#he doesn’t deserve the title clown

[kazumist]

LOVESICK .ᐟ

✩ — the filipino high school genshin au that no one really asked for.

✩ — various x gn!reader. fluff. no cws. wc: 722. this got pretty lengthy oops it was only supposed to be four characters but i came up w more brainrot as i continued to write on. reblogs are highly appreciated !!

albedo, the one you always look for in the crowd. he was never a student who got all the attention, but there’s a few times when he’s called up on stage because he won a place in the art contests held. in the canteen, during the flag ceremony, or even when school ends, your eyes would always be looking for his figure in the ocean of students that would be flooding the school grounds. 

lyney, the flirtatious one who never seems to give up. this guy is dead set on flattering you. from pulling up some simple tricks from his sleeves (literally because he managed to pull a bouquet out of his sleeves once and you still don’t know how that worked) to smoothly slipping flattering words into a normal conversation you two would have. he just doesn’t know when to give up! but when you finally give him a taste of his own medicine, he’s the one stuttering with red ears.

wriothesley, the varsity player that you didn’t expect to fall for. he was out of your league, in your opinion. wriothesley had his popularity, and it was certainly deserved because of his talent, smarts, and looks. but it doesn’t matter if the majority of the school’s population fawns over him. after all, at the end of the day, he still comes home to you.

kazuha, the poet whose hands are never tired of writing for and about you. it started with him slipping some simple anonymous notes that wished you good luck for the day and that you shouldn’t forget to eat your meals. it was a sweet gesture, especially when you had a rough day. but it soon turned into poems about the things he noticed about you, like how he admires the way your eyes would sparkle in joy when you see a stray cat around campus or how he admires your loving personality, which makes him fall even harder. kazuha would never get tired of this. after all, it is you who he is writing for anyway.

neuvillette, the student council member that you couldn’t help but like. he had everything! the leadership skills, the smarts, the talents, the personality, and god, don’t even start with his looks. he was way out of your league with that! but admiring from afar simply wouldn’t hurt, right? not that much attachment, just him being a source of motivation for you to get up and go to school.

childe, the class clown who never fails to make you smile. but even if he’s typically known with the title "class clown", there is a different reason as to why he makes you smile. he’s good at reading the room and can easily detect if someone is feeling down; hell, he even makes the effort of being inclusive to everyone and making sure that they’re not feeling left out. and that’s just a really nice thing to notice. of course, it’s no surprise that childe would notice that you’ve been having a bad day as well. from passing on stupid, silly notes to cheer you up to lending his ear to listen, he’d break his back just to make you break a smile.

xiao, the one who would always wake you up. no matter the time or place, he’d always find you sleeping. and he secretly keeps you company if you’re alone. oh, you accidentally slept in the library while studying? don’t worry; xiao already took the chair next to you and decided to work there. but as the time ticks on the clock, the library has to close now, so he wakes you up. it was always the same, but you never knew who would wake you up in the end.

thoma, the guy who gets along with everyone (especially with you). one could probably misinterpret his actions as romantic because he’s just… really nice to everyone. not that it’s a bad thing; it’s sweet, really. but you can’t help but overthink if his actions have meanings. from him waiting for you at your locker, you and him playfully nudging and joking around each other without even noticing that there are others around the two of you, and his words probably have some implication—it’s complicated. it’s like, you’re friends, but you’re also not sure if your feelings for him are reciprocated.

[acescorazon]

A continuation of this ^^^^^^ ((posting a screenshot of the original ask because before the fic/new series didn't have a name lol))

Title: Changes

Pairing: Cross Guild

Rating: M

Chapter 2/?

Word count: 2385

Warnings: Crocodile, Violence, Explicit Language.

Chapter excerpt:

“Hey, Clown, what the fuck is this?!”   

Don’t tell his crew this, but, Buggy isn’t the brave pirate that they think he is! As soon as he hears that all too familiar cold, emotionless, voice belonging to Crocodile, he tenses. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to fucking die. Buggy doesn’t turn around, he’s too afraid to look at Crocodile. He doesn’t want to see what kind of face he’s making right now, but he knows he’s probably red in the face and glaring at him. Buggy feels hot again, and now a little dizzy, like he might faint all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to die, not like this.

Before Crocodile can approach him, before he can so much as say another word, Buggy’s feet are acting on their own accord. They lift up off the ground and carry him away from this newfound threat as fast as possible. He briefly wonders if he should risk taking one of his ships out to sea anyways, or if he should just hide somewhere and wait until he can figure out how to get off the island, but he doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do and he’s terrified of making the wrong choice.

[Previous Part]

Buggy is doomed. He’s going to die. He’s really going to die. He feels like he’s waiting for the end of the world to come, and he can’t breathe. This is his last day on earth. His men made sure that stupid Cross Guild flyer was distributed all across the globe, and it’s only a matter of time before Crocodile and Mihawk catch wind of what the flyer looks like. Oh, Buggy is in deep shit. He’s been wandering around the island for over an hour in a panicked daze, checking his ships, and hoping that one of them is in good enough condition to use for an escape, but the fucking Marines either sunk or severely damaged every ship he’s got.

There are tears in Buggy’s eyes already, he’s so scared to find out what Crocodile is going to do to him once he sees that damn flyer. He has to go, he needed off this island, like, a whole day ago, and he doesn’t know why he didn’t leave before all this could happen…oh, wait, that’s right, he doesn’t have any functioning ships thanks to the Marines… Good grief, what did he do to deserve this? Buggy’s going to die. Crocodile is going to murder him, he’s going to murder him and no one’s going to stop him because all of his men think that Crocodile is a hero and on their side. They don’t know Buggy borrowed money from Crocodile and….

“Hey, Clown, what the fuck is this?!”

   

Don’t tell his crew this, but, Buggy isn’t the brave pirate that they think he is! As soon as he hears that all too familiar cold, emotionless, voice belonging to Crocodile, he tenses. He’s going to die. He’s going to die. He’s going to fucking die. Buggy doesn’t turn around, he’s too afraid to look at Crocodile. He doesn’t want to see what kind of face he’s making right now, but he knows he’s probably red in the face and glaring at him. Buggy feels hot again, and now a little dizzy, like he might faint all of a sudden. He doesn’t want to die, not like this.

Before Crocodile can approach him, before he can so much as say another word, Buggy’s feet are acting on their own accord. They lift up off the ground and carry him away from this newfound threat as fast as possible. He briefly wonders if he should risk taking one of his ships out to sea anyways, or if he should just hide somewhere and wait until he can figure out how to get off the island, but he doesn’t know what’s the right thing to do and he’s terrified of making the wrong choice.

As Buggy runs for his life, he hears Crocodile shouting at him from a distance, which is to be expected, but he also faintly hears a pair of footsteps growing closer and closer to him as if there’s something or someone right behind him, chasing after him. God, please don’t be who I think it is. Let it be a bug. Let it be Richie. Let it be anyone, but…  

Buggy turns his head slowly, looking over his shoulder and through blurry vision. He screams in absolute horror the moment he locks eyes with a pair of piercing yellow eyes that are right behind him, “Hawkeye, I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He screams, trying to run away from both Crocodile and Mihawk now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” No matter how many times he apologizes, Mihawk doesn’t reply. There’s a look of disgust and what can only be described as pure hatred on Mihawk’s face as he reaches behind him and grabs the sword off his back.

No, no, no!

Buggy splits his body into pieces before Mihawk can slash him with his sword, “Mihawk! Hawk…Hawkeye! Please.” It doesn’t have to be like this! The last thing Buggy wants to do is fight or get pummeled. It’s just a flyer, can’t Mihawk and Crocodile be more reasonable? Do they have to be so angry?! Can’t they talk about it like three adults?! “Mihawk, I’M SO SORRY.” He screams, dodging another slash from Mihawk’s sword. He continues to run despite the fact that his lungs are starting to burn, knowing that if he stops, things are as good as over for him.

All of a sudden, A cloud of sand engulfs him. It’s as if he ran right into the center of a sandstorm, and sand gets in his eyes, in his nose, and in his mouth. He starts coughing violently, unsure of where the hell all the sand even came from until he feels a very firm hand wrap around his throat. He can’t breathe, he can’t breathe…

“Croc.…” He tries calling out for Crocodile, unable to even see the other man, but he knows somewhere in the back of his mind that all this sand and the hand around his neck right now can only belong to Crocodile. The grip around his neck only tightens as Buggy tries to beg for his life, and Buggy can’t think. He doesn’t know what to do. He’s dead. He’s so dead. Out of instinct, and instinct alone, he splits his body into pieces again with the goal of getting Crocodile to let go of his neck, which he does… But a moment later, Crocodile tangles his fingers through Buggy’s hair, “Fuckin coward.” he hisses, and Buggy’s close to bawling his eyes out. He can fix the flyer, he can have a new one designed, he can do anything Crocodile wants him to as long as he doesn’t kill him.    

The sandy cloud around him slowly disappears now that Crocodile has him by his head, but sand is still burning Buggy’s eyes, nose, and throat as he cries, “Please.. I’m sorry. I didn’t know tha--”

Never in Buggy’s thirty something years of life has he ever been punched in the face with a hook, until now. Crocodile’s gold hook catches him right on the eyebrow, almost striking his eye but not quite, regardless the pain is indescribable and as soon as the cold metal makes contact with his skin, he lets out a pained shriek, “Crocodile…I…wait…” he mutters, honestly feeling like his brain got a little shaken from one punch from Crocodile, “Wait, please, don’t kill m---” Crocodile punches him again, and this time his hook does make contact with his eye, and it’s more painful than any strike that Buggy’s ever been dealt before.

 Don’t wanna die…Buggy thinks, pathetically.

“Wanna punch this piece of shit too?” Crocodile asks, suddenly, raising Buggy’s head up in the air. Buggy opens his one good eye, realizing that Mihawk is now standing in front of them, still looking as pissed off as before. Mihawk is a man of honor, right..? Mihawk wouldn’t beat an already beaten and bruised clown, would he?

“Do you even have to ask such a pointless question?”

…

Okay, wow, Mihawk Isn’t a man of honor after all! He and Crocodile beat Buggy’s face in, then Crocodile carries Buggy’s decapitated head back inside Buggy’s main tent like it’s nothing but a sack of shit. Buggy’s face hurts so much and he can taste blood at the back of his mouth…and he didn’t want to die before, but now… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. “Can’t fucking believe this shit.” Crocodile mutters as he and Mihawk have a seat on the luxurious couch in the center of the tent.  At first Buggy thought they were just pissed because of the flyer incident, but it turns out that they’re mad about that and because…because…

Buggy’s one of the four emperors now?!

Now if this was announced when he wasn’t being brutally assaulted, maybe he’d be overcome with joy by that announcement. The government feared him so much that they made him one of the four emperors and he should be happy, but since it was announced while Crocodile was stepping on his skull at the time, he didn’t have much to celebrate about. Even now, as Crocodile and Mihawk continue to hold him hostage essentially, he can’t enjoy his new power and status. “I’m so sorry,” Buggy apologizes for what has to be the hundredth time within the last hour. Crocodile and Mihawk don’t care if he apologizes though, they hate his guts, and they've just been insulting him and humiliating him nonstop, and their cruel words repeat in Buggy’s throbbing head, over and over again:

“Worthless fuckin clown.”

“It blows my mind that they made you one of the four emperors.”

“Can’t do a goddamn thing.”  

“You’re pathetic, stop crying.”

“Fucking crybaby.”

There are so many other things that the two have said to him within a short span of time, so many vile, hate filled things that he can’t remember it all, but everything hurts the same. And some things even hurt more than being punched in the face. “I’m sorry…” he repeats, “Please, spare me…” Mihawk makes a comment about how Buggy’s the only man who’s become an emperor by just apologizing after that, while Crocodile goes on about how he and Mihawk are the ones who founded Cross Guild, questioning why everyone thinks Buggy is the boss instead of them, and Buggy whines pathetically. He didn’t want any of this! He was honestly fine just being an errand boy.  He doesn’t know why the government made him one of the four emperors either! And He didn’t know his men were going to make their flyer look like that.

 Everything’s been out of Buggy’s control, but they won’t listen to him. 

To make things worse, that insufferable traitor, Galdino, is right by Crocodile’s side, once again offering him his loyalty. After all the two have been through, he’s really just going to side with Crocodile again…? It’s mind boggling. He does see what kind of situation Buggy’s in right now, right? And he’s just going to ignore it all and pretend that Crocodile is some kind of larger than life superhero?   

Buggy doesn’t get to bicker with Galdino for long even though he wants to, because Crocodile is back to aggressively questioning him, asking about the flyer design as he shoves one of said flyers into his mouth. Buggy didn’t know any of this was going to happen! He tries to explain everything to Crocodile, again, hardly making sense because one, he has a busted lip, two, there’s something in his mouth, and three, because his mouth is moving a mile a minute. “I’m sorry, I’msosorry. So, so sorry.”

“SHUT UP.”

