#noodles writes things

[localcanadiancryptid22]

huhuhuhu mini fic for @noodles-and-tea's twins in time au. Why did I make this when I have more gf ideas I still haven't worked on?,idk.

(set months after Stan arrived in the 50s)

"Did you REALLY fight a kraken with my future self before you got here?" "I- Uh-" Stan stammers as he remembers what actually happened before he got sent to the 50s. All the pain,the failure,the rock bottom and the science fair incident. The resentment. At this point Stan has gotten tired of lying to the kid and he decides to tell the truth straight to his face. "No. Look,kid. NONE OF IT IS REAL. WE DON'T GO ON ADVENTURES IN THE FUTURE. I'M NOT SOME RICH TREASURE HUNTER AND YOU'RE NOT A COOL SCI FI GUY. The only thing me and you go through,is fighting. Hot Belgian Waffles,so much fighting. What actually happens is that,i end up getting kicked out and i have to live on the streets for years instead of going treasure hunting to make it big with you in high school. And speaking of you,you DON'T become a cool sci Fi guy,you're just an alone and unkept broken man in the woods." Stan explains as he saw that the younger Ford is crying,either from the yelling or from the harsh sad truth. He then winced in guilt as he felt bad for hurting the little guy's feelings,feeling even worse when he realizes that this kid is still his brother. "Wh-Why?. Why do we fight so much in the future?." Ford asks as he cried while Stan hugs him to make up for his outburst. "I don't know. We got dumb. We made the wrong choices,and it's too late to go back. And I'm sorry for yellin',i- i just don't wanna lie anymore." Stan replied as the little boy then hugged him back. "I think you need one too,and it's okay,i know that you feel really bad for whatever happened between us. I get it,not talking to my Stan for a long time is the worst." Ford remarks as the boy knew that he was hurting as well,which made the man hug tighter as he tried to fight back tears that were threatening to stream down his face from how painful the estrangement and brotherly tension is. "Thanks,kiddo. I'm glad to have you with me,even when your older self hates me." Stan says as the boy then smiled and pulled away from the hug. "Do you still like toffee peanuts?." Ford asks as he then wiped off his own tears. "You bet i do. And you still like jellybeans. Actually I think we should buy some right now,to make up for my dumb outburst." Stan replied as Ford's eyes lit up as he started to jump in excitement while he quickly nodded. Stan then sighs in content as he then brought his smaller less resentful brother to the candy store to pick out jellybean flavors.

[lovesickeros]

☆ decadence divine [ act I ]

{☆} characters arlecchino, neuvillette, furina {☆} notes yandere, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings yandere content, stalking (implied), kidnapping (implied) {☆} word count 2.3k

ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino was wont to leave social gatherings to her subordinates– the private meetings were where she thrived. It was so much easier to lure your prey into a trap when you didn't have prying eyes and ears waiting for the barest hint of blackmail.

She clicked her tongue in distaste, her eyes narrowing beneath the mask of the fox as she set down her cup sharply. It was difficult as it was to draw them from the safety of their bubble– at the slightest hint of danger, her quarry would run. A chase would be fun, but she couldn't risk getting caught here. The political nightmare it would cause..it already gave her a headache. She had to be discreet.

They weren't making it easy, however.

Which is why she never liked crowds. But this chance didn't come by every day. She wasn't going to simply let it pass by because of a little danger. She'd have them eventually, it was just a matter of how. There were already numerous of her own lingering in the crowds, hidden beneath the masks that every patron bore. It was difficult to stand out amongst the flurry of masked patrons constantly shifting around the room, moving from one conversation to another, gliding from one dance partner to another.

Her heeled boots clicked sharply against the tile as she stalked through the crowds, keeping a wide berth yet always lingering nearby– she was sure they could feel the vague sense of being watched, but with the huge crowds..her lips quirked into a grin with the barest flash of teeth. There were a great many ways to break them in– she'd spent a great amount of time and mora to get anything she could for blackmail, if she so wished. She had the backing of the Fatui as well if she played her cards right– it wouldn't be difficult to convince them that they were a valuable target, and none of them would dare to question just what she did with them afterwards.

Perhaps a bit of play, first. Test the waters. She was familiar with playing the polite gentleman, despite her status as a Fatui Harbinger. Stage something for her to intervene, perhaps, to look the hero. The look of shock when she revealed the wolf beneath the wool..she could see it already. That wide, doe-eyed look as they realized the monster they've followed blindly like a lost lamb..she was beginning to see the appeal.

