#it's definitely a fun scenario

[pyralart]

Oh Luz...

First part - Previous part < Here

Last part I'll be making of this scenario for now!

Thank you so much for everyone's support and thank you again @petitprincess1 for letting me use your idea! It was fun putting my own twist on it, and definitely ended up longer than I had planned... guess you guys can't complain lol

I'm already working on the next fancomic I wanna make :)c

You can find the pages as soon as they're done and some exclusive art/extras on my Ko-fi! You even get a little extra comic under the cut, free of charge. I'm that nice

Luz is regretting accepting this deal. If she wasn't already...

[cybershock24601]

My most unhinged and for the drama post canon Rookanis scenario is where Rook accidentally gets pregnant post the first night she and Luccanis spend together because they're both virgins, Rook's not on any contraceptive, and the final battle is happening pretty much right after so remembering to take the fantasy morning after pill kinda gets lost in the shuffle and it basically results in Lucanis speedrunning ditching the Crows to become the Ultimate Househusband.

The way I typically imagine post canon Rookanis going down is Rook moving in with Lucanis and her relationship with Caterina slowly worsening over months and years because while Caterina probably starts pretty neutral on Rook, she just does not vibe with Rook's personality and considering she's a paranoid old woman, does not like the influence this outsider has on her grandson or the sort of support Rook has unintentionally built up amongst the Crows during the whole, let's kill these evil elven gods fiasco. Sure Caterina named Lucanis First Talon but its pretty clear a lot of the power is supposed to remain in her guiding hand and Rook is an unknown and chaotic variable fucking with her plans.

Rook on the other hand goes in ready to do her best to build a good relationship with Caterina for Lucanis' sake but starts souring on Caterina the more she learns about Lucanis and Illario's childhoods and is like, no wonder shit went so sideways, which combined with Caterina's increasingly passive aggressive behavior, Rook is only being civil because she is not willing to cause more problems in Lucanis' already fucked up family but its not like Rook is taking Caterina's jabs without getting in a few of her own.

On top of that, despite Caterina's personal dislike of Rook, she's also pushing for Lucanis and Rook to marry and start pumping out great grandbabies to repopulate House Dellamorte. While Rook is more then willing to marry Lucanis, the more Rook learns about how Caterina raised Lucanis and Illario and just about the Crows in general, she starts getting a lot of reservations about raising any child of hers in such a fucked up environment. Meanwhile Lucanis is aggressively Not Thinking About It because while he can justify the treatment he received growing up, thinking about raising his children the way he was would probably break his brain a little because its a little hard to ignore how fucked up and traumatic your own childhood is when you have to confront how much that would fuck up and traumatize someone else.

So instead of these issues growing worse and worse over the years until they completely bubble over, Rook and Lucanis have to pretty immediately confront the realities of raising a family in the Crows and by the time the kid is 6 months old Rook has enough of a grasp of what this kids future will look like in the Crows and Lucanis has had to confront continuing the cycle of abuse he was born into and they just mutually come to the decision that they need to GTFO now.

Also maybe throw in a rival Talon trying to smother this future First Talon before they have chance to grow for a little extra drama and to force Lucanis to confront the same choice Caterina did on whether the seat of First Talon is worth sacrificing his family and the answer is obviously a resounding No.

And this is all without accounting for Spite and how he would react to Rook being pregnant because I'm sure that's probably an insane concept for a spirit or how Spite would deal with this new tiny person that's half-Lucanis and half-Rook. Not to mention whatever inevitable over dramatic reaction Illario has to becoming an uncle while trying to patch up his relationship with Lucanis after the whole 'attempting to have Lucanis killed to take the position of First Talon' thing. Lots of room for comedy here to balance out how fucked up the rest of this story is.

Anyways all this ends with Lucanis and Rook traveling around for a few years to keep the Crows off their tail because I doubt Lucanis would be able to easily leave without some reprisal before they eventually quietly settle down in the Necropolis. Which serves as great security because I like the idea of magical semi sentient locations and I don't think the Necropolis would let any Crow assassins reach its Crypt Baby or Crypt Grandbaby

[hungharrington]

hello tumblr user hungharrington!

happy early birthday and congrats on the 3k!

so this is either fuck, marry, kiss or a ranking prompt but i've got three 'pranks' i'd pull on steve and would like to know your opinions on them:

calling him 'steve' (his actual name that 99% of the population call him) instead of 'love', 'honey', 'baby', 'sweetheart', 'handsome', etc (I bet that guy would just frown and be all like 'who the fuck is steve?')

texting him something nsfw when you're in public >:)

calling him your husband out of nowhere (when he's still your boyfriend). like you know those videos when a couple are at a drive thru and the girl goes 'and my husband would like...' and the boyfriend is all like (°〇°) ♡ (≧◡≦) ♡

hello anon in my inbox!! thank u so much, have a mwah from me <3

i see you've bought a delectable array of things to choose from... and i love it because you've actually already delivered them in perfect fmk boxes bae...

marry: why of course it has to be dropping the husband title on steve, whether unwittingly or not :D like cmonnnn, imagine if it was by accident? you've been together long enough that it's definitely begun to be a persistent want, it's something you've thought about a lot. maybe the two of you are wandering department stores together, shopping for your new place, and talking to a sales assistant and it just slips out, "oh no, my husband doesn't like--" and steve makes a choked noise that quickly devolves into a coughing fit, enough the assistant has to leave you be for a moment as you're like ??? what is happening right now, but between wheezes steve's like, "you—said—husband," but he's also grinning and pink in the face and so so so happy, more so when you fluster at the slip of the tongue. he never lets it go — until of course, it becomes a reality