Having Crocodile screaming at him only makes Buggy sob harder, he’d be trembling violently if he still had his body right now. From his side, he faintly hears Mihawk sighing, “Maybe having him take all the spotlight off of us wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world…”

“You for real?!” Crocodile asks, seemingly in disbelief at Mihawk’s suggestion.

“Very. Let him be the center of attention since he wants it so badly, and let the world government worry about him instead of us. And if he becomes an inconvenience, we can just get rid of him.”

“Ha. I like that idea.”

Those brutes finally release Buggy after that, and whilst still a little dazed and shaken up, Buggy makes the announcement to all his men that Cross Guild is not only a thing, but that Mihawk and Crocodile are its chief officers, wondering where he went wrong in life at that very moment as he can still taste metallic in the back of his throat after his previous altercation.

His men are so…blind…and not in a literal sense. They cheer for the formation of Cross Guild, and Buggy can’t help but feel a little bitter because how can they be so…oblivious to what’s going on?

As soon as his announcement is finished, Crocodile orders Buggy to show him around the island better, meaning that Emptee Bluffs island is going to get three new permanent residents. Buggy is in desperate need of an ice pack but follows through with Crocodile’s cruel and unreasonable request, showing Crocodile, Daz, and Mihawk around the island, still in pain.

Crocodile is a man with many critiques, and Buggy finds that out quickly… “This place is like a fucking circus.” Well…Yes, yes it is. “It’s so tacky and tasteless… and It honestly gives me a headache. I’m not going to live in a damn tent forever.” Buggy holds the side of his head, listening to all of Crocodile’s complaints and criticisms, biting his tongue because he doesn’t want another ass beating. “I want my own private living quarters built, and I’ll also need an enclosure with a pond built.”

“...For what…?” Buggy asks cautiously.

“Pets.”

Buggy isn’t even going to ask Crocodile what kind of stupid pets he plans on bringing to the island, or why he needs a whole enclosure for them, instead he nods his head obediently and says he’ll see if he can find someone who can fulfill Crocodile’s requests. He’s kind of afraid that Crocodile will take everything over and redesign the entire island after Buggy painstakingly had someone else set up all the tents  on the island and decorate it. He likes the way the island looks and doesn’t want someone to come and change everything overnight…

“Daz needs a better place to stay in too, so better make it two private living quarters.”

Daz literally hasn’t said a word since he got to the island, how can Crocodile know what Daz wants, or rather needs in this case?! “What about you, Hawkeye?” Crocodile asks, lighting up his cigar, “You got anything you want?” Buggy feels like he’s going to cry again. God, these people have already beaten the shit out of Buggy and taken control over the island in less than two days, why do they just keep wanting more and more?

Mihawk looks around, taking a moment to think before replying to Crocodile’s previous question, “The circus tents are rather…tasteless.. but I can make do with my current accommodations.”Oh, god. They’re literally the worst people Buggy’s ever met in his life. How is he supposed to make this whole Cross Guild thing work with them? And, more importantly, how is he supposed to live on the same island as them?!

((A/N: Okay, now the story will get a little goofy and silly and separate from canon (as you can probably tell.) because Oda won't give us more Cross Guild content >:((( The only other additional thing i'm probably going to add to the story that's also canon is 1. The clown flagship and probably the part where Buggy's like my ex is going after the one piece and so are we boys uwu!!! ))

[Next part]

[birchbow]

Was Kurloz titled before he became the GHB? And relatedly, does the clown pope need to sign off on titles, or just public consensus of other highly regarded clowns? (I could imagine that Kurloz might have been doing a balancing act of demonstrating to others that he is going to be a serious contender for the throne while also avoiding drawing the attention of Rakhem before he felt ready to challenge? But also it seems like the former GHB didn’t pay much attention to his faithful flock, and maybe being titled doesn’t require his stamp of approval? But then again Kurloz did have a bit of a meteoric rise by typical standards so maybe there just wasn’t opportunity before he was already crowned?)

TBH regardless of how getting a title usually works, my internal narrative says that Kurloz was intent on demonstrating that he was serious about taking the throne, and very intentionally didn't take a title because of that. "I've got the only one I want in mind and it's Grand Highblood" kind of vibes. As far as approval from the GHB for titles goes... a few interesting possibilities spring to mind;

the consensus of the community is what solidifies a title, in much the same way that you can WANT a nickname but until the people around you make it happen, you don't really have a nickname. You can come up with the coolest name you can think of but if nobody agrees you deserve it or it fits you it's not going to fly. Conceptually hilarious tbh.

the GHB is supposed to approve titles for members of the church--potentially only if the title in some way speaks to their religious status? You can be the Sanguise or Brother Cullclaw or whatever, but you can't be the Carnival or Sister Holyfang without the okay from the head of the church? In which case since Rakhem was already becoming aware of Kurloz as a potential threat as he was coming up, he probably would have slapped down any attempt to gain a title even if Kurloz wanted one.

Either way, Kurloz didn't have one before he took over, haha. :D To answer your actual question.

[thankskenpenders]

I wasn’t going to make a post about this because it’s just so goddamn stupid and isn’t going to go anywhere and this person doesn’t deserve the attention, but here we are

Covers for both the IDW Sonic 2022 Annual issue as well as issue #52 are out now. It’s always a fun time over on Twitter when all the artists get to share the cool covers they’ve been working on. Except, this time, there’s a problem. Multiple posts of Jen Hernandez’s cover for Sonic #52 have been DMCA’d, because said cover features Belle... and someone is claiming that Belle is a ripoff of their character

The character in question, “Boingkid,” was created for a series of comics, as well as a retro throwback platformer that had an unsuccessful Kickstarter in 2017 titled Boingkid and the Chambers of Destiny. According to the creator, he contacted IDW about potentially publishing his comics in early 2019, but got no response. He alleges that Evan, a freelance creator who presumably has no role whatsoever in IDW’s licensing process, saw this pitch and then decided to steal the Boingkid concept, thus creating Belle

The problem, of course, is that beyond the well-established “sentient toy” concept, the clown nose, and the standard three-dot freckles... the characters don’t have much in common. Judge for yourself:

Like, come the fuck on. One is a spring toy with a suction cup stuck to his feet, the other is a robotic marionette with woodworking tools built into her fingers. Any similarities are mostly due to the shared Pinocchio influence, as well as broad stylistic influences from classic cartoons and video games that Boingkid guy can claim no ownership of. The creator of Boingkid is reaching so hard that he’s trying to say both characters are “flexible,” which... I have no idea how that applies to Belle, either physically or in terms of personality. After getting in an argument with Jen, who was upset that her cover got DMCA’d, the artist even went as far as drawing this, which only undermines their point further by showing how dissimilar the characters are. If it wasn’t labeled then no one would look at this and think it was Belle. The pigtails are the only real signifier

As always, as an indie dev and freelance artist myself, I feel for anyone trying to make a living in the scene, and this guy is undeniably a skilled artist. But going after your peers like this is lower than low. It's hard to read this as anything but a cheap publicity stunt. And digging into the Kickstarter for the Boingkid game, this isn’t even a case of a young artist pulling some stupid stunt out of naivety. The creator is a grown-ass man from Italy with over 20 years of industry experience

But it’s always fuckin’ something, huh. This obviously isn’t going to go anywhere because the allegations are so laughable, and I feel sorry that Evan and the crew have to deal with this, but I figured it was worth addressing. Sonic Twitter is gonna do what it always does and pile on the quote tweets, but I would advise people to not give this guy the attention he wants

[our-death-means-flag]

Above the Clouds and the Atmosphere

Ship: Izzy Hands x Reader

Notes: Wing AU, Izzy hasn’t been able to fly in decades. It doesn’t bother him. (It does.) Reader is the first person he’s met with wings strong enough to carry someone and fly. Not that it matters, Izzy doesn’t need to fly again. (He does.)

So, @run-me-through-but-not-like-that (hope the tag isn’t annoying!) wrote a wing fic with Izzy a while ago and it has not left my brain since. I thought that Izzy deserved to fly again and I love wing fics. So, here’s this.

Warnings: mentioned wing injuries, angst, Izzy being difficult

Title Song: Rocketeer by Far East Movement (but I’m specifically thinking of this cover by Clara C.)

It was impossible not to notice.

A crew member with wings was fairly run of the mill. If anything, they were sought after since the benefits of having a pirate who could fly were too many to count. Most crews only had two or three if they were lucky. The Revenge somehow had six five, Ed, Fang, Bonnet, Buttons, and you.

You still somehow stood out.

Your wings were absolutely massive. You had a larger wingspan than Ed which was a feat on its own. And you were without question the strongest flier on the crew.  (Yes, the crew of this clown ship had hosted a competition for that for some bloody reason, during which Izzy did his damndest to hide below deck) Though, and he’d never admit it, he did enjoy watching you. Watching you fly so smoothly when you scouted the waters ahead, watching you swoop down to attack an enemy sending them falling off the boat while you effortlessly shot back up into the air, watching you laugh and joke with the crew, wings moving almost as much as your hands as you spoke, emphasizing your words. You always flew so gracefully. Each twitch of your feathers was intentional and the gusts of wind that each flap of your wings created felt like a storm.

Every once in a while he’d purposely stand near you and when the wind from your wings hit his face it felt like he was flying again, just for an instant, but of course, that instant would pass and then he’d be slammed back into reality, grounded, permanently.

It was beautiful.

It was horrible.

Watching you was incredible but it made his wings ache. 

He was stuck. Part of him wanted to cling to you and to the memories of flying. But he didn’t. Instead he avoided you and your beautiful wings and the memories you brought, snapping whenever you dared try and get close, being significantly more hostile towards you than the rest of the crew.

Despite that, you kept trying. You were soft. Just like the rest of the crew. You were capable too, on par with what he’d expect from Blackbeard’s crew. But you were soft. You were kind and gentle and helpful. You always greeted him with a warm “Hello Izzy!” or a “Good morning, Izzy!” or a “Do you need anything, Izzy?”

It made it hard to hate you.

He wondered if it was harder to hate you or to deal with the reminders you brought of what he couldn’t do anymore.

Regardless, he avoided you. 

But avoiding you forever wasn’t practical…

A high pitched yell pulled him away from his work as he dragged a hand across his face.

“No peace and fockin’ quiet on this fockin’ ship.” He grumbled.

Usually a yell like that would have him worried that they were under attack but much to his surprise, he wasn’t really worried. He realized with no small amount of shock that it was because you’d been the one scouting today and you certainly wouldn’t be so incompetent. 

He quickly stopped thinking about how that must mean he trusts you.

Izzy stepped onto the deck and immediately noticed the source of the commotion. Practically the entire crew was crowded on the deck all clearly watching something. That something turned out to be you.

You were flying, easily keeping yourself hovering in place with strategic flaps of your wings. Clutching desperately onto you, was Lucius. The scribe looks like he was moments away from screaming again even as Izzy saw you gently comforting him and (if he was reading your lips right) telling him that it wasn’t that high up, that even if you dropped him, which you emphasized that you definitely wouldn’t do, he’d be fine.

Izzy shook his head trying to stop staring at you. He did the only thing he could think of and barked out “What the fuck are you useless lot doing?” 

A few people turned to glare at him and you looked remarkably guilty. In an annoyingly graceful movement, you landed deftly on the deck and gently released Lucius (honestly having to peel him off more than anything). 

You rubbed the back of your head awkwardly. “Sorry Izzy! Some of the crew wanted to go for a fly and I was done scouting— didn’t see anything interesting— and I’m the strongest flier… So, I figured.” You rambled and Izzy made a point of not looking at how the edges of your wings twitched as you moved your hands. “I… uh…” You seemed to lose confidence as you spoke. “Yeah…”

Some members of the crew notably stepped in between him and you as if to defend you. Not that it stopped him from opening his mouth, ready to unleash a volley of insults but the hand on his shoulder did.

“Aw, come on now. Lay off them Iz…” Edward’s voice was soft as he wrapped both his arm and wing around his shoulder, almost hiding the two of them from view.

The crew went back to talking to you, assuming that Ed would handle Izzy.

Ed took his chance and ducked slightly and whispered into Izzy’s ear, almost conspiratorially, “You know, if you asked, I’m sure they’d take you for a fly… They’re probably the only person we’ve met who could.” 

Izzy tensed. Of course you could. And Ed was right. You were very likely the only person who could. He’d never met anyone with wings as strong as yours. You definitely could carry him and fly.

Edward couldn’t. His wings were made for speed, not strength. Even though he’d been nearly dead, he remembered the first raid after his wings had gotten injured. Ed had scooped him into his arms and flown them back to their ship. He’d barely made it, actually hitting the railing and sending both of them skidding across the deck. Ed had sprained his own wings horribly after that, so Izzy never let him carry him again. He wouldn’t let his captain ground himself for his sake.

Izzy glanced at you again as you gently pulled Lucius into your arms again, comforting him before gently taking off.

The idea took over his mind. He could fly again. He’d never thought it would be possible.

No. It didn’t matter. He was fine.

