#I'll find out later

[sunnymainecoonx]

School.. tomorrow?? Man, an entirely new school with little to no familiar faces

Sounds nice.... ☺️**internally cries

I want to sleep but it feels too early-

Oh and btw I really like cookies in cr I mean cookies and cream

[windona]

Me: *Talks about angsty superhero scenarios involving alternate universes*

Friend: *Goes in about mirror universe angst beyond the typical*

DM of the superhero TTRPG we’re in: Oh don’t tempt me : )

[salsflore]

good morning i'm getting ready for school miserably but its ok because i get to watch my hc play sports like a loser. anyways my eye feels a bit..... Not normal??? god please

[petscoboba]

I want Toby Fox three years after the last chapter to make a game where it's just the Fun Gang going on a road trip to the east coast to go fishing. They raid a gas station on the way to grabs snacks for the road (and the lobsters they catch). Happy April Fool's.

[theg0ddesspersephone]

I have the feeling I'm forgetting to do something and I really can't figure out what it is...

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji Goes To Lotus Pier AU: Part 5: Flip Slip.

(Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 4.5)

[maniac-fandomist]

Cloud Retainer’s Damasked Device - aka origami crane - is super cute.

[essektheylyss]

“Your delinquent child is outside, and I have assured him that he is very, very grounded.”

Between Yeza and the campers still waiting for their parents to arrive from around the coast to collect them, Veth wasn’t sure any of them saw her move between the dining room and the foyer before she’d thrown the front door open.

Outside, Caleb held Luc by the back of the vest, neither of them looking any worse for wear. Behind them, Jester and Fjord looked a bit sheepish, though not nearly as sheepish as her son, who had almost curled into himself beneath the venomous look she’d given him.

“I thought you were dead! You're never leaving this house again! I couldn't get in contact with anyone and I thought you were fucking dead!” she screeched, before any of them could move, but Luc almost kept pace with her, slipping from his godfather’s grasp and, to her surprise, likely to the others’ surprise as well, threw his arms around her.

“I’m sorry, Mom, I should’ve listened to you, I’ll stay grounded for as long as you want—“

Veth spluttered for a moment, though her arms wrapped around him in return. This had not been how he’d returned under Kingsley’s grasp, caught by the ear and cursing up a storm.

It took a long moment to realize that Luc was trembling beneath her grasp. Very faintly, but definitely trembling.

She looked over his shoulder at Caleb, then Fjord and Jester. “There have been… several lessons learned in the past thirty-six hours,” Caleb said, his tone even stonier than his expression.

Fjord nodded slightly in agreement, carrying the weight of agreement. Her grasp on her son tightened, and she kissed his hair. Her sharp tone felt empty and hollow even to her own ears.

“Don’t you ever run away again— Don’t you know what I’d do if you were killed—“

“I know, Mom,” Luc interrupted, and for the first time in weeks— months— a long fucking time— he didn’t sound petulant.

He sounded like her boy.

“I kept him safe,” Caleb said flatly, also without any defensiveness. There was, even for Caleb, a dark flame behind his eyes. It felt like a spark she hadn’t seen in quite a few years.

“He was very particular about it,” Jester agreed, and then, in a poorly-disguised whisper, “Trent.”

Veth’s grip tightened, and she pulled Luc aside, away from the doorway. “Come in, tell me all about it—“ she pulled back and checked him over as Caleb nodded and passed inside. “You’re all in one piece, you’re alright—?”

“Yeah, Mom,” he agreed, with exhaustion. “Uncle Deuce made sure we were all in one piece.”

Jester pouted as she passed. “I also made sure you were okay, alright, but Caduceus is so helpful, you know, and honestly, in the end, it wasn’t even that bad— we saved most of the town, and we had a great party, and—“

She stopped her rambling in the middle of the doorway and clapped both hands to her mouth as Luc ducked under both of them into the house.

“Oh. My. Gods, Veth, you will not believe— Fjord proposed to me—“

With the number of things Jester had just imparted to her, it was honestly a testament to her own intelligence that Veth managed to process them in time to turn to Fjord just as he started up the steps, stopping him in his tracks.

