#That's his friend your honor

[contrastparadoxx]

KULSOT!!! BRO!!! I NEED YOU!!! OYE! OYE!! You a lonely fuck in the ☧itch quad, I know a guy~ Hear me out!! - Asaego @ Kulsot

"I'm not LONELY, I don't NEED a quad, but ugh as long as they can show me a good time I'll hear you out I SUPPOSE"

[anghraine]

While I'm on my disruptive Tolkien opinions kick:

Yes, obviously, he was a conservative Catholic and this was really important to his understanding of the world and pervades his work and so on and so forth.

But I'm a bit "..." about reducing everything he thought and felt about the world to that. Like, yeah, there's a tradition of conservative pastoralism that meant the context of his environmental opinions was not inherently progressive in the way it can mistakenly seem in 2024. Do I think he was Like That about trees because of conservative pastoralism, or his Catholicism, or that the particular form taken by his TREES TREES TREES #OLDMANWILLOWDIDNOTHINGWRONG TREEEEEEEEES ethos much resembles most of his contemporaries' feelings?

Not really.

I mean, he would never have said it, but I kind of doubt whether his very sincere and deeply felt veneration of the actual figures of his religion was truly comparable to how he felt about things like That One Oak on the Corner That I Liked Got Chopped Down by Evildoers. I've read other conservative British writers of this era who have their own forms of pastoralism and most of them are way less intense about it. I truly don't think Tolkien loved trees the way he did Because Catholicism or whatnot. I genuinely think he just really loved trees.

Basically, I can imagine some alternate universe in which alternate Tolkien ends up with really different beliefs about religion, about politics, about all sorts of things. But I can absolutely not imagine a universe in which any version of Tolkien did not take the part of trees against all their enemies.

[definitelynotshouting]

my incredible friend @emberglowfox made some absolutely stunning art of hunger au!grian the other day (plus a bonus playlist cover!!!) and gave me permission to post it for them. im still not over how utterly gorgeous this is, thank you sparks for the beautiful art and for being such an awesome friend!!! :D

[unganseylike]

thought of the day: the way that everyone forgets noah and yet will be forever influenced by his presence in their lives is kinda appropriate for TRC as a coming of age story. do any of us truly, consciously know each person, event, or place that shaped us into the people we are today? though our consciousness forgets, their memory is inseparable from the way we go about life.

[tending-the-hearth]

a version of chronicles of narnia where those closest to the kings and queens get put into a sleep when the pevensies are brought back to their world, from which they're awoken only when their beloved four rules return, something à la sleeping beauty.

so the pevensie siblings return to narnia, and logically, it's been thousands of years. their closest friends, those they viewed as family, are, to their knowledge, dead, and they are completely alone now.

until peter and caspian encounter each other in the woods, and are about to get into their fight. it's the moment where peter's back is turned, and caspian has his word raised. lucy is screaming, tears in her eyes, susan and edmund are too far away to do anything, and there's a moment of chaos before caspian's strike is blocked by a larger, longer sword.

oreius, completely disgruntled and still very out of the loop, but only focusing on the fact that his king, his friend, his son, is in danger, glares daggers at caspian, not looking away for a second, even as tumnus gathers a now-relieved, sobbing lucy up in a tight hug, and edmund and susan shriek with joy upon seeing the beavers and mr. fox.

and any feeling of tension or fear immediately seeps out of peter, who drops the rock he had picked up, and stumbles to his feet and to oreius' side, being able to lean on the centaur for the first time in a year, and not have to worry about his safety or his siblings' safety. and oreius, without taking his eyes off of caspian and his followers, just puts an arm around peter.

and caspian remembers. he remembers the stories of the high kings and queens of narnia, and their beloved inner circle, and the absolutely terrifying centaur who called them sons and daughters of his heart, and he can't quite help but think about how utterly fucked he is.

[freckled-forests]

Alex Rider is a good show because the core trio is so evenly balanced Alex can DO the stuff and Kyra can THINK and HACK the stuff and Tom holds EVERY OUNCE OF COMMON SENSE

[payaso-gomi]

who's he yelling at? 👀

love love love season 1 TFA, the animation was so nice in that season. bless the animators cause drawing all those details mustve been sooo much

[merakiui]

Absolutely love the possessive ex Scaramouche ramble in tags, please feed us more of that.

