#Context for anyone unfamiliar:

[vonehrenfest]

DCxDP: Dead guys stick together

(A Batman 138 fix-it)

After Bizarro becomes King of Hell he watches the mortal world and is distraught to find that his brother/best friend/sorta father-figure has been hurt very badly and is calling out for help.

Distraught, he goes to another lord of the netherworld who he's heard has access to a portal (and subjects a bit more compatible with the act of helping someone). He asks King Phantom would he please please help him protect his brother/friend, and if he does Bizarro will owe him a favor and leave his realm alone.

When the inferno had initially breached the Ghost Zone Danny had thought he was going to have to deal with f*cking Trigon again, but as it turns out that guy's been replaced and the new guy is pretty nice. After a brief cosmic battle and a clearing of misunderstandings, Danny agrees to Bizarro’s request.

While Gotham's vigilante civil war continues on its rooftops, Jason is in a cell. He is trembling, practically catatonic again, and losing his mind. He’s seeing the flaming figure of a knight on horseback appear from the shadowy far wall of his room, like some kind of fairytale nightmare version of Batman. It takes a while for Jason to realize he’s talking. 

“... part of the treaty between the King of Ghosts and King of Demons, Jason Todd: Prince of Demons has been granted special status and is henceforth a protected and honorary citizen of the Infinite Realms.” 

Nightmare-Bruce touches his flaming sword on Jason’s shoulder and the unearthly fire instantly engulfs him. Relief washes through Jason, and it’s so strong he nearly drops asleep.

Bruce is apologetic when everything’s over and he realizes the mistakes he’s made... but nothing really changes. (It is a relief to Bruce that no one died or was permanently injured, Jason's condition resolved itself somehow, and Bruce is normal now so really everything is fixed or at least it will be fixed.)

Just like when Jason first came back from the dead, Bruce's response makes him hurt deeper than the physical torture itself. Jason is the one who died but Bruce acts like the ghost. Singleminded, possessive, stuck in time and blind to it; bound to repeat the same cycles again and again. Jason is the ghost but he's died multiple times now, and maybe that's kind of like living and maybe that means he can move on. 

Dani and Bizarro become friends, and she gets Danny's friend Tucker to somehow set up a working Wi-Fi connection in hell so they can all play games together. (He’s not going to question it. Everything about Amity Park is abnormal. They helped him and they’re good to Bizarro, that’s all that matters.) 

Jason forges a fake identity for Dani. He might ask Babs to make a better one for her if she ever needs it but he doubts that's likely. He hasn’t had a living identity for years now after all, he’s an old hand at fake identities. Dani is delighted and starts attending school soon after. 

Danny has good friends, and as far as Jason can tell plenty of reliable mentors in the ghost world. You wouldn’t think it, but Jason’s less worried about Danny in his role as a little godling than in his civilian life. He’s got too much on his plate- too much power yet not enough to actually resolve his real issues. Not enough to protect himself where he’s vulnerable. 

The “Guys in White” that Danny likes to complain about are concerning. So is the fact that Danny’s lives with mad-scientist parents who are trying to hunt down his alternate identity. So is his ever grinding cold-war with the mayor of his town… And something else too that had been niggling at the back of Jason’s mind ever since he’d first gotten to talk to these kids. 

One day Danny’s sister, Jazz asks to talk to him. He’s an adult she says. That’s true he replies. He’s capable of protecting himself and other people, she says. Well, he has the training and experience for it, he agrees. If things go wrong, would Jason let Danny or Dani stay with him- just until she becomes a legal adult? She asks. Jason’s... not the sort of person who should be taking kids in. Danny saved his life though. He won’t say no. He says of course.

Jason knew it. Everything about Amity Park is abnormal.

The town doesn’t technically exist- there are no maps that include it and even satellite imaging is corrupted where Danny describes his hometown is supposed to be. There are no references to it on the internet that couldn’t be referring to a totally different Amity Park elsewhere, and judging by the problems they occasionally had on gaming nights and the odd offhand remarks Danny and his friends sometimes made, it was looking extremely likely that all communications between Amity Park and the outside were being heavily censored. Before Jason knew it he had started a full-on investigation on the GIW, Mayor Vlad Masters, former Mayor Montez, and Axion Labs.

Hope and fear lodges itself in Danny’s chest. Jason’s an adult and he’s actually going to help.

[kismetmoon]

i <3 my gf

[Plain text ID: four monochrome digital drawings of two original Flatland characters, Liz and Ruth, on grey backgrounds.

Liz is the longer, solid black line with stars on either end of her body and three arm-like cilia near her head and the back end of her body. She is missing one cilium and instead has a shallow indent in her side where it would be. Ruth is the shorter line with grey patches on her body and a sharp v-shaped ‘dent’ in her middle. She also has four cilia protruding from her sides in the same places as Liz. Their heads are denoted as the blunt ends with thin white lines making up a mouth.

In the first photo, Liz is bent over Ruth (who is situated right below her) as to avoid touching Ruth’s dent while holding a 2D-style umbrella in her mouth. It is raining all around them except for areas in the umbrella’s path. There is a square thought bubble beside Ruth with text that says “what a nice friend!”. There is a triangular thought bubble next to Liz with text that says “i <3 my gf”. Both are smiling.

In the second photo, Liz’s body is curled loosely around Ruth’s but they are not touching. Liz is smiling while Ruth has a soft frown. There is a grey line to their left, right and behind them that all connect at the ends to form an open rectangle-like structure that is meant to represent a bed. There is a square thought bubble beside Ruth with text that says “do friends usually cuddle?”. There is a triangular thought bubble next to Liz with text that says “i <3 my gf”.

In the third photo, Liz and Ruth are situated horizontally side-by-side with Liz to the top and Ruth near the bottom of the photo. They are both touching each other’s arm-like structure closest to their heads. Liz is smiling while Ruth is grinning nervously. There is a square thought bubble beside Ruth with text that says “omp i wonder if she feels the same way,,”. There is a triangular thought bubble next to Liz with text that says “i <3 my gf”.

In the fourth photo, Ruth is facing Liz - who is curled into a S-shape. Liz is presenting some grey flowers in her mouth to Ruth. Ruth has a sheepish smile and a square thought bubble beside her with text that says “omp i think she likes me back”. There is a triangular thought bubble next to Liz with text that says “i <3 my gf”.

End ID.]

[selfindulgentfandomstuff]

"Hey that's fucked up to say" "yeah i want someone to tell me not to say it" girl you are beyond help

Liiiiterallyyyy

Like.. do you hear yourself??

[purecommemasolitude]

The Seraph's lyrics are something that can actually be so personal

Like "I don't believe in God. I think Jesus was just a man/But with you in my life, I feel part of some heavenly plan/You've shown me there is faith without fear or regret/You are a love as close to Heaven as I'll get" especially is just So Much

And when the saviour joins in and both him and the sinner sing the same lyrics.... MAN.

AND when He and She from Make Me Happy join in it's just. Man.

[fire-faerie-nineteen]

Listening to my musicals playlist and randomly remembered one time I was talking with my friends and a group of us were like yeah there's fanfic for everything and the rest of them were like no way and we were all currently in starlight express so they went to look up starlight express fanfic on fanfiction.net fully thinking it wouldn't exist but it DOES

[awearywritersworld]

my very soul demands you

sukuna x reader summary: you introduce sukuna to cuddling and romance novels. meanwhile, he's still struggling to make sense of his feelings for you, despite wanting to commit murder because another man had the nerve to touch your arm (which earns him a lecture from yuuji). w/c: 2.5k tags/warnings: enemies to lovers. angst to fluff. jealous!sukuna. aged up!yuuji. features yuuji x reader. cursing. banter. hopefully not too ooc for sukuna. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. no manga spoilers. a/n: this could maybe be read as a stand alone, but it'd flow much better with the context of the previous two parts. lots of denial and begrudging softness from sukuna here. definitely more fluff than anything tho. this series has been fun to write, so thanks for reading<3 i appreciate reblogs or feedback! let me know if you'd like to be tagged in any additional parts. series masterlist // masterlist

when you crawl in between sukuna's legs and curl up against his chest, it's a foreign experience that makes his body stiffen.

he'd been with countless women during his lifetime, but while fucking is one thing, he never once found himself in a position that struck him as this... intimate.

"hold me," you whine as if you can sense his unfamiliarity with such matters.

he rolls his eyes, beginning to wonder if your habit of throwing orders at him is actually some sort of compulsive need. "didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"

despite his irritation, he acquiesces to your demand and once he envelops you in his arms, some of his rigidness dissipates.

you hum contentedly. "isn't that better?"

"it's tolerable," he asserts, his chest vibrating against your cheek.

"whatever you say." tangling your legs with his, you turn your attention back to the movie you've both been watching.

he doesn't understand this... tedious display of affection, nor does he particularly enjoy it... right?

and he only allows it because he can't rid his mind of the image of your tear stained face... right?

yeah, that has to be it. he figures he can endure this, given that he was the reason you were so upset earlier.

it goes without saying that he doesn't realize it when he begins to rub absentminded circles on your back.

and the way the warmth of your body forces his usually tense muscles to relax goes unacknowledged.

when the credits begin to roll, sukuna's wearing an expression of unimpressed disinterest. "that's seriously how it ends?"

you don't respond, so he looks down only to find that you're fast asleep.