“You what? And I missed it—?!”

"You know, Jester, I think we can let Caleb debrief the Brenatto family alone—"

She had him by the ear before he could move, which was an impressive feat considering he was over half her height, but he was almost as slippery of a bastard as she was.

Within an instant, he'd turned to mist in her grasp and vanished to the other side of the street, Jester complaining behind her all the while. Veth shrieked after him. "You piece of shit!"

In response, he yelled, "That's soon-to-be Admiral Tusktooth-Lavorre to you!"

[evilkaeya]

Dazai being gentle with Chuuya post corruption... but the rest of the pm mobs are also there. All of them watching from the sidelines like 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♀️🧍🏼🧍‍♀️ while Dazai wipes the blood off Chuuya's face and caresses his cheeks and runs his fingers through his hair with a smile on his face.

[hughmanbean]

Crimes Against Existence

The High Queen Phantom has expressed concerns about the state of law within the Mortal Realms.

Walker, sensing a chance to redeem himself in her eyes, volunteers to go out and report the state of the lands to the Queen. She seems pensive, but agrees. Under strict conditions that Walker must NOT detain nor arrest any mortals that would not have been taken into custody or otherwise punished by mortal authorities in the same situation.

She hands him an addendum to his book the Duke has written up for him to use as reference while he operates in the Mortal Realms.

He reluctantly agrees and makes his way to a mortal settlement with that he can sense has strong criminal influence.

He follows the trail to one of most crime-infested cities on Earth: Gotham. His guards clean out an old office, and he sits himself down into a desk.

He turns on the TV and tunes into a random channel. A man who seems like he'd fit with the Far Frozen is locked in combat with a skilled mortal in some sort of outfit. After a bit of research, Walker learns these are the rogues and vigilantes.

Well, this explained quite a few of the High Queen's problems. Though she doesn't know of them just yet.

Now, how do we rectify that?

[umboocowju]

Beast peak's disciple Shen Yuan? Yeah 😌

[carouselunique]

Hi! To answer your question, I want to let ships develop naturally over time with the audience and allow y'all to have those ships largely without my direct influence the way the show for the most part does (almost every ship being implied rather than directly stated by the end of the series) because I think that'll be more fun for everyone involved!

...

That being said, if there is one ship I can at least say is somewhat close to my heart and by nature of the story has somewhat of a focus... Dinky's parents are that ship.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 07: free space a happy ending

Wakefulness embraces him so slowly and gently that Steve’s not entirely sure he isn’t dreaming when he sees Eddie lying next to him, watching him with an easy smile as his fingers tap out a slow beat on his pillow. Steve looks at him, blinking away the remnants of sleep, not quite daring to do anything more than that for fear of it being a dream after all, scared that Eddie would disappear if Steve reached out to touch. 

But then Eddie’s smile widens. “Good morning, sunshine.” 

Steve gasps a little and moves his hand to Eddie’s cheek, tucking a few strands of hair behind his ear, his breath hitching when Eddie leans into the touch. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, his gaze wandering over Eddie’s features, taking it all in and looking for any indication that this is a dream. 

Eddie hums. “And you’re pretty.” 

It hits him out of nowhere, the open sincerity in Eddie’s voice, the fondness in his eyes, the honesty in everything about him. The love, open and free now — or getting there, at least. It’s still so raw, though, so new, that Steve doesn’t know how to handle it yet. 

“Shut up,” he huffs once he’s caught his breath, rolling over to hide his face and the way his cheeks are heating up. He rolls right into Eddie's chest, though, and he's so warm, so close, smells so good that Steve wants nothing more than to bury his face in his neck and stay there for the rest of the morning. Or maybe the rest of his life.

The reflex to pull away is there. The urge to run and hide, to laugh it off, to freeze up and find something else to do, something to occupy his hands and stop them from reaching for Eddie. Years and years of muscle memory telling Steve to leave. 