He’d been fine without his flight for years. The hours he’d spent staring at the sky didn’t matter. The nights he’d spend curled up in his bunk, trying desperately to fall back asleep and dream of flying for just one more second didn’t matter.

He was fine.

Izzy rolled his shoulder pushing Ed’s hand off him. “I don’t need them.” He spat and stormed off.

He made a point of not looking at Edward’s guilty look. He knew that Ed had always blamed himself for the state of Izzy’s wings. Izzy had gotten the injuries protecting him after all. Even if Izzy knew about his captain's guilt, he couldn’t understand it. Protecting his captain came before everything else. Even his wings.

And he was fine.

—

Izzy did a double take the moment he stepped onto the deck for his late night rounds. The deck was empty, the night chilly enough to send everyone down to the bunks rather than sleeping on deck. But that wasn’t what caught his eye. Everything was done? The rigging was secure. The deck was organized and clean and he had no idea what was going on.

Until he spotted a familiar wing. 

Of course. It just had to be you. 

You were crouched near the front of the ship, wings fluttering in concentration as you meticulously checked the remainder of the rigging. So the state of the deck was probably because of you. But why? You’d usually be in bed or eating with the crew by now and you certainly didn’t have a late night shift today. So why were you here working?

Not sure how to get your attention without having to get close enough to risk touching your wings or yelling, he cleared his throat. You jumped lightly and he saw your hand shoot for the blade at your side until you looked over your shoulder and caught sight of him. Then you smiled.

“Evenin’ Izzy!” You greeted as politely as usual.

“Right,” was his curt response. “What are you doing here so damn late?”

You stood, somewhat sheepishly. “Oh, well… I figured I ought to help out a little…” He only got more confused and you seemed to notice since you continued, “well, I was the one who distracted everyone earlier and I wanted to make it up to you… so… I handled some things.” 

He furrowed his brows. “Make it up to me?”

“Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want you getting stuck with extra work cause I distracted everyone.”  You said it so matter-of-factly too, as if it was normal for you to do something like that for him.

On any other ship, if you’d do something like that, it would be out of fear, hoping to avoid punishment for slacking off. But no one on this ship was actually afraid of him since they all knew that the captains wouldn’t let him do anything. Maybe you were doing another strange thing again. Like how you greeted him and helped out.

Ridiculous.

“Fine.” He glanced at the rigging. “Not bad.” You beamed like he’d given you a huge compliment. “Go.” He dismissed you coldly, trying not to think about how much he liked seeing you smiling.

You walked past him, still smiling. Then you stopped. He was moments away from telling you to fuck off when you spoke again, “You know… my offer stands for you too.” He looked back at you.

“What offer?” He snapped.

“Flying. You weren’t on deck when I mentioned it to the rest of the crew but if you ever want me to take you for a fly, I’d be happy to. Just say the word.” He froze. “If you don’t want to do anything around the crew, let me know and I can find a time where we can fly without them around.”

Izzy stared at you. 

Did he want that?

Did he want to fly again?

He tried to picture it, the wind in his face, the ocean beneath him, your arms holding him and your beautiful wings keeping both of you in the air.

He hates the fact that he doesn’t hate the ideas.

You seem to take his silence and glare wrong as you rush to correct yourself. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to assume… I know you don’t like me and I know my wings make you uncomfortable and-

“What?” Izzy manages to force the word out, cutting off your words. 

You smiled sadly. “I'm not that oblivious. I know you keep avoiding me and whenever I fly you always seem really uncomfortable. I’m sorry. I want to be friends but if you want me to fuck off, just say the word and I’ll try to stay out of your way.”  

“Friends?” He echoed as if that was the most surprising thing you’d said. Not only had you caught on to his behavior but you were actively trying to make it up to him for them. 

You chuckled but it was clearly more at yourself than anything he said. ”Yeah… stupid. I know… I’m so sorry.”

“No.” He wasn’t sure why but he had to say it, had to get that stupid sad expression off your face. You seemed surprised. “I don't hate you.”

You froze, glancing back at him. “What?”

He groaned, realizing that he’d backed himself into a conversational corner. “I don’t hate you or your wings. Honestly you’re the most tolerable out of this whole damn crew. You actually know what you’re doing.”

You turned fully to face him, confusion and hope clear on your face. “You don’t? Then why do you avoid me?”

“Because I hate being reminded of what I can’t do!” He snapped. Then almost immediately froze as he realized what he’d said a moment after saying it. Your eyes widened. His eyes widened. “Fuck.”

His wings flexed uselessly under the many layers of wraps keeping them pressed to his back.

“You have…”

“Yes.” No point beating around the bush. “Can’t fly anymore.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.” Your tone of voice stunned him. You weren’t mocking him. He still remembered the way the rest of Hornigold’s crew had reacted to his sudden grounding. And get here you were genuinely telling him you were sorry without an ounce of sarcasm or mockery. You, with the most beautiful set of wings he’d ever seen.

“I don’t want your damn pity.” He snapped.

You didn’t react. “It’s not pity. I mean it. I’m genuinely sorry that happened to you.”

He didn’t know how to react to the fact he believed you.

“Thank you for telling me Izzy. If you ever need anyone to help with your wings, just ask.” Your words were so gentle, so genuine. “Goodnight Izzy.” You turned.

“Wait.” The word came out like a command, even as his voice shook. He knew if he didn’t say it now he’d probably never get the courage again. You turned, confused. But Izzy spoke before you did. “I want to fly.”

“What?”

“I’m not fucking saying it again.”

You (damn you) didn’t push or try to mess with him. Instead you just smiled. “Of course. If you’d like, we could go now?” You offered gently.

Izzy hesitated. He technically didn’t have any nightly duties left since you’d done everything aside from being on watch which he could easily do while flying. He swallowed. “Sure.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face and the way your wings fluttered in excitement. You opened your arms and smiled at him. “I’m going to have to pick you up.” 

Izzy couldn’t help but be a little grateful for you simply allowing him to come to you rather than grab him. With far more hesitation than he cared to admit, Izzy moved closer, tentatively stepping into arms reach of you.. You gestured with your arms and raised a brow, silently asking if you could pick him up. Izzy managed to mumble a “Yeah, go for it.” and he was lucky the two of you were so close since he was barely louder than a whisper.

You moved carefully, gently picking him up. One of your arms under his legs and the other resting gently against his back. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to keep himself steady and was trying (and failing) incredibly hard to not think about how you were holding him

“You good?” You asked, speaking incredibly softly. With Izzy in your arms like he was, he could feel your breath on his ear. Izzy doubted he could actually get his lips to form words but he managed a quick nod. “Alright, I’m going to stay over the deck, not too high. Then if that’s fine with you I can fly around.”

Why did you have to be so frustratingly considerate? 

Izzy nodded against your shoulder.

You smiled, even without looking at you, he could hear it in your voice. “Got it. I’m taking off on the count of 3. 1…”

Izzy took a deep breath.

“2…”

He adjusted his grip on your shoulders.

“3!”

More on instinct than any conscious thought, Izzy buried his face in your shoulder. He heard the flap of your wings, the air rushing past, and then, calm. He pulled away from your shoulder slowly and opened his eyes. The two of you were hovering over the deck, about eye level with the mizzentop, your wings carefully flapping to keep you both as still as possible. It took a moment for everything to click in his mind. 

He was flying.

“Izzy?” Your voice gently pulled him from his thoughts. “Are you alright?”

He really wanted to give some cool response maybe a smooth “never better” but instead the only sound that managed to escape him was a “mhhnngh” which not only wasn’t smooth at all but also didn’t answer your question so instead he managed to nod.

“Do you want to fly around more?” He could practically hear the smile in your voice. 

Since Izzy’s vocal chords were still not cooperating, he nodded, almost frantically.

“Alright… Let’s go…” With another powerful flap of your wings you shot off away from the Revenge. Izzy felt the wind rushing by his face, tousling his hair. He watched the ocean flicker past just below him.  You dove down, and Izzy suddenly felt the sea mist against his skin. 

When his wings had healed enough for him to attempt flying, he'd honestly already known at that point that it would be useless. He’d tried regardless. Of course, he couldn’t. He pretended it didn’t bother him. But honestly, the idea that he’d never be able to fly again burned up his mind in a way he’d never been able to shake.

But he was actually flying.

It felt like a dream.

Izzy’s eyes must have been watering from the wind and the salt. 

He definitely wasn’t crying.

He was fine.

Without even thinking about it, Izzy reached a hand out towards the sea, desperate to reach out and touch it, as if that would fully confirm for him that he wasn’t dreaming. Seemingly realizing what he wanted, you swooped lower, allowing the tips of Izzy’s fingers to skip across the surface of the waves. You soared up into the air, Izzy watching the waves created from air from your wings.  Then you dove back down. You flew laps around the Revenge, staying just close enough to be safe. Of course, you (irritatingly considerate) kept checking in with him. “Is this okay?” “You alright?” “Everything fine?” To which Izzy could only respond with nods.

By the time you were landing back on deck,  Izzy honestly had no clue how long the two of you had been flying. He’d somehow just let himself get lost in the feeling of flying. A quick glance at the sky made him suddenly realize that his watch was almost up. The two of you had flown around almost all night. Izzy was honestly a lot more reluctant to leave your arms than he’d expected to be, but the fear of someone coming on deck and seeing you both made him finally remove himself from your arms.

He expected to feel just as awful as he had when he’d first realized he was stuck on the ground the moment his feet touched the ground but that didn’t happen. He felt lighter, more comfortable, like some tension he didn’t even realize he’d been carrying was gone. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve, trying to make it look more like he was rubbing sleep away from his eyes with limited success.

“Izzy?” Your voice once again, cut through the silence. He spun, turning to see you leaning against the railing, wings relaxed and breathing a bit heavier than normal, shoulders visibly moving. It seemed that even for someone as strong as you, flying around for hours carrying someone was a lot of work. 

“You look exhausted. You should have stopped sooner.” He winced at his own words, hating how even that came out as a complaint.

You chuckled lightly, seemingly not taking his words as insulting in any way. “Yeah, probably.” You agreed as you gently stretched your wings out. Izzy was once again struck by how big and powerful your wings were. “But you seemed to be having a good time so… I only really doubled back when I realized the watch shift was going to change, figured you wouldn’t want any of the crew seeing you.”

Again with you being so frustratingly considerate of him. Izzy sighed. You still made little sense to him with all that kindness but that was an issue for another day. “You ought to go to sleep. I’ll handle your morning tasks so you can sleep in.”

You immediately waved your hands. “Oh you don’t have to do that!”

“I know I don’t.” Izzy replied matter-of-factly. “Just as you didn’t need to stay up late to help me nor take me flying.”

“You don’t owe me for any of that, Izzy. I did that because I wanted to.” 

He actually fumbled with his words for a moment. If it were anyone else, he would have immediately called bullshit, but you looked so incredibly genuine. Either you were the best liar he’d ever met, or you were being sincere. “In that case, go to bed. I’ll cover for you because I want to.” He tried to make his voice as authoritative as possible but it was incredibly hard to do that when you were looking at him so softly. “You’re not convincing me otherwise.”

You smiled. “If you insist. Goodnight Izzy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight.” Izzy replied with a nod. You walked past him to the bunks, and Izzy gathered up his courage. “Thank you.” He managed to force out without turning to face you,  just as you were about to leave. 

“Of course, anytime!”

Left alone on deck for a few minutes until shift change, Izzy watched the sky.

[jonillaa]

hii !!! I love your writing and fanfics!! They're the best I binge read them at night everytime fr...but anyways can I get Jo doing your makeup? Like you wanted to hang out with your bf and you want him to do your makeup! You guide him and he gently tries to put makeup on you, blush, eyeshadow, eyebrows, and foundation, you turn out to be a clown but you guys laugh about it !! 😊😊😊

DUVET ┊ asakura jo

PAIRING ┊ jo x f!reader

GENRE ┊ fluff

WC ┊ 668

WARNINGS ┊ classic friends to lovers plot (kinda idk they like each other tho) , not proof-read , lowercase intended!!

SYNOPSIS ┊ it’s jo’s day off, and you find yourself missing him a little too much. in an attempt to spend some time together, you invite him over and ask him to do your makeup. (and he ended up staining your duvet oops)

A/N ┊ i honestly could not come up with a title for this fic so it literally doesn’t match up at all but it’s okay cuz it’s jo!! 😜

jo had finally managed to secure a rare day off from his hectic schedule. he was looking forward to spending some quality time catching up on his favorite anime and indulging in a much-needed break—a break he definitely deserved. little did he know how soon that plan would change.

meanwhile, at your place, boredom was slowly consuming you. the dullness seemed to multiply exponentially, making the hours feel like days. suddenly, an idea struck you like lightning—a foolproof way to kill your boredom and maybe even spend some time with jo.

with your fingers flying across your phone's keyboard, you swiftly typed out a message, inviting jo over without mentioning your ulterior motives. you hit send, half-wondering if he would even consider your request.

but to your delight, jo replied almost instantly, his reply filled with his usual awkwardness: "oh uh, sure. i wasn't really doing anything anyway".

an excited flutter danced in your chest as you prepared for jo to arrive, making sure you had clean brushes and fresh makeup laid out. you couldn't help but feel a little nervous. jo may be your friend, but there was just something about him that made your heart race a little faster.

minutes later, the doorbell chimed, signaling jo’s arrival. you greeted him with a smile, trying to hide your nervousness.

