#it took days ya'll

[isobel-thorm]

“ʜᴇʟʟᴏ. ʏᴏᴜ’ᴠᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴄʜᴇᴅ ʟᴀᴋᴇꜱɪᴅᴇ ɪɴɴ. ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀʟʟ ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴍᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ʏᴏᴜʀ ɴᴀᴍᴇ, ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ɴᴜᴍʙᴇʀ, ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ, ᴡᴇ’ʟʟ ɢᴇᴛ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀꜱ ꜱᴏᴏɴ ᴀꜱ ᴡᴇ ᴄᴀɴ. ɪꜰ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɪʟᴍᴏ ᴏʀ ᴊᴀᴀᴋᴋᴏ, ʜᴀɴɢ ᴜᴘ, ɪ’ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ʙᴀɪʟɪɴɢ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏᴜᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴊᴀɪʟ. ᴀɢᴀɪɴ.”

[playertwotails]

I've been thinking about something that happened a few years ago to me that's funny and just Tails and Sonic in a similar situation.

So bit of a personal story time first. I have an older sister and we look and act nothing alike. (Like it's to the point people assume I'm related to my brother-in-law first before my own sister) Well at her wedding I was helping to get her ready and the photographer was taking pics with her assistant. Now we knew both the photographer and the assistant girl, photographer from church and the assistant from highschool/dance classes, so both of them had known both me and my sister for years. So I'm in the wedding party and already ready and the assistant girl comes up to me and was like "Omg how are you! I didn't know you even knew the bride how do you two know each other?" And like she is a super nice person and I had to look her dead in the eye and go "oh she's my sister..." Ya'll the 5 sec reboot I caused this girl to go through is still funny to me to this day and the look of confusion and panic when what I said sunk in. Cause like what is she supposed to say after that when why the fact me and my sister have the same last name finally clicked.

Anyways now I'm just thinking of a scenario when someone is talking to Tails and it's something for Sonic (like a party or something). And someone comes up to Tails, maybe someone who knew Sonic a long time ago and just doesn't keep up with the news and has never meet or heard of Tails somehow. (Or maybe it's just a rando and they're trying to be mean to Tails and have that self important attitude of 'why are you even here?' to Tails) But they come up to Tails and are like "oh hey how do you know Sonic??" and Tails just looks them dead in the eye and just goes "oh he's my older brother." And just cue the panic and surprise and they try to put two and two together but they're blue screening over what Tails just said.

Idk we were looking at the wedding photo's while organizing and this popped into my head lol.

[bembwashere]

AHIT's 5th Anniversary!

just a tid bit late on this one but ta-dah!

Decided to go all out on this one because it's been 5 years since this game officially came out and of course, i am legally obligated to do something for that.

didn't add dlc characters in because i think that would of pushed this till tomorrow and i'd rather draw something aside from this for a while gfgdfa

[imchronicallydepressed]

☆This is still a work in progress, but this is mostly what the first part will be. I will most likely post this on Archive of our Own at some point, just cause some people might prefer to read it on there.

☆I absolutely adore feedback, so please let me know if I can use some work on certain spots or even if it's just to tell me you enjoy it.

☆Double spacing exists solely cause I felt it looked better, I may take it away. Idk

☆ENJOY, PLEASE

Metal Institute

Pt.1

♠︎♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎

You're not good enough

You'll never be good enough

Everything you do only leads to disappointment

Your family hates you

Your mother

Your sister

Even Your father

They all hate you

"Shut up."

You're a mistake and that's all you'll ever be in this life

"You're wrong."

Why do you think they put you in here then? Do you think this is some camp? Get to play around outside all day then go sleep in a tent? Tell stories around the campfire while indulging in sweets?

You're living in a fucken fantasy, Glam.

A laugh. "My name isn't Glam. It's Sebastion and You're nothing but a voice in my head, schizophrenia as the doctors call it. Father put me in here to make me better and that's exactly what the doctors are doing." A smile crossed his lips.

Blasphemy and you know it. We both know it. I'm your conscience and you need to accept that cause guess what, You're stuck with me.

You hate the name Sebastion and you hate playing the Violin. You love rock music and your best friend was a guy you met by the dumpster, remember that?

"I don't know what you're talking about. Father never allowed me to have friends and I would never make friends with someone near the dumpster no less."

How about your favorite song, huh? What about Twisted Sister?

"That music is unholy, shouldn't even be legal. It's rubbish. Bach and Vivaldi are-"

Bach and Vivaldi are the real rubbish. You hate that shit. That's all you were forced to listen to, forced to play.

The father you claim to love you beat you with a ruler. Remember that?! Remember how he made you bleed?! All because you were off by an eighth of a pitch!

"Stop it. You're lying."

