun thing to do while Steve doesn’t need him. When Steve leaves and goes after the enlistment center to try to join the army again, Bucky hesitates only briefly before following after him. The girls having fun and being happy matters—as long as Steve doesn’t need him.

That could also be Hufflepuff need-basing: since Bucky knows that the girls are okay at the moment, he can take the time for his friend. But given the amount of other evidence we have for Bucky’s Primary, a model makes the most sense here.

Without a good enough look into his head, you could even argue that this is a performance and not a model; but if it’s a performance, it’s one he thoroughly enjoys. He seems to like living there, and not just acting like he’s living there.

We get hints of a Ravenclaw Secondary model, but they’re really just hints. The biggest one is also the iffiest one: that at the very end of “The Winter Soldier”, Bucky goes to the museum and starts researching himself and who he was—data collecting.

Someone without any Ravenclaw Secondary in them at any level could have still made the same choice, but with his very recent escape from active abuse and brainwashing, it’s possible that it’s a pattern he’s falling back on. (See how iffy that is? It’s so iffy.)

And, honestly, sorting Bucky at any point after he is the Winter Soldier is inherently iffy. We’re unsure how much of his actual awareness and personality was present during that whole ordeal and how much of him really was just machine-like, acting on orders. There is too much abuse and trauma and mental illness complicating anything that we might come to understand from his decisions during that second movie, so I’m only going to hazard vague guesses at what happened to his Sorting during that, and I’ll write another post after we see what the writers do with him in “Civil War”. Because while Sorting still works on people who’ve been traumatized and abused and are mentally ill, it’s much harder to sort those people from a position outside their head and without access to more of their layers and complexities than they are perhaps showing. This movie left plenty of ambiguity in where the writers are going to take Bucky’s personality now that he’s out of Hydra’s direct control.

If there were ever a person to have a burned Secondary, a traumatized war veteran brainwashed into being an assassin for decades would probably be it. We don’t see any particular patterns in how the Winter Soldier goes about things—he seems to be doing whatever it is that is most effective and will get the job done. Preference doesn’t come into it, and neither does personality.

We also see hints of what is probably his remaining Slytherin Primary. His jumping after Steve and saving his life, even while not understanding why, is a good example of how, stripped down to the base of it all and despite our calling it a “constructed” Primary, Slytherin loyalty is intensely felt. Through all of what Bucky has been through, Steve is still deeply, viscerally important to him.

※

So, pre-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes: Slytherin Primary/Slytherin Secondary, Hufflepuff Primary Model, and a very iffy potential Ravenclaw Secondary model.

Post-Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes: Slytherin Primary, burned Secondary? Ravenclaw Secondary model? I’m uncomfortable doing anything other than “the most-conjecture of conjecture” here, because of the ambiguity of his agency.