#i think that works

[spoonmoment69420]

woah first art post what

[panpanix]

If Rae had a nickel for every time he traumatized someone while removing/adding his eye, he would have two nickels. Which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice.

so far anyway

[autistic-sidestep]

lying down thinking very hard abt sidestep trying ortega's cooking for the first time, canonically them liking anything ortega makes, that ortega learnt from tia elena that feeding people is the best way to befriend people and that SO many of their fond memories are food-related. (bumped into overdrive with a sugar vice step!) the necessity of needing to eat a lot to maintain their telepathy helps, ofc!

#Sugar—my brain needs the energy.     One drawback of your telepathic powers is that you need a lot of carbohydrates, and sugar is the easiest way to get them. […] the syrupy drinks you were used to back when [you were at the Farm]…

even chen's memory of a happy sidestep involves food

[non(knowssteelsuspects) tacticianstep] [i]So excited about a milkshake. Laughing with Anathema. The almost childish glee with which ${che} delighted in normalcy. In junk food and music. In movies.[/i]

which is why he stocks the fridge for an ally/friendly step

*label steelfridge (steelshelf true) "Raiding the fridge again?" Steel's voice is too soft for being inside the HQ. […] "Yeah, I'm a regular criminal," you joke, not looking back. Your eyes catch that damn shelf again, with your name clearly on it. There are some beers at the back, as well as assorted snacks. All things you've stolen in the past.

this can even be triggered by marcia from the business base

*label businessstart Sometimes, you pretend that this is what ordinary life must be like. Having a job. A daily routine. Surrounded by normal people, thinking unimportant thoughts. It's a nice enough fantasy, easy to indulge in when you sit sharing a meal with Marcia. She's brought a chili today, not as spicy as you're used to, but for a moment, you're having a flashback to another table, to another shared meal. Familiar laughter. A sense of belonging. You shut your eyes hard, and when you open them, it's Marcia's face you see and not Tía Ortega's. "Was it too hot?" Marcia looks concerned, and you realize your eyes have been tearing up. "I'm fine," you lie, hiding your face as you bite down on a piece of bread. "Thanks for sharing." "A meal is meant to be shared," she says, triggering more memories you don't want.

leading onto comforting spaces and memories with elena and ortega, it's definitely true ortega's strongly associated with food - all their meetups tend to revolve around meals

As do snacks. Is that part of what ${he} learned from ${his} mother? Feed people to make them comfortable, and you suppose the alcohol is mostly for ${him}self. (vice = "sugar") $!{he} always lets you steal ${his} snacks.

"Ooh, they have pancakes." "Pancakes." You shake your head. (*if vice = "sugar") Old memories. You used to eat those together.

What else did you have that wouldn't bring back traumatic memories? Clubs without Anathema, karaoke without Sunstream coming to life on the stage? Dinners with Tía Elena?

(retri epilogue, ortega pov)

Food. When in doubt, always go for food. $!{he} learned that trick at a young age, and it has never steered ${him} wrong.

memorial park meetup

[non alcoholic vice step] "You don't have to talk," ${he} assures you. "But what do you say we get a cup of coffee and a bite to eat?" "Coffee…" You almost laugh, because that's how people work, isn't it? When something uncomfortable happens, make sure to eat or drink something. It will make things better.

hoots

Of course ${he}'d pick a spot like this, [if see_shrink] where ${he} knows you would feel safe, especially after what you just went through. [else] the site of many of your escapades. Familiar. Safe.

"You know what Mamá would have said…." $!{he} wags ${his} finger in the air with a serious look on ${his} face. "If it tastes bad, it's good for you." Your voice is a fair approximation of Tía Elena's; you've heard that sentence often enough. For some reason, she had always been very concerned for your health. Intent on not letting you go hungry.

and ofc, the apartment scene

  "I'd like that," you admit. It sounds good; a little privacy is what you need right now. "Been a while since I ate something homemade."     "I think I still remember your favorites," ${he} says with a chuckle. "Wow. It's been ages since we did this."     "Yeah," you look away to hide your smile. "I miss it."     "So do I." For a moment, you think ${he}'s going to say something else, but ${he} doesn't.     "I like your food," you finally admit, a little lower than needed, because you're not sure how ${he} will react.