"so, what's the plan for today?" jo asked, shoving his hands into his pockets.

"we’re going to have some quality time," you replied, leading him to your bedroom.

confusion flashed across jo’s face, but he decided not to press the matter. after all, there were plenty of strange adventures you'd roped him into during your friendship.

upon entering your room, jo’s eyes landed on the chaos of makeup supplies spread across your dresser. his eyes widened comically.

"you’re not going to suggest i do your makeup, are you?" he asked, panic lacing his voice.

biting your lip, you let out a nervous chuckle. "uh, actually, that was exactly my plan."

jo stared at you, disbelief etched on his face. "you’re kidding, right?"

with a mischievous glint in your eyes, you shook your head. "nope, dead serious. come on jo, it'll be fun!"

you guided jo to sit in front of the vanity mirror, feeling a mix of anticipation and anxiety. jo looked both adorable and slightly terrified. he bit his lip, his gaze fixed on the soft brushes in front of him.

"okay, but no promises that it’ll come out good," jo mumbled, finally giving in.

for the next hour, jo followed your step-by-step instructions, his fingers trembling as he tried to recreate the makeup looks you were showing him. the room filled with laughter and comfortable silence, the two of you bantering and teasing each other throughout the process.

at one point, jo’s hand shook so badly that instead of applying mascara to your lashes, he ended up streaking black lines across your face. you burst into fits of laughter, clutching your stomach as jo scrambled to fix his mistake.

"this is harder than drawing," jo muttered sheepishly, his deep voice tinged with slight frustration.

as the afternoon wore on, jo’s initial awkwardness melted away, replaced by a newfound confidence. his touch became more sure, his strokes lighter and more delicate. but just as the two of you were nearing completion, disaster struck.

jo’s hand slipped, and a vibrant splatter of red lip tint landed squarely on your pristine white duvet.

his voice filled with panic, jo stammered, "i’m so sorry! i didn't mean to!"

you couldn't help but let out a small laugh, your eyes sparkling with mirth. "it's okay, jo. it’s just makeup. i can wash it off."

relief washed over his face, and he smiled. "i’ll buy you a new duvet cover, okay? i promise."

the mess on your duvet somehow solidified the bond between the two of you. jo’s apology was filled with genuine affection and concern that tugged at your heart, making you realize how much you meant to each other.

a/n 2 i feel like the ending is so awkward and out of place HELP IM SO SORRY. 😕

[lowkeyclowning]

Songs that make me think of specific slashers

This is just a dumb little thing where I threw my hcs of songs that they may be into or just songs I think of them with <3

Chromeskull (Jesse Cromeans)

• Money, Money, Money - Abba (he is a rich man)

• Suit & Tie -Justin Timberlake (he wears that black dress that I like 😏 bro is always in a suit, not a tie, but whatever the song is good)

• Unholy -Sam Smith (I imagine it like this, “mommy” is his pregnant wife from the 2nd film or whatever reader/yn that doesn’t know ab his job, and “daddy” being him, the soon to be father, going out doing unholy things (murder, snuff, etc 👍)

• Hey Rich Boy -Millionaires (hey hey rich boy look my way! Hey hey rich boy make my day 😏. I am a simple person)

• Telephone -Lady Gaga, Beyoncé (he uses his phone to talk and stuff, and sometimes he should stfu 🙄🙏)

• Cemetery Girl -Insane Clown Posse (I don’t think this one needs an explanation)

• Girls on Film -Duran Duran (yea those girls really are on film)

• March Of The Pigs -Nine Inch Nails (he likes to call his victims pigs or piggies)

• Jessie’s Girl -Rick Springfield (his name is Jesse)

• Promiscuous -Nelly Furtado, Timbaland (…. Umm.. anyway moving on)

• Sugar Daddy -Qveen Herby (hehe)

• Violent Pornography -System Of A Down (it sure is)

• In My Room -Insane Clown Posse (I have bias because I love the song)

• Custer -Slipknot (WOOO)

• Hoes Come Easy -RJMrLA (bastard)

• No Scrubs -TLC (not a scrub)

• Bills, Bills, Bills -Destiny’s Child (there is a pattern)

• Tag, You’re It -Melanie Martinez (he picks targets)

• Piggy Pie -Insane Clown Posse (yep)

• Little Piggy -Rob Zombie

• Hammer Smashed Face -Cannibal Corpse (with love)

• Fucked With A Knife -Cannibal Corpse

I see Jesse not listening to music frequently if at all, but if he did,, man it’d probably be something like death metal or heavy metal. Some kind of metal.

The Collector (Asa Emory)

• Spookshow Baby -Rob Zombie (he’s a killer, he’s a thriller, spookshow baby 😏)

• Chop Suey -System Of A Down (his father forsook him)

• The Chain -Fleetwood Mac (saw it in an edit once and it stuck)

• Haunt You -Pack a.d. (it plays at the end of The Collection)

• Dead Body Man -Insane Clown Posse (i think he deserves to be called the dead body man)

• Dead Bodies Everywhere -Korn (there are as the title says)

• Eyeless -Slipknot (I love slipknot so much)

• Mr. Self Destruct -Nine Inch Nails (vibes)

• Headless -Deftones (once again vibes)

• Spiders -Slipknot (self explanatory)

• The Collector -Nine Inch Nails

• The Bug Collector -Haley Heynderickx (OKAY. I know this one is a lot softer n out of place but dude I’m just thinking about how gentle he is with spiders despite who he is. I’d fold so hard if I saw that)

• Duality -Slipknot (I PUSH MY FINGERS INTO MY EEEEYYYYYEEESSSSSS ITS THE ONLY THING THAT SLOWLY STOPS THE AAAAACCHHHEEEE)

• From The Pinnacle To The Pit -Ghost (real)

• Custer -Slipknot (pt2 WOOO)

• Hungry Like the Wolf -Duran Duran

• Hotel California -Eagles (you will never leave his hotel)

• Drain You -Nirvana

• Zombie -The Cranberries (he makes zombies in his basement)

• Dollhouse -Melanie Martinez (the “favorite” in his collection being dressed up almost like a doll with the dress and the makeup, plus he lives two lives)

• The Hand That Feeds -Nine Inch Nails

• Demonoid Phenomenon - Rob Zombie (jumpscare)

• Bumblebees Are Out -Jack Stauber (makes me think of lil baby Asa)

Just like Chromeskull I can’t imagine him listening to music frequently, or at all, but I can see him enjoying the occasional news station

Bo Sinclair

• Numb -Linkin Park (he got issues)

• Aneurysm -Nirvana (Issues pt 2)

• Country Song -Seether (I thought this was what he was playing on his radio, it’s not, but it still fits)

• Closer -Nine Inch Nails (freak)

• Bodies -Drowning Pool

• Sex Type Thing -Stone Temple Pilots (he acts like a hoe)

• Animals -Nickelback (once again, hoe)

• Tear You Apart -She Wants Revenge (freak 2)

• Foxy, Foxy -Rob Zombie

• The Negative One -Slipknot (he is the negative twin)

• In Bloom -Nirvana (He likes to shoot his guns)

• Scotty Doesn’t Know -Lustra (lol)

• Offended -Eminem (a bitch)

• The Burden -Slipknot

• One Step Closer -Linkin Park

• She Keeps Me Up -Nickelback

• Mockingbird -Eminem (Crying my eyes out to this song, but I see it as him having to be the parent to his brothers and shit bro I’m bawling)

Overall this dude in canon listens to rock, so pretty much I’m throwing dad rock and metal at him

Candyman (Daniel Robitaille)

• Hit the Road Jack -Ray Charles (some people don’t wanna be victims)

• Somebody’s Watching Me -Rockwell (always lingering)

• Killing Me Softly With His Song -Fugees (persuasive in talking people into being his victim)

• Candyman -Christina Aguilera (everything in this song is true)

• Heaven Can Wait -Michael Jackson (it can and will)

• So Anxious -Ginuwine (I know I’m anxious)

• Sextape -Deftones

• Mary On A Cross -Ghost (song about sex in a romantic sounding way)

• Change -Deftones (yea)

• Aces -dkj

• Hey Lover -The Daughters Of Eve (Romantic)

• Sex with a Ghost -Teddy Hyde (literally a ghost)

• Talk To Me -Porcelain Raft (Even though I think about the Collector with this song too, because I got it from the movie, it fits Candyman better)

• There Is a Light That Never Goes Out -The Smiths (<3)

• Heaven Knows I’m Miserable Now -The Smiths (pls let him rest with the love of his life)

If he could still listen to music he def likes romantic stuff, Jazz, maybe the classics n r&b. He was very happy when he was alive, I can imagine him tapping his foot and dancing with his lover in a kitchen

If I think of any more slashers I wanna do and I have the motivation I might make a pt 2

Anyway ty for reading <3

[crimeboys]

🌹!!!

If Tubbo were a more impulsive man, he would let Tommy loose right about now. He is more than fucking aware of how frustrating Tommy can be. Tommy has been his best friend for more than half their lives, and some days he would give anything on this Earth to strangle him to death. And considering the clowning Tommy has given Jack over the years? Yeah, Tubbo can understand wanting to hit Tommy where it hurts. But there’s no world where Tommy deserves to hear he was a parasite to Wilbur. If Tubbo’s honest, he thinks Tommy probably extended Wilbur’s lifespan. So Jack can go fuck himself. As it is, he would like to still have a staff tomorrow, so he shoves his entire body in front of Tommy so he doesn’t fucking kill Jack for real.

“Jack,” Tubbo grits out, trying to focus his energy into pushing back against Tommy and just barely succeeding. They’re fairly evenly matched in strength, but Tommy’s got height on him, and he is trying so fucking hard to use that to his advantage. “I need you to have a little more self preservation right now, king.”

“I’m not saying anything we’re not all thinking!”

“And I’m saying, if you don’t shut the fuck up, you’re going home without pay!” Jack glowers but his mouth stays shut thank God. Tubbo was perhaps too judgemental when Quackity pulled out the boss card because it honestly works fucking wonders. “Alright! Now, go wash some dishes while I-” Before Tubbo can secure Jack’s safety, Tommy manages to break out of his hold. Tubbo stares, wide-eyed, as Tommy lunges at Jack with his full weight, twisting a hand into the top of Jack’s shirt and pushing him against the counter so hard it makes Tubbo wince.

“Fuck you, Jack,” Tommy says, and Tubbo figures that’s fair enough after all the shit Jack was talking. Tommy doesn’t even shout the words. No louder than Tommy usually speaks, anyway. But there is something raw to his voice that makes Tubbo nervous in a way Tommy’s loudness never could. Tommy shouting is normal. Sounding like he’s on the brink of sobbing his eyes out isn’t. “Fuck you. You- you think you’ve got it all figured out? Yeah? Well you didn’t know what Wilbur was like! No one did! No one but me!” His voice cracks on the last word. Tubbo wonders what exactly he means by that. He would wager Tommy was closest to Wilbur, at least right before he died, but Tubbo likes to think he at least knows his brother. Jack’s eyes flit to Tubbo’s, then back to Tommy’s in a fearful rage. Tubbo worries he’ll have to threaten pay dockage again. 

But all Jack says, tired as Tubbo’s ever heard him, is, “He wasn’t just yours, Tommy.” He thumps Tommy’s chest, pushing him back, and Tubbo is relieved that Tommy lets go of his shirt instead of starting a fight. Jack storms back into the kitchen and Tubbo catches sight of Niki’s concerned face before the door closes.

Tubbo wonders if everyone heard that show. He wonders if Jack’s right and they all think of Tommy as Wilbur’s little parasite who got left behind when the host died. Tubbo doesn’t agree. Not exactly anyway. He thinks, maybe, Tommy and Wilbur were both parasites in a way. They latched onto each other, thinking they didn’t need a real host so long as they had each other, and now Tommy scrambles to keep himself sustained on nothing but a memory.

- from document titled "burger"

[peachywise]

Lessons in Honesty Part 5

steve harrington x reader

Chapter 5: Enjoy the Silence

– other chapters: part 1 ⋆ part 2 ⋆ part 3 ⋆ part 4 ⋆ part 5 ⋆ part 6 ⋆ part 7 ⋆ part 8

– series synopsis: Being Robin Buckley’s younger sibling had always been uneventful, up until she got herself tangled with Steve Harrington. And really, you were happy for her. She deserved friends. What was bothersome was when he got let in on small secrets like your infatuation with Eddie Munson, and decided to take it into his own hands to try and get him to pay attention to you-- by pretending to be your boyfriend.