fuck: sending him something nsfw when you're in public ofc >:) i love the idea of it being like, this man will make you leave any party early if he gets an inkling from you, he's not wasting any chances - so even a suggestive text will do it, send off a i miss you text, followed by and your hands, then, and your tongue — steve will somehow materialise by your side, eyes wide and eager, already like "do you wanna go? i feel like we should go," already nodding, pulling you to the door by the hand hehehe. but if you send a picture, say of yourself in the bathroom of said party, a tad scandalous even — well, you just don't leave the party :) or the bathroom for maybe 30 minutes :)

kiss: calling him his first name instead of every other pet name under the sun hehe. this one is like... i like his name :( like the idea of calling him steve or stevie, i would never be able to stop and switch to the gooey names totally. but i love the idea of like... if you're having a tender moment, maybe cuddled up together on the couch, steve tucked against you and him being the one to rest his head on your shoulder while you play with his hair — you're just idly murmuring but also trying to make plans, asking "what do you think, handsome?" from time to time, to which steve just hums in agreement. after the third question, you realise he's not really paying attention and you have know the name will catch his attention, this time asking, "how's that sound, steve?" and then he's straightening up, already frowning with a pout and you're laughing because you got him: hook, line, and sinker, ready for a kiss

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

"Everyone plays hide and seek that day"

And if anyone asks, it's not hide and seek. It's stealth training

it is entirely stealth training and nothing else, of course

and it actually ends up being mutually beneficial! a good several of your siblings work in the Marechaussee Phantom and are more than happy to put their sneaking and hunting skills to the test- the Melusine are actually winning more rounds than the Fatui are, with their heightened senses and silent steps. most of the time you prefer to spectate, either from your spot on the grass or in Foul Legacy's lap, watching your friends slowly creep up behind one agent or another before leaping up and pouncing! mostly they just clamber up the agent's back and hang from their shoulders, though, no actual damage is done. Childe's subordinates have to bite back their laughter whenever they manage to carefully dislodge a Melusine, holding the little sea slug creatures in their outstretched arms and watching them valiantly kick their stubby legs

Foul Legacy holds you comfortably, keeping a close eye on everyone and allowing you to idly fidget with his claws. a few other Fatui agents wander into the mix, their uniforms neater and more refined, and they all do a double take when they see and your scars and Melusine self. you receive a couple more bows today, each new acquaintance sweeping off their hat or putting a hand over their heart as a gesture of sincerity, and you incline your head deeply in return. Legacy nods approvingly, content with the slowly growing respect you're getting, and the sound turns into a soft, happy purr when you reach up and ruffle his fluffy hair with your mittenish hands

on the edge of Fontaine, Arlecchino wonders where all of her operatives have gone

[hatsukeii]

fragrance: lazy sunday morning, replica / college!kageyama tobio x reader

notes: lily of the valley (top), iris (heart), white musks (base)

description: fresh laundry pulled from the wash, lazing around in the embrace of linen sheets.

disclaimer(s): faint sillage, poor longevity

wc: 3224

warning(s): mentions of panic attacks, but other than that nothing!!! gn reader too!!!

The first Sunday morning you spend together is at 6am in a residential laundromat. The two of you have occupied the lonely space, watching clothes spin as soap bubbled and sloshed against fabric. You kneel in front of the opening of the washing machine, basket in hand as you lazily yank dripping clothes and soaking sheets out. Kageyama leans on the edge of another washing machine, hip pressed against the side of it with his phone in one hand and the other propping him upright as he waits for his own bedsheets to finish .

You go home with a basket of double sized bed sheets, ones that hang much too loose on your twin bed, despite your many attempts to tuck them beneath your mattress. Kageyama goes home with a basket of twin sized sheets, ones that stubbornly snap off the corners of his double bed as he desperately tries to pull them across.

————————————————————————

The second Sunday morning you spend together is at the same laundromat, at 6am again. A week of sleeping without bed sheets has rendered both of you impatient, itching to reunite with your own. Both of you assume that the other would be at the laundromat again the next week, and both of you are correct in thinking so. This time, you arrive with a duffel bag, alongside a basket of unwashed clothes, and Kageyama enters the laundromat with two baskets, one stuffed with bedsheets, the other with his own dirty laundry.

“Sorry, grabbed them by mistake last week, didn’t even fit on my bed properly.”

“All good, I also slept without bedsheets for the week.”

Bedsheets are exchanged, stuffed into baskets and bags, and the two of you continue your laundry in silence, shoving dirty clothes and towels into separate washing machines. You glance at Kageyama, a D1 volleyball jersey peeking from his basket.

“You the new first year on men’s D1 volleyball?”

He hums in confirmation, tugging the jersey from his laundry as he shoves it into the machine.

“I watched you guys play last Friday, it was good.”

“Thanks. I’m pretty sure you’re in my lecture hall tomorrow too.”

Your eyebrows rise, surprised. You swear you have never seen him in your lectures, only ever on the court. You aren’t even too sure of his name yet. Standing up, you slam the washing machine door shut, pressing lazily at the buttons until a droning beep sounds, and soapy water begins to trickle into your laundry.

“Really? Never seen you there before.”

“I sit behind you most the time. y/n, right?”

You scratch at your frizzy bed head, too dazed to register his question. You hear the beep of a second machine, and the sloshing of clothes and water.

“Yeah. Sorry, what was your name again?”

“Tobio. Kageyama Tobio.”

————————————————————————

The twelfth Sunday morning you spend together, unlike the first, or the second, or the third, or any previous ones so far, is on campus instead, at 8am. Somehow, the both of you have managed to do your laundry during the week, perhaps for the reason of making it to the college’s open day on time. You rub your arms against a school emblem hoodie, and a staff lanyard, whilst Kageyama is clad in full volleyball attire, kneepads and jersey proudly representing the school’s men’s volleyball team as the two of you make your way from the residential quarters to the main campus.

“Don’t you look extra cool today, Mr. D1 athlete?”

“Yeah, yeah, okay, TA nerd.”