"tch. you ask to watch a movie, force me to pick it, and then you don't even have the decency to stay awake." he's not sure why he's chiding you even though he knows you can't hear him, but he keeps his voice low enough that it won't disturb you.

sukuna's spent more time than he cares to admit watching your sleeping form, but this is the first time that it's actually him you're pressed against. it's the first time he can reach out and touch you.

your hair has fallen across your face, so he pushes it back behind your ear gently. the pads of his fingers brush against your cheekbone, a ghost of a caress, and his gaze lingers on your parted lips.

he lets out a deep breath, tearing his eyes away from you. "impertinent brat."

reaching for the remote, he flips off the tv and casts the room in darkness.

upon waking up in the morning, yuuji's confused once he notices that he's on the couch and you're sleeping against his chest.

he may have been half asleep when he arrived home, but he's still positive he went to bed. stretching his arms above his head, the movement jostles you from your slumber.

"mornin', baby."

"good morning, yu," you yawn in response, shifting to sit up.

"how'd i wind up on the couch?" he asks, though he's already got an inkling of the answer.

"oh," you blush. "sukuna kind of made an appearance last night."

"that so? how'd it go?"

you think there might be a shadow of a smirk playing on his lips. is he teasing you?

"good," you offer. "we watched a movie."

"watched a movie with the king of curses," he muses before his face breaks out into a lopsided grin. "you sure are somethin', baby."

returning his smile, you lean in and press your lips to his. "hm. says you."

it's not uncommon for you to meet yuuji for lunch if his mission is short and nearby, and today is one of those days, so he eagerly makes his way to the cafe you agreed on.

he's still a few hundred feet away when he spots you through the window, chatting with a man he recognizes as your childhood friend.

his gaze drops to where his hand is wrapped around your forearm as you both share a laugh together.

it doesn't really bother yuuji, he trusts you implicitly and jealousy isn't an emotion that's really on his radar. the same can't be said for everyone, though.

sukuna watches on as well, his thoughts much darker than his vessel's. who does that wretch think he is, putting his hands on you?

you're not his to touch.

"give me control," sukuna growls, his mouth appearing on yuuji's cheek.

"and why would i do that?"

"so i can rip his heart out and gift it to her since he seems so interested in offering his affections."

"duuuude," yuuji begins, somewhat amused. "i don't think she'd be super crazy about you murdering her friend."

"fine," sukuna bites back, well aware that yuuji has a point. "but he can live without his filthy hands, can't he? perhaps i'll pull each arm from his torso—"

yuuji snorts. "you have some serious issues, man."

he can feel sukuna trying to take over and easily curbs the attempt, though that only fuels the king of curses' irritation. "my only issue lies in the fact you're allowing this to happen."

yuuji reaches the door, a bell chiming through the cafe as he pulls it open. "she's a big girl. she doesn't need either of us to dictate what can and can't happen to her."

once you see your boyfriend, your face lights up and you call out his name. you place a kiss on his cheek and snake an arm around his waist in greeting, and the space it puts between you and your friend is enough to keep sukuna from protesting further.

"you two have met, right?" you ask.

"yeah! hey, itadori! it's been a while."

"it has! good to see you, yamada."

"i'd love to stay and chat more, but i have to get going," he states, leaning in to give you a hug which you return. "we should all go out together soon!"

"absolutely not, you deplorable knave—" yuuji slaps a hand to his cheek before sukuna can continue and yamada gives him an odd look.

your eyes widen for a split second and you have to stop yourself from facepalming.

"what'd you say?" yamada asks, sounding a bit hesitant.

"i said absolutely, sounds like an enjoyable night!"

the men exchange a handshake before you and yuuji make your way to a table.

"sukuna, what the hell was that?" you hiss once yamada's out of earshot.

"i don't know what you mean," he responds smugly.

you meet yuuji's eye and he just shrugs his shoulders, but you swear the corners of his mouth twitch upward.

you can't imagine anything good coming from the two of them colluding with one another, but let it go anyway.

opening up your menu, you sigh in defeat. "if you say so."

"what do you mean you'd rather disembowel yourself?" you question the man sitting across from you.

it's becoming more commonplace to see those dark marks adorning yuuji's body during the nighttime hours. you sometimes wonder if he's letting it happen or if sukuna's just getting better at taking over, but you're too nervous to ask.

"do you need a dictionary? there's one over on the shelf—"

"no, asshole. i know what disembowel means! i just don't understand your refusal."

he raises his eyebrows at the obscenity, but doesn't comment on it. "i'm not reading some inane romance novel."

"but brontë's one of my favorite authors!"

"it makes no difference if it was penned by the gods. the thought alone is absurd. can we move on now?"

you don't respond. instead, you cross your arms and stare at the wall defiantly. your face is contorted into an expression that lets sukuna know you're clearly affronted.

"very mature, you silly little girl."

"sorry you find me and my interests so childish," you huff.

"oh, please. that's not what i said."

you continue giving him the cold shoulder, having no desire to argue further, but more than willing to die on this hill.

"fine, don't talk. it's no matter to me," he claims (despite it being the furthest thing from the truth).

as the minutes tick by, he keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye and exhaling dramatically.

eventually, he calls your name in an exasperated tone, and while it makes your heart flutter, you still don't spare him a glance. you just hold the book out for him and to your surprise, he rips it from your grasp.

"you're ridiculous," he grumbles, opening the cover to reveal the first page. "i hate you."

when he glances over to see you're beaming at him despite the insult, he adds (albeit half heartedly), "i mean it, brat."

the two of you sit in silence, each of you reading your respective books. a few chapters in, sukuna comes across the following conversation:

"do you know where the wicked go after death?" "they go to hell," was my ready and orthodox answer. "and what is hell? can you tell me that?" "a pit full of fire." "and should you like to fall into that pit, and to be burning there for ever?" "no, sir." "what must you do to avoid it?" i deliberated a moment; my answer, when it did come, was objectionable: "i must keep in good health, and not die."

to your astonishment, you actually hear him chuckle, but when he looks over and finds your self satisfied smirk, any hint of humor disappears from his face in the blink of an eye. your hand quickly moves to your mouth to stifle a giggle.

"something you want to say?" he baits you.

"nope, nothing at all!"

two nights later, he's already nearing the end of the story and you refrain from commenting about how quickly he's made his way through.

you doubt he'd allow your current position if you had— you're laying on your side, your head resting comfortably in his lap, one hand occupying the space above his knee.

when you asked if it was okay, all he offered you was a clipped, "i suppose."

your hair is splayed across his thigh and your eyes fluttered shut a while ago. when he agreed to this, he didn't realize how distracting it'd be. his gaze flickers between you and the words on the page with embarrassing frequency.

he's decided what you call cuddling is absolutely suffocating. how anyone could actually enjoy it, he's sure he'll never comprehend. he can hardly concentrate on the novel that's right in front of him—

"read to me, 'kuna," you mumble, interrupting his thoughts. it surprises him that you're still awake.

he scoffs. "what do i look like? your personal audiobook?"

"you didn't even know those existed until like a week ago," you laugh. "c'mon, pleaaaaaase."

he stays quiet for a few moments, so you're under the impression he may just ignore your request. as such, you're exceptionally pleased when his voice fills the otherwise still apartment.

you think the sound of his voice is comforting, an idea that would more than likely make him cringe, so you keep it to yourself. after all, you don't want him to stop.

at some point or another, he begins twirling a strand of your hair around his finger whenever he's not turning the page, an action that seems to take place without his noticing.

occasionally he'll pause to ask if you're even listening. it's an odd feeling that blossoms in his stomach when you assure, "mhmm. every word."

as he reaches the second to last chapter, he reads a line that makes you question whether your heart's stopped beating. you're not sure if it's because of the tone of his voice, the words he's imparting, or some mix thereof.

"no—no—jane; you must not go. no—i have touched you, heard you, felt the comfort of your presence—the sweetness of your consolation: i cannot give up these joys. i have little left in myself—I must have you. the world may laugh—may call me absurd, selfish—but it does not signify."

he stops reading, as if he too feels the sense of unease that's invaded the air. against your better judgement, you turn to look at him. his eyes are glued to the page, almost like they're avoiding you, and his jaw is tense.

"my very soul demands you: it will be satisfied, or it will take deadly vengeance on its frame.”

when his gaze finally lands on you, his expression is almost pained. it's a strange contrast to the warm fondness you spot in his eyes.

you quickly push that thought away, however. whatever you believe you may have seen, you're probably just deluding yourself. you know you aren't his least favorite person, but surely he'd never feel even half of that sentiment toward you—

your breath catches in your throat when his hand reaches up, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. he still marvels at the fact you don't shy away from his touch, that you're usually the one to seek out contact with him.

perhaps the story is not as asinine as he expected it to be. rochester presumes jane will find him revolting, yet she still agrees to be with him, even after his selfishness has been made plain to her. after the sins of his past have caught up to him.

no, no, no.

to be so desperate for some woman's approval, or her devotion for that matter, is despicable. rochester's nothing less than foolish and sukuna isn't anything like him.

but you're certainly like jane, aren't you? fearless, passionate, and determined: all things he can't help but find endearing...

gods, what is this turmoil? it's making him feel pathetic and there isn't an emotion in the world he hates more—

you distract him from his internal monologue when your fingers wrap around his wrist and bring his knuckles to your lips. "you okay?"