But Eddie's arms come around him, holding him close and pulling him even closer. And Steve breathes him in, remembering that it can be okay. Remembering that they get a chance now. 

Remembering the words. 

What are you doing? 

Changing the world. 

So he tries that, too. Changing the world. He tries by winding his arms around Eddie, too, and breathing in again and again, learning that Eddie won't disappear if he does. 

Slowly, he dares to move his arms, stroking along Eddie's back in slow, gentle patterns, lulling himself into a safety he hasn't felt in a while. Maybe ever. At some point Eddie begins to hum, and Steve thinks that it's just another one of his audible smiles, inviting Steve and the rest of the world to join in if they're so inclined. But then he detects a familiar melody in the vibrations of Eddie's neck against his skin, and he holds his breath to find out what it is. 

His heart jumps when he recognises the song as one he used to listen to on repeat like a lovesick fool around the time his feelings for Eddie turned into something more, something better, something infinitely worse. 

It skips and he forgets how to breathe as he lets his hands travel over Eddie's back, slowly and tentatively daring to slip underneath his shirt and touch his skin. 

Eddie begins to sing, then, and Steve wonders if he's even been in love with him before, because nothing of what he's ever felt compares to Eddie's gentle, hoarse, sleep-rough voice as he sings Somebody to Steve, to their little bubble, or to the world outside. 

"I want somebody to share, share the rest of my lifeShare my innermost thoughts, know my intimate details."

He closes his eyes as he listens, focusing on the vibrations, on the warmth, on the closeness, on how this moment is everything he's never even dared to want. Everything so perfect that he couldn't even dream it up. 

Everything. You're everything. 

He needs to be closer still, so be buries his nose in Eddie's neck and breathes him in, tangling their legs, filled with a breathless kind of joyful bliss when Eddie's breath hitches, too, and he stumbles over the words of the second verse as Steve tries to climb into his skin. 

"I want somebody who cares for me passionatelyWith every thought and with every breath."

You have me, Steve thinks, pressing his lips to Eddie's pulse point. It's not a kiss, not quite. It's something deeper. It's a promise. 

Eddie's hands come up to hold him there even as his voice carries through the drumbeat of Steve's heart in his throat, running fingers through his hair, lightly scratching at his scalp, making him purr along to the melody. 

"But when I'm asleep I want somebodyWho will put their arms around me and kiss me tenderlyThough things like this make me sickIn a case like this, I'll get away with it."

When the song ends, Eddie's words faded out, replaced once again by the gentlest silence, Steve feels raw. Vulnerable. Open and exposed. But he also feels safe, and loved, buried in Eddie's skin and held there, as though Eddie is just as scared of fading away as Steve is. 

He lifts his head just slightly, enough to meet Eddie's eyes – only to find that they're closed, an expression so serene like Steve has never seen before. Mesmerised and overflowing with affection, he reaches out to trace the line of his brows, down to his cheeks and all the way to his lips, where his eyes are glued for a second. 

The thought of kissing Eddie is right there. The opportunity is, too. But he doesn't. He barely dares to move as it is. But he does roll them over the rest of the way until he lies comfortably on top of Eddie, and tucks his head underneath his chin, finding one of his hands and lacing their fingers. 

"You've got him," he breathes eventually. "That somebody. If you—“ 

"Yes," Eddie says, his other hand finding its way to the nape of Steve's neck to play with his hair again. "I want."

"Good." It's lame; far from what he wants to say. From what he has already said last night. It feels like they're doing this backwards, starting with the I love you and catching up with the slow build-up afterwards. "Good. Me, too." 

"Good," Eddie hums, and there's that smile again that Steve can't help but mirror. 

They fall asleep again like that even though it’s already late in the morning; cuddling and holding and cradling each other, still trembling slightly. Maybe that's what changing the world will do to you. Maybe that's the bravery more than the love. 

Or maybe it's just Steve and Eddie. Steve and Eddie. SteveandEddie. 

I love you. 