*if ((wound = "a severely bitten lower lip") or (wound = "a severely bitten lower lip, and a sore shoulder"))   "Are you sure you're going to be okay eating with that lip?" $!{he} touches ${his} own in sympathy.   "I'm not going to starve," you say with a careful smile. "Just don't make it too spicy."   "But I like spice…," ${he} complains.   "Sucks to be you then."   [*if ortega_friendship >= 75] Your smile softens somewhat. "You can always add it last, just to your portion."

"Any requests?" $!{his} voice is light and airy, clearly attempting to strike a lighter mood. "I like everything you make," you say, with a nonchalant shrug. [...]

It feels surprisingly normal sitting in Ortega's kitchen, one leg pulled up on your chair, watching ${him} cook. You helped cut the vegetables, but once the preparations were done, the stove was all [hers/his]. A familiar routine. It used to be what you did back in the day, maybe not every week, but when you had the time. The smell brings back fond memories [...]

"It's been a long time since we did this." Ortega again, breaking the silence that had been building, putting food on your plates. "Yeah," you admit, wishing it didn't smell so good, wishing the smell didn't take you back. […] "Do you like it?" "You're a good cook but such a sucker for compliments," you say, shoving in another mouthful. "I like it." […] You don't know what to feel as you watch ${him} eat, sharing ${his} table, sharing ${his} food. Sharing ${his} home. $!{his} friendship. $!{his} heart.

epilogue (recovering in chen's apartment + dating ortega)

 "Your kitchen really sucks." Not exactly the smartest thing to say, but ${he}'s never been that good with words when ${he}'s stressed. "You know that, right?"   "I know," Wei sighs, with the long-suffering look he has perfected over the years. "And you know it too. You say it every time you cook here."   "$!{he} cooks here?" [...]   "Occasionally." Wei sits down at last, giving Spoon a scratch before the dog pads back to ${name}'s side. "When ${he} feels I've been eating too badly."   "I know your stomach doesn't always agree with food, but occasionally you just need some homemade caldillo." ${ortega_name} turns back to the stove, glad for the opportunity to busy ${his} hands. The closest thing ${he} can get to meditation, that, and the bike. [...] And everything starts with a delicious dinner. Even if ${he} has to be careful with the chili.   $!{he}'s made worse sacrifices.

of course ortega learned it all from tia.

 "Not Ortega?" Steel sounds surprised, which is annoying. Are you that predictable?     "You know Tía Ortega. Dishes get done in that household." You can't help but smile at the memory. Another life. Another world. Did you use to be happy once?

[...]

Once upon a time, [if ortega_former ally] you were a frequent guest at [Elena's] house // [else] you were close. Back when she lived in the city. Invited into her home, at her dinner table. Hugs. Friendly laughter.

[...]

But it would also mean meeting her again. Stepping back into the past, being soft, loved, cared for, and you…you're not the same. Ortega hasn't told her about you for a reason.

i just.... augHHH. food as love.

[urlocalwormtoday]

OH DEAR GOD NOT AGAIN 😭

so uh-

Q!Tubbo fans have had a lot to talk about 0-0

mainly Ollie and Tubbo and how they hope it doesn't turn into a Frubbo situation

and I can't help but agree, considering how even tho last time it WAS pretty cute, the fandom seemed to make it into his whole personality?? And on top of that there was little to no communication between him and the admins

honestly, I just hope it's like a really close friendship TvT

irl I have so many close friends that all flirt with each other (and me) but it's never like a serious romantic thing, y'know??

so I think it's a general consensus that the fandom would rather not have Frubbo 2 xd

[corvidcentral]

Tragedy of Simone Petrikov

Click for better quality. Progress pics below cut

[duckmumbo]

mcrp is wild bc one character will be an amnesiac at least 100 year old woman who can’t accept that she cares about a kid in a parental way and then the other character will be a 6 year old getting possessed by the ender king watching her brother bite off his own hand and then kill himself because the void made him hurt her and his own kids while she’s trapped in her own mind unable to do anything. And you play them both.

[lightlycareless]

What if y/n was a peasant from a nearby village he just happened to stumble upon instead of coming from a sorcerer family? their dynamic would be worse off

For sure!!