"of course," he mutters, pulling his hand away. "just trying to get past all the mawkishness."

"really? you think it's that bad?" you question, the frown on your lips igniting that ache in his chest that appears whenever you're upset.

"it's not terrible," he sighs, realizing there may indeed be one thing he despises even more than feeling pathetic. "although i don't understand how jane is so taken with rochester."

you seem to ponder this for a moment before shrugging. "love is weird."

"what a clever analysis."

you slap his chest playfully. "oh, whatever. just keep going, you're almost finished!"

and you're right. he does reach the end of jane eyre that night, but not before you fall asleep on his lap. he closes the book, running a finger down the creased spine and setting it down carefully. it's obvious you've read it several times.

admittedly, he can see why, but he'd be caught dead before he'd ever tell you as much.

left alone with his thoughts, he considers the impossibility of jane and rochester: a charming, headstrong woman and a cruel, arrogant man.

leaning forward, he whispers your name to make certain you're asleep, then places a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"..sweet dreams."

[moonit3]

I can order a yandere cute (kawaii), who maybe because of his cute and innocent appearance managed to get close to his beloved, but maybe this boy is not only cute and has a very disturbing past...

i love this concept, a cute person who is actually a freaking person behind the curtains. that’s why i love my readers, always giving me the best ideas to write.

ꕥ CUTE BOY ꕥ

➽ context warnings: yandere! male, gn! reader, sfw but there is some nsfw lines down there, a small age gap (like two-four years, but both reader and yandere are legal age!), manipulation, murder off scene.

➽ word count: 998 (sorry for that, guys!)

➽ synopsis: perhaps you would see him with another eyes if he was the same age as your.

➽ yandere! cute boy x gn! reader

➽ a/n: another few weeks later and i am here with another work of mine, today i present to you all my new creation that i am proud to be the mother of it. this work is a little too short for my own likes, but i feared that if i wrote more i could easily ruin it…so please, bear with me today’s writing.

➽ walking around the streets without paying attention led you to meet someone completely different from most people you met before. clothes so bright that might your hurt at first glance full of cute patterns on it, hairclips all over his dyed hair and of course, his personality being way too soft for a world like this, but with a little extra spicy that can’t be compared to anyone else.

➽ micah is his name, a sweet boy that isn’t so tall compared to most guys that you’ve encountered. yet, is the one who catch your attention the most with his odd smile, unfamiliar style and unique sense of humor. you consider yourself lucky to have met someone like him and even luckier to have someone by your side after moving to a new city.

➽ you might have know him for a couple of weeks, but it’s feel like he been around your whole life by the way he acts with you. many people even mistakenly you two as a couple by how affectionate he is in public, always holding hands and kissing your cheek as a way to greet you, so you don’t blame them for thing the wrong way when explaining that micah is just too friendly with you. but no one seems to believe you, always telling you that there is no shame in being touchy with him in public or hide the relationship.

➽ well, they aren’t wrong about micah being so much cling with you in the public eyes. sometimes, you ask yourself the last time you went out without him or for how long he can go without touching you (almost a minute, you recall). your best friend being like this doesn’t make you uncomfortable, by the completely opposite, you are kind into it. after all, everyone needs some physical affection and you are in no place to deny it.

➽ as more time goes on, you only got closer to micah while your other friends began distancing themselves away from you. why would they do that? the sense that you’ve done something wrong quickly makes you anxious, overthinking and even forgetting things that you were supposed to do. it’s hurt to see so many people leave you, abandon you. but hey, at least micah is by your side with no intention to leave.

➽ “let’s go out, [name]!” he brings you to the mall whatever he feels like, buying expensive outfits that match his style and making you pose with him to post at his social media. mostly of the comments compliment how the two looks so perfect together, some even saying that micah is a lucky guy to have you in his life. “look, look, [name]! they think we are a couple! isn’t that cute? maybe we do fit to be together like that.”

➽ “don’t be silly.” always patting his head makes him melt under your touch only if you could do that on other parts of his body, and he couldn’t be more grateful to be receiving those head pats too. “aren’t you a little to young for me? i know that you enjoy hugging me a lot and even kissing my cheek whatever you want, but you have to remember that i am older than you.”

➽ “hahaha, i know that.” can’t you see that his smile is no bigger as it was? your eyes does look at him, seeing that he isn’t playful like before, so you hold one of his hand and smile at him. “but you will stay by my side, right? like forever without anyone else trying to separate us.”

➽ “i promise, micah.” his pink dyed hair has become a messy by the time you stopped patting him, making him slightly better to the rest of the hanging out. even with your words promising to stay with him forever, the boy can’t help but want more than your friendship.

➽ he wants to be your boyfriend, then fiancé and then husband! the plans for the wedding are already written down at his journal and the ideas for your dress/suit to match his outfit can’t be ruined by your mindset of him being ‘too young’. he is already twenty-one! just because he still on his second year of college, doesn’t mean that he isn’t mature enough to marry the love of his life!

➽ that’s why he promise himself to study hard to graduate with the best grades from his fashion design class, so he can get a degree and a good paying job at his area. maybe you will see him with other eyes when he becomes a fully grown man who can afford to pay rent without struggling and to make the best matching outfits to both of you when he gets himself a studio and able to buy the most comfortable materials ever made.

➽ he can already imagine the large house he will buy for you. a big one at the countryside of the country so no one will disturb his peaceful and lovely spouse (you, of course!), maybe he will give/adopt a child with you like he always dreamed of. but that only will happen if he works hard, so micah has a long way to go. for now, he will stay close with you as a friend only.

➽ in meanwhile, he will act behind the scenes when someone might try to steal you away from him. those idiot who think that have a chance with are all disposable and you won’t never need anyone else in your life other than him (and probably a future pet to keep you company), so micah waste no time in making sure those people won’t be found and of course. he always makes a good job in hiding the remains of those people into the deepest parts of the woods, after all, he can’t do any mistakes or else he won’t be there for you in the future, [name].

@moonit3 writings

[sreegs]

you awake one day and find yourself in a comfortable but unfamiliar room. it's filled floor to ceiling with rows and rows of bookshelves. after you explore the room you realize there's no exit, but there is a big, dark mirror on the wall. you call out but get no response.

you think, oh maybe this is an escape room? you briefly wonder how you got there but the thought quickly dissipates. you pull a book off the shelf and open it. inside is text that makes absolutely no sense to you. it doesn't look like any language you've ever seen before. you can't even begin to describe it, it's that strange. you try checking other books but, it's all the same. none of the books are secret levers to open a door. there's no hidden keys or decipherable clues.

after a few hours you realize you're hungry. a table materializes full of exactly the food you're craving. this isn't suspicious to you at all, and you eat. you get bored, and suddenly you're partaking in your favorite hobby. you want to socialize, and anyone who you can think of appears to chat, party, whatever you want. when it's all over, you always end up back in the comfy library.

you're confused but you can't complain. so you look at the books again. you still don't get it. so you study them for hours and hours and hours. eventually you see some repetitive patterns in the text but you have no context or any clue as to the meaning.

the mirror lights up. a few alien figures are looking in at you. they hold up a sign written in the same text as the books. you realize you're holding a small whiteboard. you write back in a language you know. the mirror shuts off. you notice all the books are back on the shelves, as if they were never disturbed since you got here.

now you're curious. there must be some clues in the books. you begin reading, again. for more hours, days even. you can't really call it reading, though. you're just sort of, looking at it like an optical illusion. you start to notice more and more patterns in the books, but you still have no idea what it means

the mirror lights up again, it's the same alien figures as before. they hold up a sign. you think for a minute, and write an approximation of... something you've seen in the books. you hear the aliens chuckle. the mirror goes dark. and again, the bookshelves reset.

are they taunting you? now you're determined. you must understand this language. you go back to "reading". this goes on for even longer than before. you've lost track of time, but, no matter how tired or hungry or bored or lonely you get, your needs are instantly met. and you go back to your studies. are you in a prison? it doesn't matter, you keep reading the books with the weird symbols. by now you think you're starting to see a structure to them, not just patterns

the mirror lights up again. the alien figures are back. they hold up a sign. you've seen this one before in the books. you scribble a symbol that you've usually seen next to the one they're holding up, and show it to the figures. they seem pleased. the books reset.

this continues for... how long have you been here? what does it matter. you're starting to feel fluent in this language. you still don't know what it means but the glyphs and trails and dots and zigzags and curls just start to make sense. and every so often the mirror lights up, you're shown a phrase in this strange script, and you write back.

you lose count of how many times this happens. your whiteboard is now a typewriter. now it's a printing press. very soon you're printing volumes in this new language and the aliens behind the glass are thrilled. and so are you! you're a published writer now. you still don't know what you're writing but you're pretty sure it's correct

anyways that's how chatgpt works

[saltydkdan]

Hey, I just came from watching the UT Yellow Genocide VOD and wanted to let you know that saying things ‘low/lack of empathy = reason for bigotry/makes someone bad’ (said during the trans rights segment) is an ableist statement due to the fact its can be a common symptom of neurodivergency (mainly autism iirc) and personality disorders. I know you, like most people, probably didn’t intend it to be because low/no empathy is unfortunately just not talked about a lot right now. a better word to use in the context you did would be sympathy/compassion and such. Again, not gonna start a crusade against you since its an unfortunately common mistake, just wanted to let you know 

Okay so, I got to learn something today! It’s a very nuanced conversation, and because of that, I failed to talk about it properly and used a blanket statement for something much more specific! Let me see if I can rephrase what I’m talking about so it comes off closer to what I was trying to mean now that I know a bit better:

So, obviously, the incapability to feel empathy for another person’s struggles isn’t inherently a bad thing! Emotional nuerodivergency is not bad, whatsoever, I want to make that super clear.