~*~

It takes a bit for Steve to relearn loving Eddie. To not associate it with tragedy and sadness and a bone-deep loneliness that'll leave him breathless even on the best of days. 

It takes a while for Steve to learn a whole new kind of breathlessness, a whole new kind of aching when it comes to Eddie. 

And Eddie's not much better than Steve, pulling away when Steve wants him closer, swallowing his words and needing a second, third, fourth try until he learns that he gets to love Steve now. 

Years of unrequited love, or feelings unreturned, of words put out into the universe with no one to receive them, are not easily or quickly unwritten. But every time Steve's breath gets lodged in his throat and he wants to run away, Eddie is right there to remind him of what they can have now. Every time Steve tries to be a little less of who he really is, Eddie is right there to coax him out of his head with gentle touch and a lot of hugs. 

Every time Eddie starts to doubt himself and all the ways he makes Steve the happiest person on the planet, Steve is right there with the words he only has for Eddie. Words that don't get stuck anymore. Words that finally get a recipient. 

~*~

Their first kiss, the first real kiss, doesn't happen that first morning. They spend the first week only holding each other, barely wanting to let go, hiding their vulnerabilities within each other. 

Steve is worried about it at first, seeing Eddie so quiet, so reverent, lacking his usual cheer, his energy and snarky comments. He asks about it one night, ready to prove right that he isn't and can never be enough for him, that all he will do is steal the things that make him Eddie. 

Eddie stops then, lifting Steve's chin with a finger when he's too scared, too ashamed, too vulnerable to meet his eyes on his own accord. 

"Stevie," Eddie says, his voice so gentle that Steve immediately feels stupid for doubting. "I have loved you for ten years. I've had you for three days. Let me bask in it. Let me be unable to be myself with how absolutely and utterly overcome I am with the knowledge that I have you now. That I get to hold you. That I get to kiss you and keep you and... God. I'm not unhappy. I'm so much the opposite of that that I'm not sure there's a word for it. Other than devoted. Smitten. Bewitched, body and soul."

Steve wants to kiss him then. Almost does, with the way they're just staring at each other, breathing the same air —air that smells like Eddie now. In the end, Eddie just holds him, brushing a kiss to his cheek, his forehead, his temple, and whispers, "Let me bask in it." 

And so they do. 

Wayne called Eddie not long after with the words, "Chrissy just told me the wedding's off. Please tell me that means what I think it means." 

Eddie just blushed, reaching for Steve, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. "Yeah, I, uh. I finally talked to Steve."

There was a very loud cheer on the other end that made Steve laugh, falling into Eddie's side, holding him tight, a weight falling off his shoulders knowing that Wayne was okay with them. 

You know, I always figured it would be you. 

No matter what happens, you'll always be a son to me.

It made his eyes sting again, but he basked in the moment and in the knowledge that Wayne was on their side. Always has been, always will be. 

"You better come here on Sunday, and bring Robin and Chrissy, too." 

"Robs and Chrissy?" Eddie asked. 

"Oh, you're in for a treat. I'll see your asses on Sunday, boys." 

And with that, he hung up. Steve immediately went to call Robin, hopeful and giddy with Wayne's implication, knowing that Chrissy was Robin's person just like Eddie was his. 

"She loves me," Robin said, on the verge of tears, and Steve joined here right then and there. "She's– Steve. She's so– She... God!" 

"Yeah," Steve laughed at the ceiling above his bed, grinning because Robin sounded so happy, not even caring that she didn't have the right words for it, because he could hear Chrissy laughing in the background, too. Laughing and saying hi to him and interrupting Robin's ramblings and groans and giggles with kisses that always left her dumbstruck for a good two seconds each time. 

When the call ended, he went right back to the living room, where he and Eddie started watching Pride and Prejudice before, and fell right on top of him with a happy, happy smile. 

~*~

It happens at Wayne's, exactly one week after Eddie showed up at Steve's in the middle of the night. One week after the phone call. One week after I love you. 