But there will be certain differences in the main story overall I believe; this is how I imagine it would go down:

Y/N would’ve been berated far much worse at the beginning, she would’ve been essentially treated like another servant; no one would’ve assigned her “the best of the staff” as her ladies-in-waiting, Junko wouldn’t be as patient with her because since she’s a “peasant” she should already know how to do certain chores around the house, and her condescending nature OOF. Kicked up a notch, or two, or three.

I don’t think there would’ve been that much of resistance from her at the beginning—I’m going down the route that due to her possibly poor upbringing, her parents instilled her with the mentality that she either works for the rest of her life or strives to marry someone that will save her and her family from their living situation—if anything, she’d be looking forward into marrying Naoya. Her salvation in a way.

Her relationships with the rest of the characters would go as follow:

Her family, let’s say Hinata and Ren, would not be interested in saving her. Why? The Zen’in are sending money, so… that’s it.

Eiichi would’ve been ecstatic to see someone so interested in marrying his daughter, more so from a high-ranking family as the Zen’in. He’d maybe even chase Naoya around to convince him into taking Y/N’s hand in marriage.

They don’t have the same standing in this AU as they do in the original story, so Satoru isn’t even in the picture. In a way, they’re nobodies that got lucky, that’s all.

Haruko, Hitomi, and Mariya are not involved either. They’ll see her from afar, maybe help her from time to time, but there isn’t a connection. Y/N is focused on something else entirely, so she doesn’t approach them with meanings of socializing, thus, they don’t become close.

Mai and Maki are out of the frame as well, Y/N takes her “duties” intently, so she does not have any contact with them. The twins keep their distance from her, thinking of her to be an extension of Naoya’s crude personality and disregarding her completely.

Now, ONTO THE JUICIER DETAILS HAHAH

I feel like Y/N would be the one to fall in love with Naoya first. He’d be attracted to her, but… there’s nothing else to it—she’s as submissive as she can be, there’s no… well, no “personality” so he’s not intrigued.

Because of that she’ll be the one to follow him around, do her best to impress him but he just isn’t budging. This is where Naoaki, his brother, steps in.

I think their meeting would happen somewhat similarly, she’s deeply heartbroken by her continuous failure in amusing Naoya; because after all’s been said and done, she’s still a hopeless romantic. In her mind it just made sense: she has nothing to offer, no money, no reputation, so why did Naoya marry her? Because he likes her, obviously. But when she realizes she’s nothing to be but a mare, she’s struck with sadness.

Naoaki will see that, and he’ll do his best to comfort her—she’s completely isolated from everyone (once again, she isn’t interested in doing the greater good, just her duties, so the staff doesn’t really vibe with her) and that makes him feel bad.

Their relationship begins to grow from there, and because Y/N craves to be appreciated, she would've fallen in love with Naoaki. For sure this time, no hesitation on her part, outside of thinking that she isn’t supposed to be disloyal to her husband, but outside of that, I think they would’ve done… more together.

The estate will start to see them together and they’ll mock Naoya about it. He’ll certainly be angry, treat Y/N way worse than trash, but he won’t start caring for her when he realizes she’s emotionally disconnected whenever the two are together.

She’d still do her duties, even through the rumors that plague them. I don’t know how to approach this situation because she’s not of a higher rank so maybe it’s like, not that surprising she’s hanging around with Naoaki, and who cares that a peasant is doing that and what not… and she’s not pregnant either soooo, but she's Naoya's wife too... but we’ll go with that for this occasion.

Y/N will still claim loyalty to Naoya (ironic) but… it’s not the same, and he notices that: she doesn’t seem to receive him with the same happiness as before, with the same enthusiasm, now solely reserved for his brother. It's like she's doing the bare minimum.

This is when he slowly starts to realize that maybe he did like Y/N after all—when her absence becomes more and more obvious whenever he’s home, he grows desperate to have her look at him again and he'll try to mend their marriage.

And then, shocking news rattle the estate that send Naoya into a spiraling frenzy, thinking that his marriage is completely finished: she’s pregnant 😊

[fangirlwriting-stories]

The Upkeep Of A Balcony

Summary: Youngblood is given a room right above Noise as a child, and over the years comes to use the handy balconies as a way to get in at night.

...