What I talked about during that stream is that people on the Alt Right side of the political spectrum are usually that way due to a LACK of sympathy/compassion (better words, as you said in your message!) The inability to feel anything or think of anything for someone based on their situation, the life that they have lived, and the struggles that they may face being who they are.

Lack of empathy can definitely play a role in this alongside the absence of stuff like compassion and sympathy, but as I said, lack of empathy alone is not a bad thing. It can be difficult in general to feel empathetic to an experience you are unfamiliar with. That’s true for anyone I think.

But it’s a lack of “acknowledgement” that’s the real issue. People who are born with so much privilege that they don’t care to look outside of their own self contained box to see how much pain others might be in that live in the same world as them.

So as you said, I def think sympathy/compassion probably works much better definition wise. Honestly I was confused as to what the difference was until I did proper research. Thanks for letting me know on that.

I’m hoping that this portrays my feelings on it better, but you can by all means let me know. Just need to replace the word “empathy” in my brain and swap it with stuff that better fits what I thought it meant.

Anyway, really sorry about that. That’s insanely embarrassing and I’m glad you sent this.

[monstrousmuse]

I am not sure if anyone here has already made this connection or pointed this out (apologies if so), but while doing some research into Flatland/the 11 dimensions the other day, I discovered something pretty interesting…

…

In the ‘Book of Bill’ announcement video, as well as distorted, synthesised background music and the Morse Code (which has already been deciphered), we can also hear several lines of spoken dialogue, the first of which being the line: “some other mystic dimension”.

Timestamp: 0:04

Now, this line already raises several questions - which ‘dimension’ is being referring to here? And why is it considered to be ‘mystic(al)’? Well, we don’t have a definite answer to either of those questions just yet, but if you will humour me for a moment, I have a few suggestions. Either this ‘other mystic dimension’ could be referring to Bill’s own homeland, the Second Dimension (which would naturally be considered ‘other’, ‘mystic’ and generally unfamiliar to us, the readers), or perhaps, it is referring to the Third Dimension itself, or what is known as Spaceland (Height/Up) in Abbott’s novella. I think the latter to be far more likely, especially with what I am about to show you. This is where my excessive YouTube deep-diving habits came in useful.

…

During my research quest, I stumbled upon this video of the famous astronomer and science communicator Carl Sagan (take note of this name) explaining the concept of the Fourth Dimension, as well as other Flatland-adjacent things. And lo and behold, at 4:37, what do we hear?

“And the poor Square has to say: ‘Well, I was in some other mystic dimension called Up…”

Yes, that’s right. The exact words that were used in the promo video.

To provide you some context, here Sagan is recounting the experience of A Square who, with the guidance and revelations of A Sphere, has just returned from a recent foray into the Third Dimension, and is trying to explain his sudden disappearance and newfound knowledge of Height to his friends. So saying, it is likely that the ‘other mystic dimension’ being referred to in the BoB video is in fact, the Third Dimension, since this is a book that has been written from Bill’s perspective, and it seems that he will be filling in the role of A Square in this narrative, discovering the Secrets Of The Universe and all. Although, I must emphasise that this is still just speculation on my part, based on the assumption that Bill’s backstory will be pretty similar to, if not a direct retelling of Flatland:

“Flat minds in a flat world with flat dreams.”

Who knows, Alex Hirsch may just subvert our expectations entirely.

“I liberated my dimension (…)” / “Saw his own dimension burn. Misses home and can’t return.”

…

Anyway, I have another little piece of the puzzle to share. The line spoken in the announcement video isn’t merely a word-for-word recreation of what Carl Sagan said, It is Carl Sagan. They used a direct clip from an episode of Cosmos. This has me giddy with excitement, because Carl Sagan, a man with much notoriety within the scientific community, and many achievements and accolades to his name, is known to be one of Ford’s scientific idols.

The level of detail in this show, and I guess now in its extended literary canon’s advertisement material, is insane. Do with this information what you will. Perhaps there’s a connection here that will be expounded upon in the book. Perhaps it’s just a cool reference. Even so, it is a very intriguing one nonetheless, especially with the tie-ins to Flatland, theoretical physics and Ford’s hero-worshipping. It’s clearly intentional.

…

(If anyone is interested, here is an excellent meta which provides a very detailed exploration and analysis of Ford’s respective connections to Sagan and Tesla.)

[laundrybiscuits]

“It’s happening,” crows Dustin. “Eddie, it’s happening, it’s happening, she said yes!”

Eddie blinks up at him from the blankets. “Is…this about your little girlfriend, Henderson?” Is there a school dance coming up or something? Wait, it’s the summer, school’s not happening.

In a just world, Eddie Munson would never have to think about high school again; in a just world, Dustin Henderson would not have woken him up by breaking into his trailer at ass o’clock in the morning.

“No, man, Erica! Erica Sinclair! She’s gonna run a My Little Pony game for us!”

“Okay.” Eddie turns over to bury his face in his pillow. “Lock up when you leave,” he says, muffled.

———

He honest-to-god thinks it’s just a weird dream for the next few days. He’s almost completely forgotten about it when Mike corners him at work.

“You have to make her stop,” Mike says.

“Okay, Wheeler, two things. First: who am I making stop what? Second: I’m not making anyone stop anything. Really not my style, and also, I don’t wanna get involved in whatever this is.”

“You’re already involved! We’re all involved! We’re all, like, liable.”

“Right.” Eddie wipes his hands on a rag and ambles over. “Kid, you have got to start giving me some context here. What are we talking about?”

Mike gives him just the absolute bitchiest eyeroll any human being has ever mustered in the history of the world, and sighs noisily. “Erica wants to run a stupid game, and Dustin keeps encouraging her. Tell Erica and Dustin that we play Dungeons and Dragons with like, cool monsters and shit. Not some stupid game about ponies. It’s not even D&D, it’s a whole new stupid system that she’s making us learn.”

“Oh, shit.” There’s—a few things to unpack in that little speech, but Eddie can’t help the delighted grin spreading over his face. “That’s for real? The pony game? Shit, this is going to be the best thing ever. What system is she planning to run the campaign in?”

“Oh my god,” says Mike, and storms out of the garage.

———

“GURPS: Generic Universal Role-Playing System,” announces Erica, slamming the books down on Steve’s kitchen table. “A flexible, multi-purpose, setting-agnostic system that can accommodate any conceivable type of story or play style. This is the future of role-playing games, not your broke-ass fantasy bullcrap.”

Eddie wonders how complicated it is to file paperwork for adoption.

“Some of us like D&D,” says Will.

“Yeah, we don’t want your stupid generic whatever. We’re not playing,” Mike snaps.

“That’s not what I said.” Will looks annoyed with Mike, which has been happening a lot lately. Eddie’s glad the kid seems to be growing more of a spine; you can’t just let your tragic heterosexual crushes walk all over you, but that’s the kind of lesson every young gay needs to learn the hard way. “I’m fine with trying something new. I’m just saying, the next campaign after this should be D&D.”

“Sure, what-ever, nerds,” drawls Erica. “We’ll see how you feel after you experience the magic of Ponyland.”

Lucas puts his face in his hands when she says the magic of Ponyland and lets out a pitiful groan.

“Whoo!” cheers Dustin. “Let’s get started!”

———

It takes them a solid two hours to make their characters. Even Eddie, who’s been vaguely aware of GURPS since it was released a couple years ago, is struggling a little to adapt. It’s just been a while since he played anything but D&D, but he’s enjoying the change of pace. He likes this kind of challenge; it’s like figuring out how to play a familiar song in an unfamiliar genre.

Erica is not especially patient with them, but she’s clearly done her prep work, so Eddie thinks they all manage to get through the character creation process more or less the way it’s supposed to be done.

Steve gets back from work right when they’re putting the finishing touches on their characters. The way he blinks all sweetly confused makes Eddie think that Dustin was definitely lying about having permission to play here, and also that Dustin probably has a very troubling stash of keys to all their homes squirreled away somewhere.