– notes: hello!! this is my favourite chapter so far. i got giddy writing it. shameless in my love of the tending to one another’s wound trope. this is all. please enjoy!

p.s. enjoy the silence is not an eighties song but the title fit too well for the chapter okay let me enjoy depeche mode in peace

p.p.s. i have literally tried posting this twice before only for it not to show up in the tags and if it happens again then i will hurl myself off a cliff 

read here or on ao3

_____________________________

People often say how silence can be defeating. But at this moment, with Steve beside you in the driver's seat, you thought a better way to describe the silence is by how utterly restraining it was.  

You couldn't move. Not because you were paralyzed by discomfort, but because you felt like there was a rubber band circling the both of you, and if it was disrupted, it would snap and break something irreparably. You'd waited to see if Steve would be the one to break the silence, but he'd been driving for ten minutes and hadn't even turned on the stereo.

Either the rubber band was going to snap first, or your mentality would crack under the weight of awkwardness and overthinking.

"You can listen to Wham! if you want."

Looks like your mentality was the weaker of the two.

"What?" Steve asked. Your comment knocked a brick from the mental wall behind which he had put himself. Steve turned to look at you for a brief second before suddenly turning his attention back to the road. You wondered if he had been on autopilot and just became self-aware that he had been driving this whole time.

"You know, the band," you continued. Sometimes it felt like your brain cells were small clowns packing themselves into a tiny vehicle, only to launch themselves out of your mouth and into an ocean, suffering a painful and stupid death. "I didn't actually know if you listened to them or not when I said you looked like you were dressed for their concert. Sorry if I offended you. I mean, they're not my favourite band, but if you like them, then I'll shut up, and you can play your music no problem. Then again, just cause you look like you listen to them doesn't mean you do. You could listen to Madonna for all I—"

"Buckley," Steve cut you off.

"Yeah?"

"Just turn on the radio."

"Okay."

You didn't.

And it was back to silence.

Five more minutes passed before Steve pulled into the driveway of your house and turned off the ignition. Thirty seconds passed in silence without either of you moving a muscle. And then, finally, Steve spoke.

"I'm sorry."

Steve wasn't looking at you as he said it. He leaned back against his seat as he stared at your dad's car in front of the garage. You, however, couldn't move your eyes away from him. Confusion overtook your features at his apology.

"For what?" You asked, twisting your body slightly in your seat to face him more fully.

He shifted in his seat, moving his hand up to run over his jaw. His frustration was apparent. "I shouldn't have left you alone in a place like that. I wasn't thinking." He murmured past his hand. You noticed it was red and starting to crack from where he had hit the man.

Was that really what had him so torn up? For leaving you alone? "You had no way to know someone would come up to me. And I dealt with it, Steve. I told him to leave the same as you would have. Besides, you were what, forty feet away? I don't really consider that leaving me alone."

"But you got hurt because of it," Steve spoke more resoundly, finally turning his face towards you and dropping his hand.

As if to emphasize his statement, your head throbbed with a dull pain. With how focused you were on the tension in the car, it was like you had forgotten all about it.

"I fell backward. It was more an accident because the table was there." The guy had grabbed you, sure, but the force of you pulling back caused the events that followed to happen. Not that you were acquitting that asshole of anything. It was his fault. He shouldn't have laid his hands on you in the first place. But Steve shouldn't hold guilt or anger about the fact he hadn't been standing beside you. If the guy had a few more drinks in him, he probably would have come up to you if Steve was there regardless. The same thing was bound to happen.

"I've fallen before. Had cuts and bruises. When I was seven, I even stood on top of monkey bars and fell off and broke my arm. Now that we're friends, are you going to take responsibility every time I'm injured, and you're not there? Because I'm not letting you take on the role of bodyguard too. Fake boyfriend is enough."

Steve looked at you for a quiet beat, the wheels in his head turning as he processed everything you said. Hopefully, your attempt at lightening up the conversation at the end would make everything a little less serious because you weren't sure how long you could keep hold of this metaphorical breath before you passed out. Thankfully, it seemed like something had resonated with him. There was still a tightness in the way he clenched his jaw, but he gave a slight nod of the head, looking down at his lap.

"I'm still sorry it happened," he offered, finally sounding less wound up.

"I'm sure that creep is too. That was one hell of a punch. I think you broke his nose," you gave a slight smile.

An unamused breathy laugh left him as he turned back to look at you. "Yeah, well, what are friends and fake boyfriends for, right?"

Ah, so he had picked up on that little bit of terminology you had used. Part of you thought he might have missed it with all that brooding.

Your small smile turned into a full-fledged grin. "Exactly. Next time you need someone punched, I'll go up to bat. Maybe I'll throw in the added bonus of insulting them too."

Steve laughed at that one. "Alright, alright. I think we should make sure you don't have a concussion before launching yourself into another fight," he added. "Do you want to run inside and get the first aid kit so I can check the back of your head out here? I don't want you to twist around trying to get at it and end up slamming your head into something else."

Good point. Still, it was dark outside and cramped in the car. There was a far easier solution to this. "Or you could just come inside and look at it. You said The Hideout was bound to give me an infection, but I don't think your car is much better."

"I keep my car clean, okay?" He argued petulantly. "And I don't think you want your parents waking up. I thought you didn't want them to know about what happened."

That got a snort out of you. "Please, they won't wake up for anything. My dad uses a CPAP machine, and my mom wears earplugs. Once, the fire alarm was going off cause Robin burnt some eggs in the morning, and they had no idea."

"And Robin?" Steve countered.

"We'll just use the bathroom in the basement. She won't hear a thing." Looking at the windows, you saw that all the lights were off, including in her room. Robin also had the Buckley gene of sleeping like the dead. There'd be no issue.

Seeing Steve's silent hesitancy, you rolled your eyes and unbuckled your seatbelt. "Look, I'm good either way. Either check it in the house or don't. I'm sure splashing water on it will do the trick, right?" You smiled, already climbing out of the car.

You heard Steve mutter something under his breath, but whatever it was didn't really matter. He was out of the car and trailing behind you a short second after.

******************************

If you had a diary, this scene would make for the weirdest entry to date.

Hi, diary. It's me again. You know, the outcast whose only friends like to play an intense game of make-believe every week to escape the reality of mundane life? Well, you'll never guess what happened. I went to a metal concert where some drunk guy tried to get handsy with me, and I cracked my skull open. Now Steve Harrington, ex-basketball heartthrob turned older sister's best friend, is currently poking at the hole in my head while I'm straddling a toilet seat. Life is so crazy, huh?

Maybe you should look into investing in one. Though, you weren't sure if you really wished for any of this to be recorded.

"Ow," you mumbled, twisting to look over your shoulder as the wet cloth grazed the minor cut on your head once more. Steve pushed your face back by the cheek, admonishing you with a repeated, "I told you to stop trying to look. It's not physically possible."

You mimicked his words back to him with a lower-pitched annoying sound.

When the washcloth hit the cut again, you were sure that one was actually on purpose.

"Well, you no longer have dried blood caked in your hair, and the cut is just a minor one. You should be okay," Steve commented, setting the cloth on the counter before moving over to wash his hands.

"So glad to hear I'm going to live," you amusedly said as Steve dried off his hands. He grabbed the small ointment tube in the available first-aid kit and unscrewed the cap, dotting some of the medication on the tip of his finger. He used his other hand to gently move your head back to stare at the wall so he could access the wound. His touch was so light you barely felt him apply the medicine.

"Alright, you're good to go," he said in a muffled tone. The way his fingers slipped through your hair as he moved his hand away had goosebumps rising to the back of your neck. He probably didn't even mean to do it, but the ghost of that touch lingered as you rose to stand up. Steve cleaned off the excess ointment from his hands. Your eyes lingered on his movements, noticing how the irritated red on his knuckles had worsened as time passed. It was going to bruise. And while the split in his lip and small cut on his knuckle didn't exactly scream severe, you figured it was best to return the favour. You didn't miss that minor wince he gave when he'd wiped his hand dry on the towel.

"Your turn," you said, lifting yourself up to sit on the bathroom counter before rummaging through the kit for some hydrogen peroxide and something to wrap his hand with.

Steve gave a resolute, "I'm fine," as he crossed his arms.

Peering up at him with a raised brow, you reached forward to cup his jaw in your hand. The sudden widening of his eyes at your action quickly changed to one experiencing a sudden sting when you gently ran a thumb over the cut on his lip. "Don't lie to me, Hero. Amuse me just this once," you said as you dropped your hand back down to your lap. Steve gave you an overly-cautious look.

His shoulders dropped some of their tension when he finally relented with a muttered, "whatever, just… get it over with."

"Trust me. I'm a better doctor than I am a patient," you grinned, taking off the cap from the hydrogen peroxide bottle. You grabbed his hurt hand and held it over the sink.

"That's not saying much. You're a terrible patient," he retorted, but his admonishment quickly became an expression of pain once you poured the solution over the cut knuckle. "Ow," he bit out, trying to yank his hand back. You squeezed it tighter and looked up at him with a slight shake of your head. "Who's the terrible patient now," you muttered.

Bringing his hand closer to your lips, you softly blew cold air on the stinging skin, mentally noting the feel of his hand in yours. His hand was soft. That was unexpected. It wasn't without calluses— you couldn't hazard a guess from what— but mostly, you noticed how warm it was. Holding his hand wasn't exactly… an uncomfortable experience. You almost wish it were.

When you finally released your grip, you momentarily glanced up at him. He was looking at you with an indiscernible expression. Partly calm, partly confused, wholly serious. You started to feel like there was restricted breath in the small space between you and him.

"How often do you go around punching people, anyway?" You spoke, trying to break out of the silence as you grabbed the previous ointment he had used on your head.

"What do you mean?" Steve asked, pulling his hand back and taking a minor step out of your space.

"I heard you punched Jonathan Byers when you and Nancy first started dating. Something about thinking she was cheating, and a certain theatre sign that read Nancy 'The Slut' Wheeler."

"Oh." Steve gave a simple reply, "Yeah. Not my proudest moment." He shuffled his weight once from foot to foot. It was clearly a challenging subject. I mean, why wouldn't it be? And to bring it up now probably wasn't one of your brightest ideas. But you felt the need to understand him better. After tonight's events, it became clear Steve had this intense urge to protect people. You'd already seen it plenty of times with the young kids. But now you were beginning to truly see through this exterior he had to what was at his core—deep caring, Kindness. It was woven into the state of his entire being.

"I'll drop the subject if you want," you offered, giving him an out as you took back his hand and began putting the ointment on the split skin. "I'm just curious as to what all that was really about." It didn't seem like him, not that you would tell him that. No need to let him in on how much you had begun to take note of his character.

There was a pinch to Steve's eyebrows as he thought about what to say. "I was upset. That was really it. I thought I had seen something but didn't understand it. I didn't talk to Nance about it at all. I just… reacted." When you were finished, you wiped your hand free of the ointment, moving now to grab some bandage wrap to twine around his hand. "I regret it. I still don't get how Nancy took me back after all that, but I'm thankful for it. I had a lot to make up for. She helped me learn a lot of things. I grew up because of her. I'll always be grateful for that. It's still hard to move past all the immature shit I once did, though."

Finishing wrapping his hand, you tucked the tail end of the bandage underneath the wrap. His meaning made sense. We all do dumb stuff. But the one good thing about mistakes is our ability to learn from them. Doesn't make the actions okay or easy to grapple with. But if mistakes can help us grow, to learn, then at least they give them some semblance of meaning and purpose.

"I can see why you'd want to win her back," you softly stated, realizing you still had a hold of his hand before letting it go. Steve gripped the edge of the counter, half caging your body in. "Not sure if I consider fake dating to be out of the realm of 'immature shit,' but at least it's something we're doing together. You can't take all the blame that way."

Steve's face transformed into that odd look you couldn't figure out again. It took him a second to even say anything more. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right," he weakly smiled as the words tumbled out of him.

He must really be scared the plan wasn't going to work. Not that he needed Nancy to continue to be a good person. He was that all on his own. But he did deserve happiness.

"For what it's worth, I think you owe yourself a little more credit for who you are now," you smiled, remembering him saying something similar when you told him how Eddie helped you out of your social isolation. Grabbing a clean face cloth, you ran it under the tap and put the smallest amount of soap on top. Cleaning his lip with peroxide probably isn't the wisest idea.

"Dustin and the others respect you because it's easy to look up to someone like you. You're a safe presence," you murmured, not used to being so open with people. You couldn't exactly look him in the eye, so instead, you focused your attention entirely on cleaning the area of his split lip. "Hell, my sister loves you. And you're friends with her and support her, knowing exactly who she is. She wouldn't stick around you if you weren't someone worth being around."

You weren't sure if Steve wasn't saying anything because you had been cleaning his lip or if he just didn't have anything to reply to. Putting the cloth aside, you dotted some more of the Polysporin to your finger and gently dabbed it on the cut.

