#...2 Asks Remaining...

[michaelscorneroftheinternet]

Hey Bob, I just wanted to let you know that everyone should love and appreciate you for the terrible and amazing person you are! How would you react if I told you that SMG4 and SMG3 are going through a whole enemies-to-lovers arc? Not saying that they are though! Or are they? Just kidding! Or am I? Just kidding! Or am- *explodes*

Also Micheal if you feel like you struggle with answering asks because of things coming up... know that I found that incredibly relatable. Keep up the good work!

Boopkins: Bob! Those are our friends not to mention their private business! You can't go selling that!

Bob: BuT lIKE MoNEY.

Boopkins: No! You will not go and hurt our friends feelings by telling other people that!

Bob: uGh FinE! YoUR lOsS tHoUGH mAn. I toTaLLY wOUld haVE shARed the ProFits wiTH you iF yOU wereN'T such a PuSSY abOUt it.

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... 2 Asks Remaining...

[ghost-proofbaby]

GHOOOST i saw your valentine blurb event and thought i’d drop in something! 🥹

24 hours eddie has been living in my mind rent free and i can’t help but feel like he’s the type to act tough and all that, but instantly melts into a gooey simpy lovesick puddle the second you call him “baby” ❤️ like yeah he likes to be called nicknames like ed or eds, but petnames??? he’s done for. just turns into a blushing blubbering mess. especially with the way he has repressed all his emotions for so long, it’s fun to kind of tease him and call him “handsome” “pretty boy” “baby boy” just to see him break his facade and just unapologetically be the golden retriever that he really is ❤️❤️❤️

i think my favorite thing about this vision is the way he would try to fight it so bad. hiding his face in your neck and blushing all terrible and gaaaaaaaahh. i hope this does it justice <3

warnings: fem!reader. reader is described to be wearing a dress, makeup, earrings, and heels. not edited. set in twenty four hours universe, after the story!

“Eddie!” 

No answer.

“Eds!” 

No answer.

“Edward Munson!” 

Your patience is wearing thin as you finally pop on the back of the earring you had been struggling with. The studs weren’t even anything fancy, hardly worth all the time you’d just spent fighting with it, but you were determined to look nice. 

Valentine’s Day. A day meant to be filled with blissful serenity and endless heart eyes, that was really only becoming the bane of your existence. 

“I swear to God,” you mumble to yourself, huffing a bit as you try to clean up the mess you’ve made of the bathroom sink. Makeup everywhere, various pieces of jewelry scattered, your curling iron still warm on the edge of porcelain. You decide rather quickly it’s a mess to be dealt with later tonight. Or tomorrow. Or next week. “If he’s still fucking with that bike.” 

The sharp clicks of your heels transform as you walk from tile to laminate-wood flooring, becoming a bit more dull and less obnoxious as you take the hallway by storm. 

Next year, you’re telling Steve to go fuck himself if he tries to lure you and Eddie into another double date. 

“Eddie, we only have thirty minutes until we nee-” you stress as you reach the end of the hall, cutting off entirely as you catch sight of the living room. 

Of the living room, and your boyfriend. 

“What is that?” 

You think you might actually kill him. 

“What?” Eddie doesn’t even look up at you, and you make a mental strike against him, “I told you, I’m working on the bi-”

“Yes,” you cut him off, taking a few harsh steps into the very crowded living room, “You were supposed to bring up a part of the bike. Why is the entire bike in our living room, Munson?” 

You mean it – you’re going to kick his ass by the end of today. 

His bike is propped up there, right in front of the TV, entirely blocking the pathway to the balcony. The bike that should be outside. The bike that certainly has God knows what all over the tires, and is sitting right on your rug you just bought for the living room. 

Eddie stops his tinkering with whatever piece he’d removed from the bike to work on on the coffee table, abiding by your rule of having a towel down below it to avoid getting grease everywhere, “What do you mean?” 

He’s playing dumb. And he probably thinks he looks cute as he does it, but no amount of fluttering lashes or boyish grins can soothe your irritation. 

“You’re an idiot, but you’re not stupid,” you hiss as you cross the room and stand right in front of him, only seeing the crown of his head as he keeps his eyes dipped low in shame, “When did you… How did you…. When the fuck did you bring the bike up?” 