These doctors that you claim are helping you are doing the fucken opposite! They're brainwashing you into staying under your father's thumb!

You should've ran, should've went back to your friend, but instead you stayed and look what happened! He beat you and now your in a mental asylum! All because you didn't want the type of life he was making you have!

"S-Shut up!" His hands went to his face, covering his eyes as tears slowly began to trickle down. It wasn't true, was it? His father wouldn't lock him away just cause he... wanted a different life, right?

Look at yourself! Look at your wrists! Look at the scars your father inflicfed upon you! Look at the marks from the binds that held you down while the doctors performed their sick experiments on you! What about your ankles? Tied so damn tight that it nearly cut off blood flow, all so you couldn't escape!

Look at those wounds covering your body and tell me that I'm not speaking the truth.

He moved his hands down from his face, leaning over to the dim moonlight that shown in through the plexiglass window. Tears rolled off his cheeks now, one after another as he examined his wrists, the scars that will forever remain due to his dear father.

Look at them, Glam.

Tell me, does this look like something a loving father would allow? Would a loving father allow such experiments to be had on his one and only son? Would a loving father beat their son?

He placed his hands over his mouth, trying to muffle the soft sobs that followed his tears. He'd been so far gone with all the 'treatments' that he blantly accepted them. He blantly accepted being strapped to a cold metal table, allowing the doctors to inject God knows what into his veins.

The food he ate, the beverages he'd recieved... who knows what was in them, what sort of shit he was being slipped. Not to mention the effects he'd been feeling. The nausea, the headaches, the fuzzy memories, and now he was hearing voices...

You finally get it, don't you?

Your father doesn't love you. You will forever be a disappointment in his eyes and you will forever be in your sisters shadow.

"L-Leave Lydia out of this... she doesn't deserve to be... placed on the same platform like father." He spoke again, dragging his hands down his face and pulling his legs up.

As much as he despised being constantly compared to the likeness of his sister, she'd never once laid a hand on him. She'd actually used to be the one to bandage him up when they were younger, while their mother hid in the shadows, too scared to stand up for her children.

Tell me, Sebastion... what sort of platform does your loving father deserve to be put on? What sort of outcome does he deserve in all this?

"Outcome? He won't get to receive the deserved outcome. In the end, I'm stuck in here and... those doctors will continue to try and... 'fix me'."

Oh, don't you worry about that. He will get his fill of Karma. Don't frazzle your pretty mind with such worry. Besides, you have me! I will get you out of here.

"How will you help me escape? You're nothing but my own conscience. Besides, the guards in this place are armed."

You needn't worry. All in due time. Why don't we look at the future, though? Why don't we look at what will come to your father?

So tell me, when we do escape, and we will by any means necessary, what end does your father deserve?

He began to laugh, his eyes seeming to fill the dark room with vivid thoughts. Then his laughing grew. It became louder and louder, more maniacal. The things he was seeing, the actions he was performing... Violent actions. The same actions he had once written down, the same actions his father had confronted him about upon finding his journal.

He still felt like such an idiot for that mistake. If he just... double checked, and made sure that the 'line of defense' wasn't at a risk of being found out about. None of this would have happened. He might still be stuck at home, sure, but he'd have his best friend. He'd have access to his records. He'd have access to THE record.

"I'll tell you what he deserves! I'll tell you what end I want to grant him!" He stood, going to the window and placing his hands firmly upon it, glancing up at the moon.

"I want to see his blood spill. I want to beat him with that fucken ruler until he's begging for mercy. Maybe even a baseball bat!" He turned, facing the darkness of the room, more laughing emitting from his mouth. Now he really did sound like he belonged in such a place.

"I want him to suffer and bleed, the same way I had to. I want to see that bastard cry and beg for forgiveness!" He could only continue to laugh as he fell to his knees, the vision growing more and more realistic by the second.

Glam ran his fingers through the tangled mess of hair, looking up at the ceiling for a moment with more maniacal laughter.

"Maybe I'll make him play the Violin. Then I can stand there and criticize every bar and note he plays! Slap his wrists until blood it dripping to the floor!"

Good! Good! You're getting the hang of it! That's the spirit! You're spine is tingling with the excitement, the anticipation!

So remind me, what's your name again?

"Glam! My name is Glam..." He spoke calmly now, placing his hands on the ground in front of him.

Right, you're finally getting it. What else do you know?

"I-I have a best friend... what was his name again?" He glanced around the moon lit room for a moment before scratching his head, fingers getting tangled in the matted mess of hair.

You know this answer, Glam. Don't expect me to help you with such stupid questions.

"I-I don't remember..."

You need to remember him! Don't let your memory start fading away, now think harder. What was his fucken name?!