Gladly!! :D

(cw: yandere, extremely toxic ex scara, modern au, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, coercion, obsession, forced marriage, violent/suicidal threats, manipulation, mentions of intoxication/alcohol, implied self-harm)

The two of you were what everyone calls ‘high school sweethearts.’ You met him in the cafeteria when the both of you were first years. Despite the scowl etched on his face, he looked lonely sitting all by himself while everyone was finding tables, old and new friends gathering in groups. He’d ignored you, even scooting further away when you’d attempt to move closer. Even though he seemed so averse to you, you remained, silently eating your lunch. Neither of you said anything, but you did introduce yourself. He scoffed under his breath.

You started to sit next to him for every lunch, and he continued to give you the silent treatment. You never pressed him for conversation, instead choosing to enjoy silence while you ate and admired him from the sidelines. He never looked at you, always facing forwards and toying with his chopsticks, bending them so far until they were ready to snap. Eventually, he seemed to grow accustomed to this routine because many weeks into the semester he turned to address you.

“Why do you always sit by me? Don’t you have anyone else to bother?”

“Maybe. But I don’t think anyone’s as mysterious as you are.”

“‘Mysterious…’ Yeah, whatever.”

That seemed to be the catalyst because, as sardonic as he was, he’d begun talking to you. And it wasn’t long until he started to warm up to you every lunch until the both of you were exchanging lighthearted banter. Your friendship would only grow from this point onwards until, at the end of your first year during a study session to prepare for finals, where you were both pulling an all-nighter at your house, he’d asked you out. And you said yes, and the both of you had gone from best friends to lovers within the span of a year. The both of you were each other’s first partner, so it made doing things as a couple even more exciting because neither of you had any experience with dates or holding hands or kissing.

Kuni wasn’t a bad boyfriend. In fact, he was very loyal and sweet. He’d stand up for you if anyone was being rude to you or scrutinizing your relationship with hateful eyes. The two of you were nearly inseparable. When you weren’t spending time together in school, you were out doing things together. And when you couldn’t meet up in person, you’d text or call, sometimes talking late into the evening about all sorts of things. You were so immersed in him that you failed to notice the red flags slowly raising over time. But looking back there were a few notable ones.

He never invited you to his house. In fact, you’d never even met his parents, whereas he’d been to your home so often that your family practically became his own. He hadn’t mentioned anything about his family, and if you tried to suggest going to his house for dinner so that he could introduce you to them he was quick to change the subject. For a while you’d push this, more curious than concerned, but eventually you’d drop it when it became clear that he wasn’t going to divulge anything on the matter. That had stung, but you snuffed those feelings in favor of focusing on other aspects of your relationship.

The second red flag was just how clingy he became when the both of you were in your third year, having been together for two solid years. You never noticed it before because you loved him, but when friends had pointed out how attached he seemed—and it was to rather unhealthy levels, according to their observations—to the point where you were the only person he’d ever formed a bond with while at school you started to see the cracks in what felt like the perfect relationship. He’d text you every single day, at every single hour, all the time. He’d call you nonstop, even more so when you didn’t immediately pick up.

The third red flag coincided with the second. When you couldn’t make it to your phone, he was quick to blame himself and those around him for being responsible for your deteriorating relationship. Did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me? Did those guys bother you again? They probably told you some stupid shit about me, right? Don’t listen to them. Hey, you’re not mad, right? Call me back. I need to talk to you. Just text me when you can, okay? (Name), please don’t leave me. I’ll fix whatever’s wrong. Just promise you’ll stay. Messages of these kinds were what you could expect to receive from him. He’d fluctuate between self-loathing to loathing those around him within seconds, shoving blame onto classmates who’d bully him for being that “weird emo kid with too many piercings” and anyone else who tried to, in his words, “come between you and me.”

By the end of your third year, you started to fall out of love. He was so very dedicated to this relationship, evidenced by how much effort and care he’d put into it, but his clingy behavior was stifling. You’d lost some of your own friends because he chased them away, and it felt like you couldn’t do anything without him breathing down your neck. If you wanted to go anywhere with a friend or two, Kuni had to be there to accompany you. If you looked at another for too long, he’d think you were cheating. If you didn’t text or call him at certain times, if you failed to pick up, or—Archons forbid—you left him on seen, he’d spiral.