Youngblood isn’t sure how he feels about much yet.  This is all so new, and he doesn’t even know where to begin with most of it.  His first day of school is over at this point, and he’s been taken back to what’s going to be his room, so he’s wandered outside to the balcony and is now looking up at the stars.  They don’t look any less small from up here than they do on the ground.  Is that how it’s supposed to be?

Youngblood sighs and drops his gaze to the ground, which definitely does look smaller from up here.  He’s not sure if he still wants to be down there or not.  He’s not sure if he wants to be up here either though.  Everything is so new.  And he’s not opposed to new, he’s just… unsure.

As Youngblood looks down at the ground, trying to think, he suddenly finds himself looking at a face in between him and the ground.

Youngblood blinks, but before he can say anything, the face breaks out in a smile.

“Youngblood!  It is Youngblood, right?”

Youngblood blinks again, and then he recognizes the face.  He nods.

“Cool!  I’m in the room below you!” Noise calls happily.  “Do you think I can climb up there?”

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” Youngblood says.

Noise huffs, seemingly annoyed, but doesn’t disagree with him.  He bites his lip, seeming to think for a minute.  “Alright, we can talk like this then,” they say, leaning out further from the balcony.

“Don’t fall!” Youngblood calls, throwing out his hands.  “Just— just wait!”

Carefully, he puts one of his legs over the edge of the balcony, holding on to the railing with as tight a fist as he can manage.  Then he puts his other leg over, and stands there for a minute.

He takes a deep breath, and starts to lower one of his feet down, slowly, slowly, until finally, he just barely finds the railing of the balcony below him.  He moves his other foot the same way, and then finds himself holding on to the edge of his balcony with his fingertips, his tiptoes on the thin railing below him, nothing at his back, and a long way down.

Maybe this isn’t such a great idea.

But before he can doubt too much, Noise calls, “I’ve got you!”

Suddenly, there are hands wrapped around Youngblood’s waist, and he feels himself yanked forward and onto the balcony.  He yelps in surprise just before he and Noise both end up splayed out on the balcony, in various states of on top of each other.

Noise is silent for a minute, and then they start laughing.

Youngblood gives him a look, but it isn’t long before he’s laughing too.

“Come on!” Noise says, once they both stop laughing, and then they pull Youngblood up by the arm and into their room.

“This is my room!” Noise calls happily, spinning around and throwing their arms out like he’s presenting it to Youngblood for approval.

“My room looks like this too,” Youngblood observes, turning to look around it.

Noise deflates at that, huffs and crosses their arms.  “Well, we’re going to have to decorate then,” he says.  “We can’t live in rooms that look exactly the same, how will anyone know which one of us is prettier?”

“And you can tell that by looking in someone's room?” Youngblood asks in confusion.  “Wait, which one of us are you saying is prettier?”

“Do you wanna have a sleepover?” Noise asks, bouncing excitedly on their toes.  “Since you probably can’t safely get back up on your balcony anyway and it would be super fun?”

Youngblood gives this a moment’s consideration.  “Okay,” he says eventually, because Noise seems fun, and he wants to get to know him.

Noise must be excited by this prospect too, because they give a happy little wiggle and grab Youngblood’s arm again, pulling him towards their bed.

“So.”  Noise plops them both down, and Youngblood takes a minute to shake off the dizziness from all the rapid-pace movement.  “First day thoughts?”

Youngblood bites his lip.  “I don’t know,” he admits.  “Everything seems really uncertain right now.”

“Ugh, I know, right?” Noise groans, collapsing back on his bed.  “It’s like, I don't know if I was right to be nervous, or wrong, or… whatever.  I mean, it doesn’t feel as bad as I thought it was going to, it just kind of feels… weird?  Different.”

“Yeah, exactly!” Youngblood exclaims, lurching forward a little ways.  He stops a second after doing so and shrinks back.  He doesn’t mean to be loud, he’s just grateful to find someone who feels as unsure about things as he does.

Noise doesn’t seem to mind, however, because he’s just sitting up again and nodding at Youngblood.  “I still want to do good, though,” they say.  He takes a deep breath, still looking nervous, but puffs his chest up.  “I’m gonna do super good, and impress everyone.  And then, when I get older, I’ll be first chair!”