It happens in the soft glow of the fairy lights Steve and Eddie helped him put up years ago. I happens after Wayne hugged him tight once more, after he pulled Chrissy to the side and promised her that she's still his kid, that he still loves her, and that he's happy to see her smile like that. After he promised the same to Robin.

It happens when Wayne's inside to refill their drinks and Chrissy and Robin are caught up in each other that they're blind and deaf to the rest of the world. When Steve turns to find Eddie looking at him with the softest, gentlest expression. 

"Eddie," he whispers, leaning in to rest their heads together, lacing their fingers and stroking his thumb along Eddie's palm.

"Yeah, baby?" 

Baby. It fills him with butterflies, with the urge to scream, to shout from all the rooftops that he loves Eddie, and more importantly, that Eddie loves him back! Baby. Baby.

"I love you." 

"Hmm. I love you more." 

No, you don't. Just longer. "Can I kiss you?" 

He can feel Eddie's little gasp before he leans in even closer, rubbing their noses together, cradling Steve's face with his free hand. "Please," he whispers. 

And Steve does. He captures Eddie's lips, pouring into it everything he feels and more. Sealing the promises he's made and all the ones he's yet to make. The promises to love and cherish Eddie. To be brave. To be there. To stay and keep and bask. 

It's nothing like their first kiss all those years ago. There is no question behind it this time. Only declarations, only promises, only the beginning of a shared future. 

And there are many, many more after this one.

🌷🤍🌷 THE END 🌷🤍🌷

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae @tuesdaycats @totoroinatardis @ilovebookshowboutyou @musical-theatre-gay @theluckyalien @copingmechanizm @srra @changelingbaby @sassygoop @obsessivelyme @r0binscript @hardboiledleggs @estrellami-1 @bisexualdisastersworld @space-invading-pigeon @swimmingbirdrunningrock @y0urnewstepp4r3nt @oxidantdreamboat @spilled-jar @phirex22 @littlemsterious @captaingigglyguinea @animecookie95 @sharingisntkaren @haluton @littlemsterious @animecookie95 @suddenlyinlove @bisexual-bilingual-biped @jinx-nanami @makewavesandwar @scheodingers-muppet @morcantinon @hexdbog @homosexualhomocide13

god i can't believe it's over. i thank you, every one of you, who cheered for me, cried with me, screamed and yelled at me, and stayed with me throughout this past week. i have no words right now other than thank you 🤍🌷 and i hope this is okay

[aueua]

what a terrific sound!

[stiltonbasket]

prompt: an au where wrh raises wwx, who is then forced to fight for the wens during the sunshot campaign.

“You are useless to me now,” Wen Ruohan says, contemplating his drink. “One little archer, one lucky shot—and my greatest hope after Wen Zhuliu has been ruined.”

The cup in his hand should have held wine: some of the clear, astringent liquor that Wen Qing favored, since it was a passable antiseptic in an emergency—but somehow, it had darkened to a deep, almost oily crimson, like the broth of the stewed lamb Wei Wuxian ate on the night before he rode out to Hejian.

He does not like to think of what his liege must be drinking now, and so he does not ask.

“Not useless,” Wei Wuxian says at last. “Wen Qing claims that a full bodily recovery—if it should take place at all—will come too late for this war effort, but I am still sound in mind. And that is at your service still, as much as it ever was.”

“That is some relief. I could have done without your mind, if I had your jindan and your strength; but since I am not to have either, your mind will have to do.”

Wei Wuxian nods, scarcely concealing the tremor in his fingers as he does so. When he arrived half a shichen ago, he was granted a chair instead of a patch of floor to kneel on, out of respect for his battle wound; but drawing breath in Wen Ruohan’s presence has never been easy, in spite of the fact that the man would likely rather cut off his own right hand than harm him, and the Lan-made poison eating away at Wei Wuxian’s veins has only made matters worse.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian blinks. “My lord.”

“That concubine of yours, the one that serves you on the battlefield—what is his name?”

His heart stutters in his chest. “Yu Zhenhong, junshang. I have only two, and Yu-shi is the only man.”