"My point is, Nancy may have helped, but you're the one who chose to be better. It was always there in you. You're a kind person, Steve Harrington. I think people are better with you in their life than without."  

The sudden movement of his hand encircling your wrist and stopping you had your gaze flying up to his in surprise. "You really think that's true?" his voice was quieter, lower. It was the first time you noticed how the pitch of his voice was almost melodious.

You got the feeling he was asking you if you thought your life was better with him in it than without. And the only thing you could respond with was the instinctual truth.

"I do."

And the silence like a rubber band was back, his eyes intent on yours, his hand sliding down from your wrist to take hold of your hand.

You felt like all your thoughts shut off all in one moment. You weren't sure what was happening, but you made no move to end it. You no longer felt restrained by this bubble but comforted despite the nervous buzz across your arms.

Steve moved closer to the counter, lips opening to say something more.

And then the rubber band snapped anyway.

"Are you talking to yourself, you weirdo—" Robin's voice cut into the small space you two created. Steve quickly launched himself back, stumbling but catching himself as he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair as he looked everywhere except at you or Robin.

Your hand was dropped back onto your lap, and in your surprise, you jerked back away from Steve. Unfortunately, that meant smacking your sore head against the mirror and letting out a less quiet, painful, "Jesus Christ!"

Robin's own body had gone into a state of static shock. Her movements paused in the doorway as her eyes moved from you to Steve, then back to you again.

"Uh… What the hell are you two doing?"

Robin pinched the bridge of her nose between two fingers and took what you hoped was meant to be a calming breath. Once that was done, Robin stepped forward and ushered you to move off your seated position on the counter. You did, and she rested a hand on your shoulder. "You, go to bed," she ordered, practically shoving you out the door. You turned to look back at them both as Robin stared Steve down and said, "and you and I are going to have a little talk before you go."

"Oh, Robin, hey!" Steve lifted his hand in greeting as if trying to be casual would help this situation seem less suspicious than it looked. Robin gave Steve one of her signature looks, aiming to make someone two sizes smaller. It worked. "They got into a bar fight and hit their head," Steve spilled out, pointing in your direction like someone identifying a criminal in a lineup.

"Hey, it wasn't a bar fight!" You gasped, pointing back to him as you whipped your head toward your sister. "And Steve's the one who punched a guy!"

You caught the nervous look on his face before Robin practically kicked the door closed.

________

tag list: @rexorangecouny @simonsbluee @felicityofbakerstreet @heytherejulietx @ohashley101 @youngflower @katsukiswrld @ramona-thorns @theblairwaldorf2 @fezco-mylove @hxrgreeves @jbcalway @heizenka @edenstarkk @greekktragedy @trishiepo0 @nonpoppin @bimboshaggy 

[syntheticsimp]

TwstOCs: Booman Brothers!

SD Model: 

SD Model:

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Coffins & Groovy Candy:

Lester Trivia/Info Dump

- Very Fungi! Loves puns and cracking jokes. Has a mental catalogue of jokes/puns ready for any situation. He actually makes people laugh. Would win the title of Class Clown, hands down he has no competition.

- His grin can be pretty unnerving especially since he's hardly ever seen without it. 

- When he's agitated only time will fix his mood. Surprisingly he tends to keep away from people when he's in a less than happy mood if he can. Says its cause he doesn't want to deal with people annoying him, but in reality he just doesn't want to snap at anyone who he feels doesn't deserve it. Will never admit that last part.

- Truly only ever seen with his brothers.In the rare case you find him alone he's either in a bad mood or genuinely enjoying his alone time and might invite you to join him.

- Candy! Candy! Candy! Has an abundance of it. Pulls it out of thin air sometimes. Walking piñata. Want some?~

- Loves video games, manga, anime and idol groups. Things he won't admit #2: Wishes he had someone to chat with about theses things 24/7. Doesn't know it but he's friends with both Lilia and Idia online. Online Alisas: BarrelBoi!

- Founding Member of the Creepy Crawly Society! The reason the club is named the way it is. Elias and Cain came up with a boring name. Which is why Lester changed it when he went to turn in the forms. His name sounds better after all.

- Will pop in the the game board club from time to time. He likes joining them for their club activities when his club doesn't meet. Honorary Member. 

- Somehow will be the first person to the cafeteria.

- Has a Magicam shit post account. Full of weird memes and obscure shit. Also has an insane amount of followers. He doesn't know why. 

- Is fluent in internet lingo. Can translate any obscure internet speech into normal words and vice versa. 

- Keeps up with the latest internet drama. Sometimes the first to know of it. 

- Has a pet Scorpion. Its name is Claws. He hides it in his room.

-’Lester’ is the name given for when interacting with people who aren't family. 

Cain Trivia/Info Dump

- The Jock(-ish) Brother. Loves sports and will pop in to the sports clubs to mess around and play. He's pretty good at most sports and this surprise most who play against him.

- People honestly wonder how he got sorted into Diasmonia and not Octavinelle. 

- Very good gambler, the odds are usually in his favor. People genuinely think he cheats. But he's just good at knowing what is a good bet and what isn't.

- Another who is easy to anger. Will be outright furious and will lash out at the person who put him in a bad mood. Will get payback.

- Gardening is his hobby. Many people find this quite surprising since he's such a punk. Green Thumb! Comes in handy for the Monster plant he houses (hides) in his room. 

- The Monster Plant is his pet. Its name is Seymour. 

- Founding Member of the Creepy Crawly Society! Hates its name since it sounds so damn childish. Has tried to get the name changed but Crowley always gives him the run around. 

- Uses the club time to collect insects to feed Seymour. 

- Super good at picking locks. Even the toughest lock just takes him a few minutes to unlock. 

- Likes to spend time collecting gossip and ‘accidentally’ hearing others woes. This is quite hypocritical of him since he doesn't like people butting in to his ordeals. 

-  Genuinely wishes deep down to be considered approachable because he wants to have an abundance of friends. However since most people find him unnerving he chooses to play the role of the bad guy to fit their standards of him. “If people think I'm a monster then let me be a monster” type of attitude. Won't admit it ever.

- Music Lover! Punk, Rock, Alternative, Pop, Blues. Some of his favorites. Lowkey wants to start a band.

-Horror junkie! Collects horror movie memorabilia. Has seen almost every horror movie at least 5 times.

-’Cain’ is the name given for when interacting with people who aren't family. 

Elias Trivia/Info Dump

- The ‘Diplomatic” Brother. Tries to solve most things by talking and coming up with compromises.

- His temper is much colder than his siblings. If you ever get on his bad side he will most likely give you the cold shoulder and be harsh with his words. His outburst are more methodically cruel compared to that of Cain’s fiery outburst.

- Enjoys a good Tea party. Tea Fanatic. He has a scheduled tea time for himself and even has a tea for every occasion. Tea set collector! Has a tea cabinet in his room to display the sets and the variety of teas he has.

-Tea buddies with Riddle. They try to schedule a meet once a month at the minimum. Will schedule more of their time allows it. Enjoys a good cup of tea with Malleus too!

- Herb collector! Green Thumb as well! Loves concocting herbal remedies for himself and his siblings. Presses Herbs and flowers alike. Has many a books with pressed fauna in them, with notes scribbled on the side. 

- Owns a crystal ball. Incense burner too! Witchy vibes if the hat wasn't a give away. 

- Into cottagecore and gothic aesthetics. Soft boy vibes!

- Book worm! Reads when ever he has a chance. Would start a book club if he wasn't such a socially awkward individual.

- Wishes he was better at communicating with people how he felt. Just like his brothers, wants more friends but knows people are unnerved by him. Which is why he's only truly close to Lester and Cain. Has made some progress with Riddle tho. As well as Lilia and Malleus. 

- Founding Member of the Creepy Crawly Society! ALSO dislikes the name Lester has given it. He would've much preferred it be called the Entomology Club at least. Uses his time in the club to partake in his hobby of pining insects. Hangs them up in his room.

- Has a super nice singing voice which he refuses to share. Has stage fright. He also at some point wished to be in a play at least once. But again, stage fright!

- Avid play reader and attendee. So much so that he has a box full of ticket stubs from shows he's been to.

- Has a large toad as familiar of sorts. Its name is Dr. Finkel or so the toad says. Elias will occasionally bring it to lecture with him and does so by hiding it under his hat.

-’Elias’ is the name given for when interacting with people who aren't family. 

---

DIASOMNIA BOYS IN THE HOUSE!!!! 

Honestly when I came up with their designs I was totally shook. Like honestly in disbelief that they were born from my mind.

BUT now that they're I hope all who come across this post love them as much as I do! Some spooky guys with hearts of gold hidden under the brittle surface!

Debating on who to post next, but it'll come to me eventually.

Anywho! Feel free to ask any questions about these three or any of my other character! 

My inbox is open and I'm ready to answer :)  Thnx for your time!

[the-dog-watch]

Clarissa Oakes/The Truelove

This book begins with Jack still smarting from the events of the previous book, utterly peevish and miserable; he starts by enumerating all the ways he's been hard done by the crew, even Stephen. He resents being "manipulated" into bringing Padeen onto the crew, which...I can't quite call it inaccurate but it is a very funny way to describe your best friend narrowly escaping death, yet again, while fully dressed in clown makeup, yet again. I wouldn't call Stephen's brand of getting what he wants manipulation, it's more like an extremely unlucky type of laughing chance. "If the accident will," as Kurt Vonnegut said, and the accident surely did will Padeen on board the ship again.

It all boils down to sexual jealousy; everyone's been off sucking and fucking and Jack meanwhile was getting jerked around by Amanda Smith part deux. Nothing less than he deserves, of course, but it does explain a lot. There's an awkwardness between him and Stephen that persists especially in the beginning of this book. They tiptoe around each other in the aftermath of their argument, with each of them trying to be tactful but still managing to get on the other’s nerves. For a relationship that was quite literally founded on the promise of future violence, they're always so reluctant to cause each other the slightest pain. I suppose that’s the reason they so easily fall into this pattern of deferred conflict; even when they come to blows (figuratively, in this case) they can never actually make themselves pull the trigger or push the blade in when it comes to the fateful moment. Their affection is always too strong and the conflict is always put off as far in the future as possible.

I just can’t get over this scene where Stephen is examining Jack (due to his “peccant liver”) and it’s a good example both of how much they care for each other and also how they can’t stop annoying each other. From page 8:

"Stephen, surely you would not call me middle-aged, would you?"

"Navigators are notoriously short-lived, and for them middle-age comes sooner than for quiet abstemious country gentlemen. Jack, you have led as unhealthy a life as can well be imagined, perpetually exposed to the falling damps, often wet to the skin, called up at all hours of the night by that infernal bell. You have been wounded the Dear knows how many times, and you have been cruelly overworked. No wonder your hair is grey."

"My hair is not grey. It is a very becoming buttercup-yellow."

Jack wore his hair long, clubbed and tied with a broad black bow. Stephen plucked the bow loose and brought the far end of the plait round before his eyes.

"Well I'm damned," said Jack, looking right at it in the sunlight. "Well I'm damned; you are quite right. There are several grey hairs...scores of grey hairs. It is positively grizzled, like a badger-pie. I had never noticed."

Six bells.

"Will I tell you something more cheerful?" asked Stephen.

"Please do," said Jack, looking up from his queue with that singularly sweet smile Stephen had known from their earliest acquaintance.

I read that passage to a friend of mine after I made him watch the movie with me and he was like "what the FUCK." I like to expose other people, unversed in the Aubrey/Maturin series, and watch them utterly boggle at what we are witnessing, like exposing someone with no tolerance to a deadly poison. “Singularly sweet smile.” Good christ. You've never mentioned thinking that Jack has a sweet smile before, Stephen, I simply had to infer that you thought so from your every word and action for the past 10 years and 15 books.

Anyway. Jack's bad mood doesn’t survive an encounter with the stowaway title character, who I feel remiss in not mentioning till 700 odd words into this review. CLARISSA OAKES, a woman who is hard done by the world, both in-fiction and metatextually since the cowardly dogs who put out the US edition removed her name from the title. I’m starting to think misogyny is real and maybe is still with us to this day….

To be honest, I was really leery of Clarissa’s whole plotline when I read descriptions of it in other reviews of this book. She was sexually abused by her guardian as a child and later becomes a sex worker at a brothel in London, and in telling Stephen about one of her clients she puts him onto a break in his big case. The naval intelligence connection and the entire escapade on Moahu end up feeling incidental; the real attraction of this book for me is Clarissa, both watching the deterioration of all her shipboard relations and the real warmth and affection that springs up between her and Stephen. I think Stephen describes her at one point as combining worldliness with a certain naivete; she's both attractive and likable and yet for all that her viciousness and remoteness are what alienate her from others. She reminds me a lot of Stephen himself, to be honest. 

I knew it was coming but the scene where she reveals the abuse she suffered as a child is surprising because it feels so spontaneous and perfectly natural. O'Brian captures that fleeting feeling where you can suddenly find yourself telling someone you barely know things you've never spoken of to anyone else in your life. She's drawn to Stephen for one of the qualities I've always admired about him: his steadfast commitment to our National (International??) No Snitching Policy. They’re united in their hatred of impertinent questions! “You should be addicted to shutting the fuck up.” They embody this beautifully, and it leads to a very lovely friendship.