You grin, slinging an arm around Kageyama’s neck haphazardly and yanking him down. He yelps as his arm shoots up to your own, wrestling you off. Clicking your tongue, you kick the back of his knee and watch him catch himself halfway into his leg buckling beneath him, snickering vengefully. Ducking down swiftly and picking you up by the legs, he slings you onto his shoulder, arm wrapping around your waist as he continues walking. Kicking and flailing, your fists rain down on his rigid back, a vain attempt at forcing him to release you. His steps come to a stop, just to tighten his grip on your body.

“Let go of me! Or I’ll take your bedsheets again, asshole!”

“Yeah, if you can make it down, that is.”

Offended (not really), you stretch your arm as far as it can go, poking at his side. Kageyama squirms and writhes, the shit eating smirk once plastered on his face contorting into a pained laugh. His arm finally loosens around your waist, and you take the chance to wriggle out of his grip, landing on the ground in front of him.

“D1 athlete, but can’t keep someone half your height and weight on your shoulder, get good.”

Kageyama rolls his eyes. He is good. Great, even. He does, however, wish he could have revelled in the feeling of his arm around your waist for just a little longer.

————————————————————————

The twenty-fifth Sunday morning spent together is, once again, as always, at the laundromat. However, with the months of friendship the two of you have accumulated, a new step to your laundry routine has been introduced. No more are the days of staring at bubbling clothes and spinning sheets through the veil of chatter and gossip amongst the two of you, instead replaced by morning coffees, walks, even the occasional jog. Today, the two of you have decided on a coffee walk, the steaming cups residing within your numbingly cold fingers, their heat emanating into frosty winter air.

You blow at the opening of the lid, wisps of steam puffing from the liquid as you take a sip of the latte (ordered with only half a shot and extra milk with sugar). Still too bitter, you wince, smacking your tongue to wash the caffeine down. Kageyama huffs out a chuckle, before gulping down his own (also ordered with only half a shot and extra milk with sugar), and grabbing yours from your hand, devouring it too. Then, he tilts his head, looking at your surprised expression with furrowed brows and nibbling his lip in confusion.

“You don’t actually like coffee, do you?”

“Well it’s the only thing they have at this cafe. Plus, you like this place, so I keep coming anyway.”

Kageyama stares, baffled. Him? Liking coffee? Where did you get that from?

“I thought you liked it, considering you started these coffee runs? I’m pretty indifferent to be honest.”

You let out a breathy laugh, pointing at him instead.

“I thought I could try to like it, but I only started because I thought you’d be into coffee? Isn’t that what brooding guys like you enjoy drinking on Sunday mornings, while their laundry is running?”

Kageyama hates coffee. He has to order it with a 1:7 ratio of espresso to milk. Yet the hums of satisfaction (or so he thought) that seem to escape your throat at every first sip of hot coffee on chilly Sunday mornings makes every disgustingly bitter swallow of caffeine just this much more enjoyable. You also hate coffee, albeit not needing as extreme of an espresso to milk ratio (1:6 to be exact), yet Kageyama’s fluttering grin makes it clear what you have to do- suck it up and swallow your scathing, sickeningly tart (half) espresso shot, so you can keep, whatever this is, going.

“Yes, brooding guys like black coffees in the morning. But no, I don’t like coffee at all. Wanna go somewhere else from now on, my treat?”

From that Sunday morning onwards, the two of you skip the usual coffee stop, and head around the block for a cafe that serves chocolate instead. Kageyama’s grin would stretch into a satiated smile from the corner of your eyes, and your small, fleeting hums would turn into droning ones of actual satisfaction, much to the delight of Kageyama’s ears.

He wants to keep this going, through winter, then spring, then summer, and autumn too. You want to take the longer walks to the new cafe with him, for hot chocolate, maybe even iced coffee one day, if either of you suddenly develops the palate for it.

“So, you stuck around the cafe only because you thought I liked it? That’s sweet, Mr. D1.”

“What, like you didn’t suggest it because you thought I liked it in the first place? How nice of you, TA.”

————————————————————————

The thirty-fourth Sunday morning spent together, the two of you are perched on the edge of Kageyama’s couch, eyes trained to his laptop as a grey circle spins, and spins, and spins. On the coffee table ahead sits two cups of hot chocolate, stale and lukewarm.

“What if I’m not in?”

“Don’t be an idiot, look at you. You’re so in.”

The circle goes on for an unsettling period of time, and you swear you can hear the veins popping in Kageyama’s head. They can’t possibly reject him, they won’t. And if they do, you’ll be there to make sure the decision is fixed hastily. You’ve seen him play countless games by now, taking sessions of TA work off for the sake of watching a ball hit the ground over, and over, and over. Even for someone who doesn’t know the slightest thing about playing volleyball, you could tell that he deserved this. He was perfect, through and through.

The circle disappears, and the webpage goes blank. Then, twelve portraits pop onto the screen. The two of you inch forward, noses almost touching the laptop as you scan for one particular name.

"No.9: Kageyama Tobio, position: setter”

You barely have time to register his name in the national team roster before strong arms engulf your entire body in a tight embrace. Kageyama’s weight knocks you into his couch, his head buried in the crook of your neck as he finally exhales from relief. He’s close, closer than he ever has been before, and you catch a hint of white lilies and cotton on his pulse. Smiling, a pang of pride surges through your head and heart, and you let your arms wrap around Kageyama, pulling him close. You feel a trail of water trickle down the side of your neck, followed by a flurry of badly hidden sniffles and sobs, and one of your hands moves to stroke the back of his head.

“I made it…I actually made it.”

“I knew you would, Tobio.”

————————————————————————

The forty-fifth Sunday you spend together doesn’t start as a Sunday at all. Instead, it starts as a gloomy, rainy Saturday night, red numbers glaring from Kageyama’s bedside clock while he holds himself close, quivering breaths wheezing from his chest. The bed is damp beneath his sweating figure, hair sticking to his face and neck in his unmoving, curled up position.