“If I may, Lady Sinclair, I’d like to humbly suggest a ten-minute break?” Eddie says, before Steve can decide whether or not to be mad about this whole thing.

“Sure, go ahead and rest up while you still can,” says Erica. “Steve, I hope you got good snacks around here.” She makes a beeline for the kitchen, and the boys trip over themselves to follow her.

“I would die for that child,” says Eddie.

Steve laughs, low and a little tired. “Yeah. Um, me too.”

“So, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that Henderson didn’t actually clear this with you?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Steve runs a hand through his hair. “He might’ve said something last week? Sometimes when he’s on a tear, I just kinda let him talk.”

“Y’know, we’re at a pretty good stopping point for today, if you want us to clear out so you can get some rest.” Eddie can see the smudgy shadows under Steve’s eyes from halfway across the room.

“No, it’s fine.” Steve peels off his vest. He’s wearing an entire perfectly normal shirt underneath, so there’s no reason for Eddie to hastily avert his eyes like Steve’s doing a damn striptease. “I might go take a nap, though. Gonna trust you not to let them burn down the place, got it?”

Eddie does a silly little salute. “Aye aye, cap’n. No hint of flame shall breach these walls.”

Steve laughs again, a gravelly chuckle, and musses Eddie’s hair on his way to the stairs.

“Why do you have that dumb look on your face,” says Erica suspiciously, standing in the kitchen doorway and clutching the biggest bowl of ice cream Eddie’s seen in his life.

“What look, there’s no look,” says Eddie. “Let’s play some GURPS.”

Edit: now a complete fic on AO3!

[jangmi-latte]

10:55 AM — 「 "BEST FRIEND" 」

gender!neutral reader. platonic-ish romantic

these are thoroughly self-indulgent and are what the author personally experienced in her life 👍🏻

"best friend!ace" who would throw you nrc's basketball team banner with no context. he'd just smirk and salute at you before jogging back to the court while you're left to stare at the small banner in question. you'd bring the banner with you before the game starts, placing it around your shoulders (since it's made out of cloth) with the logo displayed across your back and it just unintentionally gives him a boost. you look like you're bragging the team to anyone you walk by and it just feeds his ego.

"best friend!ace" who'd disturb you while you're helping with prop making during class like he'd: (1) randomly play with a ribbon then wrap it around your neck to playfully choke you (he didn't literally choke you), (2) clip random materials to your hair without you knowing until you find out and just know he's the culprit, and (3) talk a lot but not help, he's just sitting there while leaning on his arms until you throw something at him and he just does his part with a small grumble.

"best friend!ace" who's willing to lend you his lab coat after you left yours back at the dorm. sir crewel doesn't let anyone work without a lab coat and since you both have different alchemy schedules, you messaged ace about needing one (you were so worried you'd fail you nearly BEGGED). if he also left his lab coat, he's running back to heartslabyul to get it then he's by your classroom in a few minutes. he'd be playfully asking for a compensation after lending it to you but when he saw you smile – as cliche as it is – he felt like a hero.

"best friend!ace" who'd always message you asking if you already got home after you (impulsively) travelled/commuted on your own. he knows how unfamiliar you are with twisted wonderland's map so, deep down, he's worried. he'd also spam you with "where are you" if you haven't replied for a while or he's forcing you to turn on your location and send it to him.

if you ever did send your location, he'd be looking at it from time to time and if he saw that you're in an unfamiliar area, he's messaging you with "WHAT ARE YOU DOING THERE???" or just straight up spam you with calls. he'd stay in the call until you're at your destination.

"best friend!ace" who'd, similar to previous one, ask if you already ate if you sound stupid while chatting with him. randomly saying "huh?" or something that just doesn't make sense AT ALL then he'd respond with, "have you even ate you sound dumb rn ngl" and when you admit you haven't, he'd use it as a chance to eat with you (your treat lowkey). he'd even say it's to "bring back my original y/n"

"best friend!ace" who'd trash talk you with you around (he has a loud voice let's be fr) to deuce to annoy you knowing very well you'd trash talk him back indirectly while deuce is forced to just nod and facepalm. until it's you two bickering with one another until he just squeezes/pinches your cheek and you're smacking at him endlessly.

"best friend!ace" who could sense if you're not in the mood (even through chat) and ask what's wrong out of nowhere. he'd be willing to listen and – let's be honest, he's good at giving out advice because he doesn't sugarcoat unless he needs to. he'd go straight to the point and make sure you're back to your usual self again. at this point, quality time is his love language and he'd tug you around town to keep your mind off of whatever's bugging you.

"best friend!ace" who has a reputation with you as an 'old married couple' with how much you two bicker back and forth. your friends would be laughing and teasing you both each time you 'argue' and how they'd go "there they go again" or "i just left for a second and you both are fighting again". he enjoys it so much he couldn't last a day without seeing a scowl on your face. when he leaves his group of friends he'd say "i'm off to piss off y/n."

"best friend!ace" who'd really annoy you to the point that, while you're in something like a symposium and you fell asleep, he'd shake you so aggressively with a false panicked voice. of course, you'd wake up so abruptly that you'd get so pissed you start attacking him and he's just laughing. the moment you give him a cold shoulder he's already pouting and saying he's sorry while poking your sides.

"best friend!ace" who'd also grab your shoes out of nowhere or any of your stuff to annoy you as well.

"best friend!ace" who, in the end, is still protective of you when needed. got hit on the head by a basketball by he's team mate? he's calling them out and throwing the ball back at them twice as hard before rubbing your head despite saying you're fine. he'd also glare and call out people who's staring if ever you're wearing shorts or something. he's willing to give his jacket too if you need it.

the question is, does he like you as a friend or more than that? you will never know the tricks up ace trappola's sleeves.

[nattikay]

this was originally a response to another post but it seems OP blocked me for it so idk if people can still see/interact with said response but heck it i spent a fair while collecting the panels/typing it up so i'm just transferring it over to a new post for anyone else who might be interested in readin'

"Neteyam has to act like a full grown adult [and we should feel bad for him because of this]"

No. Neteyam acts mature because that's his personality, not because it's been forced on him. He chooses to. The idea that he is forced against his will to "act grown-up" and is miserable about it is fanon, not canon.

James Cameron on Neteyam (from the WoW bonus features): "Jamie Flatters plays Neteyam, he's the older brother. He's kind of the guy who most wants to be Jake. He wants to be that warrior."

Jamie Flatters in that same clip:"He just pretty much wants to walk in the footsteps of his father. He's constantly seeking approval [from Jake]"

Note that neither of these, nor anything from the movie or comics, mention anything about external "expectations" or "pressure". Any "pressure" Neteyam experiences to live up to Jake's legacy comes from himself, not from external expectations that have been forced on him. Neteyam WANTS to be a warrior. He WANTS to be like his father and do brave mature grown-up things.

And for the most part, he's pretty good at it too. He's the "golden child" who "excels in all things", the youngest Omatikaya warrior to ever make a clean kill on a sturmbeest. He's strong, smart, brave, noble, and highly skilled for his age.

He knows this, and he wants to do more. Neteyam seeks out more responsibility, especially where fighting is concerned, and it's actually Jake who is hesitant to give it to him, because naturally he fears for his son's life (a very fair and well-founded fear, all things considered :P).

In fact, on the rare occasion that Neteyam does disobey orders, it's in this context of wanting to be part of these adult matters.

"he's too busy training and patrolling instead of acting his age" He is acting his age. His age is "cusp of adulthood". He's not quite there just yet, no, but he's getting close and is eager to get there. He trains and patrols with his parents because HE WANTS TO. He begs to participate in warrior's work.

And if by "act his age" you meant "do teenager things like tease his brother, snicker about immature things, hang out and goof off," etc., guess what he does that too

[originally had a list of relevant GIFs here but tumblr decided it was allergic to them apparently; anyways you can find them all here]

As for looking after his siblings, as a certified Oldest Sibling™ myself, I can assure you that parents expecting you to help look out for and set a good example for your younger siblings is very normal and nowhere near the mountain the fandom seems to make of this molehill.

There are valid reasons to feel sorry for Neteyam—he, like the rest of his family, had to leave his home and start over in a new unfamiliar place among a new clan of strangers with unfamiliar customs. He—not unlike Lo'ak!—desperately wants a chance to prove himself to Jake, and is frustrated when his dad doesn't want to let him participate in battle. And, of course, the big one—his life was tragically taken far too soon.

But "overworked little sadboi who just wants to Be A Kid™ but can't because his meanie parents force him to act like a Grownup™ because he's under Pressure™ to be the perfect future olo'eyktan" is not one of those reasons. That's pure fanfiction and a fundamental misunderstanding of his character. Neteyam is not "wannabe-carefree kid trapped under the crushing weight of expectations forced upon him against his will"—rather, he is "talented noble young warrior who wants to live up to his legendary father of his own volition and strives to do so".

[propheticeve]

Hoodoo is CLOSED to non black AMERICANS

Hoodoo is distinct in that it involves working with specific ancestral spirits and deities, many of whom remain unfamiliar to the broader spiritual community. This sacred connection extends beyond mere knowledge; it is an intimate relationship with spirits deeply ingrained in the Hoodoo pantheon. These spiritual entities are closely tied to the experiences of Black Americans, and understanding them requires a profound awareness of one's lineage.