All it took was a few hushed words and subtle signals before the tiles started to fall in place, her hand gliding along their lower back as she leaned over their shoulder with a thin, predatory smile. She'd have to organize for the agent to be released later, her eyes following as the Gardes dragged him out of the room in a flurry of curses, but for now..she tilted her head to peer down at them, polite and almost apologetic.

"You aren't too startled, are you? Now now, there's no need to look so..scared, poor thing. I won't let another lay a hand on you," She cooed in a sickly sweet tone, the husky rasp of her voice whispered in their ear like dripping honey. "You have my word. Now, why don't we get you some fresh air? Come. Allow me to escort you."

Her lips pulled into a jagged grin at the relief in their eyes– the blind lamb following the shepherd as it led them into it's maw. Just a little longer, and she could finally have her own caged bird– a pretty thing to admire, to protect, to possess.

Something no one else would ever touch again. Something hers.

NEUVILLETTE

Neuvillette was not one for parties. The intricacies and delicate handling of public relations he oft left in the capable hands of Furina, rather then himself. It was only at her behest he even attended at all, but he still felt rather..out of place amongst the bodies constantly shifting through the ballroom like a constant rush of water from one end to the other, no rhyme nor reason to the flow. The only thing that kept him afloat among the tides was the mask of the deer obscuring his face– even if it was exceedingly difficult to truly hide himself among the crowds, most passed over him without second thought.

Though he had to be honest with himself, even if he couldn't bring himself to admit it to Furina despite her insistence that his attendance was mandatory. He had his own reasons for coming– selfishness that left a sour taste in his mouth. It was purely by chance he'd seen the briefest glimpse of them prior, and he..was intrigued, that was all.

He refused to let his thoughts linger on the sleepless nights he spent prying every piece of information he could from loose tongues and obscure documents, every moment he managed to squeeze in between trials spent lingering in their most favored locations– cafes, stores, restaurants, the like.

Now a masquerade.

He tried not to let the guilt gnaw at his conscious, but it lingered like an age old scar that still ached.

So he relegated himself to simply residing in the further corner, nursing a goblet of water like a fine wine, trying not to let his eyes stray to the brief glimpses of them through the ever moving bodies filling the center of the room, dancing like puppets in music boxes.

Still, his hand twitched in an instinctual desire– a need to clasp his hand in their own, to touch his lips upon their knuckles, to indulge in a moment of reprieve and unshackle himself from the mantle that bears heavy upon his shoulders. He seeks reverence, worship, but not of himself– but towards the one who had drawn the eye of the dragon amongst the waves of humans he'd seen come and go for a great many years.

No one could compare, he is certain. None have left him as breathless, as hopelessly infatuated, as the one who made him wish only to kneel at their feet in senseless reverence until he could no longer speak. A hopeless man, indeed, if he has never even truly met them.

Instead he's spent his time prying into their life from the shadows. Caution, or simple cowardice?

He dares not ponder.

Yet in his ceaseless pondering he'd blocked out the world without, failing to notice the figure stepping up beside him until their hand brushed against his elbow– just the briefest touch, but it had his pupils narrowing and his entire body tensing like a coiled spring. That touch..bliss. It left him breathless and lightheaded as he tilted his head to regard them, his lips parting in a shaky sigh. They are as beautiful as he remembers– even with their face obscured beneath the mask, he would never forget them.

"Greetings, Monsieur– I hope I didn't frighten you too much." Their laugh made him feel rather faint, just the sound of their voice making his hand tighten around his cane. "..Not at all. I was simply lost in thought." He admitted apologetically, trying to reign in the urge to cup their face between his palms. A dangerous thought. He didn't want to scare them off when they'd provided him a priceless opportunity.

"My apologies, you must have needed something. It was rude of me to have been so absorbed in my thoughts to have ignored you." He continued, gently turning to set his goblet down– offer them his full attention, be a gentleman. The words rang in his skull like a ceaseless alarm, blaring and rattling his thoughts as he gently took their hand in his own. It was a split second decision– an indulgence, but he could simply not help himself. Even with his gloves between them, he felt like he was going to lose his composure just from such a brief touch..

He truly was a hopeless man before an altar, praying for a salvation he intends to bury deep beneath the waves– to keep it hidden in the darkness of the depths that only he can reach. A selfish man, he must be, to even think of it, but it is an itch that he cannot scratch. A need that must be satisfied. He cannot allow any hands but his own to tend to them, to know what it feels to touch them, to hear their voice and see their eyes as he prays– prays like a man starved, devotion born of desperation.