The door to his dorm unlocks with a click, and you tuck the spare key back beneath the pot of the houseplant outside, nudging it in until it disappears, before stepping inside. The room is pitch black, spare of the buzzing streetlights seeping through his blinds, dissipating in hospital white threads. Your heart drops at Kageyama’s erratic breathing, his body curled into a little ball and sinking into his linen bed sheets.

“Hey, you called?”

He doesn’t respond, so you shut the door behind you, and shuffle towards his bed. Your hand presses into the mattress, the fabric damp beneath your fingers, and you sit beside him, your thigh pushed up against his back. His back remains turned away from you, yet you can feel the tension loosen ever so slightly. Your thigh nudges into his spine, and your hand taps at him to get up. 

“Your bedsheets, they’re sweaty. Go take a rinse, I’ll change them for you, okay?”

Kageyama obeys, getting up for the first time in the past three hours and dragging himself into the bathroom. Pulling open every single drawer in his room, you search for his bedsheets, before finally finding the same set that you accidentally took home once. Water splashes and taps from the bathroom as you peel the old, sweaty sheets off the mattress, tucking in the new ones instead, and giving his blanket a fluff. His room is a mess, a volleyball sitting beneath his bed, scattered papers across his desk, knee pads slung carelessly over his chair. The national team jersey, however, hangs proudly at his door, as if to remind him who he is now. He is no longer just Kageyama Tobio, college student, health major, D1 college athlete. He is so much bigger than that now, reaching so high that his feet might just leave the ground forever. 

Yet pain fills your chest as you stare at his new jersey from his bed, the school’s D1 shirt now tucked away into some unceremonious drawer. Is this really worth it? Is this worth hours of panic attacks? Or mornings consumed by training entirely, leaving your Sunday habits behind? You can’t remember the last Sunday you saw him at the laundromat, or grabbed that hot chocolate together, each week a cycle of training, class, training, then sleep. Like the unending spinning of wet laundry in a washing machine.

The bathroom door creaks, and Kageyama finally steps out of the bathroom to see a fresh set of bedsheets on his mattress, cool and dry beneath his body as he crawls in. This time, he doesn’t turn his back to you. 

“Thank you, y/n. I’m sorry.”

“Just game nerves, I get it. I’m sorry I can’t be there tomorrow, Tobio.”

A knowing pout creeps onto his face, before it dissipates into a sad smile. He knows you’ve never missed a single one of his games, and that the only reason you won’t make it tomorrow is because of a TA promotion initiative. Of all games to miss though, why did it have to be his first nationals match? 

“It’s okay, you deserve that promotion. You have to get it.”

You reach over to grab his broad shoulders, shaking them a bit as you stare him down. 

“You are, quite literally, the best player I’ve seen in my life. You’re gonna be amazing tomorrow. Don’t worry.”

Getting up, you grab your phone from the floor, rolling over to leave the bed, when Kageyama’s arm shoots out to grab your wrist. If he can’t have you tomorrow, he’ll need to have you now.

“Can you stay the night?”

Your face flushes. Never have you ever been offered to stay the night before by a partner, let alone a friend. Yet he looks like a lost puppy, eyes searching desperately for some semblance of calm within the harrowing match that looms dreadfully in the near future. Somewhere in there, is a thick cup of hot chocolate, puffing steam from the opening of the lid on a frosty Sunday morning, a basket of clean bedsheets, freshly dried and warmed from the laundromat as the sun rises above the horizon, and the stupid TA lanyard that he searches amongst crowds and lecture halls for, day in and day out.

“Of course.”

The bedsheets shuffle as you crawl back in, making sure to inch away from Kageyama’s body just enough to give him space. You look at him, face pressed into his pillow and eyes threatening to snap shut at any moment, and smile gently. The mask of lilies diffuses into something even softer, like morning dew sitting on iris petals, and pollen wafting into spring air, so delicate that it threatens to drift away at each breath. His fingers shift around the bed to find your own, hooking his pinky with yours as he drifts off to sleep, finally, after two hours of sweating, and crying, and failing breathing exercises. 

Your phone buzzes, text messages from your professor popping up to cancel your meeting for sick leave.

The clock by his bed ticks into 00:00. Sunday morning has come.

————————————————————————

Kageyama wakes up before you do on the forty-fifth Sunday morning, national team jersey stretched across his body and a duffel bag hanging from his shoulder. He watches your nose twitch a little, adapting to the warm, now empty spot on his bed. He decides to watch you a little longer, so he can remember your finger wrapped around his beneath his blankets, and the stripe of light on your face as the morning sun shines through the blinds. He swears it will make him better, as long as he knows every detail of your knee touching his own under the covers, and can hear the small, hitched breaths you take in your sleep in his head, and he steps out the door.

You find yourself sprinting out of a taxi towards Kamei arena at 1pm, finally having read the messages from your professor. Wet hair from your morning shower leaves lines of water in the fabric of your sweater, barely having had the time to take it in the first place. The arena is expansive, every corner turned leading you to the wrong sports hall, until roaring cheers erupt from one of them, and you finally burst in through the right door. 

Kageyama stands at the serving line, bouncing the volleyball against the ground. If they take this set off this serve, they might just have a shot at qualifying. Warm fingers, hot chocolate, knees touching, fresh laundry, hitched breaths, lanyard. He has to remember it all. Feel it all. He scans the crowd, and a lone figure stands at the door. 

“You got this.” He can roughly make out from your lips, now realising that he doesn’t need to remember, or feel, or envision it at all. 

He takes aim, jumps, slams his hand into the ball with as much precision and power as his arms can conjure up. The serve hits right on the line, too close for anyone to think to save it, yet in bounds nevertheless.