Kuni had this habit of sounding dangerously self-destructive when he feared you were being unfaithful or he thought you were going to break up with him, which meant you’d have to sit on the phone for hours convincing him that you loved him, that you’d never leave him, that you’d always be here for him, that you were sorry for not responding, that he needs to calm down and please, please, please don’t do anything rash. Those phone calls were always so stressful. You cried a lot; you’d beg him to put the knife away when he’d threaten to use it on himself, on you, on anyone who might try to take you from him. And, after a few hours of this, he’d be back to his usual self, as if a switch had been flipped. You could hear his adoring smile in his voice when he spoke, when he’d lovingly whisper into the phone, “I’m happy you’re mine. I love you so much.” And you’d shakily parrot the affirmation, too frazzled to say or do anything else.

One of your best friends Rosalyne, who you’d befriended in the midst of all of this, had been so supportive the minute you spilled the truth to her. Kuni hated her the most because she wasn’t afraid of him. Because she’d shut him down when he tried to pull you away from her. Because she wouldn’t approve of any of his toxicity. Rosalyne would take you on shopping sprees, brunch dates, and jogs at the local park. She was plenty of good to outshine Kuni’s bad, and the more time you spent with her the clearer your head would become. The both of you had plenty of sleepovers together, and she let you rant your heart out while she listened. She’d tell you to break up with him, but you’d agonized over how terrifying that would be. You couldn’t bear to tell Kuni the truth—that you wanted to separate because things had turned so rotten—because you were so scared. Scared of him and what he might do.

Scared that if he really did take a blade to himself it would be your fault. He told you that a lot. That it would be your fault if he did anything. That his blood would be on your hands. You believed him every time.

By your final year, you’d already had a plan for university outlined and you’d started applying to a few in advance. You never told Kuni about any of them because you worried he might apply to each one in hopes of going to the same school as you. And when there was the dance for the graduating class and Kuni had asked you to it, you’d told him you were going with Rosalyne and a few other friends as a group. He didn’t like this, as expected, but you’d been so sick of him and his behaviors that you snapped and spilled everything to him. You’ll never forget the look on his face when you told him that you were done with the relationship and that you never wanted to see him again.

He looked as if he could lunge at you and tear you to bloody ribbons at any moment.

You graduated single and so very refreshed, and your summer had been filled with friends. Kuni didn’t message you at all, which was surprising considering you were certain he’d spam you relentlessly after the break-up. But he never did. In fact, you never saw him again. Graduation had come and gone, and now that you could recover from such a terrible relationship he was becoming less of a burden for you. For a while you were anxious. You kept expecting to receive a phone call or to see some news about Kuni, but neither ever came. Rosalyne told you to stop thinking about him. It would only make you even more paranoid and that wouldn’t do your mental health any good. You were so grateful to have her in your life, but most importantly you were glad Kuni failed to scare her away.

Now you’re a second year in college and things have only gotten so much better for you. You and Rosalyne still keep in touch despite going to different schools. She’d gone to a university in Snezhnaya, while you enrolled in one in Sumeru, and you’ve blotted Kuni from your mind. You’ve made a fresh group of friends while attending classes: criminal justice major Shikanoin Heizou, creative writing major Kaedehara Kazuha, musical therapy major Venti, botany major Tighnari, and so many more wonderful people who have all welcomed you into their circles.

So when Venti drags a familiar face to your usual weekend outing, which is really just a retreat to the forest for drinking and smoking, creeping cold settles into your bones. He looks awkward with Venti’s arm slung around him as the more bubbly of the two drags him towards the bonfire, where you sit with the others roasting marshmallows for s’mores, and it’s a look that is so uncharacteristic on him. What’s even weirder is how friendly everyone greets him—as if they all know him—and you’re completely lost when they turn to you and ask if you’ve met Kunikuzushi.

“No,” you lie through your teeth, forcing a pleasant smile and extending your hand for a stiff handshake, which Venti snickers at. “No, I’ve never met him before.”

Apparently, he’s in one of Venti’s classes—it’s a course he’s taking solely because he needs the credits. Tighnari knows him because they usually work the same shifts at the campus café. Kazuha knows him from his linguistics and philosophy classes. Heizou’s ate with him in the dining hall plenty of times now and they’re also taking the same psychology class. It feels so genuine and yet so fake at the same time. Too perfectly manufactured to be a mere coincidence. But you do your best to push past these suspicions, and when he sits across from you, smiling at you and saying how nice it is to meet you, the warping flames paint his face in devilish shadows. That’s what you think he is when he acts like a completely different person from how he was when you dated: a devil who’s good at being kind and outgoing, noisy and abrupt, and always so foul-mouthed, but in a way that makes him charming. Your friends are so enthralled. They love him and his sense of humor. They love his quick wit. They love how fun he is. And suddenly weekends spent in the forest aren’t so enjoyable.

