#I'm fine I'll promise

[ladyzirkonia]

What can I say my knife kink has been FED today.

[mrtequilasunset]

Kim give me your gun.

[crystalflygeo]

Marks of a warrior ft. Zhongli + gn!reader

cw/tags: hurt/comfort, self-harm mention (reader), scars, pretty suggestive but not full blown smut for once PLEASE these are delicate topics DO NOT READ IF IT MAKES YOU UNCOMFORTABLE.

notes: Listen, as usual this is very self-indulgent, but also very personal, not everyone may feel like this of course and I hope not to make anyone feel insulted or uncomfortable, I try not to "romanticize" just... some comfort for the depression hours ok?

The satin sheets pool around your waist as you sigh, soft and nervous.

This was… the first time you got this far, and it made your heart skip a beat.

It was very intimate… and intimidating.

And despite that, there was a certain rush of excitement as Zhongli pulled off your clothes. You helped shake them off, a bit clumsily, and blushed as he stares at you.

And now here you are. Clad in just your underwear, shy and sitting on his lap, faces mere inches apart.

Those golden eyes travel over your skin, committing every curve, every mole, every strand of hair, to memory. Zhongli does not only look, he evaluates, he appraises that which he likes or finds fascinating. Studying it and, if enticed enough, the ex-archon’s gaze would turn covetous. Like a dragon wanting to claim and possess a new treasure.

Like how he stares at your right now.

There’s a certain hunger in his eyes and you almost shiver at the intensity of it, averting your eyes and subconsciously bringing up an arm to cover yourself. “D-Don’t just stare, I’m-”

“Beautiful.” He cuts off in a husky low voice that has you shivering for real now. He leans in to plant a kiss at your shoulder, your hands shoot up to his bare chest, curling there and feeling the smooth muscles.

Zhongli trails kisses up your neck, to you jaw, your cheek, your nose and you squeak when you feel his hands explore your body. Large and warm, trey trace your ribcage and brush at your nipples, you sigh.

“All this… just for me.”

You still cannot comprehend how can he look at you like that, with so much love, so much longing. How are you so lucky to have caught the eye and heart of someone so kind, so perfect. A deity, no less.

“Zhongli…”

His hands dip lower, circling your waist and there he finds something. You tense.

His thumb brushes along the scars on your hip and you flinch not-so-subtly.

This is the first time he's seen them.

The first time anyone has seen them.

Dark ugly slashes that you wish you could forget, you could undo.

"Please don't." You mumble urgently, nervous. "I..." Your lips purse together and you frown, conflicted. "I-I'm uncomfortable."

"Alright." Zhongli replies simply, his hands slide up your sides and he leans in to kiss a spot in your chest instead. A bashful smile returns to your face.

His lips meet yours in a slow but heated kiss, you can’t help but want more, be a little demanding. You arms drape around his shoulders and you pull yourself closer. The skin-on-skin contact is electrifying and you moan low.

Breathing each other’s air, pressed so close, so intimately entwined. You lose yourselves in lips and tongue and teeth, in soft hums and small noises and silent smiles.

It's nice, you think, to be so... wanted.

“You act as if you were ashamed. Warriors would often pride themselves on scars.” He says suddenly. “They are a symbol of victory. Another day to live after having faced danger and endured hardship.”

You huff a little, averting your gaze. “I’m h-hardly a warrior… those scars…” You gulp. Surely, he understood…? “They’re not from battle I… I did them myself.” You feel cold creep up your body. Dread. You feel painfully aware of them now, and the pain they bring… the memories.

He hums against your skin, nuzzling there softly. “Ah but that is where you’re wrong, my dear. Those are proof you have faced one of life’s strongest and most difficult enemies, your own dark thoughts. That which cannot be seen, cannot be easily fought, cannot be understood but for the one facing them alone.”

Your breath hitches a little.

“I, for one, I’m glad you’re here today. With me. Glad that you won that battle.” He punctuates every comment with a fleeting kiss, tickling your collarbone. One of his hands rubs at your shoulder, the other is warm on your thigh.

You blink rapidly and press your forehead into his chest, hiding the tears that wet your eyelashes.

How can he be so…

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stay silent in his embrace a little longer, as he rubs circles on your back.

“T-Thank you… Zhongli. One day I’ll tell you about it, but… now…”

He shushes you and leans back to lie down on the bed, bringing you along and still staring at you with that same reverence. Your pelvis brush together and you gasp. The warmth is back and growing to a full flame.