Youngblood’s eyes widen.  “You’re going to be first chair?” he asks.  “Don’t you have be super talented for that?”

“No duh,” Noise says, rolling their eyes.  “Don’t worry.  It won’t take long before they all recognize my greatness.  And then, I’ll have a spot right next to me for you, in second chair.”

“What?  Why?”

“Cause we’re friends!” Noise says happily.

“Wait, we are?  Says who?”

“Says me, dummy,” Noise says, smiling at him, before his smile fades a little.  “I mean… unless you don’t wanna be?”

“No, I do!” Youngblood says instantly, leaning forward and grabbing Noise’s hand.  The idea of having a friend to help him find his footing sounds way better than trying to tackle this all on his own.  And the idea of it being Noise sounds even better than just that.

Noise is right back to smiling again a second later.  “Great!” they call.  “Then I’m so happy we’re friends, Youngblood!”

Youngblood finds himself smiling back, just a little.  “Me too,” he says.

He’s glad of something else too.  That if he has to be unsure, at least he doesn’t have to be unsure alone.

…

Youngblood gets much better at climbing down from balconies over the years.  By the time he and Noise reach teenage years, it’s second nature for him to swing down and onto Noise’s balcony, to the point that he can almost do it one-handed.

He’s a little hesitant about doing it tonight.  But he doesn’t want to avoid the problem until it gets too big.  He cares about Noise too much for that.

So, he swings down and walks the familiar steps to Noise’s door, only to find it locked when he gets there.

“Noise!” Youngblood calls, knocking as loud as he dares.  “We need to talk!”

“Go away!” comes the muffled call from inside.

“Seriously, Noise,” Youngblood says, trying to peer into the door.  “Come talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Oh come on, Noise,” Youngblood rests his head on the cool glass of the door.  “I don’t even want the chair.  You know that.  I’d much rather be second chair to you.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“I’m sorry, Noise,” Youngblood says.  “If I got to pick, I would have made you first chair.  I promise.”

There’s another moment of silence, and then Youngblood sees a dark shape shift in the room.  It’s hard to see exactly since the space is so dark, but Youngblood isn’t sure what else it could be, so he steps back.  Sure enough, a second later, Noise opens the door.

“…Sorry,” he mumbles, staring down at the ground.

Youngblood sighs in relief and steps forward again, pulling Noise into a hug.  “It’s alright,” he says.  “I’m sorry, Noise.”

“You didn’t do anything.  You were right, it’s not your choice.”

“I wish it was,” Youngblood murmurs.  “I would turn it down so fast.”

“What?” Noise leans back.  “Are you nuts?  First chair, Youngblood.”

“I don’t want first chair.  Noise, you’ve wanted that chair as long as we’ve both been here.  I just… all I’ve ever wanted was to be second chair to you.  I really am sorry it wasn’t you.  You deserve it.”

Noise steps back from Youngblood’s arms, looking down at the ground.  “I… it’s okay.  If you could always be satisfied with the idea of being second chair to me, then…”

They look up at Youngblood, a more determined smile on their face.

“Then I can too,” he announces.  “Because you’re going to be great.  And you deserve the chair too, Youngblood.”

“I… I don’t even want it, Noise,” Youngblood mutters, though his cheeks are heating up as he looks to the side.

“Well too bad,” Noise says, grabbing Youngblood by the hand and pulling him into their room.  “Because your greatness has finally been recognized, and you deserve all of the good things coming your way.”

“Noise,” Youngblood grumbles.

“Hey, does anyone not know how amazing my best friend is?” Noise calls loudly.  “Because I’ll sing it from the rooftops!”

“Noise, you’re going to get us in trouble!” Youngblood says, covering Noise’s mouth with his hand, but he’s starting to smile, and things are already feeling better.

Neither of them want to leave, so they end up tangled together in Noise’s bed.  Youngblood winds up with his arms wrapped around Noise, and he’s trying very hard to not focus on the way that makes his chest flutter.

“Noise?” he murmurs.

“Hmm?”

“I’m really sorry you didn’t get first chair.”

Noise is quiet for a minute.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t happy for you, Youngblood,” he says softly.

“You can be happy for me and sad for you at the same time,” Youngblood says, tightening his grip slightly.