He held his head in his hands for a moment, more tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He couldn't remember him, no matter how hard he tried. He couldn't remember his name, why he was called that...

Just... who he was physically. What he looked like, how he had helped Glam through the bullshit. The messy brown hair, the disgusting green jacket, that annoying voice and those horrid yellow teeth.

"C-Chive..." He finally mumbled to himself after a moment. That was his name, right? He knew it at least started with a C.

Good boy, Glam. You're making progress. Do not forget Chive. Don't forget what he looked like or what he did for you. If you forget him, then that might as well be the end.

Glam put his face in his hands again. Don't forget? How was he supposed to manage that when he was being tortured and experimented on day in and day out. Hell, he barely remembered the last this he ate.

The fact of the matter was that without his friend, he'd never discover the beauty of rock music. The beauty outside of that fucken prison of a house. Sure, he had to deal with some... painful repercussions, but it was so worth it. Getting to play in front of a crowd, especially play music he was actually proud of? It was the best feeling in the world to him.

"He probably thinks I abandoned him..." He gripped his hands into fists. "M-my one and only friend... thinks I abandoned him..."

Who would ever know what became of Glam outside of his family. -He was sent away to a special music school, one that didn't allow such... worthless talent to blindly be accepted- That was probably along the lines of what he'd say to the school anyways. Chive would never step foot near his front door, so it's not like he'd come knocking.

Stop worrying. We'll get out of here in no time. Soon enough you'll be back at his side and the two of you will be playing again before you know it. You'll even have your favorite record back.

Remember that song Glam? It's your favorite.

He began to chuckle softly, tears still rolling down his cheeks. "We're not gonna take it..." He started singing, the vocals raspy and sloppy.

No! We ain't gonna take it!

"We're not gonna take it anymore..." He pulled his knees back to his chest, tears continuing to flow as his off key singing kept up, his voice seeming to echo in the emptiness that was his confinement cell.

That song. It'd got him to discover life outside of classical bullshit. Now it was gonna be the song to help him escape this hell. No matter the cost.

[light679]

Rivals to lovers

Featuring: Dainslief, Baizhou and Enjou

CW: fluff and smut,

Dainslief:

It takes Dainslief a long time to realize he has feelings for you. As someone who takes his role in life so seriously, most of the time he felt annoyance towards you, an obstacle in the midst of his mission. How could it be that someone could come close to his accomplishments? You were a complication, someone getting in the way of his aspirations to travel Teyvat and uncover the truth of the world. Especially when you were always needing feedback and mentorship, often coming directly from him.

So then, why was it that when he saved you from a fatal blow during one of your many attempts to one-up him in battle, that the instinct had been so natural, as if he'd been spending all of his life protecting you? As if he couldn't bear to stand the thought of losing you.

Even more confounding to Dainslief was the way he found himself covering your body with his, his lips melting into yours, your velvety smooth kisses. Why was it as natural as breathing? And why did you give into it as easily as he did?

You managed to compose yourselves just enough to make it to your residence, where Dainslief dutifully made sure you had no substantial injuries before claiming your mouth with his. The low groans coming from both of you sounded animalistic. In any other circumstance, Dainslief's lack of experience would have made the situation awkward. Instead, he was too busy tearing at your clothes, literally and figuratively to care. Sensibility faded away as instinct took its place, his hands hungrily exploring your body as you leaned into every touch.

When he finally reached your bottoms, tearing them at the seam and sinking himself into you, it was as if he'd belonged there, only now finding his home within you. You felt so right clenched around him, clinging to him with your nails pressed into his back, calling his name as if he was all you'd ever known.

He was all he wanted you to know, and you were all he wanted to know. Instinctively, Dain would leave many marks along your neck and body, claiming you as his.

As it should have been from the beginning.

Baizhou:

You were rivals in your medical studies. You constantly competed with each other, working hard to outdo the other, to impress the instructors more in some way. Even when you were forced to work on projects together, the entire ordeal would end in nothing but the two of you trying to complete a higher portion of the work than the other.

Despite the competitive nature of your relationship, Baizhou was naturally a flirt, constantly trying to get you to let your guard down, to make you flustered.

“What’s wrong? Can’t handle a little teasing?” Baizhu would ask constantly, a cocky smirk always on his face as he watched your cheeks redden.

Your last night in the medical program together was when you decided to play along with his little game, seeing who could up the stakes the most before the other backed down.

What started out as some silly flirting, a few suggestive traces up an arm turned quickly into heated kisses, and you honestly weren't sure who'd pushed their tongue into the others' mouth first because both of your lips were coated in a shiny, slick layer of saliva with both of you out of breath.

"We can stop, if you want to." Baizhu said seriously, the both of you catching your breath. Rather than teasing you, he'd given you an out in the moment, a genuine moment of concern.