You do your best to overcome your doubts. For a few months you’re on edge. How he even found you is a mystery. Surely he wouldn’t stalk you and enroll in the same college just to get revenge or…whatever vengeance he wants from you. But when he treats you to coffee, when he brings you and the others pastries every other morning, when he invites the lot of you to study at the library, when he tells the funniest stories while crossed and everyone’s giggling like schoolgirls it really feels like he’s…healthier. Like he’s turned a fresh page in his life and is starting anew. Like he’s changed for the better.

Perhaps he just doesn’t remember you. You’ve changed your style over the years, so it’s possible he’s simply forgotten your image and can’t place memories to your name. Eventually, after soothing yourself with these theories, you begin to accept his presence in the group. He fits in so flawlessly, as if he’s a missing piece to the puzzle, and you can’t believe you’re admitting this, but you like this version of Kuni. He’s confident, not cocky. He’s kind, not rude. He gives everyone space. In fact, he rarely texts frequently in the group chat. And he’s funny! He’s so funny. You don’t think the Kuni from your past was ever as funny as the Kuni who regales everyone with lighthearted stories of how he once took in a stray cat that turned out to belong to his neighbor or how his old job had the strangest customers.

Maybe he truly did change. Maybe all of these coincidences really are coincidences. Maybe it’s for the best that you leave the past in the past.

Finals season looms, and the group hasn’t had time to meet up outside of class. Venti has tried to persuade everyone to come study at his apartment. His roommate won’t care (yes, he will. Xiao hates it when everyone gets blackout drunk and he has to wake everyone come morning), but if you’ve known Venti long enough you’ll know there is no studying that happens at these study sessions. This is probably the reason why he’s had to repeat a year.

With everyone’s schedules packed with academics, it’s difficult to find a time where everyone can get together to study. You think you might just be better off studying on your own, but Kuni’s message of you wanna pull an all-nighter for these lame af finals together?? accompanied with a photo of snacks and coffee, any thoughts of studying alone instantly vanish.

This is how you find yourself in his dorm, sprawled on his bed while he sits on the floor, whacking your dangling feet when they get too close to him. His roommate Albedo is currently out tutoring a few students at the library and won’t be back until much later, so it’s just you, Kuni, and a pile of textbooks and notes. You’ve hung out with Kuni a few times and he was great company during each. You’ve also fallen asleep in his dorm before, when you’d come over to binge a show the both of you enjoy, and you’d lost track of time and had slipped into a dream halfway through the marathon. You’d woken the next morning with Kuni looming over you, grinning deviously and holding an uncapped marker. He’d leaned down and whispered, “You drool in your sleep,” and you’d swatted at him and groused about how you were sleeping so peacefully when he just had to ruin your sleep (and your face) with his antics. And then there was that time when you were so drunk at that one party and you could hardly stand, he’d been there to help. He even stayed with you for the rest of that night, offering his assistance when you became nauseous or needed water or a snack until you passed out.

Despite your initial apprehensions, you consider him a friend. He’s no one nearly as close as Rosalyne or your other friends. He’s just a mutual friend, someone you’ll spend time with when you feel like it, but you don’t truly need him in your life. That, and part of you still struggles to trust him after all of the stress and unhealthy obsession he subjected you to.

“Kuni,” you whine, lifting your head from the textbook. “Can you get me some water? I’m thirsty.”

“Do I look like your maid?” he snaps, immersed in organizing his notes. “Get it yourself.”

“I’m picturing it now and you’re in a frilly dress and—”

“Forget I asked.” Setting his notebook down with an exaggerated sigh, he crosses the distance to the mini fridge and withdraws a bottle of water.

Grinning, you slide off of his bed and reach for it with a grateful hum. He smirks and takes a step back, holding it away from you.

“Seriously…”

Rolling your eyes, you lunge for it and he side-steps you with the practiced grace of a cat. You brace yourself against the wall and swipe at him. Again, he dodges, unscrewing the cap and shaking the bottle teasingly.

“I think I’ll take a sip for myself. All of this studying has left me so parched.”

“No fair! That’s mine!”