And this god, this perfect being splayed here below you…

“It’s fine if you don’t. Don’t feel forced to… you deserve to feel comfortable in your own body, and your scars do not take from who you are, nor they define you.” He cups your cheek, eyes half-lidded. “Don’t think about it now…”

You lean down with a smile and kiss him again.

[honks-n-stonks]

for whatever reason I really like drawing streaks in ceroba's hair (and just. Drawing headshots of her in general. Mainly from memory. She's Weirdly fun to draw ?!!)

It's fun!!!!!!!

+ super inconsistent on how I draw her too... which probably stems from. Well. Drawing from memory. DON'T BE ME!!!!

+ hiii starlo

I should. Probably draw in magma more often..... who wanna do one ⁉️

[front-facing-pokemon]

[liquidstar]

Oh fuck tomorrow I'm going to be a little birthday boy I keep almost forgetting

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[starsandskies]

Hey guys, I know I hardly ever advertise my Ko-fi, but without going into details, I had to leave my home yesterday in a rush. In the process, I've lost a bunch of money (emergency moving services, things I had to leave behind like my desk chair, and other stuff), etc. So if you enjoy (or used to enjoy before I went that inactive) my content and can spare a couple of coins to help me start from scratch, I'd be eternally grateful.

I'm still getting settled at my mom's (temporarily, I need to find a new place), but as soon as possible, I'll open some emergency slots (probably ko-fi portraits like last year) too.

Here's my Ko-fi.

Signal boost would be appreciated ♥ Thank you!

[cirooka]

hiii i want to draw some expressions so send me a character (either from hazbin or helluva) + a letter + a number and i'll try to draw them😊 template from here

[sunyandmony]

@cozyreplicace !!! It is I, your secret Santa!!! :3

Hope you're enjoying Christmas and that you'll have a great new year!!!<3🎉

And to everyone else happy holidays too!! ✨

I listened to this and a version made by •IsDumb_Keirī• a lot making the ss check it out if you want to!!:>

Gift under cut 👀

Word count: 3,832 words

Time taken: 1-2 weeks:')

“One to 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 see….”

Even while they were trying their best, not one day passed where they wouldn’t mess something up when they saw just who had passed by their coffee shop yet again. And that someone was you.

Since moving to this new neighborhood,you have passed by their little coffee shop every single day. And they were head over heels just watching you from afar. Sun's crush was more than obvious, as every time he saw you and was doing something, he'd immediately freeze. He once was making an order, in the middle of pouring milk into the drink, when you came into view. His eyes widened like he saw a ghost, and he literally ignored the woman in front of him shouting for him to stop pouring milk in her drink.

The moment you were gone, he was back to normal like it never happened. He immediately got to cleaning and re-did the order for the woman. And then another day passed.

It only got worse the very first time you walked through that door. Everything about you was bright, from your manners, to your aura, and even to your looks. When you approached them they were immediately stuck in place. Both Sun and Moon. Sun had completely forgotten his job for a moment as he stared at you. Moon wasn’t staring as openly as his partner, yet his thoughts still ran a mile a second.

Both snapped out of their trance once you started speaking, placing your order and walking away to sit down at one of the tables near the windows, which had a great view outside. Moon was more than determined to explore these new feelings while he could. Sun on the other hand would completely go all in just for a spec of attention from you.

And not long afterwards that Moon bought your order, thanking you for visiting their shop and stumbling away just as quickly as he came. You were a little oblivious to that as you searched through your backpack to find your phone. And immediately got to scrolling through your media. Even so their staring did not stop, Moon from the back ever so often peeking while Sun obviously couldn't concentrate on anything, just your presence alone doing this to them.

They didn't want to admit it though, not when they barely knew you. And they weren't going to judge you only by your looks, because that's not how it works, not even to them.

And so, sooner than later, they approached you. Sun was the one to ask if you could give him your phone number to hang out sometimes. And without hesitation or even a single second spent thinking, you did. It wasn't that he didn't want it, it's just how easily he got it from you. You didn't give any mind to him when he all bubbly and excitedly over measure started to stumble away and back behind the counter. In any case he wasn't weird to you, but rather nice.

You did come here quite a lot, and got to have small talks with them. And by this point, they were very nice and actually more normal and chill then your coworkers who kept on making fun of you for liking them in the first place or even hanging out with them. Did that stop you? In no fucking way. You were gonna hang out with sentient animatronics. And no one will stop you. Not your parents, not your friend, not your coworkers and especially not your boss.