You'd shaken your head. "I don't want to," making it clear it wasn't about the competition anymore.

"Good," Baizhu had said back, running his tongue over your lips, practically eating up the way it made you shiver. "Neither do I."

Despite the competition of pushing each other to the breaking point no longer being in play, the two of you would spend the better part of the encounter fighting to be in control, to drive the other wild.

Some things change, but others never will.

Enjou: Enjou often competed with you on the strangest things. How many packets of hot sauce could you handle on your taco, how many marshmallows could you fit in your mouth, who could find the most key sigils in Enkanomiya, things that weren't really directly related to either of your career paths. First disguising himself as a human and eventually showing his true form once he was comfortable with you (well, as comfortable as you can be with a rival), it only motivated you more to beat the strange man from the Abyss, knowing he was a supernatural being, rather than human like yourself. The moments you did win over Enjou? They felt amazing.

Eventually, your rivalry and company became a warm welcome to him. Enjou, otherwise generally fairly lonely in the desolate land of Enkanomiya began to excitedly anticipate your presence as a researcher there, showing his affection by initiating silly competitions with you. You never directly noticed a change, thinking Enjou was the same odd competitive man he always was, but Enjou would often smile to himself during your encounters, truly cherishing the moments you genuinely win out over him. Then again, he also enjoyed the pouty expressions you often made when you lost to him.

It wasn't until a late night in Enkanomiya's library that you discovered his hidden feelings for you. Long after he'd thought you'd left the region, returning to Watatsumi to report on your research, did he let out some of the emotions he'd been let piling up, his loneliness to start. You found him with his guard down, in his Abyssal form, crying silently over a book.

You'd knelt down next to him, cupping his face in your hands. His body was warm, much warmer than a normal person's, borderline painful to the touch. Yet it was nice. His tears that fell felt like ice in comparison to the heat of his body.

He guided you through the rest, pulling your lips to meet his, pulling your body onto his lap, winding his fingers through your hair. With Enjou being so passionate and energetic about life, you weren't expecting him to be so...tender. So raw. It was so easy for him to pull you in father, connecting your bodies at the hilt, feeling himself within you. The time you spent like that could have lasted minutes, hours, centuries for all you knew. All you knew was the sensual, heated feelings that ran between you two like electricit, trapped within the current of each other’s bodies.

[blametheeditor]

A giant manhandling a tiny, like grip too tight and inspecting everything, and putting the tiny in their pant pocket. This would produce so much angst. Also being rolled under a shoe or something like that. For The Plot. Torture them For The Plot. Trust me For The Plot.

For The Plot

For The Plot, I want to sincerely apologize for how long this took for me to respond. I hope you enjoy it! I trusted you for the plot, and I really like the plot, and will definitely need to continue for the plot.

Seriously, thank you for this ask! I truly adored it, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of you day!

Rundown: To torture a Scott, he needs to be human, completely surrounded by giants. Worst part, he sounds like a mouse to them.

Warnings: Cursing, treating people as lesser than, dehumanization, talking over someone, mentions of death, mentions of killing, comprehending barrier

The Editor finally said it was my turn with the Writing Motivation

_____________________________

Scott has always been an enigma to those who work under Fazbear Entertainment. 

On one hand, his name is known by everyone, from the managers of each restaurant to the newly hired night guard. On the other hand, no one really knew who he was, the face and person behind the name. 

Truthfully, it was for the best. If the night guard’s survived the night and realized he hadn’t perished like the recordings suggested, he wasn’t in danger of having someone give him a rightful punch in the face. Not to mention the tempers of a few of the restaurant managers making it clear he’s despised and they wouldn’t hesitate to make his life hell if they ever met. Especially considering he is the only human working for the company.

It hadn’t always been that way. Back when Afton and Henry had been partners, the company had been first established as a children’s restaurant for both giants and humans. As safely as you can when 5 year olds are capable of holding a full grown adult in a fist. But the animatronics had two stages built, a giant and human version they could transfer between to when the other wasn’t playing. 

It was incredibly advanced technology. Meaning when Henry disappeared, Afton didn’t have the knowledge or patience to continue in the practice. And due to being a giant, the restaurants naturally shifted to giant-only locations. 

Of course, that didn’t stop the sadistic man from keeping Scott as an employee. The human could no longer be a waiter like before, but he was well suited to relaying information Afton requested. The perfect errand-boy to continue with assisting on new-hires, reports, inspections, and stepping in when certain things weren’t being done correctly. 

It was all strictly done over the phone, with inspections conducted in the few hours between everyone leaving after the restaurants were locked up and the night guard coming in for their shift. 