I mentioned last time that, for all the joy in The Nutmeg of Consolation, there was a real sense of dread or foreboding which is even more prominent here. I kept bracing myself for something awful to happen to Clarissa for the whole book. I think in a more traditional narrative something more character arc-y might have happened with her; maybe her promiscuousness would have had consequences and things would have come to a head.

I suppose you could call it another example of deferred conflict: nothing awful happens to her. She sails away in the end. Her marriage is mostly joyless, but she is certainly better off than she was before, and has the possibility of a future and maybe real happiness, and it’s almost certain that we haven't seen the last of her.

Deferral of conflict doesn't have to mean deferral of catharsis. It's like a Cinderella story, right down to the pivotal scene of getting Clarissa a new dress. She doesn't grow or change, really, but there is a real satisfaction in her defiant ability to just live and survive. The affection between her and Stephen is what sells it I think—the scene where he's running late for dinner (again) and she helps him dress is so charming—and the book ends with their bittersweet parting.

And that's that! Don't really have much to add about the little colonial adventure on Moahu here, other than to say that the ad copy, if the not the text of the books themselves, is always playing up the "head-hunting cannibals" aspect of the Pacific Islanders in a way that is exoticizing at the very least and downright racist at worst, and yet no Polynesian character we've ever met in these novel has been even close to as unpleasant as any of the white people we met in Boston when Jack and Stephen were POWs there in The Fortune of War. Give me the man soup any day before sending me back to Beantown again, I beg you!

NEXT TIME: Homeric seas. Literal islands forming from fiery volcanoes in front of our eyes. And an even scarier natural phenomenon than that: gradually drifting apart from a friend you used to be close with. 🙀 See you then!

PERSONAL RANKING

The Far Side of the World (10) > HMS Surprise (3) > Desolation Island (5) > The Reverse of the Medal (11) > The Nutmeg of Consolation (14) > The Ionian Mission (8) > The Fortune of War (6) > Clarissa Oakes/The Truelove (15) > Master & Commander (1) > The Surgeon’s Mate (7) > Treason's Harbour (9) > The Letter of Marque (12) > The Thirteen-Gun Salute (13) > Post Captain (2) > The Mauritius Command (4)

[nottapossum]

12. My way home is through you 💙💚💙💚💙

Summary:

Title: My way home is through you by My chemical Romance Summery: Fizz moves in with Asmodeus

Notes:

TW/ Talking about being trafficked (briefly), moving, fake friends, Toxic relationship, feeling overwhelmed, feelings of not belonging, feelings of guilt. Lmk if I should add.

~~~Asmodeus and Fizzarolli:~~~

“Welcome home, Fizzarolli.” Asmodeus says as they walk into Asmodeus’s palace. Since Fizzarolli was now officially HIS little. They had to live together so that they can ensure Fizz is properly taken care of.

Fizzarolli stood at the doorway, not moving. Just stared at the place as if he’s never seen it before.

“You okay, love?” Asmodeus asks.

“Don’t ask. I feel like I’ve cried enough for now.” Fizzarolli says.

“Fizz, you have to understand. I had no-“

“I know, I’m not mad at you, okay?” Fizzarolli says. “I’ll be fine.”

Asmodeus frowns. “…okay.”

“Where can I put this?” Fizzarolli asks, holding up his bag.

“My servants can-“

Asmodeus reached for Fizz’s bag but he tugged it away quickly to stop him. “I can do it, Ozzie. I don’t need help.” He insisted.

Asmodeus nods. “Alright…follow me.” He says.

Fizzarolli does; They walk upstairs to one of Ozzie’s spare rooms.

“I kept the nursery as it is. And, I figured you’d want some space of your own.” Ozzie explains.

The room was pretty simple. It was a nice green and purple, a simple bed, vanity, closet, even a window seat so he could see outside.

It was nice.

“Wow.”

“Do you like it?” Asmodeus asks.

Fizz displayed almost no emotion, he really appreciated Ozzie, and wanted to make him as happy as possible, but, this wasn’t the life he deserves, it felt so wrong… “It’s great, Oz.”

“Fizz… I can tell you’re not happy.” Ozzie says.

“I’ll get used to it.” Fizzarolli says. “I get used to everything.”

~~~Past~~~

“Listen here, Fizzarolli. If you’re going to be staying here, you’re going to work for your keep, we have no freeloaders here. Understand?” Cash asks.

“Yes, sir.” Fizzarolli says.

Cash continues. “I bought you because you have experience in performing as a clown, you can teach the other kids and you can bring in a crowd.”

Fizzarolli nods. “I will do my best…” he says.

“You’ll do better than that.” Cash explains. “Everything you get in life has to be earned. I paid a pretty penny for you, and I expect to get what I’m owed.”

“I wont cause you any trouble. And I will work my absolute hardest. You won’t regret it. I promise.” Fizzarolli says.

“You better not.” Cash says. “Because we can always just send you back.”

Fizzarolli could never forget Cash’s threat. He couldn’t let anyone down. He was lucky to even be there.

He doesn’t remember his parents… he was taken from one place to a really horrible place and trapped there since he was six.

He couldn’t go back…

He wasn’t family, and this wasn’t his home… He was an employee, nothing more.

At least to Cash…

~~~Present:~~~

“Hey, maybe this was all for the best, hm? Mammon was a huge jerk to you.” Asmodeus says.

Fizz nods. “He was…”

“What is it, Fizz? What’s wrong?”

Tears fell from Fizz’s eyes.

“Oh, baby. Come here.” Ozzie says, He opens his arms out for Fizz, and Fizzarolli ran to him and accepted the embrace.

“I feel like I’m letting everyone down.” Fizzarolli admits. “I lost everything. I crossed Mammon and now my fans, my friends, everyone hates me, I feel like maybe I should have-“

Asmodeus pet Fizz gently. “What do you mean your friends hate you?”

“They all blocked me…some after sending horrible messages to me about how I was ungrateful for everything Mammon had done… and they’re right.” Fizzarolli says.

“Fizzarolli, You need to realize that what you need matters more than what other people think of you.” Asmodeus says. “You weren’t being treated fairly, you did the right thing.”

Fizzarolli nods. “Okay.”

Asmodeus holds Fizz at arms length to talk to him face to face. “Listen, if your friends only liked you based on what Mammon thought of you, they’re not really your friends, are they?”

“Guess not…” Fizzarolli shrugs.

“Your true fans will still love you. They don’t watch you because Mammon tells them to, Mammon wanted you because the fans love you. You make hell a little bit better, you make people happy. You are fun, not to mention kind…hell doesn’t deserve you.” Asmodeus says.

Fizzarolli hugs Asmodeus again. “Thanks, Ozzie.”

~~~Past, Fizzarolli:~~~

Fizzarolli couldn’t sleep. He’s been sharing the tent with the other adult performers at the circus. He didn’t feel safe, circus people were…freaky. And he has experience with these type of people.

He crawled out of bed and snuck into the tent with Blitzo and Barbie.

“Psst.” Fizzarolli tries to get Blitzo’s attention, he’s only known them for a few weeks, but Blitzo, he felt understood him. Or at least connected with him.

Blitzo stirred, but didn’t wake up yet.

“Psst, Blitzo?” Fizzarolli asks, shaking him awake gently, he doesn’t want to wake up both of them, but he did feel like Blitzo wouldn’t really mind for some reason.

Blitzo finally woke up, then sat up on the mattress. “Fizzarolli? What’s wrong?” Blitzo whispered.

“I’m sorry, but the guy in the other room kinda scares me…and I didn’t want to wake up Cash.” Fizzarolli had tears in his eyes. “But, I also don’t want to be alone…”

“Are you okay?” Blitzo asked.

Fizz shook his head. “I don’t think so. My family- they don’t want me anymore. And now, I feel alone here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Blitzo says.

They’re only six. Blitzo didn’t understand how abnormal or traumatic that is, Fizz sure didn’t.

“It’s okay.” Fizz says, wiping his face. It wasn’t okay really, but he always tried to look for the bright side of any bad situation. “I’m just a little sad is all…”

“Well, you can sleep here with us.” Blitzo offers. “If that’s better.”

“Really?” Fizz asks.

“Sure, and we can be friends too, if you want, I guess.” Blitzo says.

“I’d like that.” Fizzarolli smiles and slips into the covers of the mattress the twins were sharing. “Thanks, Blitzo.” He whispers.

Blitzo nods. “Sure, you won’t have to worry about anything again, okay? Because we can protect you.”

Fizzarolli leaned close to Blitzo, instantly falling asleep.