You can hardly manage a fluent sentence as you look between Eddie and the bike, mind blown in the truest sense. 

His voice is a mere murmur as he fiddles with one of his wrenches, flipping it over a few times before he answers, “While you were in the shower.” 

“How?” 

“The frat boys downstairs,” he rushes out in one breath, eyes still locked on the ground rather than you. “I, uh, paid a few of them to help me lug it up.”

You sigh heavily, throwing your head back before you move to the couch and dramatically throw yourself down with defeat, “You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that, Munson?” 

“You say that like it’s new news,” he says as he twists to finally look at you, eyebrow quirked and the shadow of his dimple making an appearance while he fights a smug smile, “I think you’d be more worried if I wasn’t being a pain in your ass.” 

He’s right. It doesn’t slow the roll of your eyes, though. 

“You know I love you, right?” you say, suddenly using a sickeningly sweet tone as you lean in closer to where he sits on the ground. His face falls a bit, confusion lacing his brows together, “But, baby, if you keep this up… I’m going to kick your ass.” 

He should look a whole lot more scared than he currently does as you deliver the threat, but he entirely throws you off when he grins. 

An ear splitting grin, spreading cheek from cheek, radiating with anything but trepidation. He lights up, posture perking up as he looks at you with soft eyes. It looks as though you might have told him you loved him for the first time all over again, as though you’ve just reminded him of how you wanted to spend your life with him rather than said you were going to kick his ass. 

The fight and issue at hand is momentarily forgotten as he whispers, “What did you just call me?” 

“What did I just call you?” you question incredulously, leaning back fully, wholly concerned now. Maybe you should call Steve and cancel the date, “I- I just threatened to kick your ass, and you’re making heart eyes at me, asking me what I just called you?”

You rewind a bit in your brain, going over the moment again, trying to figure out if you’d let something unusual slip. Deciphering any moment that might have pulled this reaction from him. 

You come up empty. Nothing. 

“Did you just…” he trails off, cheeks surely aching as they shine with a bit of natural blush, “Did you just call me baby?” 

Oh. That. 

You look about the room for a second, taking in this predicament you’d gotten yourself into, “Do you not want me to call you that? I just-”

“No!” he rushes to stop you before you can take it back, “I mean, it’s fine. That’s not the issue, I just-” 

He cuts off, and you realize just how flustered he is. 

Now you’re smiling, right along with him, “You like it?” 

“Sort of,” he shrugs, going a bit shy on you now, “It… I mean, if you want to start calling me stuff like that, I don’t mind. It’s fine. It’s cool.” 

“Baby,” you say in place of his name, so naturally, like honey. You’re leaning forward once more, entering his orbit as you softly tease, “You’re blushing.” 

The words turn him even more scarlet, “Fuck off.”

“What?” it’s your turn to act innocent, rearranging yourself on the couch to be more comfortable, “I thought you said you liked it when I called you stuff like that-”

Eddie movies quickly from the floor, gathering himself up in record time that would have had him groaning in protest on any other occasion. You’ve hardly leaned an elbow back on the couch’s arm when he gets on top of you.

Even if he’s trying to stop you from all your taunting with his words, his kiss says otherwise.

It’s hot, heavy, desperate – like alarm bells might be ringing in his head and telling him to run to the nearest safety of your lips. You welcome him in, of course. Take his lips right between yours with an eagerness to match, forgetting all about the lipstick you’d just applied moments before. Thighs spreading to bring him home to you, arms quickly searching out solace of all the skin below his Deftones t-shirt. Straining biceps as he holds himself over you, squared shoulders as he balances to stay right where he belongs. His chest even heaves ever so slightly with little gasps between kisses, both your lungs needing air despite the magnetic protest between you two. 

“God,” you gasp out during one of those short breaks, making him divert a kiss to the corner of your mouth instead, “If you’re gonna kiss me like this every time I call you baby, I should do it more often,” he grunts, and tries to reignite a kiss, probably just to shut you up. You don’t let him, turning a cheek and forcing his searching mouth to plant a peck there instead, laughing a little, “Maybe I should be sure to use the nickname during dinner with Steve, hm?” 