He couldn’t do it any other way. Being the only human means every employee is capable of sweeping him up. Pocketing him. Rolling their eyes before not listening to a word he said just because he’s no more than three inches tall to them. It was a matter of keeping his sanity and life intact while working for a cruel man who will never let him quit other than through death. 

Not to mention, he sounds like a squeaking mouse to every giant unless talking on the phone, or they wear a device that amplifies his voice. And unless they live or interact with a human daily, no giant in a giant-only location will have one. 

And despite all of this, Afton still thinks he’s not tortured enough. 

That’s how Scott finds himself hiding under the cashier counter at Freddy Fazbear’s during the restaurant's open hours. With tens of children screaming so loudly he can’t even hear the sound of his heart beating. Trembling from sheer terror because just as he feared, no one can understand him. And Afton lied about having the animatronics unlocked past 6am to help him get safely out of the restaurant. 

He should have seen it coming. Should’ve known the bullshit excuse of needing to test the four original animatronic’s trigger for returning to the stage once the night shift ended was just to get him trapped. Should’ve known the comment of Vincent being out of commission was to warn him the purple man wouldn’t be around to help him. 

It’s not like he could’ve said no. If he called the bluff, Afton would only smile and say it better be done. 

...it’s not like he’s transversed through the giant restaurant before. Albeit without the numerous giants running around without looking down to make sure no one ends up underfoot, or the staff that shrieked and tried to stomp on him when he first attempted to greet them in the hopes Afton was in a ‘good mood’. But he’s done it. Knows where the hidden door his size sits. Can carefully make his way there before escaping in one piece. 

He can do it. 

Scott takes a deep breath. Flinches as someone steps only a few feet away, the shoe longer than he is tall. Scans the area after gaining the courage to lean out a few inches. 

He pales at the sight before him. Of yards of open air between him, and the hallway that leads to his freedom, nothing but long tables meant for parties and giants sitting in every chair offering cover. 

Scott looks at the doors that could fling him across the room when the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, his eyes immediately darting up. 

Bright blue eyes stare at him with interest. Blue eyes Scott knows anywhere. Fear racing through him at the thought of Mike realizing there’s a human in the restaurant. 

Out of the hundreds, possibly thousands of night guards that had been hired, Scott has only personally known a hand full. Mike Schmidt being one of them. 

It’s hard not to. After surviving for two full months, that earns respect in his eyes. So did the fact he hadn’t been screamed at for misleading him about impending death. Cursed at, yes, but he learned quickly Mike cursed at everything. But the young man nearly gained enough trust for Scott to reveal he was human. 

Almost. His terror for what the giant would do won out. And it only got worse once Mike became Mike and Jeremy. Followed by Eggs, and James. Caleb, Fritz. There were too many giants who could spread the information from outside the group of those who got phone calls strictly to ensure they were alive. And once David was added, he knew he could never tell the owner of Fazbear Entertainment or else never get another report sent to him or a single call answered again. 

The thing is, while he has nightly calls with Mike and those who have earned the giant’s loyalty, Mike has never seen him. And he knows better than to hope the guard wears the device to turn his squeaking into the familiar voice over the phone. 

Scott jerks away from the edge, darting into the darkness in the hopes Mike will shrug off spotting a human like he does with almost everything else. Prays that working in place with the sick day guard’s shift is more important than investigating. 

For good measure he moves to the other side of the counter. Winces at the realization his only path is the one with the most movement and least amount of cover. But it’s not like he can wait until the restaurant closes. He missed his chance trying to get to the hallway before the day shift arrived by trusting Afton of all people. 

Scott takes another deep breath, attempting to calm his trembling as he aims himself toward the wall. Because at least there he’s almost guaranteed safety from shoes. Less so from being spotted. 

God, don’t let me die.

He ducks under the counter before starting his sprint. 

Only to scream in fear as a shoe lands directly in front of him. 

“No, no, no!” 

Scott attempts to scramble away, back to the safety of the counter, only to trip over his feet as he falls to the ground. 

Before he can even think, there’s warmth surrounding him. Warmth he is all too familiar with. And then fingers finally appear in his vision. 

“NO-!” 

His scream is cut off as a hand grabs him before he’s squeezed. It doesn’t loosen as he’s being lifted. And any struggle only has the grip get even tighter he can barely breathe. 

Suddenly, the hand frees him, and he tumbles into near pitch black darkness as his scream finally finishes. 

Scott gasps for air as he attempts to see where he is, yelping when everything moves, jolting with what seems to be a giant stepping. A lot more pronounced than when he’s sitting in the chest pocket of Vincent’s uniform. And yet he can’t help but feel like he is in one as he realizes he’s surrounded by fabric. 

There’s a few more steps until everything stops. Scott quickly attempts to stand up, find a way out. Yells as a hand suddenly invades his space. 