The referee calls the match point, and the team hasn’t even had the chance to approach him in celebration, before Kageyama sprints off the court, and towards you. He runs into you, knocking you back a few steps as his entire body engulfs your own in an embrace. He doesn’t spare a second, before grabbing your face, and pulling it towards him, planting a firm kiss onto your lips. You hesitate, confused, before your arms find his neck, looping around to hold him as your eyes flutter shut, and you breathe in the notes of lilies, and musk, and irises, mixed with his sweat and adrenaline. The smell of Sunday mornings. The crowd screams. His teammates also scream. His hands pull your face away from his, so he can properly stare at you, irises darting between your eyes. Fuck a trophy, or a medal, or a national title. He would happily pretend to like coffee, just so you could take him to every single coffee shop in the world if you so desired. He would be satisfied with your knees touching beneath his blankets on lazy Sunday mornings, maybe his arms around your waist too, and your legs tangled up in each other, instead of just his finger wrapped around yours. He would willingly do laundry every single morning for the rest of his life, if it meant getting to pull bedsheets out of washing machines with you. 

“I thought you couldn’t make it?”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world, Tobio.”

author's note:

this was ok! i wanted to experiment with vignettes but it's hard to find a balance... but! im 4/7 done with finals, and i finally have the weekend to rest, so i decided to get it over with and finish off this piece!! im so stupid i like accidentally posted it way too early while checking my blog at like 6am so i was very confused when this draft went missing ummmm

anyways! hope you enjoy!! don't let the word count get to you!! please!! i poured a lot of effort into this because 3k words is more than i have written in like weeks!!

tag time!!

@starlysama @chuuya-brainrot @bailey-reeds @fiannee @afyrian @iiwaijime

ok love u guys see u soon bye bye

[likesdoodling]

Felt like drawing hugs this week so here's some fermyne cause midterm tests were giving me Feelings™

[snailfen]

due to fic writing im trying to wrap my head around what suitcase might think of/how she might treat mephone4 after enough time has passed post-canon and a lot of my trains of thought are boiling down to It's Complicated.

on one hand, suitcase has had it the worst out of many in the show, and she's had to learn when to not take other's shit in order to get by. mephone has also put her on the spot a few times ("judge her accordingly", "pick your favorite friend!") so i imagine she holds that against him. thats not even accounting for The Reveal and her berating mephone4 for the way she was made (whether or not she was made to have hallucinations from the beginning isn't exactly as clear as say, tissues always being sick, at least to me??? but she was undeniably made to struggle). mephone created her to suffer the way she has and i don't imagine she likes the guy all that much post-canon.

on the other hand, she's more sympathetic towards him compared to others. she recognizes the gemories as traumatic memories, attempts to extend her sympathy to him in truth or flare (of course, she gets turned down), and she recognizes when he might be afraid to face those memories, or even cobs. all of this is before the reveal, but still. after that, shes the first to support the idea that he'd better go. plus i think about this list of parallels between them quite a lot.

this is all just off the top of my head though. i think she ultimately recognizes that mephone is more troubled and thats whats caused a lot of her problems with him, but also its not necessarily her responsibility to be kinder to him because of that, or to forgive him. she still tries to offer him kindness though, because, as always she genuinely believes in being kind to others and not going through things alone. never give up on anyone, after all.

[cerealmonster15]

i started playing persona 5 like a year ago or something but i'm really really really slow at only play a little every month or so , so like over time like a buuunch of ppl i follow keep picking up the game and zooming way past where i am which keeps giving me this weird disconnect of whatever tf akechi has going on bc i personally kept forgetting he existed til he was suddenly appearing on screen but i keep seeing like ten billion posts of him and joker like

but so far the very few interactions i remember having w/him have all been like

this is not the same guy i see in the fanart. i have not met that guy yet. whens he gonna go freak mode (dont answer that)

[theoraeeken]

May i request nr3 for thiam please :DD (for the short fic/drabble thing)

sweet fic prompts - open

"Theo, I swear to God," Liam hisses into his phone, trying to balance hiding at the edge of the room with conveying the appropriate amount of pissed off in his tone, "I know you were raised in a sewer but even you know the difference between fashionably late and taking the-"

He stops abruptly when he gets a strange look from a passerby, who looks him up and down so suspiciously he wouldn't be surprised if she was going to call security on him.

"Good evening, ma'am," he says cheerily. If the disdainful look on her face is anything to go by, she doesn't buy it, and the second she's out of earshot, Liam turns back to his phone, snapping, "You cannot leave me alone here, these people are wearing necklaces that would pay my rent for a year and all the food is French and I don't know what it is."

It's probably a bit of an exaggeration; the regional medical benefit that his parents have dragged him to is still in Beacon County, so it's hardly LA. There are a lot of familiar faces Beacon Hills Hospital, people who know him as Dr Geyer's kid, but there's still a lot of people who don't, in their fancy suits and glittery dresses and bemused expressions when they see him fighting the collar of his shirt. Theo seemed like the ideal plus one when his parents extended the invitation - he's infuriatingly charming, unnervingly well-versed on current biomedical research, and best of all, mostly willing to let Liam hide behide him for the entire night. Besides, Theo doesn't get nearly enough opportunities to scheme and lie these days. It'd be good for him. Like enrichment.

Of course, only if he actually turns up.

"If you don't walk through those doors in the next five minutes," Liam whispers, "I'm going to turn your smarmy ass into a fucking rug."

He hits the END CALL button with what is probably a little bit too much aggression, but the liklihood of Theo ever listening to his voicemail is slim to zero, so he's not worried about it.

"Hello."

The voice so close to his ear makes him jerk out of his skin, and the hand that had landed on his hip moves around to rest against his stomach in a mostly-successful attempt and stopping him from jumping a foot forward in surprise.

"What the f-"

"Shh," Theo says, resting his chin on Liam's shoulder as he presses up against his back, "You're making a scene."

"A scene?" Liam hisses, but when Theo snorts in amusement and moves to step away, Liam grabs at his hand where it's still on his abdomen, "You scared the shit out of me."