“Don’t you dare,” he groans as his lips seek out your jaw and neck next, peppering kisses between words. For each syllable, there’s a smack of his lips against your skin. 

You ponder back to the time before you saw this side of Eddie; before someone so soft, so caring, so affectionate existed for you. It’s hard to even recall all those times now with the puddle of a man hovering over you. 

“No?” you hum, head thrown back, letting him have his way as your fingers toy with the band around his bun, “What about pretty boy instead?” 

Another groan, vibrating against your skin. 

“Or handsome?” 

This time, he nips the sensitive spot below your ear with his teeth in response.

You gasp, half from the bite and half with faux enthusiasm, “Oh! I know! I’ll take one out of your books and call you sweetheart.” 

He finally moans in annoyance, and you know it’s all an act as he faceplants into your chest. You can feel his smile, radiant as ever, muffled by your skin and dress. 

“You’re such a pain in my ass,” his echo of your earlier words come out around the cotton neckline, “You know that?” 

You ruffle the kinks of his curls at his scalp a little, giving a scratch for good measure, “Yeah. Tell me something I don’t know, handsome.” 

The full weight of him falls along your body finally, and he has a boyish glint when he raises his head. Seeking hands find promise along your hips, bunching the fabric of your black dress up into his fists before he’s kissing you again. 

A little less hot, a little less heavy, a little less desperate. Just as rewarding as before, though. 

Somewhere between simply nice and deathly devoted, you two let your mouths explore at a leisure pace. His lips, the apples of his cheeks, the line of his jaw down to his chin – no space is left unkissed, and you finally notice the smear of red lipstick. 

“Oh, shit,” you laugh out, not sounding the least bit sorry as you look at the fading marks left behind, “I got my lipstick all over you.” 

When he lifts from the crook of your neck, you catch the stain feathering out around his own lips, a bit smeared along his chin, “And you. I dunno if we can go to dinner lookin’ like this, doll.” 

You get it. His reaction to your slip of a pet name. 

You have the same reaction as he does it to you, gut fluttering and chest buzzing with tenderness at the sentiments. It’s a simple thing, probably a bit cheesy and cringey to outsiders, but it works between the two of you. You like hearing him grant you the pleasure of a nickname, whether it be sweetheart or doll. You love the hidden devotion beneath the delivery, whether it be idiot or fool. 

There’s always an unspoken my in the mix. A certain sense of belonging to him that you can’t really explain to others without being looked at as if you’ve grown a second head. 

Why would you want to belong to another person, in any sense of the word? 

The answer feels simple enough when you look up at your boy, covered and pretty in Maybelline’s “Ruby for Me”.

“You’re not getting out of this double date,” you whisper back, still toying with his hair, still looking up at him with all the love you’re capable of growing within this chest of yours. It’s a bit more than yesterday, that much you’re sure. Each day, he finds a way to push the limits just a bit more, make a little bit more room behind your ribs for all the affection you hold for him, “If I’m stuck in this impending disaster, so are you.” 

He sighs, head slipping into the crook of your neck, “Yeah… Yeah, that sounds about right.” 

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” 

“Me? Disappointed with you?” he gasps, breath hot on your skin still as he snuggles in a little closer, grips the soft fabric of your dress a little tighter, “Oh, never.”

“Oh, so you decide to sound sarcastic instead?” you’re fighting a grin, trying to find a reason to be mad at him again. Hell, you even glance at the motorcycle in your damn living room to reignite the smallest of sparks – nothing, “You wound me, pretty boy.” 

“You’re all about stealing my lines tonight, I see,” he teases as he finally begins to peel himself away from you. He’s all soft – soft eyes, soft smile, soft cheeks, soft flush. Soft, soft, soft. “I guess if there’s no way to convince you to stay home instead of going to this stupid double date, we both gotta get cleaned up now.” 

You adore him. If you could bottle up all that softness you’re witnessing with your own two eyes just for a rainy day, you would. 

He starts to stand on his knees, moving to leave you entirely and take all that mellow delight away from you too soon, when you lock your heels against his lower back. 