:

Hoodoo is considered a closed practice, meaning that access to its teachings is earned through guidance and mentorship. True practitioners are taught; they don't self-proclaim. Unfortunately, there is a concerning trend of non-Black individuals claiming to practice Hoodoo without a genuine understanding of its essence. Many cannot name a single spirit from the Hoodoo pantheon, exposing a significant gap in their knowledge.

It's crucial to distinguish Hoodoo from general folk magick practices. Hoodoo demands practitioners to delve into their lineage, understand their history, and grow in spiritual wisdom. The conflation of Hoodoo with generic folk magick demonstrates a lack of comprehension about the unique cultural and historical underpinnings that define Hoodoo. Hoodoo requires knowledge of the American slave trade and its affects on black Americans

Ancestral spirits within Hoodoo are discerning entities, recognizing color and lineage. Contrary to the notion that spirits lack prejudice, Hoodoo practitioners assert that ancestral spirits work closely with their descendants. Given the historical context of slavery and oppression, it becomes inconceivable for these spirits to collaborate with those from the very lineage responsible for their suffering.

:

Unlike some other African Traditional Religions (ATRs), Hoodoo has resisted commercialization and exploitation. Its practitioners emphasize the sanctity of their belief system, urging others to respect and protect it. The appropriation of Hoodoo by those outside its cultural lineage is viewed as a disservice to its profound spiritual significance.

:

Hoodoo is not merely a set of rituals; it is a sacred tapestry woven with the threads of Black American history, spirituality, and resilience. The claim that anyone, irrespective of background, can practice Hoodoo disregards its closed nature and the imperative to honor its cultural specificity. It is time to acknowledge and respect the boundaries of Hoodoo, safeguarding its authenticity and the spiritual legacy it represents.

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕨𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕚'𝕞 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 ⋆*･ﾟ 𝕔𝕝𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣 𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ ☆ ᴛᴇᴄʜ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

➼ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ☆ ᴀ ꜱɪᴍᴘʟᴇ ɢᴀᴍᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴛᴇᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ʜɪꜱ (ɴᴏᴛ-ꜱᴏ) ᴜɴʀᴇQᴜɪᴛᴇᴅ ᴄʀᴜꜱʜ ᴛᴜʀɴꜱ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴀ ᴄᴏɴꜰᴇꜱꜱɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ꜰᴇᴇʟɪɴɢꜱ ꜰᴏʀ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ.

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ᴛᴏᴏᴛʜ ʀᴏᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ʙʀᴀɪɴ ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ, ᴛᴀʟᴋɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ɢᴇᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴋɴᴏᴡ ᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ, ꜱᴡᴇᴇᴛ, (ᴍᴜᴛᴜᴀʟ) ᴘɪɴɪɴɢ, ᴅᴏʀᴋꜱ ɪɴ ʟᴏᴠᴇ, ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴋɪꜱꜱ

➼ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ ☆ 4.2ᴋ

➼ ᴘᴏᴠ ☆ ᴛʜɪʀᴅ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴ

➼ ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ ☆ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏʀɴɪɴɢ - ꜱᴀᴍ ᴡɪʟʟꜱ, ᴡɪʟʟᴏᴡ - ᴛᴀʏʟᴏʀ ꜱᴡɪꜰᴛ

⋆ ★ ᴛʜᴇ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴍʏ ᴏɴʟʏ ᴛᴡᴏ ᴛᴇᴄʜ ꜰɪᴄꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ꜱᴜᴘᴇʀ ᴡʜᴏʟᴇꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ᴜ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ᴛᴀʟᴋ ᴛᴏ ʜɪᴍ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ꜱᴀʏꜱ ᴀ ʟᴏᴛ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ 😐. ɴᴏ ʙᴇᴛᴀ ᴄᴜᴢ ꜰᴜᴜᴜᴜᴜᴜᴜᴜᴄᴋ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜱʜɪᴛ ᴀᴛᴘ ʟᴍᴀᴏ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

“Would you rather have to shout all the time, or whisper all the time?”

Her voice cuts like a knife through the emptiness of the cockpit. It’s abrupt, no doubt, but it’s a sweeter tune than the ambient noise of machinery and mechanics. Tech turns to the co-pilot's seat where she reclines, having stolen Echo’s spot when he decided to go with Wrecker and Omega off the ship and explore the planet. She’d chosen to stay with him and Hunter. The reason wasn’t disclosed. 

Her eyes are still glued onto the book in her lap, absentmindedly pinching a page between two fingers while her leg rocks. His datapad drops from where it was lifted to his face as he stares curiously at her image. He can feel his eyes strain; only then he realizes that he’s been staring at a blue screen for far too long. She’s much more soothing, he can conclude rather quickly. Everything about her is rather calming and softer if he were to compare.

“I’m sorry?” He asks softly. She looks up with large eyes and raised eyebrows. Tech tilts his head, probing with his gaze. “You said something, did you not?”

She nods and repeats the question, softer than before. He blinks, still unsure of the context. Her eyes flash away anxiously when he doesn’t answer after a few split seconds.

“I-I’m sorry, that was super random,” She backtracks, sinking back into the cushion of her seat. Tech gapes, panicking as he sees how she hesitates and turns away, and he chokes on his next intake of breath.

“No, no, go on,” He tries to encourage her in a bubbling stammer, leaning forward to grip the back of the seat; the action cages her in ever-so-slightly. She looks back after a brief moment of uncertainty, eyes still wide and wary. “I-I was just surprised. Please, continue?”

His words manage to fix any damage he might've inflicted before; a sweet grin appears over the twist of her lips. Tech grins and takes a mental picture of the scene in front of him, in order to go back and admire her when he has the space and time alone. 

He isn’t very certain where these emotions initially came from, and he is usually so certain about most things. All he can say is that suddenly, or rather slowly building up, he isn’t sure, did they emerge and take up the forefront of his mind. Now when he has nothing else to think of, his thoughts drift to her. The little things he’s picked up on and likes about her. Small details. Interests and dislikes. It’s quite unfamiliar to him, but it isn’t unwelcome. If only he knew how to express these emotions outwardly…

She blinks, slightly dumbfounded, but continues.

“Well uh, personally, I think I would choose whisper,” She says, shrugging. She turns and leans back on the chair. “Shouting, I feel like I would just become a bother.”

Tech nods.

“I agree,” He says. When she gazes back, he realizes the connotation of his words. He takes a panicked breath. “Not that you would be a bother.” He corrects himself. She bites the corner of her lip as she listens, and he looks away for a moment as he talks. “Just that it would be quite annoying if anyone were to shout all the time. And um, I would certainly choose to whisper as well. Though I suppose some might choose to shout… Someone loud like Wrecker, perhaps, or-”

Before he is caught up in his words again, she lets out a warm chuckle. He gazes up, watching her eyes flutter open and close; she turns and leans her chin on the crest of her shoulder. 

“Don’t worry, Tech,” She assures him. “I knew what you meant.”

He blinks.

“Oh,” he mutters absentmindedly. “Right. I’m sorry.” 

Her eyebrows knit together.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” She remarks. 

He shrugs.

“I went on a bit of a tangent,” He says, looking away. The datapad resting on his lap looks very appealing at that moment. But he doesn’t reach for it even as his fingers twitch and curl around his thigh. 

She frowns.

“I wanted you to answer me,” She says. He bargains with his eyes at her insistence before shrugging without much care.

“Well, yes, I suppose you did.” 

When she scoffs, a small part of him panics. But she looks so sweet, so calming and relaxed that it's hard to think that she meant it to be any part rude or mean. 

"Let's play," She says ardently, patting her lap.

Tech nods and tries to appear as casual as he can, even with an invisible pressure tugging at his heartstrings.

"Let's," He responds.

She smiles, readjusting her spot in her seat and crossing her legs.

“Hm... Would you rather always say what you were thinking," She begins, her gaze fixating somewhere else with contemplation in her eyes, "...Or never be able to speak again."

Tech watches intently and doesn't even look away even as she returns her stare back to him.

"Always say what I am thinking," He says, then adds confidently, "I already do that anyway," But he doesn't realize the lie between his words until afterward.

She blinks.

"You do?" She asks.

He flashes a look of faux gawk, acting as shocked at her doubt as best as possible.

"Of course," He tells her, chin dipping down and turning inward. "I say most things that are on my mind."

She frowns and her lips purse together; something flashes over her eyes that he isn't able to decipher.

"Right," She exhales, before leaning back again and breaking the tension between the two. Tech lets out a heavy breath, before saying something to free himself of the stress being inflicted on his head. Talking to her without appearing so infatuated truly is harder than he thought. 

"Would you rather give away all your credits or all your possessions?"

She perks up, eyes brightening the longer he speaks. He can feel his own heart skip a few beats at the sight. 

"I think possessions," She says once he finishes. "Because, well, if you still have credits, you can just buy them again."

Tech nods in agreement. 

"That does make logical sense. Though... what if one weren't in much wealth?"

She hums, looking away to the window as she thinks for a brief moment. 