“No, let me go, let me go!” 

He kicks at the fingers as they attempt to curl around him. Shoves at the digits in a futile attempt to keep them from grabbing him, not wanting to be squeezed more than his ribs can take. 

Of course, the hand wins, a finger stroking his back, oblivious to his frantic want to get out where is he! 

...those are children screaming. 

Scott nearly stops breathing when he realizes he’s still in the restaurant. The giant might’ve made it clear he better not fight, but he isn’t being taken away from Fazbear’s. Just being held captive in a pocket. A pant pocket of someone just...standing. 

Against his better judgement, he carefully settles down. Terrified what might happen. Doesn’t know who holds him. But they didn’t stomp on or crush him, and they aren’t taking him home to be a pet...yet. 

He doesn’t know how long the giant stands for. He hears a booming voice fairly close, and then the giant begins to walk, this time the hand closing around him the moment he started to fight with the assumption now is when his fate will be determined. 

“We’re alone now, fucker.” 

Scott jolts as the voice rumbles through the air, a voice he recognizes. The voice that says Mike decided to investigate. Trembles with the uncertainty if it would be better or worse to have that giant being the one holding him. 

Nothing happens. Not even a finger nudging him or the hand closing in a warning he better respond. 

“M-Mike?” he begins, shoving at the nearest digit. The hand moves at that, curling around him before he’s lifted out, ducking away from the blinding light until he’s greeted with a familiar smirk. 

“You okay, asshole?” 

Scott stares. Because Mike can’t recognize him. Meaning he’s only a stranger to the giant, and so he will be treated as a random human that was found. And yet he doesn’t know how Mike reacts to humans. 

Will he be let go? Will he be put into a cage? Will they ever figure out it’s him? 

The worse part is he wants to trust the giant before him. He knows Scott can trust Mike. As long as Mike knows it’s Scott. 

“Can you put, uh, m-me down?” Scott attempts, pointing toward the- 

The human goes deathly still as fingers suddenly pinch the arm, unable to move, unable to breathe. 

“Your arm’s fucked up?” 

Scott can only watch as catastrophic digits capable of snapping his arm gently check for injuries. And then the other one is checked just as carefully. 

“Anything else?” 

The giant can’t understand him. And as eerie as it is being watched by eyes as big as his head, he’s being listened to for the most part. Meaning a dramatic and slow head shake should get him to what he wants. 

“Good,” Mike grins. “So do all goddamn humans squeak like the fucking Jerber?” 

At least they’re getting somewhere, and Scott feels better about humans who are strangers not becoming pets by this particular giant. Though it’s safe to assume Mike has never interacted with a human based on that answer. 

Scott hesitates before nodding to earn a thoughtful look. 

“Shit, maybe he can understand you. Want to fucking meet him?” 

Scott finds himself nodding because he doesn’t think leaving Mike’s side would be the best idea. He was grabbed and squeezed before being put into a pant pocket, but the giant clearly has no malice. And if he stays with the guard, Vincent will have an easier time finding him. 

Despite the fear this could go from bad to worse on how Jeremy reacts, Scott can’t help kicking when it seems like he’s about to be put back in the suffocating pocket. At least this giant doesn’t get upset and instead looks at him for an answer. 

“Chest pocket!” 

His pointing manages to convey the preferred method of transportation, even if Mike accidentally drops him a little too high into the hammock of fabric. The point is he was listened to, making the walk much more enjoyable. 

Scott curls into a ball as he finally allows everything to catch up to him. Including the fact he agreed to have a second giant interact with him. About if he wants to try and let them know the lost human is the Scott on the phone. 

He’s safe with Mike if this scenario ever happens again without the revelation. But what if Jeremy won’t let him leave in the fear he’ll get hurt? And what if he tells them and it spreads through the entire group? 

“Jerber!” 

Scott blinks at the realization they’re already at Mike and Jeremy’s apartment, the trembles coming back. Looking up in the hope he can plead to stay in the pocket when the sight of a hand reaching for him cuts it off, replaced with a yell as he’s scooped up effortlessly. 

 He doesn’t have time to orient himself before a finger is ruffling his hair. That earns a hand whacking the intrusion away as he growls. “Michael!” 

“Sorry, asshole move,” the giant concedes. Which only settles Scott’s nerves slightly, unable to help the fact he feels like a pet to the guard. 

“M-Mike!” has Scott whirling around at the greeting. Staring at Jeremy walking closer before the curly haired guard perks up at the sight of a human in Mike’s hand. “W-W-Where did you find a-a human?”

“Bastard was at the restaurant.” 

“Can I h-h-h-hold him?” 

Scott shakes his head. Backs away from the cupped hands waiting patiently for him to be transferred into. “Wait!” 