When you were young you didn't have many friends as everyone thought of you as ‘weird’, only a single person that tolerated you enough but not quite a friend either. But if these two were going to be your friends, you sure as heck will do anything in your being to keep this friendship going!

And back to the present, it went so well that you became best friends with both of them. Moon was a bit of a challenge, but not hard enough to stop you, that's for sure. And you soon became a daily, early morning customer that they talked with. And you noticed that as time went on, Sun stopped stumbling over his words. He said something having to do with his programming, though you doubt it, but didn't say a single thing. Moon also stopped being so off-to-the-side and opened himself up a little more to the idea, hanging out with you and having small talks seemed to do just fine with him.

If it wasn't for the fact they were so sentient, you would've thought they were yet another fazbear cheap product, but they were far from that. They weren't programmed with feelings, but they developed them. And the sentience that came along. You had yet to discover what else they're hiding beside the obvious.

Moon's love and affection seemed to be represented more by intimate touches and words of affirmation from you. He is very quiet but at least responds and will listen to you ramble for hours just to hear the soft melody of your voice. He wouldn't mind his circuits frying just a little to hear your sweet voice sing for him. He did hear you once singing along to something, not a lullaby but rather a soft song nonetheless. You had something going on that he genuinely couldn't get his eyes off. Though you did notice that when he can't say anything back, he just looks to the side and covers his face with his nightcap, which is kinda cute. The gesture, not the nightcap sadly, as it doesn't quite fit the theme of a coffee shop. But you didn't mind it, after all you weren't the one who designed them.

Sun is an energetic fella to say the least, he is always upbeat and ready for your arrival. He had the loudest voice you had yet to hear, pointing out everything new about yourself from day to day, and what changed or maybe what should be changed. It wasn't annoying, and it actually helped you a lot. He gives you daily advice and tips, and it is certainly welcomed. He had a weird way to show his affection, being all touchy and feely with you.. The touching wasn't unwelcome either though, as it seemed the both of you were just as touch starved. Though you did have your moments with him in silence, those are always cut short whatsoever and he has to leave you alone. Again.

.. Was it bad to think about them so much nowadays even after leaving the coffee shop? Like, they were certainly not that bad to think and daydream about but.. Were you seriously doing that on two animatronics that might not even share the feeling back? Yeah. And heck if anyone will stop you.

This was much different than a teenager crush in high school. This was real, and not on the internet. And you would be more than willing to make them realize what you feel. Even if it'll take years. And here you are though, wondering just how these two stole your heart without even doing anything more than being nice to you.

And today was yet another day, a weekend for once. Where you didn't have to work. And so, you get up and dress yourself before going out and straight to the coffee shop, which is just a corner away from your house. You're however immediately greeted by Sun hugging you and talking your brain out. It wasn't that bad at least when he set you down to lead you to your usual seat. He took your order and sat himself down in front of you while Moon prepared your drink for you in the back.

Sun just keeps on rumbling every second you are there, remarking how the kiddos are such messes and leave trash behind themselves at times when they shouldn't. Despite knowing the rules too. You weren't listening to him all that much despite being known to be a good listener. You were just staring out the window and daydreaming while he spoke in the background to fill the silence. It was nice to know he didn't mind you doing so. Not that he would.

Meanwhile your order is set down in front of you as Moon settles to lean over the seat behind Sun, mocking him and joining the discussion with his own little additions to Sun's stories.

At one point you swore Moon said something about Sun having a crush, which immediately made you perk up just at the mention. “A crush?! Who's the lucky one?” You piped up with your own question, the silence settling in as you stared at Sun, to which he immediately shrunk in his seat, rays retracting in his face plate. There was the faint noise of motors and fans working overtime as Moon excused themselves and helped Sun up, walking away with him and looking back to you with an apologetic smile before going in the back and out of view.

Later on Moon did come out of the back, but alone instead and settled in the same weird position on the seat in front of you, reassuring you Sun is okay and just needs a brief break.

Did you pass some boundaries? It seemed like so.. Maybe apologizing when he's ready will be better than bothering him at the moment. After all it's not your business to poke in. Yet you did what you did and you can't turn back time, just try making your future better and not let this friendship fall apart..