Noise nods slightly and buries their head in Youngblood’s chest.

“And hey,” Youngblood says.  “I know it’s not exactly what we’ve always planned, but don’t think I’m not going to bring my best friend and second chair along with me on all my adventures.”

Noise laughs a little.  “Good,” he says.  “You better.”

Youngblood can’t imagine ever doing anything else.

…

“Noise, we can’t find Youngblood anywhere, have you seen—”

The guard at the door is promptly interrupted by a pillow to the face as Youngblood scrambles to pull the blankets back over him and Noise both.  Noise is cackling, throwing their head back in laughter even as they also pull the blanket up over their bare chest.

“For fucks sake,” Youngblood snaps at the guard, who is shielding their face and has gone bright red.  “I know you people need me for a million things every day now, but do I not get a single night off?”

First chair duties have only gotten more taxing over the years, and Youngblood isn’t going to lie and say things with Noise haven’t gotten a little strained from time to time.  He… also isn’t going to lie and say that strain hasn’t come from a different place too, however, one they sort of… addressed, last night.

Now if only the guards can let him disappear for a single second without it being the end of the world.

“I, um, apologies, I’ll… leave you be, then,” the guard says, backing out of the room and closing the door after.

Noise doubles over on the bed while still laughing, and Youngblood turns to them with a glare.

“And what exactly about this situation is so funny?”

“What exactly about this situation isn’t funny?” Noise counters, grinning up at him.  “‘Oh Noise, I’m so sorry I’ve been neglecting our friendship, it’s just that the guards never seem to leave me alone and need to have tabs on me at all times!  Oh, you know what sounds like a great idea in this situation?  Take your pants off—’”

“Okay,” Youngblood groans, burying his burning face in his hands.  “It’s not like it was a one-sided decision, you know.”

“Oh, it most definitely was not,” Noise says.  He reaches up and tugs slightly at the blanket Youngblood is now using to cover himself, and Youngblood pulls it further up with a glare.

“Oh don’t tell me you’re getting shy on me now,” Noise purrs, leaning closer with a smirk.  “You didn’t seem all that shy last night—”

“I,” Youngblood cuts them off with a snap.  “Have to go.  Because unfortunately I don’t think that guard is going to be gone for long, and I’d rather not have a repeat of what just happened.”

Youngblood instantly regrets snapping, however, when he sees Noise’s face fall.

“Oh,” he says quietly, looking back down at the blanket and starting to tug on it much more uncomfortably.

Ah, shit.

“Wait, that’s not what I meant,” Youngblood says, reaching out and grabbing Noise’s hand.  “I’m not—”  He takes a breath.  “I’m going to go get cleaned up and come back here, and then we’ll go to breakfast together, okay?  You’re coming with me today.”

Noise looks up at him.  “You think they’ll let you do that?”

“I don’t much care,” Youngblood admits, and before he can second guess himself, he leans in and kisses Noise on the cheek.  Noise starts smiling again, which makes it worth it.

“Okay,” they say.  “I’ll meet you back here in ten?”

“Deal,” Youngblood says, a smile of his own growing, and he climbs out of the bed to look for the clothes he tossed off rather haphazardly last night.  He doesn’t hear movement from the bed behind him, and after a second he turns to see Noise still smiling, eyes pointed downwards.

“My eyes are up here, you know,” he says.

Noise raises his gaze and smirks.  After a second, Youngblood gives a fond huff and heads out towards the balcony.  Looks like he’ll be swinging up this time.

…

“Youngblood?”

Youngblood doesn’t move, just stares out at the clouds surrounding the bard college.

“Youngblood, come on.  Are we not going to talk about what’s bothering you?”

Youngblood looks down to see Noise glaring up at him, arms crossed.

“What’s there to talk about?” he asks.

“Are you honestly going to make me come up there?”

“Maybe you should.  I’m always the one coming down there, maybe it’s your turn.”

“Youngblood.”

Youngblood sighs.  “Honestly, Noise, it’s nothing, okay?  I’m— I’m sure I’m overreacting.”

“It doesn’t seem like you’re overreacting.  Or it doesn’t seem like you think you are.”

“Well, I am,” Youngblood says.  “It’s not— don’t worry about it.”