He didn’t expect Mike to listen, nor for Jeremy to immediately become concerned. “A-Are they okay?” 

Jeremy can’t understand him either. No one they talk to will. As kind as they are, he can’t explain he’s Scott who needs to get back home, or at the very least back to Afton. Because there’s no reason for giants living in a giant-only section to interact with humans. 

“You okay, asshole?” Mike asks. Knowing he’ll only get squeaks, which makes this so much better yet so much worse. 

Even if he wanted to, he can’t even say he’s Scott because- 

...because they’re not talking on the phone. 

Scott waves his arms in a big wait motion before pulling out his phone. Pissed with himself for not thinking about that earlier. 

Tenses as Jeremy jumps when his phone rings before answering it. “Sc-Scott?” 

“Jeremy, I’m the human Mike’s holding.” 

The squeak that made Mike believe that Jeremy could understand him emits as the young giant stares at him in shock. “Scott?” 

“Phone Guy?” 

Scott yells as the hand suddenly turns against him, terror flooding as fingers curl around him before he’s lifted in front of Mike’s face. 

“Asshole, why didn’t you fucking tell me? Are you okay? Did I goddamn hurt you?” 

“Y-You know you can’t h-h-hide i-injuries from Mike,” Jeremy pipes up after he doesn’t respond for too long. Too afraid if Mike is truly upset with him for not saying he was human. 

“I-I’m fine,” Scott finally murmurs. Jumps when he hears his own voice ring as loudly as a giant’s from the phone changed to speaker. 

“Have other giant assholes fucked with you?” Mike asks. The human finds himself unable to respond as he’s carried into the kitchen, breathing in relief as he’s finally allowed to climb onto solid ground. 

He stumbles as both Mike and Jeremy sit down at the table, fingers catching him to find Jeremy watching him with worry. “Are y-you hurt?” 

Scott slowly backs away from Jeremy’s hand before hesitating. “No. Are...are really you upset I didn’t tell you I was human?” 

“No, bastard,” Mike immediately responds. “I’m pissed I grabbed your ass and you didn’t say you were goddamn Phone Guy.” 

Jeremy laughs. “H-He couldn’t squeak Ph-Phone G-G-Guy.” 

“Like fuck he couldn’t,” Mike defends. “I’m fluent in shitty squeaks.” 

“Could’ve fooled me, Michael,” Scott can’t help smiling as he’s gifted with a smirk. It turns into a shout as he whacks at the finger poking his side. “Stop that!” 

“If you promise you’re goddamn okay.” 

“I’m fine,” Scott scowls. “I’ve been grabbed harsher.” 

“Th-Th-That won’t happen anymore,” Jeremy proclaims. Something that should make Scott worried they won’t let him out of their sight. 

Mike nods, and he doesn’t know if he can breathe. “I’m sorry for the shitty grab, but we won’t goddamn do it again unless you say okay. Not even Douche Bag will touch you.” 

And that’s when Scott realizes he should’ve told them a long time ago. The promise at least one giant at every location will be there for him if Vincent isn’t lurking in his shadow. 

“...can we hold off on telling Eggs and David?” 

“M-M-Maybe we never d-do,” Jeremy suggests, wincing at the realization Scott is handheld to all of them. 

“They pull shit on you, I’m fucking stepping on them.” 

“Until then, you’re getting earpieces so I don’t have to call you to talk.” 

Scott freezes when the last of his sentence doesn’t make the air rumble, looking up at Jeremy in confusion before the giant’s phone is looked at the same time the human spots the ‘disconnected’ words on the screen. 

“S-Sugar, it died.” 

“Fuck.” 

“Jerber’ll charge it,” Mike waves, smirking down at Scott as the younger goes to plug in his phone. “Wanna help cook lunch, Phone Guy?” 

“No,” the human begins, glancing toward the rest of the kitchen with silverware he could sit in. “Sounds like disaster waitING-!” 

Scott yells as he’s swept into a hand. The hand of a certain guard who looks more than happy to have his mentor so easily grabbable. 

“That was a fucking ‘yes’ squeak.” 

“Michael!” 

“Uh, M-Mike?” Jeremy quickly intervenes, Scott well aware his dramatic squirming that’s more based on principle rather than true anger is being watched with concern. “You shouldn’t h-hold him wh-wh-while y-you cook.” 

Mike hums in thought. “Counter or Jerber, Phone Guy?” 

Scott huffs. Points toward Jeremy. Admits he doesn’t mind sitting in the stuttering kid’s cupped hands and far away from the counter being piled with utensils and food. 

“I-I-I can put you o-on the table,” Jeremy murmurs. Beams as the human makes a point to relax completely to state he prefers the giant’s warmth. 