And so, Moon keeps you company while you're still there, be it through the silence or listening to you talking and adding his own opinions on the subjects. It did keep up your mood, and after a while you left, leaving yet another unasked for tip behind as you could feel eyes watching you. Felt like so for a while until the coffee shop was out of sight.

Once gotten home to change into something nicer for wear, you settle outside in your front yard at a table you bought and stare at the sky, the clouds moving ever so slowly over the horizon as the wind passes through the leaves and branches of the trees amongst the streets. The faint sound of chirping birds rings in your ears as you lay back, completely drowning yourself in your thoughts without even noticing that time still passes by as well.

You close your eyes, legs swinging back and forth unconsciously as you still cannot stop thinking about those two. Especially Sun at the moment, and how you might've invaded his privacy by asking what you did. He trusted you, and you ruined it right before your eyes. He probably feels more hurt than you. Not that you could know, since you didn't wanna push it further and go ask him that.

And so, this afternoon you didn't go back, deciding to just stay inside for today and focus on your work instead. Something to blur out the events of the day, and yet it doesn't seem to work. Only weighing you down more. They did not call you the whole time, only getting a message from Moon by evening saying that tomorrow you didn't have to come if you don't wanna. You sent back nothing, just staring at the screen of your phone in the empty silence of your living room.

They were both worried about you, even if it hasn't been more than a day. You were always the one to start a conversation topic in their message group, and then you went silent. Not only for one day, but for several days. You did pass by the coffee shop as is, but did not dare look at the building and hurry past it. Did you feel so bad that you thought you needed to give them that much time?

With a lot of confidence, finally, Sun sends a message to you asking if you're free Friday afternoon for a short talk together at the park. He didn't mention about what, and so you just said ‘alright’ and waited till Friday arrived before checking the time and going out on your way.

Once passing by the bakery and a few trinkets shops you finally arrive in the park, which is big. All around trees of all shapes and sizes, casting a shadow over benches and other adults and kids playing around or having a picnic of their own while you walked by towards the middle of the huge park, where a monumental fountain stood, water shooting upwards and back down as you sat yourself onto the cold edge, hand reaching out and immediately getting wet as the water lands on your forearm.

A chuckle leaves your throat at that, while you were an adult you couldn't help it. Your inner child is still there and alive, it seems. Birds continue to chirp all around as you wait for Sun to arrive. Which did not take that long once you saw the towering figure sit down next to you. Neither of you looked at the other for a while, mostly just enjoying the wild life in this place while you could.

The silence however is interrupted by a slightly off cough from Sun's voice box. He turns to look at you while you're still distracted by the running water in the fountain. “Firefly?.. I wanted to say, or well, perhaps ask:Are you avoiding us on purpose?” It sounded more awkward than he intended it to be, but it's already too late to take it back now. Your movements froze and your arm dropped back to your side. “Yeah… Look, I just thought you're mad- And I wouldn't be angry if you still are! But I wanted to give you some time first to chill down and all that jazz-” A brief explanation did it all.

With a reluctant voice in the back of your head, telling you not to, you turn anyway to face him. A white, milky void meets your eyes as you once again remember that he doesn't have any pupils. And so it was hard to tell if he's looking at you or through you. Though you doubted he would look through, and rather at you when you try speaking with him. “Ah.. But you didn't have to, I wasn't actually mad! Oh, no no no! I was just a little embarrassed is all!” He confesses, waving off your worries. Though it did not help with the gut twisting inside your stomach, telling you that something was wrong aside from what he is saying to you.

“Look, if you're trying to be nice just to ease my nerves. I've dealt with worse. So I'll ask once: Are you telling the truth or not?” You empathize your words, looking him in the eyes with as much courage and force as you have gathered till now.

He goes completely stiff, as if you've asked him a question that he needed to answer for a million dollars. “Well… That's not the case, at least not now! And-.... And yes, I am telling the truth!! I would never lie to you!” He empathized ‘never’ with a slight change of his tone before he went back to normal…

While you tried to believe him, and did. It was quite obvious that he's avoiding telling you something else, a detail that might be important. Even so, you let it slip past you. “I believe you, Sun, I do… But are you sure there's nothing you're not saying?” Again. And this time he quickly nods. “Yes! Yes yes yes! I am not missing anything, little ol’ Sunny wouldn't do that!” His voice betrays the way he looks at you once the silence settles in.

. . .