"I hope I did not make you wait too long." He smiles, soft and affectionate, like the bloom of spring beneath the winters chill– yet just as deadly, only masked by the sweet fragrance of flowers.

He had waited too long.

No longer.

FURINA

Furina was right at home amongst the crowds– where the masks obscured the identities of most, it was impossible to not recognize the charming banter of the Hydro Archon beneath the mask of the lamb as she graced the masquerade with her presence, speaking with a silver tongue to any who would listen. A truly enthralled audience fitting for the grandest of performers in Fontaine.

But her eyes lingered not on the people who's praise dripped from their lips like honey– yet so very bitter upon her tongue. Even the mask obscuring her expression did little to hide the longing that had her visibly deflating like a popped balloon. She hated all the eyes on her, really– it was suffocating. She was only putting on a show in the foolish hope that they'd finally pay attention to her. Just her luck, she supposes, that instead she's had to throw herself straight into the role of Archon without a pay off..

They hadn't even spared her a glance! It would be infuriating if not for the fact she couldn't even keep her composure just seeing them across the room. They didn't even have to look at her and she could feel the heat rush to her ears as she forced another smile at the crowd gathered around her. It was unfair how easily they could fluster her without even knowing it– her heart was thumping so hard against her ribcage she felt like it might burst.

Her only solace was the fact none of the patrons seemed to realize she'd clocked out of the conversation, her thoughts and eyes lingering on the distant figure– what a lovestruck fool she makes..it was a chance encounter she'd seen them during one of her outings. That was all it took to enthrall her, evidentially, try as she might to have ignore it for months.

They never left her mind for longer then a day, in the end, and she had to face the fact they had managed to enrapture her so deeply she felt like a newborn lamb learning to walk whenever she so much as thought of them. What an embarrassment! She..she was the Archon, she had a reputation to maintain, she couldn't be seen fawning over a human.

But oh, she still longed for it, beneath the veneer of a God. She'd watched them more times then she'd admit even to herself, wishing to find herself in place of those who'd hands were cradled so casually in their own– to hear their voice, their laughter, as often as she pleased..like a fine delicacy she so badly wished to taste, yet so far from her reach.

Would they think her pathetic for her infatuation? She pursed her lips at the thought, trying to bury the sour mood beneath her faux image of the Archon. Yet it lingered, and with only the quietest of excuses, she slipped into the crowd like a ghost– she needed to leave before she did something..stupid. Neuvillette would surely have a few choice words with her if she did, and she was inclined to avoid such a fate.

She..she just needed a moment to collect herself was all. That was it. She could go back to playing Archon for a little longer, she just needed a moment to herself. At the very least, the balcony had been regarded as off limits so late into the party– which gave her an opportunity to slip out of the public view for the briefest of moments. A welcome reprieve– she was starting to feel suffocated amongst the crowds.

Perhaps on instinct, she reached for the mask, lifting ever so slightly away..only to let out a startled yelp at the touch of a hand on her shoulder, the mask slipping back into place far too easily. It made her lightheaded, even now, but she dared not to dwell on it.

But when she turned sharply on her heel to chew out the person who'd followed her and had the gall to scare her..oh, she was done for, her ears flush with heat. The brief glimpse of their eyes beneath the mask, the curl of their lips as they smiled– her heart stuttered in her chest, and she was certain it had stopped all together when they clasped her hand.

"Y–you.." She wanted to be angry, to brush them off and leave with her rationality in tact, but the warmth of their hands on her skin rendered her speechless. She was no better then a fish on land, struggling to fill her lungs with air as she drew in a shaky breath. "Ahem, you caught me off guard. That's all. Surely you do not make it a habit to sneak up on people?" She huffed in indignation, trying to mask the fluster that threatened to break through her carefully crafted facade.

Ah, what a cruel twist of fate..she'd slipped away to escape their allure, but here they were, dragging her back into their orbit without even knowing how deep her infatuation ran. They were alone, too..it was a chance she wasn't sure she'd ever get again.

Maybe, just this once, she could do something for herself rather then everyone else.

She buried her guilt, the fear– buried it beneath the need to be seen.

"But if you want to make it up to me.."

[oh-katsuki]

“hey, satoru?” you break the comfortable silence, your voice just barely rising over the sound of cicadas. 