Wrapping your legs a little too tightly around his waist, you raise a brow, “You may not be able to convince me to stay home entirely, but… no one ever said you couldn’t convince me to be about, let’s say, ten minutes late.” 

He tilts his head at you, eyes wide, “Only ten minutes?” 

“Okay, you’ve twisted my arm. Let’s make it fifteen.” 

He crashes back into you in an instant, both of you giggling in the process. 

With the weight of your pretty boy between your hips, and the caress of his lips against your chest, you accidentally make it nearly thirty minutes late. You don’t really care – not when it comes to Eddie.

[loycos]

what did you make of the scene where caitlyn hits vi ? the timing of the blow was so unexpected to me…she was kinda steadying herself and then WHAM. What was going through her head ? Was she making some kind of decision ? Mind still reeling that she chose (?) to gut punch Vi to signal the end of their relationship.

well, i dont exactly know what made her make this decision. it looks like a momentary lashout based on rage. i think her rage comes from a place of betrayal, so she wants to make vi as hurt as that betrayal feels.

i actually think the "misunderstanding" thats happening here is very well written. clearly we as the audience see that caitlyn is becoming more and more unhinged. vi sees it as well. caitlyn might have missed the shot and killed a kid- her composure at that moment was very much shaken. most people, given this scenario, would choose to opt out. so to us, caitlyn being so insistent feels callous and irretional. which, it is. but lets look at it from caitlyn's perspective.

so, caitlyn feels a lot of guilt about the fact she didnt shoot jinx back at the dinner table. its very well established. she mainly blames herself, but i think a small subconscious part of her also blames vi- vi is the one who got her to hesitate, after all. the fact that she "messed up" last time and that caused so much grief and pain not only to herself, but to the 2 cities, makes her EXTREMELY determined to NEVER make that mistake again.

vi told caitlyn to not bring back up, so basically, theyre each other's only support. caitlyn agreed, that means that to her she put 100% of her trust in vi to help here and to have her back. vi told her, my sister is gone. when u have the chance, take the shot. caitlyn is convinced theyre on the same page here. so when vi turns on her, shes in utter disbelief, and she starts questioning whenever vi ever had HER best interest in mind.

thats why i think caitlyn is so obsessed with bringing up the idea of who's "side" vi is on. you could read it as "piltover vs zaun" but i think what she means is "me vs jinx". at the dinner party caitlyn didnt shoot because of vi, and she wonders whether or not the girl she sacrificed everything for would do the same for her.

and at that moment, after she missed her shots, again, because of vi, she comes to the realization that vi would never choose her over jinx. and she flips out.

now. thats how CAITLYN sees it, im pretty sure. we know there are other things at play that have affected vi's decision, and that caitlyn currently is not seeing the bigger picture. but that's what i think she felt that drew this severe of a reaction from her.

[stealingpotatoes]

Merrin and Ventress react to learning that Anakin is responsible for the death of the Fanged God and Winged Goddess (Mortis twins and worshipped by the Dathomiri)

50% of clone wars is like "yeah anakin could kill a god" the other 50% is "he couldnt even stab a bagel correctly"

[solstrix]

Thalassophobia - 3/4

Local catgirl impulsively speaks up on feelings she has not yet processed, more at 8

1 2 4

[homkamiro]

I never knew how much I needed your SniperScout Yuri in my life before I found it, but uh... is very good. Please keep making it.

Awww thanks for that! My asks are literally 70% consist of speeding bullet yuri, so you'll probably have to look at them for a while, yeah

Not much of a ship art with a plot, just wanted to draw girls being kissable and smoochable. God I kove them

[godslittlesadge]

they put something in iovara cause all her dialogues are devastating

[sunshine-sky0]

HE IS SO SILLY????