It's been about two days since, and everything went back to normal. Or so you thought. Not that you noticed how Moon was a little more adamant towards Sun to take more rest (thinking about it, do they even need to rest?). Today was no exception, the bickering starting again. You haven't even noticed when they went silent, as you have been staring out the window and spacing out. For more than one reason, that is-

And to say the looks they gave you didn't make you raise an eyebrow was a huge understatement..

“What are you two up to now?” You broke the silence, seeing as Sun immediately perked up like a cat getting called out by its owner. While it was a bit funny, you had to focus. The dramatic Moon gasps, now leaning with his back over the seat and looking at you from an odd angle no human could maintain. “Ah, starlight! How could you think we are up to anything?! We are just merely having fun!” There he goes again, the acting and the off voice… Yeah, they're up to something.

“Right… ‘Fun’.. And what is that supposed to mean in your terms?” Your eyes narrow at him suspiciously. You were gonna play along if he felt like he wanted to be a ‘drama queen’ today. He, once again gasps, but this time a little louder as he rotates his torso to face you properly(noting that his lower body wasn't moving along, so it was very disturbing to look at..) “Mhmm… Good question, starlight~... Just harmless fun, what else? Sunny here is easy to annoy, ya know?” He points out, his finger poking one of Sun's rays, to which the solar bot immediately shoves his hand away with a huff and a playful smirk forming on his face. Sun didn't seem annoyed though, maybe just a little bothered, but nonetheless having fun.

For once, you chuckle. “Fine, just don't blame me if you poke his eyes the next time you do it.” You add, getting up from your seat and leaving the money for your breakfast behind, running to not be late for work. That was.. Surely an experience.

The moment you left, both let out a sigh, Moon of relief that you believed them and Sun of pure exhaustion as he slammed his head against the table, ignoring how the object had zero time to adjust to the sudden weight. He was embarrassed. He didn't know why, but he was and it was tiring to keep a straight face while talking to you. It was either his crush getting worse or the fact that more awful customers came by here this week. Could even be both at this point. He wouldn't know.

Moon sat down next to the solar bot, a hand running through his rays. That usually does it for comfort, and as expected Sun does relax a little, but still doesn't seem like he wants to move. “Sunny?” The lunar bot gently taps the other bot’s shoulder. Sun responds with a grunt, straightening again and leaning against Moon's shoulder. Both say nothing about it, the silence speaking for itself.

He did not know at this point what's wrong with himself, he was just trying to become better friends with you after the little mishap. Yet it was him who seemed to slip away little by little while Moon was less obvious than him. His counterpart was always better at this, at hiding it. Though what good does that do? None. It only makes it more awkward than anything else. But even so, Sun never let his feelings drag him down. He will say it, be it tomorrow, the next day after or heck even a week later! It was better sooner than later…

When he thought everything would go better, this wasn't what he meant or even hoped for…

The next few days went a little better than he expected, and his courage actually gathered up. Though today you didn't come by for breakfast, neither for lunch or dinner or even a drink… All of a sudden to be gone, not even seen outside once, was hitting him in the back of his head. He gathers himself even so, you are strong. You can do anything. You'll be fine.. Right?

The day passes and the shop closes for the night. Still no sight. Maybe he was being a little irrational and selfish wanting to see you every day. But he couldn't quite help it.

The next day was about the same as the other. And the next, and the next and so on for, this time, about a few weeks. No sight of you by anyone they knew was connected to you in any way. It was getting worse and worse than they'd like to admit. Not that they would, since anyone they could tell this to was probably countries away from where they are right now. And not that either party had time to contact the other about anything..

Talking about time, it was once again time to open back up. They've been waiting with open arms and fresh food and drinks for you every day since, as the police said to not get involved any more and that they'll find you themselves. The both were honestly just feeling bad and useless for not helping out nonetheless. Humans were much different than them and honestly not all that good to depend on, but… They couldn't really do much as their programming was very much so strict that it kept them from intervening with anything outside their work.

And once more, they were alone again to ache after a person that maybe will never come back again… And it hurts, it hurts really bad deep in their very cores, but it can't be helped by anything, not even the daily girl that came by to always say ‘hi’ before going to school, and it was honestly affecting their work as well. It was noticed by almost everyone they saw, even if not daily, and no one could offer any consolation to them as they didn't really know what was truly wrong with them.