“hm?” he hums, tilting his head toward you. 

you avoid looking at him, staring out over the walkway up to the school. everything is bathed in the cool light of the moon. it makes things glow like they’re alive. under it, the concrete shines like pearls. 

“can i ask you something?” 

he furrows his eyebrows, giving you a coy smile. “sure, you can ask me anything.” 

“it’s not really a question, though,” you chuckle a little. the sound doesn’t reach your chest, instead coming from the front of your mouth. 

satoru shrugs, leaning back on his palms. 

“you’re really hard to pin down, you know?” you mumble. 

“that so?” 

“yeah,” your voices pulls down like there is a weight tied to it. “i can’t tell if you love me or if you just like keeping me around. kind of like a pet,” you pull your knees to your chest and run your finger along the cracks in the concrete you’re sitting on. “you’re confusing, you know? but then again, i don’t know what i’d say if you said the same thing to me. i don’t even really know what to expect.” 

he sits on what you’ve said for a moment and you deliberately avoid looking at him. you don’t want to see the expression on his face. 

“it’s probably hard,” he says quietly, a little more considerately than he normally speaks, “to describe what it is i feel for you. even to myself. i’m not quite sure how to answer.” 

you nod and rest your chin on the tops of your knees, not offering a verbal response. 

“what would you say? if i asked you the same thing?” he asks. 

“i think i’d probably say that i love you,” you answer. there’s no hesitation, just the quiet admittance that comes so quickly that you almost don’t register that you’ve said it. “but i think i’d also say that i hate you.” 

satoru gives a flat chuckle, mirthless and somewhat empty. “that’s contradictory, but i think i get it.” 

you inhale, feeling exhaustion creep into your bones. “you just make me crazy. that’s all it is. i want you so badly but i feel like i can never have you.” 

“have me?” you can hear the grin on his lips. “what makes you think you never can? i’m right here.” 

“not that you wouldn’t,” you clarify, avoiding his gaze which you can feel against your skin, “but more like you feel so far away... you’re leagues ahead of us, you know? just by existing.” 

satoru considers this quietly and you turn to face him as he does. his expression, usually so carefree, is weighted. his lips pull down a little in the corners. when he catches you staring, you can almost see the way he puts on a mask, smiling lightly at you. 

“that’s just what it is to be me,” he says softly. “not that i want to be far away. 

after a moment, he speaks again, softer. it’s more of a confession than anything else. “what do i have besides strength?” 

“me,” you say, quietly but earnestly. 

“you’d choose me if i was weak?” he laughs a little. 

“in a heartbeat,” you answer firmly. “you could be the weakest man alive and i think i’d still want you. you could hate me and i don’t think i could ever give you up.” 

“i could never hate you.” 

you laugh a little, knowing that the statement is partially false. you think that, to some degree, the two of you hate each other just as much as you care for each other. maybe you’ve just confused it for love. 

“would you love me if i were so strong that i hurt you? what if you were weak? would you still want me then?” he asks. satoru inadvertently admits a fear when he says that. the fear of responsibility, of hurting those he loves. losing control and destroying both the good and the bad. 

“i am weak.” 

“you’re not.” 

“when it comes to you, i am,” you chuckle a little, sounding pathetic. “all you have to do is ask and i’d do anything. i don’t even think i’d hesitate. though, maybe that’s not weakness. maybe it’s strength. i don’t really know.” 

“sounds like love to me,” he laughs lightly.

“you think so? you think that’s love? how frightening.” you give a flat laugh, shaking your head a little. 

“if it’s not love, then what is it?” he says softly, trying to coax you to look at him. 

“violence,” you say, tilting your head to look at him. “i think it’s violence.” 

satoru blinks at you for a moment, like he’s letting what you’ve said sink in. under the moon, his white hair shines, reflecting the light onto his t-shirt and the concrete beneath him. it catches in his eyes, giving them an almost inhuman glint that you’ve come to recognize as satoru. 

“i love you,” he says quietly, so softly that you almost miss it. 

you laugh quietly, void of any real resonation, “how violent.” 

[bookshelf-in-progress]

I know you've retold these before, but if you want to do one in the form of a flash fiction... My request would be The Goose Girl or Twelve Dancing Princesses.

I've pondered over a few possibilities for this prompt. This morning, I came up with an idea for a Twelve Dancing Princesses retelling that had me bolting out of bed to start writing. I don't know how to end the story, but I like the setup, so for the sake of sharing something, I thought I'd at least share what I have here.