“He should have thrown himself before that arrow, rather than suffer any risk to you,” Wen Ruohan snarls, dashing the white-jade cup upon the tiled ground at his feet. “He is a man, and all he can do for the continuation of your line is to ensure the continuation of your life—and if the arrow struck true, and you had been slain, who would have taught your yiniang’s child in your place?”

Painfully, Wei Wuxian lifts himself out of his chair and sinks to his knees on the floor.

“It was I who rode ahead of Yu-shi that day. The rest of the regiment would have come to harm, if he had followed me,” he says, bent so low that he can feel the coolness of the tiles on his forehead. “On his behalf—and on behalf of my yiniang, for Lady Li is close to her time, and any harm done to one of our household could injure her, or my child—I beg that you show him mercy.”

A sharp pain sparks under one of his fingers. He lifts it from the ground, and notes with dull surprise that his skin had been pierced by a shard of Wen Ruohan’s jade cup. 

Wen Ruohan pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Very well, then. I will not give him any corporal punishment, for the sake of your yiniang’s peace of mind. But he must be punished somehow, and you are far too soft-hearted to do it properly.”

“My lord—”

“He is your favorite, is he not?” Wen Ruohan says idly. “You care for Li Shuai, and surround her with all the luxuries a man of your rank can afford. But Yu Zhenhong is the one who follows you to battle, the one you take into your confidence; so must he not be the one closest to your heart?”

“Yes.” The word feels like whetted steel on his tongue.

“Good,” his liege says, smiling. “Yu-shi has forgotten where he stands; and so, he must be reminded. He is not your husband—will never be your husband, for in all these years I have found no man or maiden worthy of being joined with you in marriage—but I think it would break his heart if I were to gift you another concubine. He tolerates Li-yiniang, because she can give you children, but if you were to take in another man...”

Wei Wuxian thinks wretchedly of the night Li Shuai and Yu Zhenhong came to his manor in the Nightless City, having run so long that Yu Zhenhong’s feet were bleeding, and begged for shelter: any way you can grant it, Yu Zhenhong had said, swaying on his injured feet as he supported Li Shuai. Any way, Wei-jiangjun—Brother Wei—A-Shuai can travel no further, I beg of you—

“May Wen-zongzhu’s will be done. I accept,” Wei Wuxian murmurs aloud, lifting his head to look Wen Ruohan in the eye. “Who is it to be?”

Wen Ruohan waves a dismissive hand.

“I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow,” he says, with a grin that makes his too-long front teeth shimmer in the yellow lamplight. “But you need not fear for your own sake, Wei-jiangjun. After all, your Yu-shi could not rival this one for beauty if he tried for the rest of his life.”

_____

“A concubine? For Wei-jiangjun? Has Father lost his mind?”

Two figures in red were standing in the dungeons of the Sun Palace, by the very last cell in the deepest of the six underground keeps. Its lone inhabitant had been languishing there for a month, not permitted to set foot outside his prison save when he was dragged to the torture chambers; and even when the tendons in his legs were slashed, some twelve days earlier, he remained so impassive that the head torturer began to wonder if he could feel the pain at all.

Wen Xu lifts his torch and examines the prisoner. 

“I suppose he’s good-looking enough,” he shrugs, suppressing a shiver as the torchlight moves over Lan Wangji’s unblinking eyes. “His nephew was the archer who brought General Wei down at Hejian, so Fuqin must think that marrying Lan Wangji to Wei-jiangjun is a fitting punishment—for the uncle and nephew both.”

In the shadows of the cell, Lan Wangji’s bloodied hands curl over a splinter of stone he had torn away from the walls. 

He has been shaping it for the last fortnight, filing it against the reinforced rock of the floor until the top end had been ground to a razor-sharp point. Before his legs were broken, he intended to use it to pick the lock of his cell door and escape, but now...

“Tian ah,” Wen Chao whispers, apparently under the impression that Lan Wangji was in a meditative trance, and thus unable to hear him. “I don’t fancy Lan Wangji’s chances in the Wei-fu. Wei-jiangjun was furious when Wen Qing found out about the poison in his jindan.”