“Is it?” He pulls it away from his lips to observe the bottle and feigns surprise. “That’s weird. I don’t see your name on it.”

“Look closer!” you exclaim, but just as he’s about to humor you you pounce, tackling him to the ground—there’s a beanbag cushion that breaks your fall—and the water spills all over the both of you in the midst of the tumble. A slew of colorful words stick in Kuni’s throat and your laughter rings out melodiously. You seize his wrist and hold it down while reaching for the bottle in his other hand, where there’s still some water left. He struggles halfheartedly, relinquishing the bottle with a disinterested scoff, and you pull away from him to down what’s left.

While crushing the plastic bottle into a ball, you notice something on your palm—the palm that had grabbed Kuni’s wrist—and it takes a minute before the skin tone-colored substance registers in your mind.

Concealer.

You peer at him and notice that he’s cradling his arm, and confusion sprouts.

“So funny,” he spits with a hollow laugh. “You owe me a new beanbag if this one’s ruined.”

“Hey, hold on. What’s with the—”

“Forget it. You got your water, so let’s get back to studying. Or do you no longer want to be a perfect student?”

Without thinking, you grab his arm as he’s standing and when you look at his forearm you can see where the water’s started to wash the concealer away. Curiously, you scrub at it while he tries to yank his arm away, but when you unearth a dozen scars littering his wrist and climbing the length of his arm that creeping cold from before returns.

And suddenly you’re brought back to those phone calls—the ones where he’d threaten suicide and murder—and you stumble back as if you’ve been burned, half-expecting to hear those threats once more. Kuni’s staring at his wrist, his features twisted in grim disapproval, and for a moment you think he looks…hurt. Or maybe that’s sadness you see. Whatever emotion it was, it doesn’t linger because a quiet chuckle slips past his lips, and the sound is so very frigid it has your blood crystallizing.

“It really hurt when you said you never wanted to see me again.” Kuni peers down at you, and his eyes that had once been so bright and filled with light are dull and dark. “But nothing hurts more than loving you.”

You open your mouth to say something—anything—but the words won’t come. You’re rooted to the ground, horror slinking through your body and rendering you immovable. Your heart is in your throat, pounding so loudly it’s practically a drum, and a cold sweat washes over you.

“Each time I found myself hating you, I thought it was odd because I love you so much. I can’t possibly hate the one I’ve loved all this time.” He scowls. “But loving you hurts. Loving you feels like chewing glass and drinking poison. Loving you isn’t fair because while you moved forward with your ‘friends,’ I was forced to stay behind and pick up the pieces of what was left of you. So for every moment I couldn’t stand you, I tallied it on myself so that I’ll never forget the times I loved you so much I hated you.”

This can’t be happening, you’re thinking, curling your hands into trembling fists. He changed. He changed, right? This isn’t the same Kuni from before. This isn’t…

“And when I saw how well you seemed to be doing without me, I hated you even more.” Without warning, he’s grabbed your arm and hoisted you up. You open your mouth to scream, but no sound comes—not that anything could when he’s pulled a switchblade from his pocket and poised the pointed tip at your jugular. “You have poor taste in friends. Those guys suck.”

Tutting, he shakes his head at you like a parent might when scolding a child, and says, “Do you know how fucking tiring it was pretending? You think I care about pastries and stupid campfire stories? You really think I’d ever want to associate myself with that sorry lot?”

“K-Kuni, please let go of me. I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were—I’m sorry. So please just…”

“And then the first time you see me after all these years apart and you had the gall to lie to my face! ‘I’ve never met him before.’ Bullshit. You just didn’t want any of your loser friends to know our history, right? Because you’re ashamed to have known me, right?”

“That’s not it! I… I was just—I didn’t… I was… I just…”

“I… I… I…” he mocks, shoving you down onto the beanbag. It dips under the sudden weight, and you sink further into it when he points the blade at you. “Stop tripping over your tongue. I should be the one near tears! You cast me aside and then forgot all about me. You abandoned me when I needed you most.” His voice cracks at that last sentence, and your heart skips erratically.

“That’s not what happened! We needed space. I needed space. You were being too—” You stop yourself, unsure of how to phrase it. Too controlling? Too dangerous? Too scary?

“Lucky for you, I’m willing to overlook these past...slights.” The blade twirls effortlessly in his grasp, and you heave a relieved breath when he’s no longer pointing it in your direction. “Marry me and we’ll forget all about the past. We’ll start over.”