It was more than enough to make Sun more anxious around people that looked a little similar to you and always think of the worst if anything happened. Moon was no better than his solar counterpart…

They haven't gotten any news for months on end, and at this point they were just giving up and trying to focus on their work unless they wanted to get decommissioned as some particular others did… The future held a dark promise to them, every single time and this once it didn't change. It felt like every single person they interacted with got cursed by something..

And so, they work and work and work till their machinery is gonna be out of oil and gears to turn, and their last thoughts will get erased as many others knew it would. It was primal knowledge.. And it hurts..A lot…

It's al͓̽way͓̽s watc͕͗ͤ̕̕hỉ͔͖̜͌ng…. It n̤̮e̶v̶e̶r͜͡ lẹ̿͋̒̕f̵͖̜̉ͅt….

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

i know i'm getting hyper over all the wrong things but

FINALLY I CAN PLAY DUAL DESTINIES IN FRENCH, MY LIFE'S DREAM. I NEED TO KNOW IF ATHENA AND SIMON USE INFORMAL PRONOUNS FOR EACH OTHER OR NOT

and whatever these are, i'm obsessed. i think orcas should be allowed to go to school if they want. and phoenix playing the piano here is extremely funny to me

[equalseleventhirds]

heyo, the motw podcast i'm part of (formerly once upon a monster of the week, recently renamed welcome to reddington) is currently recruiting players and gms for its sister twitch show, continuity errors. knowledge of the podcast (or the previous season of the twitch show) is not required; as the name suggests, continuity is... malleable.

the high concept of the entire CE show is that characters are wandering between universes (and between game systems/game masters), and shenanigans & adventures ensue. last season was a little bit sliders; this upcoming season will take place on a weirdly dimensional train. ....yes, a little bit infinity train, no, not quite infinity train, but we do all love a fucked up train, don't we? also multiple game systems, also weird universe-hopping shenanigans, also.... or is that just me?

applications can be found here, and they close in about a week, so please do apply!! gms would need to run one game, and players would need to participate in at least three of the total six sessions planned (more always welcome ofc). the final schedule will depend on player & gm availability; we're flexible and down to work with what you're able to do.

this would be a volunteer show, as unfortunately we can't afford to pay anyone for this, we're just hoping to have a good time playing games together. i in particular want to help introduce people to some new and fun game systems with new and fun people to play with!

if anything in the application is a barrier to you (equipment, gaming experience, timelines, etc) send me a message and i'll chat with the production team! as noted this is purely volunteer and mostly for having fun, so we'll be as flexible as possible to help you join us. (some things won't be possible, but we'll at least see what we can address.)

ETA (for clarity): this casting call ends on April 30, 2023. also while we may play motw for one of the games, the plan is to play with a whole bunch of different ttrpg systems (different one each session); as noted this is a sister show to the motw podcast, and runs a little differently than the podcast does.

ETA2: applications extended through May 1, 2023. GM applications in particular are low, so very encouraged! feel free to reach out to me with any questions, concerns, or if you'd like help with your application!

[risingsunresistance]

if these websites want me to actually stop using ad blockers then they need to make their website fully customizable. if i see something i dont want i just zap it. i use ublock for way more than just ad blocks. i currently have 78 lines in my filters on ublock

[shepherdenjoyer]

update on D dog, we get to have an interview with the rescue this week, probably wednesday. if that goes well then it means we get to go forward with the adoption process and she will be brought over in a few weeks 1 month+, and we can pick her up and bring her home then! saying it sounds crazy but things are actually progressing and i hope everything works out this time.

[nerevarswritingstuff]

TIaF Edits Teaser - Chapter 18

“Assault?” Miss Lihua holds her arm out, stepping to block you further from Red Son. “Little torch, this is the one who you said attacked you?”

Little torch??

“Obviously, Mother Lihua!” He wildly gestures to you. “They must be punished for their wrongdoing!”

Mother Lihua????

“Wait. Can—can someone explain what the hell is going on right now?” You ask suddenly, waving to both of them for their attention. “Why did he just call you ‘Mother Lihua’? And—how do you even know him??”

Miss Lihua looks between you and Red Son, holding her hands in front of her and taking a breath. She says, “An explanation of that caliber will take much too long, I’m afraid. The most I can tell you right now, without needing to sit down and answer all your questions I know you’ll have, is that I helped Lady Iron Fan raise him.”

[saucy-mesothelioma]

Me: I can totally manage my emotions in a normal way!

Outer Wilds:

Me: *on the floor curled up into a ball sobbing uncontrollably*