But now his escape had been planned for him. 

Lan Wangji’s grasp on the splinter grows tighter. 

“When will it be?” asks Wen Chao.

“Three days from now.”

Three days. 

Lan Wangji looks up at the ceiling of his cell, and then down at the sharp piece of rock in his palm. 

He has crossed paths with General Wei only twice: once in the Cloud Recesses twenty years previously, when the young Wei-jiangjun attended Lan Qiren’s summer lecture courses, and then again on the battleground in Hejian where he was taken prisoner thirty days ago. 

Until that fateful battle, he could not have picked General Wei out of a crowd if his life depended on it: but that night, Lan Wangji dreams of a hauntingly lovely face lost in sleep mere inches away from his own, and the trembling of his hands as his makeshift knife plunges into his bridegroom’s throat.

[bonefall]

I personally like Thunder's prosthetic. Explained it to my friend (who does use a mobility device, a cane and wheelchair, and listens to me rant and infodump about BB) and they agreed, it's important to know that not every person needs what someone wants to give them. It's another example of "bad ableist person does a thing that hurts a disabled person because they are bad and ableist".

Clear Sky got Jagged Peak killed and would have killed Sunlit Frost! He would absolutely force his disabled son to be "normal" and present it like a privilege. "I wouldn't do this for anyone else, it's special, why don't you want to be helped?"

Thunder Storm should toss it in Clear Sky's face. (I would say toss it into the river but we do not pollute waterways in this house)

Thank you for telling me this, and tell your friend I'm thanking them too! If they have anything else to add please forward what they have to say

Since BB!DOTC tackles some of the heaviest topics in the entire series because its canon equivalent is so dark, I think very carefully about what I do here and how I show it. I take feedback on its sensitive aspects very seriously. If I'm understanding the criticism properly, it's that I should avoid stigmatizing prosthetics by making sure Thunder Storm's not the only one with it-- which he's not! And I'll add even more.

I don't want to avoid something only because it's uncomfortable if the topic is important, and my portrayal is respectful. Ableism IS uncomfortable! There are some situations where a prosthetic is not wanted! I think the rejection of this particular one is both a good opportunity to show a type of ableism and ALSO is very fitting for the characters.

In BB!Clear Sky's mind, the villain, he's fixing an old mistake. He can't admit that he got Jagged Peak killed or take REAL accountability for it (though he will, occasionally, apologize insincerely), but deep in his bones, he knows what he did was cruel. He'll never tell anyone this because he doesn't really cognate it himself, but Thunder Storm NEEDS to take his gift.

If Thunder doesn't take it, it blows a hole in his newest story. You see, throwing Jagged Peak out was All That Could Have Been Done back then. It was a Tragedy and he simply Made A Hard Choice. He regrets it very much, But You Have To Understand.

But now? Now? Well, behold. Look at what he's accomplished since the tragic death of his little brother. His cats are well-fed, cared for, and stable enough to make such incredible advancements. If only Jagged Peak had been able to hold on longer, if only he could be here now, I could fix him.

Just like I can (MAKE YOU JUST LIKE ME) fix you.

"Everything I've ever done is for Jagged Peak. For Fluttering Wing. For you." Thunder Sky is SPECIAL, but if he rejects any gift, tries to turn down the "privileges" offered to him, in an instant that becomes ungratefulness and arrogance. He both forces him to be special, and then leverages it against him if it's rejected. "Spoiled brat, doesn't appreciate what I've worked so hard to give him."

It all goes back to him and his own guilt. He can NEVER be wrong. He can't accept his family doesn't have to be "normal" or reflect his own ability. He won't see himself as a bully, let alone a murderer. It was never about his son's comfort or finding out what Thunder Storm wants or needs, it was about his own ego.

...All that said I'm still taking feedback if there's anything else I should keep in mind, or if anyone has a counter point, especially if you also have experience here.

(In the interest of having a link trail for posterity, here's the critique/call for feedback this is in response to)