"Liam," Theo says, turning his head to whisper directly in his ear, the words little more than warm air against his skin, "You're a werewolf."

Scowling, Liam wriggles out of his grasp, "And you're a di-"

The rest of his words die on his lips when he turns around, because Theo is wearing a suit. It's dark blue, a slim black tie over a white shirt that might as well be painted on. He's been growing his hair out a little longer than usual lately, and its pushed back from his face in a way that somehow looks intentional on Theo but would probably make Liam's mother chase him round the house with a hairbrush if he tried it.

"Did you steal that suit?" he asks, because blurting out seemingly offensive questions is a good way of keeping his mouth busy enough to not say something considerably worse. Stood as close as they are, there's no way on earth Theo didn't see - or smell, christ - his reaction, but maybe he can distract him by being an asshole for long enough to get away with it.

From the knowing grin on his face, he doesn't even come close.

"No, Liam, I didn't steal the suit," he says, smoothing down a non-existent wrinkle in the lapel, "Looks good though, doesn't it?"

Liam is careful to keep his expression neutral.

"Not really your colour," he says flatly.

Theo's eyes dart momentarily down to Liam's chest, where his heart has definitely just done something revealing, but thankfully doesn't comment on it, just raises his eyebrows like he knows he doesn't need to.

"Sure. Did I hear you say something about French food?"

"Yeah. I don't know what any of it is," Liam groans. The waiter's keep offering him things that he's never heard of and he couldn't even begin to guess what might be.

Snorting, Theo keeps one hand curled around Liam's hip, guiding him away from the wall and back into the fray.

"I'll translate, shall I?"

Liam, never one to let him have the last word, leans briefly into his side, muttering, "sure," before elbowing him gently in the ribs.

[inquisimer]

Hi! I have a question if you would like to answer: what made you want for Arlow and Lucanis to be best friends prior to the events of the game? Like what was the moment where you went „that would be a great idea“ and why?

Ahh yes, thank you for asking!! I am always happy to talk about them (:

Short answer: I'm a sucker for friends-to-lovers, especially with some kind of mess or drama in between.

Long answer:

Before Veilguard dropped, I was being so careful to not let myself get out of hand building a Rook, because even though I like to bend canon, I also like to know what the canon sandbox is before I do that. I wanted to know the backstories, the faction vibes, and the relationship/quest beats before I got my heart set on an OC. At the same time, I was battling the overwhelming urge to immerse myself in character building because I was so hyped. So, as a compromise (and this is the "moment" I would say), I let myself pick exactly one (1) thing about my Rook: she knows how Lucanis takes his coffee and he trusts her to make it for him.

(which became infinitely funnier once it dropped that crow!Rook was a de Riva, because of the poison angle. serendipity, lol)

Having read the short story The Wake, I knew that there would be some fuckery regarding Lucanis being "dead" (and I was already planning to romance him after reading Tevinter Nights). I wanted to give him and Arlow enough of a relationship history that his death would mean more to her than just "ah shit, the First Talon's grandson got got", but I didn't want that history to be romantic, because I wanted to watch the romance arc play out in game.

So, best friends. And with how intense Lucanis is about his platonic relationships with all of the Veilguard, I'm really glad for that choice - I think it suits both of them, and the stories I want to tell for them (:

Thank you again for asking!! Kicking my feet and twirling my hair whenever I get to talk about them 💜💜

[foxstens]

i actually wonder if nora could pull off killing kevin

[nhothicket]

Ever create a band au even though you cant draw instruments?

more info below the cut :>

Meet Bdubs, 38, stage name BdoubleO - Boomer is often mistaken for his first name, but is just another nickname for the pile. Infamous online, if it weren't for the fact that he makes disgustingly good music he would probably have more hate followers than genuine fans. The line between charming asshole and just asshole is one he fails to tread lightly most days, but he's mostly harmless. Let's just say the Bdoubleo could also stand for boorish. A bit of a sellout, but he enjoys what he does and many appreciate his extremely.. candid attitude. Best likened to a cartoon villain dressed as a rockstar, with the ego to match. (It's usually his unrelenting pretentiousness that gets him into Twitter spats.)

Thank you @foxden-frontier for always helping out with my stupid aus ^v^

Annoying at worst, unfortunately very charismatic at best. You could say he's a softie at heart, but that implies its at all difficult to spot. Once he's done "clapping back at all the haters", in person he's still got a temper (he thinks he has a bad boy reputation to uphold) but is enthusiastically friendly.

Etho, 32, resident keytarist of creatively named band Canadian Bacon. Joined by his two best friends, Pause the frontman and bassist, and Beef their drummer. A deceptively popular band if judging by their permanent rough draft name and their nerdy-college-student dress code. Etho himself is just a guy who likes playing music with his buddies, their hobby having blown up under their noses. Now, as an unfortunately successful touring artist, Etho's anonymity is scarce, but he continues to wear his mask to discourage widespread photos of his face. In spirit. He's concerned about having his face plastered all over fan accounts, which still occurs, but a perk of having a completely rabid fanbase is that many will defend your boundaries to their last dying breath. Like his face, his legal name is out and about online, but its similarly discouraged. Best likened to just a guy.

If asked on the subject of his scar, the entire band has various different whimsical stories, brand new everytime. His lack of internet presence means Pause and Beef are free to make up whatever misinformation about him as they please completely unchecked (in jest of course), and they do take advantage of that. Many of these alternative facts are passed around on wikis and in fan circles.

To say Bdubs is jealous of Canadian Bacon's popularity is an understatement. They weren't even trying at all and yet they're the hot shit? But instead of putting that jealousy to hatred (which he had considered of course) he's instead set himself on proving himself. And if that means impressing Etho then so be it. Why does it mean impressing Etho? Good question, never ask it again. They say keep your enemies close, and Bdubs' enemies don't deserve personal space.