He rlly said :O

Totally drawing this later hes such A Guy

[mimorobo]

hi!!! so i've been binging your blog and you make alot of undnertale stuff(same) and been wondering, any ocs???? as an oc owner I love when people ask me if i have ocs so might as well pay it forward. though it's totally okay if you don't have any!! it hard making ocs that you care about. And if you don't have any, don't you have any aus?? (asking caise i may or may not make fanart, though do NOT believe me productivity it negative zerooooooooooooo)

Hello!! Yeah, I do Undertale a lot.... Like, a LOT. Uh, I don't really have OCs, I'm pretty sure you're talking about Undertale OCs? Ones that you care about... Yeah I imagine that's kinda hard to do... I did mention before that I had a skeleton guy, I searched around for cool font names, settled with Oswald, made him a cool dude whose design was slightly based on Greek soldiers. I liked him too, I thought he was awesome at the time!! But other than that and a few made up monsters I don't have anyone, terrible, I know!!

And aus? .... Uh, the only one that stands out that was actually DECENT was one where I thought "what if Undyne remembered resets". I kept seeing sans remembering in comics and stuff so I was trying to think of someone else, someone COMPLETELY different, and got Undyne.

I still think it wasn't half bad! Not sure if it's been done before, but, in short, it would've been during Flowey's time, no Frisk. (Although that could be interesting too) Undyne would be able to remember because of DT of course!! And it'd revolve around how she's figuring out what's actually happening, trying to stop it, finding hope and comfort in places she wouldn't previously, and realising and appreciating the people around her more, and how she can affect everything around them.

It'd be like those classic time loop stories where the hero has to find a way for everyone to be happy, and only then would the loop stop. Although it'd be different here, very different. I still like it, probably keep working on it actually!

Well!! That was a wall of text!! Thanks for the ask!! It IS kinda nice to ramble about your stuff!! Also productivity being zero is SO relatable!! Don't worry! :'D

[zipmode]

I didn't realize Arcade would stop being a companion after you did his quest he was like. Thanks for helping me assemble the elderly avengers. Here's my dad's 300 pound armor so you can't fast travel while you're in the middle of the wilderness. Goodbye forever 😁👍

[burningcheese-merchant]

hey merchant i just wanting to ask, are you working on a fic? or you are just conjuring the most outrageous Burningcheese headcannons in your head, because im fine with both i love your headcannons, like the only reason i started to follow you is to read your yapping

Both haha. I have that one BurningCheese fic on AO3 I need to finish (final draft of chapter 3 still in progress), plus another fic I want to get started, plus a billion headcanons, plus more stuff about the fankids, plus a big AU I'm working hard on as well (this ship has demonically possessed me, in case you haven't noticed) (I also have a ShadowVanilla fic in the works. I know it's not going to be as good as any of the big hitters everyone raves about, but I want to write it anyway. It's been on my mind for a while)

I've been slow because of other things. irl responsibilities take precedence over my silly fandom blog. I also had that huge scare with my dog, which I'm honestly still trying to recover from mentally/emotionally (he's alive, he's home from the hospital, he's on some new medication and he's getting back to his normal self, thank God Almighty. I am now trying to parse what the future might look like and whatever extra help he might need, if we can even afford it, things like that), so that's something else setting my creativity back haha. But don't fret, I'm not quitting or anything. I just need a bit of time

Thank you for enjoying my yapping! I love me some yapping. Plz feed me more opportunities to yap about BurningCheese and their babies and other things. I am insane. Feed me, Seymour

[thefirstknife]

*hears Witness refer to themselves as the First Knife*

*eyes Bel*

*slowly backs away*

Welcome to my twisted mind.

Jokes aside, I also saw that ofc! It was also called that in the campaign by the dissenters:

I really enjoy that this got confirmed (either way!). There's been so much speculation on it. I've personally been on and off on the theory that the Witness is the first knife or just a manifestation of it or maybe that the first knife is just a concept, and if the Witness is trying to embody it or not. And so on. It's been really cool speculating and theorycrafting!

But now we know! Well... sort of, still. The Witness certainly believes itself to be the first knife, but is it truly? What does that mean? Does it even matter?