"I guess then credits. Because possessions than would be important."

"I think that's what I would choose," Tech further explains. Without even realizing it, that pesky habit of his peeks its head; as he continues talking, he raises his pointed index finger to additionally assert his point. "Because our squad doesn't have lots of credits, to begin with. And we couldn't do without the Marauder."

"You could always just continue doing jobs for Cid," She interjects. Tech turns his head. She bites her lip and shrugs. "Y'know, build your balance back up."

He nods softly.

"Exactly."

She asks the next question.

"Would you rather..." She leans in closer to him, only her bottom on the seat now as the rest careens toward the pilot's chair. His eyebrows knit together; he's unsure if she even realizes how she tries to come closer. But he dismisses it; he decides to lean in closer and leans elbows on his knees. "...Fight a blind or deaf Jedi?"

He hums thoughtfully and looks away, but he can feel the gentle gaze she holds on his face. Tech inhales a shaky breath, and he internally curses himself for acting like such a mess.

"I don't think there's much of a difference," He says, looking back. He almost leans away from the surprise that surges through him when he makes striking eye contact. She looks so interested, so thoughtful, and unbearably sweet. He drifts away from her eyes and lower to her parted lips but looks back up again quickly. He doesn't know which one is worse to look at. "Either way, they'll still have a powerful connection to the force and be able to fight competitively even without one of their main senses."

Thankfully, she's the one to break eye contact. He has time to breathe.

"Oh. That makes a lot of sense," She says. Her hands fold over each other and on top of a knee, her legs crossing. "Sometimes I forget how smart you are."

Unknowingly, a pigment of pink dust over Tech's cheeks at the compliment; but she seems to notice. She grins.

"Thank you," He manages to chirp through his tightly sealed lips.

She nods, but it's more of a subtle dip of her chin as she mouths 'You're welcome' without much thought accompanied by a sickly sweet smile. 

"Your turn."

"Huh?"

She huffs playfully, leaning one side of her body on the back of the seat.

"Y'know, ask a question," She says. 

Tech blinks.

"Oh. Right."

He thinks for a brief moment before he speaks again.

"Would you rather... have a one-minute conversation with your past self or your future self?" He asks. 

She hums, putting a finger to her chin and tapping it once, twice, staring off into the unseeable distance.

"Hm..." She says, half genuine, but half to be silly. She drops her hand and points it in his direction, but not to accuse. "Will anything I say be able to affect their decisions?"

Tech raises his eyebrows, actually surprised at the question.

"Good question," He compliments her, "Let's say, no. They don't."

She nods curiously and sinks further onto her side leaning on the seat.

"Then my future self. I'd like to see what I get up to," She explains.

Tech looks thoughtfully at her expression, the way she appears so perfectly poised and relaxed while he feels anything but; itching in his seat, overthinking every single word he says, attempting to perfectly craft and construct sentences all to come off still as a blubbering mess. But he'll try; he really will, if it means he can spend more time with her.

"And if you were able to affect decisions?"

Another look that he doesn't know the origin of washes over her face.

"Past," She says. "I'd tell her not to do certain things. Fix some mistakes, I think."

Tech's head lifts and his mouth drops ever so slightly with the revelation.

"Ah. I see..." He mutters; when she only makes a small noise of approval and goes silent again, looking at him as though he should continue, he lets out a shaky breath before he lets out an unconfined thought. "...Like what?"

She shrugs automatically without actually looking.

"Don't know." Her hand comes to the cushion, softly gripping it without her gaze lingering away from his eyes once. The act is so strangely intimate, yet they're still about a foot apart from each other. "I guess I'd stop myself from entering toxic relationships or making bad decisions..."

He nods in agreement.

"I think I would do the same."

"Would you rather lose your vision or your hearing?" She asks almost immediately after he finishes his sentence, and for once, he gratefully appreciates being interrupted; the silence is hauntingly loud when he is anxious.

Tech thinks for a brief moment before answering.

"Hearing," He answers. "Sight is vital in my field of work. And I could always learn BSL."

She tilts her head, perplexed.

"BSL?"

"Basic Sign Language, yes," He says quickly. Her mouth opens and she leans backward, nodding with understanding.

"That makes sense..." She mutters; he is unsure if it is to herself or to him. Instead, he decides to ask,

"What would you choose?"

She returns to how she sat before and shrugs lazily.

"I'm not sure," She says. "Hearing makes the most sense, I couldn't bear seeing darkness all day. But I love certain sounds. Replaying them over and over in my head wouldn't feel the same."

He lets out a breath through his nose.

"I agree. I couldn't imagine being unable to see your face every day."

Slowly, as the words begin to pour out, he realizes what he's said. His mouth shuts and his eyes widen, looking away with a ghostly realization and goes dead silent.

Her eyebrows knit together and she frowns.

"What?" She mumbles, head tilting as she speaks.

"I'm sorry," He blurts, hiding his face in his hands. Kriff, everything is ruined, he thinks. She'll immediately stop wanting to hang out after this, and he'll have to exile himself in his bunk and never see the light of day again, everything has been ruined by a tiny slip-up that should have never happened due to his great intelligence- "that was extremely inappropriate. I understand if you no longer want to continue this conversation, I-"

"No, no," She interrupts him mid-tangent. He gazes up from where his face is hidden between his palms and tilts his head. She looks extremely perplexed at his freakout, biting the corner of her lip. "I meant that I didn't hear you."

Tech's eyes widen.

"Oh," He states, extremely bland and more of a placeholder for something else. But for a pregnant pause, nothing fills in the blank.

"I, uh."

She lets her bottom lip free from her teeth and slumps backward, loosening the atmosphere.

"-I just said that there are certain things I couldn't bear never seeing again," He finally manages to illustrate. The excuse isn't as eloquent and believable as he'd wanted it to be, but it is suitable enough. She nods and softens up again, crossing her arms over her chest far too suspiciously to Tech's comfort.

"Like what?" She asks.

Tech shakes his head and waves a dismissive hand, almost too offhand.

"It isn't important."

Her lips twist into something between a frown and pursing her lips at this. He tenses under her gaze. But she quickly lets it go, letting out a very subtle eye-roll he barely even catches and dropping her arms back to her side.

"...Okay," She says before gesturing towards him again, encouraging to ask him a question this time.

He obliges, though rather worriedly.

"Would you rather-" He begins, scooting a bit further off his seat to be closer. "-surround yourself with lots of people you only moderately get along with, or one person you get along with perfectly?"

She answers almost too quickly.

"Definitely the latter," She tells him, before adding a little shrug when she continues, "I already sort of do that."

Tech squints his eyes.

"Oh?" 

She turns away and hides her face before rubbing her neck tensely and gritting her teeth. 

"I mean, why else would I stay back with you?" She says.

His eyebrows raise and his mouth drops with the revelation. He bites his lip before he tries to even talk again.

"Well, I thought you might have been tired, or Wrecker didn't require your assistance watching Omega, or..."

She shakes her head.

"Not at all."

He treads carefully over his next words.

"So you enjoy my company?" He asks.

She looks at him rather obliviously, a mysterious look of bewilderment across her face, accompanied by a little grin.

"Of course," She says.

He blinks.

"Oh."

She bites her lip and stifles a giggle. She excitedly readjusts in her seat, awaiting a longer response. But he still sits there, slightly dumbfounded. 

"...I enjoy your company as well," He finally says, eyes brightening under his goggles; though he doesn't know if she can see clearly through the yellow hue they color over the brown hue.

She smiles.

"Thank you," She responds, softly and through pursed lips. He pouts a little.

"That's not something you should thank me for. It is simply a statement," He says as emotionless as possible, looking away to try and compose himself. But he can still feel her stare. It does not help his mission.

"Sure, Tech," She wonders cheekily, crossing her legs and leaning back. "Would you rather be your own boss or work for someone else?"

Tech hums.

"My own boss," He says. "The only person I've ever really reported to is Hunter. Even when we were under the GAR. So I've always had plenty of control."

She nods, leaning her head on two hands as she watches him talk.

"Yeah..." She says absentmindedly, nodding in agreement. He finally looks back at her. "...Though I'd feel lost."

Tech looks at her with a thoughtful, probing gaze.

"Have you ever not been part of a group?" He asks, genuinely curious. 

She keeps eye contact even as she shrugs and bites her lip anxiously.

"Not really," She tells him. "Always working for someone. I'm a follower by nature."

Tech mutters nonsense in curiosity at her response, looking with a strange wonder into her eyes. The certainty in her words was peculiar to him, something he hadn't seen with such a statement. It felt rather odd, almost out of character.

"How do you really know that?" He asks. Her head cranes in his direction, perplexed. 

"What do you mean?"

Tech frowns, looking away to articulate his thoughts clearly, before looking back at her again and speaking.

"If you've never been your own boss, you've never known what it's actually like," He says. "You won't ever know if you are a leader by nature if you just haven't had the opportunity to ever be one."

She raises her eyebrows and turns away, surprise etched over her face.

"...I've never thought of it that way," she finally says before looking back up with newfound clarity. Tech nods to show he's listening but doesn't make direct eye contact with her.