As it turns out, Etho wasn't too difficult to impress or maybe Bdubs was just that amazing. Either way, they end up hitting it off. Their friendship is an interesting one, mostly because Etho's fans basically hunt Bdubs for sport online. We're talking scribbled out of pictures, get behind me, #FreeEtho. Etho thinks he seems pretty cool though, if not a bit much sometimes, so no harm no foul.

Okay, rapid fire, some other notes for this au.

> Etho's legal name is Ethel. Because it is. My heart is so set on it. But if you're boring, Ethan or Ezekiel or something work too I guess.

> Etho's keytar mimics a more traditional guitar in most cases, though he's known to experiment a lot with how far he can push that.

> Etho's scar is from a mugging in this au, not a very fun story to tell. Beef practicing his brand new razor blade throwing hobby or fighting a bear to beat Pause in a bet is much more entertaining.

> Canadian Bacon is meant to have a manager, but I couldn't think of anyone I felt fit. Just a note.

> Bdubs has a habit of grabbing Etho by his tie and pulling him down to his level or otherwise using it as a leash. Etho doesn't usually wear the tie outside of show stuff or interviews, but he wears it around Bdubs because thinks its funny. When there's no tie that doesn't stop Bdubs, collars and hoodie strings are subject to the same usage.

> Etho isn't aware of how infamous Bdubs is when they meet as they meet at a festival with a big group of other musicians. Most of which already know Bdubs as his more excitable friendly self. He only finds out later when Bdubs complains about Etho's fans flaming him anytime he mentions him.

> Bdubs still has a self-imposed curfew, 10pm every night unless it conflicts with a show. He needs his beauty sleep.

> The trigger reason for the animosity toward Bdubs is due to being blamed by fans for the split of his last band that had a pretty hardcore cult following (OOG, I've not named their band yet), and that has since snowballed into what it is today, despite his actions being relatively harmless. To note, this was not an assumption at all promoted by either party, it was entirely a fanmade judgement.

> For those who can, picture s5 jungle Bdubs mixed with drunken OOG(E) ctm maps for his approximate personality. Still goofy but with a sharper tongue and a lot worse of a temper.

> Originally I considered Cleo as Bdubs' manager so he's not all alone in narrative sense, I still think it's not a bad idea I'd love to see her chew him out for acting like a moron. Ren or Scar would be also be options for manager.

> Bdubs needs a touring band, but I'm not well versed enough in the hermits to actually pick one out. Just a note.

Okay, that's most of it! There's some more pg-13 headcanons for this au, along the lines of fuck yeah rock'n roll lifestyle, but it's not really important I'm sure just that is enough to get the gist of it. Thank you for reading this overly long note. ^v~

[andresylupin]

maybe i've subconsciously pushed back against "The Teeth of the Tiger" because it's the one novel where you have to reconcile with the fact that, well:

[fiepige]

My concept for Venom!Hobie

Okay here goes

DISCLAIMER: I CANNOT DRAW

I've made another post where I mentioned it as well but I'll reiterate it here:

I don't think Hobie would ever canonically accept a symbiote due to his history with them and how they're used in his universe.

Now with that out of the way let's speculate!

This is my concept sketch for Venom!Hobie

Before I go into details about the design and the possible way he would work in universe:

I wanna give the world's BIGGEST shoutout to @levionok for being the coolest person ever and actually make some AMAZING drawings of Venom!Hobie:

(Like how cool is this!?!?!!! I love these so much!! aaaaahhhhhhhhh<3 <3<3)

Okay so, first I wanna talk about his design and then I wanna speculate about the most "realistic" ways I think Venom!Hobie could come into existence/what his personality would be like.

Design:

I wanted the symbiote to exaggerate some of Hobie's physical features so I kinda went with the idea of Venom!Hobie being even lankier and spikier than regular Hobie/Spider-Punk (since the symbiotes seem to take more after the actual suit when it comes to their design I based most of their looks around how Hobie looks as Spider-Punk)

Since Hobie is already tall I of course imagine Venom!Hobie as being even taller/lankier.

Though due to his longer limbs he has a bigger tendency to walk crouched down on all fours (sixs technically?) as beautifully illustrated by @levionok above. (and less beautifully illustrated by me in the top right corner of my drawing lol)

Since Hobie also incorporates spikes into his looks I did the same for Venom!Hobie and added even more! He now has more rows of "mohawk" spikes, his choker spikes become longer and the same goes for the spikes from his jacket + he gets extra spikes along his back. He also gets spikes along his wrists! - He's a spikey boy!

Also all the spikes are made from symbiote "teeth" and could in theory be moved around on his body if he wanted to (though they mostly stay in place).

The "running mascara"-look (Idk what to call it lol) also carries over from Spider-Punk's mask and is once again even more pronounced in Venom!Hobie.

Now one of the more noticeable traits are the arms! I haven't figured every detail out yet, but so far the idea is that his arms split into two at the elbows but he's able to "fuse" them back into one arm if he wishes to (which he rarely does).

Also to get the idea across that it's his arm being split up I tried to add some symbiote goop between the two parts of the arms!

I kinda like the idea of him being able to change his "design" (changing his spikes and arms as he pleases) so to say, kinda referencing to him not believing in consistency and how he changes "filters" in his animation style! Though I picture him as looking like in the concept drawings above most of the time.

I'm also kinda toying with the idea of giving him barbed wire like webbing since I remember reading somewhere that Hobie apparently has used barbed wire instead of webs in the comics from time to time.

But I also headcanon Venom!Hobie as being more animalistic and more likely to just use brute force instead of webs.

He is fast when he's down on all fours (again sixs? idk lol)

Of course he also gets most of the classic Venom abilities and weaknesses (I haven't read the comics so I'm going off memory of the Venom movie which I've seen once like 5 years ago so please bear with me ^^')

The most noticable weakness being sound! I'll take a closer look at how this affects Hobie when I get to his personality/origin.