There's a ship you can get for finishing one of the sidequests: The First Knife. It has really cool lore of Mara and Ikora discussing the first knife and its meaning. I'll shorten the lore tab to just their dialogue so it's easier to copy and have at hand:

Mara: "When I first encountered the Witness, I heard it proclaim to me, 'We are the first knife.' It was as if that title held power. Meaning." Ikora: "The apocryphal texts we dug up on the moon, the ones Eris translated, mentioned the knife as a concept." Mara: "And even if we consider that unveiled text as dogmatic propaganda, there may be truth behind the allegory. The knife becomes the metaphor of a concept. A power. A knife that winnows, cutting things into a defined shape." Ikora: "A power that winnowed living beings into Taken. A power Oryx wielded." Mara: "You're wondering if the knife is a title, or a power. Did Oryx wield the power of the Witness like a knife?" Ikora: "The Witness is a manipulator. It distorts the truth to bend the wills of its supplicants. The allegorical fantasy told to us by the Witness paints itself as a monolithic cosmic force. But perhaps that's a shadow cast by the truth." Mara: "A knife is a tool, wielded by another's hand." Ikora: "If the Witness is the knife, as it asserts, then what wields it?" Mara: "The Witness is not a being. It is the culmination of a bleak ethos willed into existence by the nihilistic desires of its creators. Is their will the hand on the knife? Or is there something else?" Ikora: "I don't know."

This about summarises my thoughts on it, the ones I've always had. I'm not sure if there's any other information, maybe in the raid or the raid's lore book, but for now I'll focus on just this.

Mara says what I've always also agreed with: Unveiling is an allegory, but it has shreds of truth. The problem is that we don't know which parts are truth. We could speculate on that to no end. Ikora agrees as well and also asserts what I believe is the confirmation that the Witness wrote it, by calling it the "allegorical fantasy told to us by the Witness." Or at least this is what the characters believe to be true; Ikora also notes how even that could be a part of that truth among the allegories.

They consider it as a possible power, but they also consider it through the concept of it being a knife: a knife is wielded. Is the Witness being wielded by something else? Is it a knife because the species that made the Witness is the hand? Or is there something different? The conclusion is that neither of them know.

The problem, I think, we'll always have here in regards to the Winnower and anything above the Witness is that it will be hard to tell unless this hypothetical other being actually appears. The Witness may believe that it is the knife of the Winnower, but that could just be its interpretation of its own purpose. Essentially, the Witness may hold a religious belief about its place in the universe that simply isn't true, or believe in a being that isn't real. Just because the Witness says "We are the first knife [of the Winnower (?)]," doesn't mean that is the actual truth. It could be! But we simply don't know, and we won't know, until the Winnower appears (if it ever does; even if it is real, it may still not ever appear in person, in lore or the game).

Even if there's any other information, unless that information is from a reputable source (something that isn't the Witness itself or the Witness-aligned factions telling us a story), it will be hard to tell what's the truth. I really like that! I also really like that the first knife is still discussed also as a concept, not just something that the Witness believes it is. At the end of the day, this title represents something and it's the concept of winnowing, cutting things off.

But I do also like that "the first knife" has been addressed and explained. The Witness believes it is the first knife, and depending on more unfathomable cosmic forces, it may or may not really be that thing as something tangible and powerful, or even just as a title. Does the title matter? It does only because it matters to the Witness. At least for now. Until something actually shows up and presents itself as the wielder of the first knife, we will not know for certain.

Currently waiting to see when I can get the raid clear and the raid lore book, maybe for more information!

[littlebigmouse]

Something about AU Vander telling AU Powder she's "too smart to spend her life in a bar" vs telling AU Ekko (as far as he knows, anyway) that he thinks he'd be "running this place soon" makes the latter almost seem like an insult.

[pomefioredove]

If I was Yuu I'd stay but partially I enjoy academics and well... free school? Free housing? Hell yeah! Yeah it's a chappy living situation but I'll take that over the magical wilderness. Plus if I graduate it's some form of ID unless I can get one of the royals to make me a citizen from where they're from (looking at Malleus).

Plus with how connected people are in NRC you could probably get a carrier or connection from a friend. Most of job stuff is who you know not what you know.

guards, puppet this anon!!!

[handweavers]

i know i'm feeling particularly sad when i feel compelled to contact my father its like grasping for a knife i know will cut me but doing it anyway because i desperately need to feel some semblance of familial connection

[skrunksthatwunk]

save me ladyklok save me