"Lots of clones have dealt with the same complex," he explains his understanding of the topic.

She hums softly from an opened mouth, nodding slowly.

"Guess I am a clone," She jests with a chuckle.

Tech laughs, and a rush of confidence surges through him with his next words.

"Yes, a very pretty one."

She raises an eyebrow, suspiciously eyeing him with disbelief.

"...Right."

And Maker, the insecurities drop in again as if they never left.

"Kriff, I'm sorry," he immediately blurts, waving a hand to get her barely lingering attention. When she looks back, he continues.

"I- apologize, kriff... if I made you uncomfortable, it was a thought that just slipped out-"

Suddenly, a warm melody against his body, she reaches over and places a hand on his forearm. Tech's grounded now and gazes up. Her eyes are soft, fully understanding and relaxed, soothing in a way that steadies his erratic heartbeat. She smiles when he feels him calm down.

"Hey, again, it's fine," she says. He almost looks away with the intensity of her thoughtful, undeservedly kind stare. "I'd like to hear it. You did say you always say what you think."

Tech shrugs weakly in agreement.

"I did say that, yes."

She grins and pats his arm one last time before pulling away, going back to her original spot and gesturing with her chin in his direction.

"Okay. Ask one now."

He thinks for a moment.

"Would you rather have to spend an entire year sharing a room with me, or Wrecker?" He asks.

She gasps.

"Oh, Maker...."

He laughs at her exclamation but falls silent again with a gaping mouth when she continues.

"You, definitely."

He almost reacts with surprise; almost. He's able to suppress the giddy squeak he wants to let out and instead raises his eyebrows.

"I should've picked a harder question," He says, making her laugh softly. He observes her; she still looks away and out the window, somewhere that was nothing even close to spectacular. Her eyes twinkle; but not from lights; she lights them up all herself.

"Would you rather," She begins; her head cocks back to him and an open-mouthed grin spreads over her face. "Have to help me organize my life into a routine, or follow Omega around with no way of stopping her roaming?"

Tech hisses in a sharp breath, shaking his head in faux disapproval. He tries to tease, tries to be relaxed and composed, the perfect example of a casual flirt. He's intelligent enough to know he could never truly be one of those men, but he can try.

"A difficult decision-" She chuckles at his comment. "-But you. Again."

She grins; it's more languid than before, casual but sweet all the same.

"I'm flattered," She says delicately.

His lips purse.

"You should always feel that way when I am around," He responds coolly. He turns away to keep his composure. He's also intelligent enough to know that if he were to look back, any semblance of control or simple understanding of conversation skills would dissolve once his eyes locked on hers.

Yet in the corner of his eye, he can see her head tilt.

"Why?"

He stammers, a gloved hand rubbing at his neck while he coarsely forces out his next words.

"Well, since I said that I usually say what I'm thinking, I must be showering you with compliments all the time..."

His eyes shut tight for a split second, wincing over an invisible punch to the gut. Every single word that comes out of his mouth constitutes him to cuss himself out. Berate his mind for being so flustered and clammy around her. Slowly, he peels one eye open and forces himself to look at her. Her eyes are drowned in confusion, but the corners of her lips slowly curl up with each passing second.

"Oh..." She finally mutters. Her head fixes back upright and she blinks once, twice, eyebrows furrowing with concentration. She's thinking, anyone could tell that, but he doesn't know what. She still grins, like a cocky, yet timid Cheshire cat. "...I don't feel that way."

It's his time to look confused.

"I don't compliment you?" He asks.

Her eyes flit away, then back to him again.

"Well, you do but..."

He shakes his head; her own outward confidence makes him feel less silly trying to act flirtatiously. 

"Then I'm not doing it enough," He asserts with disapproval. "I should keep to my word."

Her eyebrow pushes together and she lets out a confused, but charmed breath.

"It's just would you rather, Tech," she giggles.

Her words almost catch him off guard, but he manages to rebuke her quick-wittedly.

"It's important to keep integrity at all times," He says.

She giggles and leans back, pulling away from his striking eye contact. He winces internally.

"Okayyy," She says. She crossed her legs and folds her hands on top of her knee. "If you say so. What are you thinking then?" 

She beams at him, and so, he says what he thinks in that moment.

"That your smile is enchanting."

Her eyes widen. Immediately she turns away and covers her mouth with her palm, hiding something, perhaps the smile he complimented so genuinely, and shakes her head. He grins at the sight.

"I'm also thinking about how I feel so suddenly incompetent and unable to communicate when you're around," he says.

She snaps her head back to him, eyes timid and soft. He can see the smile and wrinkles in the corners of her eyes. He can't understand why she'd want to hide it in the first place if he said how much he liked it.

"Really?" She asks through her parted fingers, quiet.

He nods entirely sure.

"Yes."

Her eyes flit to his and away again. Wordlessly, she turns completely to face him, scooting closer so her bottom barely lies on the cushion. Her face leans in closer so it lingers over his like a hovering bird over a branch. It's teasing and terrifying, and he shivers when he takes a deep breath in.

She asks, delicately and wary,

"Would you like to hear what I am thinking, Tech?"

"Please," he rasps.

"How much I want to kiss you right now."

His mouth drops, and her smile widens. Bashfully she looks away, wiping her cheek as if her blush would disappear. He watches, still awestruck and positively frozen. 

"...Tech?" She asks. Wordlessly, he scootches forward. His breathing fans over hers; their lips are so close to touching, but he hesitates.

Is this really happening?

Really happening?

"...You want to kiss me," He confirms verbally, and she softly swipes her tongue over her bottom lip, nodding.

"I do," She says.

Tech doesn't realize he's leaned in so close until she finally closes the small gap. A wave of tingling warmth rush over his skin; he shivers pleasantly. Her lips are soft, so gentle, feathery light over his that if he weren't so enraptured he wouldn't feel them. She dives in further, tilting her head to the right to gain better access; his lips mold to hers securely.

This is heaven; he never wants to leave.

She eventually breaks away but doesn't move. Heavy pants fan over his parted lips as they both catch their breath. Her eyes are shut close when his flutter opens. Tech smiles.

"Was it what you thought it would be like?" He asks.

Without missing a beat, she nods with her eyes still closed. 

"Even better," She smiles through it.

Just then, a curse echoes through the cockpit. They snap their heads to the voice; Hunter watches them with disdain and a defeat that couldn't have been from the kiss.

"Dank farrik, couldn't you have waited for a couple more rotations to do that?"

"...Why?"

"Now I owe Wrecker two weeks of Mantell Mix!"

[walliedarling]

Continuation / Companion post to this one,  featuring the rest of the Welcome Home characters, since I got some comments asking for more ideas surrounding the concept ^^! It’s not a must to read that one, but it does give context to what is written down here. 

To put it simply, though: You are a human who, somehow, got transported into a world filled with puppets, and you are trying to adjust to the life there.

Howdy is the one who helps you get settled into your new life the most, purely because of the amount of practical necessities he has in store. The storage of Howdy’s Store somehow has almost everything you could have hoped for, including a place to stay: a tent! (Though there are things here that are unfamiliar to the residents, and as such don’t exist. You’re most bothered by the lack of toothbrushes and toothpaste... But it makes sense, as none of them have teeth. You’ll figure out some kind of substitute.)  

With the amount of arms he has at the ready, the tent is set up within the blink of an eye. When you apologize to him for the fact that you don’t have anything to pay him back with, he tells you that that’s nonsense. You’re a new face, with plenty of new stories to tell, and that’s all the payment he could ask for! Especially from such an unique new neighbour. He’s sure you’ll stop by again in the future, after all! 

While you get the ingredients from Howdy, Poppy is the one who helps you make them into meals. ...Or, rather, you’re the one helping her, as she’s too afraid to use the appliances herself. She started fussing over you the moment you stopped by to introduce yourself and explain your situation, telling you how horrible it must be to get lost all alone, and are you sure you aren’t hurt, not anywhere at all? Are you sure? Are you really sure? She has bandages you can use, don’t worry! She practically insists on you using her kitchen after that, and you’re nothing but grateful for it. Poppy looks at you a little strangely once you start eating, though you might’ve just imagined that. 

Once she figures you out you only have a single set of clothing, she immediately gets to work making more for you! And enlists his the help of Wally in the process. (He really enjoys fashion-related things, and while Poppy would be more than happy to knit for you, she’s not going anywhere needles, never! So he ends up doing the sewing for any kind of fabric that cannot be knit.) You soon have an amount of clothing that will never fit inside your tent. 

Eddie, after he has made all of his deliveries for the day, sits down with you and tries to tie the threads of your memories together. If there’s anyone who might know where you come from, it’s the local postman, who’s been further around the world than most. Unfortunately, it doesn’t really go anywhere, which is not his fault. He ends up sitting down with you and, skilled at arts and crafts as he is, tries to help you make some new things to the best of his abilities. You end up with a toothbrush made out of a piece of wood with ‘hairs’ from a new, thin paintbrush. It’s better than nothing, that’s for sure. 

A couple of days after arriving, you return to your house only to find that he has gone through the effort of placing a mailbox right outside your tent. Everyone should have the ability to receive letters, he thinks!