His demand almost stops your heart altogether. You stare up at him, mouth agape, and mumble a disbelieving, “What?”

“You heard me.” He seems to soften with his next words, and for a moment he looks and sounds like the Kuni who hangs out with you and your friends. The harmlessly fun Kuni who always takes such good care of you. “You’re the only one I’ll ever love, so let’s get married.”

“K-Kuni, I can’t... I really can’t...”

Within seconds the blade has found itself on his wrist, pressing into delicate flesh. Not enough to cut, but if he applies more force you’ll definitely see blood. You choke on a horrified gasp.

“What was that?” He raises his brow at you, challenging you with a calm smile.

Your mind reels in an effort to conjure a plan. What can you even do? If you take the blade from him, will he turn his anger on you? Will you have to wrestle him into submission? And if you do manage to get out of his dorm, will anyone believe you? He’s painted himself in such a pleasant light. Your friends love and trust him! So what can you say? And if there isn’t any solid proof, no one will even entertain bringing the authorities into this mess.

“I’m waiting, (Name). Are you really going to make me add another tally? Do you really want me to hate you again? Oh, but maybe I should start marking you! We can add a slice for each time you failed to love me. That way we’ll both look like used cutting boards.”

You need help, you want to say, but the words escape you.

Instead, you nod hastily and say breathlessly, “Okay, yes! I’ll marry you!” Swallowing your horror, you glance at the blade as it’s lifted from his skin. Thankfully, there isn’t a cut. “I... I’ll marry you, Kuni. So... So please don’t hurt yourself. Please.”

It feels like you’ve been strangled for an eternity, so when he finally pockets the blade the air in your lungs returns and you collapse against the beanbag, chest rising and falling in short, panicked breaths. 

“Good.” He bends down to your height, grips your chin with cold fingers, and forces you to meet his adoring stare. “We’ll look at rings tomorrow. Or maybe you’d prefer bracelets instead? I can be flexible but only for you, so you’d better be grateful.”

You swallow rising bile and nod. “T-Thank you.” You’re not sure why you’re thanking him when he hardly deserves it, but it feels like the right thing to say to ease the tension.

Kuni’s eyes sparkle, no longer a void of endless darkness, and when he leans in to capture your lips in his your heart sinks. You really can’t run from your past, can you?

[qcomicsy]

I'm so normal about them.

[potatounicoorn]

As if Kuruk being claimed as the worst Avatar in history, while he cleaned up Yanchens mess, dedicating his life to slaying bad spirits while getting no reward but only hatred towards him, losing his wife on the wedding day in progress AND his own life at the early age of THIRTY THREE by literally rotting from spirit powers was not enough suffering for a lifetime. Hah. NooOOOo!

Apparently universe does not want to give this man a fucking break because his "team Avatar" his "best friends", keep being the absolute assholes even after his death AND LITERALLY BETRAY HIM IN HIS NEXT LIFE. AND THEN KEEP MAKING HIS RECARNATION'S LIFE MISERABLE. WHY WAS NOT ONE LIFETIME ENOUGH, WHY??

[ranarenee]

I'm kinda funny if you ask me

[hammity-hammer]

steve harrington realizing that he’s got no purpose if he’s not protecting the people he loves from outer-dimensional beings, and has a minor (read: major) spiral about it post-vecna & the party fixing everything. he’s just a regular ole 20 something with no purpose— his friends are all in school, except eddie, who managed to pick up an apprenticeship as an electrician; putting all of that wire knowledge to use (just not in cars, he hasn’t hotwired one since 1986 and he’d like to keep it that way si vous plais) and making the rich houses have even cooler guts than they deserve.

the kids end up graduating (their first tries) and heading as one little pack to the same school (don’t ask me which, i’m a college drop out) and steve, eddie, and rob end up staying just outside of indy. rob finished school early, because of course she did, and she found that she may have a knack for hanging around high schoolers, so why not teach them how to become polyglots like she is?

steve still doesn’t know what the fuck he’s doing— he bartends at a little club in the gayborhood, because they went there so often that the bartenders just kind of pushed him into it, and don’t get him wrong— mixing drinks and flirting all night is super fun, but it also… is kind of depressing? even if he gets to be around people like him and see them happy— he knows that a lot of alcohol and drugs causes that happiness and he wants so badly for his people to be out and proud and not murdered for it. but he can’t do that,, so he does the next best thing.