Blitzo, not knowing how to respond, he just let fizz be. “Well, okay then, goodnight fizz.” He whispers before getting some sleep himself.

~~~Present, Fizzarolli and Asmodeus~~~

Night came. And fizz couldn’t help but feel out of place…

The room was huge and it didn’t feel like home.

He wrapped a blanket around himself and walked out the door, leaving the room behind.

“Ozzie?” Fizz knew Asmodeus’s home well, he’s visited a million times, even spent the night. So, he knew where Ozzie’s room was.

Asmodeus sat up and turns on the lamp beside the bed. “Fizz? What’s wrong?” He clearly wasn’t sleeping, which Fizz was glad about. He would feel bad if he woke him up.

“Can I stay here with you tonight?” Fizz asks.

Asmodeus was surprised by that, but he smiles widely. “Of course, you’re always welcome here, Fizz.”

Fizzarolli smiles, he climbs up on the very large bed and snuggles up close to Asmodeus.

“Comfy?” Asmodeus asks.

Fizzarolli nods against Ozzie’s chest. “Now it feels like home.”

Asmodeus smiles and kisses the top of Fizz’s head. “Goodnight, Fizz.”

[runawaymun]

Re your tags on another post: Celebrían is too pretty and too good - for anyone else. Elrond deserves ALL the Celebrían pretty and good. He’s the only one truly deserving of her. That clown anon saying he doesn’t needs to check themselves before I do.

CORRECT and also Galadriel and Celeborn 🤝 You. Elrond’s pretty much canonically the prettiest male elf alive at this point in time if we apply then Arwen = Lúthien & Arwen = Elrond, thus Elrond = Lúthien transitive property rule. And he has land, a title, and arguably a claim to being High King if he wanted it, plus is the bearer of the mightiest of the Three. I don’t think Galadriel would have settled for anyone less for Celebrían 😂

[onepieceblathers]

My take on who the new Four Five Emperors of the Sea will be:

First off, Morgans already gave Luffy the 5th Emperor title, so I think that’s going to stick (it will go back to 4 when he becomes Pirate King). Maybe it will just be more “official” through the World Government or something. Luffy has been outed as Nika and that terrifies them. He’s going to get the bounty and title to reflect that, no question.

Luffy, Shanks, and Blackbeard make three Emperors, so who will the other two be?

We’ll start with Buggy the Clown. Yeah, you read that right. Does he have the raw power to be on top? No. In any realistic way should he be an Emperor? No. But that doesn’t matter.

It's completely on brand for Oda to make Buggy an Emperor because his entire thing is to be a mediocre pirate who constantly fails upward and hates it while simultaneously letting it boost his overinflated ego. There is nothing that would be too ridiculous for Oda to give him because he loves him, and like it or not, One Piece is a first and foremost a gag manga. If Buggy pulls Conqueror’s Haki out of his ass and shows up at Laugh Tale against his will with the Strawhats at the end, not only is it believable given precedent (his inexplicable Shichibukai title), but highly likely. I support this because I also am a sad Buggy simp.

This leaves us with one open spot, and I think Law should get it. This poor man has been a buttmonkey for the Strawhats for TEN YEARS REAL TIME so Oda owes him karmic debt.

For real though, he’s the brains behind the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance (yeah Kin'emon, we all saw you choke at the end there), and since he’s been (inadvertently) helping the Wano cast since Punk Hazard, and the Minks since Zou (his crew fought with them against Jack), and is Luffy’s first ally, he’s got powerful backing in anything he wants to do if he asks for it. Law is their friend (whether he likes it or not) and they will now die for him.

He also finally figured out how to PLAN AROUND THE GODDAMN STRAWHATS and make it WORK! When he’s not been given a handicap, the man is a fucking beast. He was a Shichibukai who told the WG to shove it. His devil fruit is supposedly the “ultimate” one. He could theoretically rip Im’s soul out and switch it with a mouse. He’s also got that damn D in his name. Let the government’s fear of this be shown directly and give him the Emperor title.

I will admit there is a real chance that he’ll be labeled as Luffy’s lackey for comedic effect, though. In that case, there will only be 4 emperors.

Who should defiantly NOT be given an Emperor title? Eustass Kidd. Look, I know the fandom loves Kidd, I don’t understand why, but they do, so he’s a top candidate because uwu 3 cAptAINs!1! or whatever... The problem is, he hasn’t done anything of note to deserve it.

Sure, he’s strong and murders civilians en-masse, but what has he accomplished since Sabody? Had his ass kicked by Shanks and lost an arm, got tricked by Apoo and Hawkins, got beat to shit by Kaido and tossed in prison, lost his crew, escaped prison because Luffy was there to give him a Strawhat-chaos-luck-boost, was immediately re-captured when he realized Killer was an indentured servant (who ate smile because of him and also almost died because he was dumb enough to try and fight a Strawhat), then tagged along with the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance that was running on Law’s plans and Luffy’s incidental revolution power, pretended to be relevant by facing Kaido but not really doing much, and then faced off with Big Mom next to Law. I’m sorry, but while tag-teaming Big Mom with Law does make him tough, it doesn’t make him a big player on the board, which is what I think an Emperor needs to be.

Kidd’s crew is in ruins, if either Luffy or Law asked the entire the Ninja-Pirate-Mink-Samurai Alliance would turn on him because he really isn’t part of it, and as evidenced by his reaction when being lumped in with them, he doesn’t want to be. He just doesn’t have the reputation or backing for the Emperor title. If Oda gives it to him it will only be because he’s ranked high in the popularity poles which just isn’t good enough, imo.

[house-of-slayterr]

🖊

Go ahead and ramble/lore dump/give some fun facts about any/all of your ocs!

Ok were just gonna pick out some of my favorites, because I've been writing since middle school, lol.

Oc's created with @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @myers-meadow @animegoddexx @charliedawn @iloveslasher @howl-fantasies @keffirinne

Frances Lecter:

Frances is my self insert I’m writing with the lovely Meadow. It’s the first Poly relationship I’ve ever written and I’m obsessed with that. Who wouldn’t want to be married to Hannibal and this cutie? Frances was a professional Ballerina, but is now a humble dance teacher. But they love the job, and they love their partners. They’re a little accident prone, but they have people who protect them. Their friendship with William is everything!

Newton Lecter:

Newt was originally just a self insert because I was enjoying Charlie’s Hannibal series so much. But thanks to the encouragement of my followers they’ve become so much more. They’re slowly becoming a real part of the Hannibal activities and it’s so fun to watch. I love a corruption trope.

Blinky Firefly:

Blinky my sweet sweet baby! They’re easily my most fun OC. But also one of my saddest. Since they belong to the House of 1000 Corpses universe, I decided to challenge myself and cover darker topics in this series. Despite all the hard times though, they don’t let it get them down! They love clowns and circus stuff and little trinkets. But more importantly, they love their family. One of the only reasons they’ll life their knife to kill, is for them. They’re a sweet little thing and I love them.

Harmony Dwyer:

She was one of my first OC’s and for my very first special interest. She’s Bella swans younger half sibling and has autism. But she doesn’t know it yet. She’s super smart for her age, having moved up a grade in school. Harmony is very awkward, but she’s good company. Her best friends are a vampire and werewolf that are dating. And she’s the descendent of her vampire best friends soulmate who everyone thinks is dead. I love her so so much, and I need to write more for her.

Scorpius Brooks:

I’ve barely written for him yet but he’s my favourite in my Marvel series so far. He’s a vampire who’s also a vampire hunter. He loves morbid jokes and is hopeless at flirting. But he’s an excellent fighter and would kill for his loved ones. None of this stupid “hero’s aren’t killers shit” he’ll gladly claim the title Anti-hero!

Magnolia Blossom:

Maggie is my Gotham oc, from the Gotham TV series. She started as a way to appreciate Howl's OC, and slowly, well Blossomed. I adore her! She has a big heart and really just wants to help people, but she’s not afraid to get her hands dirty to get what she wants or protect her family. A very good girl! With so many secrets!

Morrigan West-Todd:

Little Mo is the best! She’s only 14 at the start of the series but she grows up so quickly. I guess anyone would living in Gotham. She’s actually from out universe, similar to my friends OC’s she randomly shifted to Gotham and now she’s stuck. But she didn’t really want to go home anyways. Why would she, she has a new family here that loves and adores her. And she has powers here, she’s much stronger than she ever would be in our world. She’s a tough cookie.

Macy Love-Hewitt:

Macy 😍 she’s just so good! She may be related to Thomas Hewitt, but she has Bo Sinclair’s personality, and the flirting skills of Jennifer Check. She a bad ass Cannibal Mechanic and we Stan. She hates everyone but her Girlfriend and her family, and won’t take shit from anyone. She may have a bit of a short temper, but she makes up for it by being tender to her loved ones.

[compartmentalisinghmpf]

Commentary #4: “(T)here could have been a real war to fight, should have been, it shouldn’t have dissolved...”

(Ramble inspired by this image.)

Instead of the image linked above, I could have easily found a piece of fan art of a!Dave looking dashing, sword and all, to illustrate this side of his life. But somehow, I doubt that that’s what much of it looked or felt like.

Although - I’m speculating now - I find it plausible that that might be an image he cultivated, a conscious performance, for a little while at least, because you don’t make a successful career in the movie business without being aware of the importance of images - and images matter even more in extremely asymmetrical warfare: nobody needs effective PR as badly as a hopelessly outnumbered resistance movement. I don’t know how well a!Dave ever really understood warfare, but I’m certain that he understood images. Perhaps, for a while, he thought that would be enough.

Speaking of PR: "the rebellion”, as it’s most frequently called, is an interesting name: equal parts silly and grandiose, with strong shades of Star Wars - a fitting name for a guerilla movement led(?) by a Hollywood celebrity.

HS canon, if I recall correctly, doesn’t give us much detail on what the fight against the Condesce actually looked like, other than some bizarre highlights like beheading clown presidents.

rng gives us a few specifics, while still keeping a lot of things vague; the two things that are clear are these:

1.) At one point, there were enough people involved to speak of “forces” or “troops”. So, for a while, it probably did resemble a war. Or at least a guerilla war. Rose calls it a war at least once, post-resurrection. Dave himself doesn’t; see title quote above. Which brings us to:

2.) It fell apart.

rng doesn’t give us a timeframe for that, but it’s implied that it happened a while before Dave’s and Rose’s deaths. It’s not clear how much of the blame for the demise of the rebellion should be laid at Dave’s door; but I suspect it’s a non-zero amount.

Mind you, the whole thing was probably unwinnable from the start. But (even leaving aside the possibility that drugs may have played a role here too, either because he passed the line between “this is keeping me functional” and “this is fucking me up”, or because supply ran out and that messed him up) - there are actual character traits that make this guy a less than ideal choice to lead a movement - even less an army or whatever the hell approximation “forces/troops” really means here.

Daves - all of HS’s Daves - are very much about ambivalence, about doubt, about avoidance. They’re not strong on willpower or decisiveness; and they really don’t like the idea of dying (which is kind of funny, because one of them is now, kinda-sorta, the God of Death).

I’ve talked before about how I’m interested in a!Dave because of his contradictions, the contrasts between different sides of him, different parts of his life, all his conflicting tendencies and potentialities.

The reason why I’m so interested in his, let’s call it war experience even if he disagrees on whether it actually deserves that epithet, isn’t that it left him with trauma (although it did), or that it made him a worse person than he would probably have been without it (although it did. Though what he thinks of as his unkindness is another complicated thing.)

The reason for my fascination with this particular angle is also not (primarily) due to how it clashes with the performative facets of the Hollywood personality or the frustrated parenting urge - although that’s interesting, too.

The main source of my fascination here is that his contradictions run deeper, and are more integral, when it comes to issues like fighting, or heroism, or leadership, or courage/bravery. In fact, they run right through the centre of each of these ideas. Dave feels conflicted about all of these things, is aware that they don’t apply to him in quite the way that... posterity (mostly in the person of Dirk) associates with him. And yet for each of these ideas, I think it would also be too simple, probably, to just negate that they represent a part of him at all. (Caveat, again: there isn’t a lot of detail available on this, I’m mostly going on the “vibes” I’m getting off certain statements and interactions.)

People in rng keep asking poor a!Dave if he would “do it again”, meaning the rebellion - and his answer is always variations of a heartfelt “hell no” (though sometimes phrased in a slightly more diplomatic way.) Once, he specifies that he’s “not brave enough”.

(This is the point in this... essay thing where I went and googled “courage” and “bravery” and “courage vs. bravery” and the like, to see if there were differences in the “official” definitions. Found lots of non-dictionary discussions to the effect of “courage is a conscious decision, bravery is a general character trait” or similar, which was also sort of my gut feeling on this, but actual dictionaries don’t seem to make quite as sharp a distinction there. Hm.)

deserts has explictly called Daves (several of them specifically, and also possibly all of them, though I’m not entirely sure; certainly all of them by implication, though) “coward(s)” in author’s commentary posts several times, though admittedly in slightly different contexts. So there it is, confirmation via word of god, right?

But it’s still complicated. For all the Daves, actually, though I don’t quite remember HS canon clearly enough to be sure if my vague impression really is supported by the text. It seems to me that they’ve all had their moments of... courage - not bravery, if you do want to make that distinction - even if they wavered a lot, and for a long time, before push came to shove.

Push does need to come to shove, for them. But there are people who wouldn’t find their courage even if pushed (and shoved).That does feel significant.

(There’s a discussion to be had, here, about whether that is sufficient to call them heroic, but this thing is getting far too long already without going into that. Although I’m sure that that’s a discussion that a!Dave has had, in his own head, more than once. Not necessarily coming to a flattering conclusion.)

What motivates courage is definitely an interesting question here, though.

For a!Dave, it’s definitely heavily implied in rng (though, again, we have no detail at this point) that “he had no choice”. The Condesce burned down his house, killed almost all of his friends and colleagues; I think we can assume, here, that she thoroughly destroyed his existence. He could have laid down and died, at that point, I guess - I mean, that is always an option, there’s always that much of a choice, even when your back’s to the wall - but... Daves don’t much like the idea of death. (He could have run, too, I guess.)

(Quite possibly/probably, there was also some residual guardian instinct, still urging him to do something to protect Dirk’s future.)

But, more importantly, there was Rose.

The game made Dave for two distinct roles, one of them being guardianship, the game’s weird, incomplete version of parenthood.

The other role he was made for, or a previous version of him was made for (he is only the remix) is that of a Knight - of Time, but that’s not the part I’m talking about here, although it’s also interesting, and is another thing that contributes to his general sense of failure, because - like the guardian role - it is another pre-ordained purpose he never got a chance to fulfill.

The part of that role that he kept, the part that he used in his life (or that used him - that free will question again...) is the knight part. Being a knight, in the context of the game, means fighting (or at least the game prepares its knights for that), and it means service. The latter, arguably, more than the former.

Dave served Rose as a knight serves his lady. We have to think queen here, more than anything romantic, probably, (though I wouldn’t be surprised if there was an element of the latter, and no matter that she’s his sister - every incarnation of Dave we see in canon is a walking, talking Oedipus complex; and these two people saw their world end, together and apparently mostly isolated from anyone else.)

Rose was the brains behind the rebellion, and the will, too. Dave took his orders from her. Hence my question mark behind the word “led”, way up near the beginning of this text.

(I don’t think that Rose is necessarily a *better* leadership figure than Dave; she has her own defects in that regard. Perhaps together they made something like... two thirds of a decent-ish leader for the rebellion, for a while - each compensating some of the lacks of the other.)

There’s ambivalences here, around leadership and following, around service and selfishness, that I don’t entirely grasp yet, that I can only suspect and surmise, because the text, rng, doesn’t come all the way out and tell us... a lot of stuff. (I don’t necessarily want it too, either.) And Dave, in particular, censors his thoughts or shies away frequently, cutting himself off before anything becomes too clear.

The free will question looms large here - how much of his ambivalence comes from the fact that the game determined essential qualities of his personality? How much of it is him resenting the way that he did conform to what the game made him? How much - conversely - is him feeling that he failed to live up to the highest ideal of what the game wanted him to be? Etc.

Interestingly, fighting as such - the other element that makes a knight a knight - in Dave’s case, specifically: swordfighting - may be the one thing in this entire cluster of ideas that he doesn’t seem to feel particularly conflicted about. He certainly doesn’t seem to feel ambivalent about his sword (and god, why does everything become a dick joke when this man is involved) like the younger Daves do. And it’s sort of the only thing out of all the things that the game made him to be or do that he actually did get to do, and be unambiguously good at. And in a strange way, it also grew out of his (aborted) guardian role, because the reason why teenage a!Dave felt he needed to become a good swordsman was that at that point he still thought that very soon he’d have to raise a child who would need to become a swordsman.

(I feel like I should also go into the topic of masculinity here, especially since we already reached dick joke stage, but... I dunno. I do have thoughts on a!Dave and masculinity, but oddly, neither swords nor fighting are particularly central to them - despite the very obvious fact that swords are A Symbol, and also despite the fact that he’s spent literal decades in a war-like situation which is traditionally a very masculine-coded thing etc. etc. -- Maybe some other time.)