He’ll worry about Afton’s wrath not getting back to his office until tonight later. And hopefully the day when Eggs gets his hands on him, or David getting the opportunity to stomp on him is far away. 

For now, he couldn’t ask for better giants. 

“Can Phone Guy be put in the fucking sauce?"

“No!”

[creative-hanyou-girl]

Y'all I so want to participate in InuKag Week but I don't think I even have the energy to pick up a pen let alone draw stuff 😩😭

[themetalbreaker]

Clockwork Isle an old minecraft build (i originally learned of the build on 2b2t.)

i decided to redraw and watercolor to the best of my ability. so yeah

[donuts4evry1]

Banners for use in Ite! It’s Jellyfish Love! promotional material :)

I worked verrrrry hard on these, lmao.

[ruckis-vandalizes]

I made soda with jokes so good and potent that it came to life instantaneously

[icedmetaltea]

Okay wow I finished the fishy fish drawing sooner than expected. I wanted to post it along with a fic but said fic is gonna take a long while to get done since I wanna post it in one fell swoop (so I don't get tempted to post one chapter and then procrastinate forever) and it's gonna be pretty looong most likely.

Would ya'll prefer if I post it now or later once said fic is out? I mean I can always post again but ye

[lihikainanea]

Barcelona, June 2023.

[child-of-the-cosmos]

Art dump upon ye!

Bonus under cut ^^

[mrcspectr]

@khonshoe UGH I’M SO SORRY Tumblr ate your ask as I was writing up the response to it, klgjalkgjal anyway the gist of it is the significance of Harrow as the imagined therapist in Marc and Steven’s perception of the Duat.

My friend, I'll be in my apartment just doing mundane stuff like laundry or dishes, and something about those boys will just hit me like a goddamn mac truck, and it ALWAYS BRINGS ME HERE. But thank you, loving them so much makes them easy for me to write about. ❤

Ohhhhh, I haven't actually talked about this yet, but I always found it fascinating how the Duat manifested as a psychiatric hospital with Dr. Harrow as the therapist. I think it speaks for itself that this has a lot to do with Marc's thoughts on his own mental stability, the judgement he's received or expects to receive from his disorder, and his past experiences in therapy (I mean, he had to create that environment from something, right?). But I think the more complex interpretation of it, and the most interesting for me, is the subtle exploration of Steven and Marc's differing perspectives and ideas surrounding the acceptance of help.

We see Marc ask for help a single time prior to this, in front of the Ennead. He completely believes that the only thing capable of saving him is some sort of divine intervention but a council of gods. I mean, the man was more happy about being dead than being "crazy." Actually, it goes further than that, he was relieved. (How many times has he been called crazy or beyond help by someone in a position of authority, I wonder.) And by making Marc and Steven's main antagonist and biggest threat his therapist in the afterlife, it's guaranteed that there will be conflict. Marc's manifested this himself because this is what he truly believes psychiatric help is like: the drugging, the insistence on addressing memories that are painful to him with little to no professional empathy, the restraining, the condescending tone he uses when he talks about Steven.

Steven, on the other hand, is open and honest about his desire to get help. He knows that he's struggling, isn't ashamed to admit it, doesn't fault himself for it. I'm not broken, just need some help, maybe. To Steven, there’s nothing wrong with asking, with leaning on someone. His interaction with Dr. Harrow, before he starts to learn the truth, is more just a conversation, a give and take, explorations of events that Steven's not entirely aware of himself but is discovering and making sense of with Marc in the background. He’s hesitant to talk to him, but not entirely unwilling. A little snarky (Oh, nosey.), but he still listens, still tries. Dr. Harrow is asking Marc to share with Steven, and he does, eventually. It's a better reflection of what professional help should be like. Dr. Harrow seems a little more gentle with Steven, and sure, he's not being entirely genuine and truthful with it, but Steven doesn’t know that yet. Steven just wants help, just wants to be better. This is his manifestation, his reflection.

Eventually, they both realize this is all an illusion, and they can change and shape it how they like. They start to hold a more firm grip on reality, characterized in that last scene (ahhhh the co-fronting scene, my beloved), where they see Harrow’s bleeding feet. Reality is bleeding into the fantasy. The help Steven is so desperate to find, that Marc needs but is too scared to ask for, was right there in each other all along.

[the2purpleidiots]

Sometimes self-care is looking at all the art people have made on Jasonnie and holding it gently in your palms, and mentally saying thank you to the artists a thousand times

~ Fox

[lovetune]

top title tracks from january to june — tagged by the bestie @matsuiriki​

ごめんね / sorry by bish from ごめんね one day by zillion from one day catch the stars by woo!ah! from catch the stars shut down by class:y from class is over cupid by dkz from chase ep.2 maum perfect by octpath from perfect