he talks with one of the regulars, andy, who owns a little tattoo shop on the corner, and andy invites him to come check it out. so he does the next day he’s free, and holy fucking christ. tattoos aren’t his thing— at least not on himself, but on other people they’re gorgeous. and they’re painful, but you’re turning the pain into art and you get to live with it in your skin and look at it and think about the fact that you’re here and you made it and you fucking survived. and people purposefully put scars into their bodies? and not in the i-battled-literal-other-dimensional-beings-and-won kind of way, or the i-battled-my-personal-demons-and-won kind of way, which both are things he’s dealt with so fucking intimately— but in the i-will-decorate-this-flesh-prison-and-make-it-a-castle kind of way, and that’s fucking beautiful. queer people taking their bodies and making them into art with ink and hot metal and needles and the love that they have for each other and the passion and the fucking spite at the world that keeps them going and making their presences KNOWN.

and maybe he gets some piercings while he’s there— it’s fascinating and feels so weird and freeing when the needle punctures his flesh and the jewelry goes in— and now he’s got a shiny little ring hanging through his earlobe; his nostril; his lip.

he learns that piercings take time and effort and care and that he has to treat himself with love to be able to heal— and that he is deserving of that love and care and dedication, especially from himself.

he keeps going back, maybe not always to get stabbed, but to watch others have it done. to see how different people’s anatomy takes different piercings, how he can’t have a piercing through his cheeks because he bites them too much when he’s anxious, but the girl that just left got both of hers done and they looked good. they fit her face, like little shiny dimples.

eventually, the piercer, killie, asks steve when he’s going to help them with their needles and their piercings— and he doesn’t know how to react because he hadn’t even thought about it and yet… maybe he could help other people fall in love with themselves and their bodies and help turn them into art one day

maybe he could be a pretty boy with his scars and his metal and his missing chunks and his polos and his jeans and his sneakers.

[juiceastronaut]

Im too lazy to hunt for the screenshots AND I recognize that its happened at earlier parts of the story BUT

Laois protecting Marcille from the falling icicles is just the EXACT reason her and Chilchuck stayed despite everything (besides Falin for Marcille of course). Despite the two of them not understanding him, despite them being put off by his mannerisms at times, despite their varying levels of discomfort around monster food they KNOW at the end of the day Laois has their backs.

He will do everything in his power to keep his party safe with zero hesitation or convincing and he does so because he genuinely cares about them. He might not know how to time a Morale Boosting Speech for when people *dont* have a mouth full of food, but they know he'll be there for them when they need him the most.

[justplaggin]

they're everything to me

[entertaining-two]

I’m just leaving this right here 🫠🫠🫠🫠🫠

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 41

A mage (yes I know I love making mage villains of the week, but if they didn't want me to make them all the time, they shouldn't be so fun and full of opportunities) puts a spell on Geralt while he's on a hunt. He can only speak lies / the complete opposite of what he feels or means to say, and the only way to break the spell is to reveal his darkest secret. This is all well and good and easily fixable, presumably. The best part is Jaskier has caught on near immediately to what the curse is, and is able to translate all of Geralt's lies and antonyms. "I don't need more supplies for potions." "We'll go looking for a greenhouse or whatever you need, then." "I hate this song." "Why thank you, Geralt! How lovely to know that opinion is a lie!" "Can I braid your hair again?" "Never." "Perfect!~" Except for the times he pretends to forget the curse's existence. "Feed Roach all the apples you want." "Oh, I shall! Thank you for the permission!" He did not give permission. Geralt just deals with the curse for a month or two, before being fed up and deciding to just trust the mage's so-called cure for the curse, and says his darkest secret. That he's in love with Jaskier. However, he's neglected to find a way to explain the cure to Jaskier, and now Jaskier just assumes he's heard another lie / complete opposite. Jaskier is heartbroken, assuming Geralt must dislike him at the least, and hate him at the worst, and suddenly all those teasing comments over the years are seen in a new worrying light. I mean, Geralt, cursed to say the exact opposite of what he means telling Jaskier that he loves him? Jaskier races away from their shared room and gets absolutely wasted in a tavern all the way across town. Geralt paces and panics alone in their shared room for a few hours before going and returning his bard back home. He now has to spend the entire night internally-writing and rehearsing his big explanation speech and apologize to his bard for the miscommunication.