“Of course I’m going to worry about it.  Youngblood, I’m going to worry about you.”

Youngblood doesn’t say anything.

“Is it— is it your fire?” Noise asks.  “I keep telling you, you just need practice.  I’ll help you—”

“No, it’s— it’s not that.”  For once.

“What is it, then?”

Youngblood looks up towards the stars.  “Noise, do you—” he stops.

“What?  What is it?”

“Do you still want the first chair position?”

“What?”

“Just answer me, please?”

“Where is this coming from?”

“I don’t know,” Youngblood lies.  “I… do you think I was given the position… unfairly?”

“Did someone say that?” Noise growls.  “I’ll duel them right now, just tell me who—”

“No, no one said that Noise, come on,” Youngblood says, giving them a look.  “I just…”  He stops, and bites his lip.

There’s a moment of silence.

“Youngblood,” Noise says, “what is going on?”

“How much do you think they know about us before we do?” Youngblood murmurs, definitely too quietly for Noise to hear him.  “Is it possible?”

“What did you say?”

Youngblood sighs and looks down at Noise.  “I don’t want to take anything from you.”

“You’re not taking anything from me,” Noise says, looking seriously concerned.  “Youngblood, come here.  Come talk to me.”

Youngblood doesn’t move.

“Youngblood.”

“It’s fine,” Youngblood says.  “Today was a long day.  I’m sure I’m just tired.”

“Okay, I’m coming up there.”

“No, you’re not.  I’m going to bed.  Everything will feel better tomorrow morning.  Goodnight, Noise.”

“Youngblood.”

Youngblood turns around and walks back to his room.  For good measure, he locks his door.

…

Youngblood is still shaking, and it’s been hours.  The infirmary had told him Noise will live.  He’ll live.  What does that mean?  They’re just as badly hurt as Youngblood fears?  He’s hurt, maybe permanently, and it’s Youngblood’s fault?  They’re going to hate him forever and Youngblood can’t even be mad because he’ll deserve every bit of it?  He knew practicing was a bad idea.  Why did he let Noise convince him to try it?  His system where he represses everything works fine.  It works fine and he never should have even considered otherwise.

Youngblood paces back and forth across his balcony.  The fresh air doesn’t seem to be clearing his head like it’s supposed to.  Honestly, it’s not even doing such a great job at being air, because Youngblood feels like he can’t breathe.

Honestly though, with everything that’s happened lately, he can’t be that surprised.  He discovers that everyone above him is trying to turn him into some kind of fucked up singing weapon, and before he can even tell Noise, when Noise tries to help him get some kind of a hold on his abilities, he burns them.

Youngblood leans back against the railing of his balcony and slumps down to the ground, burying his head in his knees.  What is he supposed to do?  What is he supposed to do?

Before he can try and come to any kind of conclusion, he hears noise from down below.  Wait, not just noise, he hears Noise from down below, from where his balcony doors are left open.

Youngblood scrambles to his feet and grabs for the railing.  He’s shaky, but at this point he thinks he could do this in his sleep, and so it’s not difficult to swing down below.

The guards are leaving as he appears in the doorway, and one of them yelps when he notices Youngblood, taking a step back and holding up his hands like Youngblood is going to hurt him.

Well, given what he probably knows, it’s not an unreasonable fear.

Youngblood is still first chair though, so he draws his shoulders up and waves the guards away.

They give half a glance at Noise, but do so, shutting the door after them.

Youngblood moves quickly towards the bed, where Noise is lying unconscious.  Unconscious is the word, he looks too uncomfortable for it to count as sleep.  They have bandages wrapped around the areas where Youngblood burned them.  They have an eyepatch.  Their face is screwed up in pain.

Youngblood buries his head in his hands to muffle the cries that are starting, his shoulders beginning to shake.

He doesn’t have the first clue what to do.  He can’t wake Noise up.  But he has to apologize, doesn’t he?  Don’t they have to talk about it?  Doesn’t he have to fix this?  What does he do?

Youngblood reaches out towards Noise, his hand still shaking.  He stops before he can touch his face.

What has he done already?  He can’t… what if anything he tries next just makes it worse?  What if he tries to explain to Noise what he knows and they both have to run?  What if Noise can’t make it that far because Youngblood hurt him to the point of needing time to recover?  What if he hurts them again?