Okay that's all about his design for now, I might come back and add more stuff later if I come up with anything as this is still a new concept I'm workshopping (and inputs are greatly appreciated!)

Now we're moving on to his personality/origin as I feel like these two are very intertwined. Cause I feel like the way Venom!Hobie originates will affect his personality too! Let me explain:

So far I've come up with two possible ideas/reasons for Hobie to even bond with a symbiote in the first place and depending on which version you choose I feel like it would end up having different effects on his personality/how he handles the situation:

Scenario 1:

The symbiote is passed onto Hobie without him knowing!

Possibly from an encounter with the cops where a symbiote manages to latch onto Hobie as he kills its former host.

(Or maybe a villain manages to plant one on him somehow).

This would lead to a slow gradual "fusion" between Hobie and the symbiote as it would be very aware that Hobie is NOT exactly a fan of it and would do whatever he could to get rid of it/kill it if he found out about it.

If I recall correctly Eddie also wasn't aware of his symbiote in the beginning and only found out about it when it decided to make itself known. -(referencing the movie)

So I'd imagine a similar scenario here but instead of making itself known, the symbiote hides its presence from Hobie as much as possible while making small gradual changes to Hobie to prepare for an eventual fusion/take over.

Like slowly Hobie starts getting migraines whenever he plays his guitar or listens to loud music so he does so less and less without being even consciously aware of it.

At some point he even stops bringing his guitar with him on missions since he never uses it anyways and hey why did he even bring it in the first place? - I like to think that the symbiote is somewhat able to manipulate Hobie's thoughts over time to make him more susceptible to it.

Going to concerts also becomes a no no.

Hobie also changes his diet; the thought of going to the community garden just not appealing to him as much anymore for some reason. So he visits it less frequently until he also just completely stops going (affecting both his diet and his social life- the symbiote would want Hobie to be as isolated as possible to make him easier to manipulate).

Hobie doesn't realise it at first but he starts craving meat more and more and as time passes he also prepares his meals less and less until he basically eats meat raw. (I'm once again thinking about the movie and that lobster scene, though his symbiote would have to be a lot more sublte for him to not notice what's going on).

At this point Hobie would have to be almost completely isolated and under the influence of the symbiote for so long that it would finally feel "safe" making itself known, preying on his hunger (having been homeless Hobie has known hunger before but I imagine that the hunger that comes with a symbiote is its own unique thing and that it's rather extreme) and his declining mental health.

While a part of him would still very much hate it, Hobie would begrudgingly accept the symbiote and chaos would ensue.

And then of course the Spider-Gang would try and stop/save him cause they know that Hobie would never want this. Wether they're gonna be successful or not is up to interpretation.

Now personality vise I imagine this version of Venom!Hobie is gonna be mostly taken over by the symbiote and thus being more feral and animalistic. It most likely wouldn't talk a lot and mostly be focused on feeding (and like in the movie, its favourite food is gonna be humans. Hobie would try to make sure they only target cops but sometimes the hunger would win over reason).

I know this is pretty dark but I really can't imagine a positive scenario where Hobie would willingly accept a symbiote so this is my first "solution". (Though I also feel like his friends would intervene before he reached this point but still, I kinda like the idea of the slow corruption and the person not realising it until it's too late)

You still with me? Good, cause it's time for:

Scenario 2:

I'd wish that this one would be more positive but I guess that sadly isn't the case

In this scenario Hobie would have reached his breaking point.

He would have been through an experience so traumatic that he feels like a symbiote is his ONLY option.

(If I recall correctly he's reffered to himself as a "suicide machine" in the comics and this would really come into play here).

He'd become way more reckless and not really caring what happens to him in battle. He views this as his last resort.

Like maybe there's a new kind of symbiote that isn't weak to sound or fire and Hobie has no other way to defeat them than to get one himself.

The only positive is that Hobie would be more mentally in control as he's fully aware of the symbiote and how it can influence his mind.

He'd still have cravings for raw meat but he wouldn't have been as mentally unstable and only target cops/other symbiotes becomming kind of a double cannibal.

Once again his friends would try to stop him and he'd definitely be more resonable in this scenario than in the first one.

But he'd still push them away both to protect them and out of shame over his situation.

This time more of Hobie's personality would shine through but it still wouldn't be a very positive version of Hobie as I imagine any scenario with him having a symbiote would really have a negative impact on his mental health.

But still there's room for a happy ending if the Spider-Gang manage to get to him in time!

So yeah, both of these scenarios are kind of a bummer for Hobie (to put it mildly lol) but I honestly can't imagine a positive situation where Hobie would willingly accept a symbiote! (I'm more than happy to hear any takes you guys might have that prove me wrong though!)

Okay, I think that's everything for now!

I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions of Venom!Hobie!

Also let me know if there's anything you want me to elaborate on! Or of you just wanna talk Hobie or Venom!Hobie in general <3

If you made it this far you are honestly a champ and deserve all the gold stars in the world. As I sadly can't give you that have a GIF of Hobie smiling to cheer you up!

Also I wanna give another huge shout out to @levionok! Both for the amazing drawings of Venom!Hobie and for giving me the courage and motivation to share my concept of him! <3<3<3

also have another Venom!Hobie cause I can't get over how cool she made them look! If you haven't already you should really check out their tumblr! They have made some AWESOME ATSV art there!!!

[resuswhore]

That story was absolutely amazing. I dont even like males in CPR generally, but the description of all the desperate efforts literally have me dripping wet right now. I haven't read a story like this in a long time

oh I'm so glad it was well enjoyed 🤭 I definitely pride myself on being descriptive and I'm glad it paid off 💞💞💞

[sleepanonymous]

Information below the cut and nightmare scenario in the tags.

Interesting facts: This cover was the last video he posted to YouTube under this channel before ST formed. This was also almost a year exactly before the ST YouTube channel was created.