What if Noise is just… better off without him?  There’s certainly plenty of evidence to prove that theory.  Without him, Noise would be first chair.  He wouldn’t have to deal with Youngblood getting dragged away all the time.  He wouldn’t have to be worried about him.  He wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

Youngblood takes a shaky breath.  He pulls his hand back to his side.  Reconsiders.  Reaches out again.  Gently tilts Noise’s face towards him.  Leans forward and kisses their forehead.

Turns and runs.

…

This is a long time coming, honestly.

Noise looks up at the stars, as usual mostly blocked by the balcony above him.  He’s considered tearing it down many times.  They have that kind of authority now, as first chair.

Instead, Noise reaches up and brushes his fingers on the underside of the balcony above him.  They feel reminiscent tonight.

They shouldn’t.

Noise puts one of his legs over the edge of the balcony, holding on to the railing.  Then he puts his other leg over, and stands there for a minute.

Then they reach up and effortlessly pull themselves up to the balcony above them.  It’s even easier to swing his legs over and land on the balcony.  There’s nothing blocking the stars now.  Lucky bastard.

Noise braces his hands on the railing and takes a steadying breath.  It’s been a year to the day, tonight.  They shouldn’t be here.  They should be anywhere else.

As if the universe wants to provide more reasons for Noise to know he’s right on that, the doors slam open behind him.

“Who’s there?  I’m warning you—”

Noise turns, a cold look on their face.

The young brat who lives in the room above immediately goes pale.  “Noise, sir!  I— I didn’t mean—”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” Noise says coolly.  “Go back to bed.”

“But— but this is my—”

Noise raises an eyebrow.

The brat goes silent, turns around, and walks back into the room.

Noise turns back to look at the stars again after that incredibly rude interruption.  He looks casually down at the ground far below.  They probably shouldn’t have made him climb down with that far of a drop as a danger, especially not when the two of them had first met.  They’d been so inexperienced.

Noise looks up again.  He considers him, momentarily, emotionlessly.  It is emotionless.  They feel nothing.

A dangerous traitor.  Noise has been such a fool.

He climbs over the edge of the balcony and swings down below, the last time anyone will ever do so.

Noise is first chair.  They deserve better than a student room.  Really, he should have left years ago.  There’s no reason for them to stay, nothing holding them to this room, this balcony.

Noise reaches up and touches the underside of it one more time as he moves back towards the room.  He will have it torn down, he thinks.

It’s poetic.

[decomposedloves]

I want him in my mouth (not in a sexual way) (i wanna tear his flesh apart with my teeth and drink his blood) (maybe it is in a sexual way)

[snowshinobi]

made poor lvl 50 Neuvillette farm his own artifacts. got a nice feather! now for an hp-laden sands and flower pls

[trollbreak]

Ummmm I’m taking ur most just some guy characters and sittin wif em to try n draw mauve

[inkstatics]

Lmao when you compress the image so it'll fit anywhere that'sn’t your files and art program.

[the-travelling-witch]

thinking about splitting my gamer bf post in two parts, 8 characters is a lot of work ㅠㅠ

[ntls-24722]

so i think this may be the weirdest thing i've ever created out of my insane music man obsession

So, that weird Springtrap drawing (and the explanation of glitchtrap's cult leading a project whose mission is to, quote, make an organism who could make massive remnant deposits out of a single being) is part of a weird big AU ("SOS") that i've just kinda mentioned which i actually plan to ramble about on here pretty soon

That project's known as the Oort Cloud and they've made thousands of attempts (known as "planetnids") to create that perfect being, right? They actually had a secret success in a planetnid who was honestly just made for the sake of being living concept art - a mosquito themed fellow who actually shared the same goal as the Oort Cloud.

However, he had no intent on using his ability to bring some old, dead guy to godhood.

One of their greatest successes became the Oort Cloud's worst nightmare because their success was in a shapeshifting, charismatic arrogant weirdo who proceeded to go on a decades-long spree decapitating people and sucking their souls out their necks just to have more people to suck souls out of, before the same eventually happening to him.

So i kindaaa...

[[CW FOR BODY HORROR]]

...eeeew

[thetwiggiesttwig]

i think i will post doodles actually i think

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!