*

Edmund slipped through the city streets, nimbly dodging around the people who couldn't see him. His pay jingled in his pocket--a gift from a generous shoemaker who'd been grateful for the invisible help--but no one heard. No one looked his way. No one ever did.

At the corner sat a ragged beggar child. Edmund was careful with his money now--he could never be sure of getting more--but he dropped the largest of his coins in her tin cup. She looked up--astonished at the miracle, confused when she couldn't see her benefactor--but didn't meet his gaze.

Edmund always noticed beggars now, after the one who'd cursed him. He'd been young and thoughtless then, newly released from the army with a pocket full of pay. A night in the tavern--celebrating the war's end--ate of most of it, and he stumbled into the streets at sunrise wondering how on earth he could make his money last.

He'd stumbled over the beggar woman, then pretended he didn't hear when she asked for a coin. He had none to spare; he had to look after himself.

Then she proved herself a fairy in disguise and pronounced his doom.

Because you have made yourself blind to the needs of others, this is your curse: to wander the world unseen until you give yourself entire to another.

An unbreakable curse, he'd found--a princess might marry a man sight unseen, but people of his own class liked to see their husbands before they wed.

So he wandered, scrounging where he could (never stealing--a fairy who cursed a man for ignoring a beggar would undoubtedly do much worse to a thief), sometimes doing odd jobs for men willing to arrange his hire and payment by letter. Doing unseen good where possible--at first in the hope that he might be observed by another fairy who'd reward him by lifting the curse, but then because he could--he could see the invisible problems, and give his help without shaming those who received it.

A hardscrabble, desperate life. Sometimes a satisfying one. But--more and more as the years went on--unbearably, unspeakably lonely.

The sun rose higher. The crowds increased. Edmund slipped into the doorway of an abandoned shop and considered waiting out the morning rush. Then he noticed that the entire crowd was drifting in one direction.

This was too much for an invisible man to resist. Edmund drifted at the rear of the crowd until the mass of people pooled around a fountain in the middle of a city square, where stood a royal messenger making a proclamation.

So declared the king: his daughters were wearing through their shoes every night, though the doors of their bedchamber were locked and bolted. The princes set upon the problem had all failed to solve the mystery. So the king decreed that any man who, in three nights' time, could solve the mystery of where the princesses went at night, could have his choice of one to wed.

The crowd gasped. Murmured. Chattered. Shared gossip and rumor. Wondered who'd be daft enough to take the challenge--princess or no, the men who'd tried to solve the mystery before had died.

But at the edge of the crowd, unseen by all, Edmund smiled.

He'd found the way to break his curse.

[crystallizsch]

Hello Ian! ♡

Here's a Jamiyuu fic for you! I apologize if it's not the best, I wrote it in like ten minutes since I'm currently at work lol

(Also I apologize if the formatting ends up messed up, as I'm sending this using Tumblr mobile!)

I hope you enjoy! ♡

The fireworks lit up the sky as everyone stood there watching. It was a gorgeous sight, laughter filling the air as color burst into the night. Jamil turns to Yuusha, the smile on his face falling as he froze. Her face was as bright as the fireworks, eyes shining as she looked towards the sky. She held Grim in her arms, the cat shaped monster watching the scene in awe.

Yuusha turned to Jamil after a moment, feeling his gaze. One of her brow's rose as she looked at his face, amused, "What?"

Jamil stood there, his gaze never wavering as a small smile comes to his face.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?"

Yuusha looks back towards the sky as another firework bursts into the night.

"It really is"

Jamil's eyes remain glued to Yuusha for a moment before he turns back to the sky, standing a little bit closer.

You really are beautiful, Jamil thinks, Najma watching them a few feet away.

She couldn't resist getting a bit closer, waiting until she was right next to him before nudging him in his side, giving him a knowing look.

He does his best to ignore her, nudging her back as she laughs, his face heating up.

Maybe next time, he'll tell Yuusha what he thinks. For now though, he'll just stand there and watch ♡

Thank you! ♡

HREHDBBDJSFJ I AM CRYING GIGGLING KICKING MY FEET IN THE AIR

THE PINING THE SOFT DIALOGUE

I AM NOT OKAY

AND NAJMA PLS - KNOCK SOME SENSE INTO YOUR BROTHER -

anyways i've actually had been imagining scenarios for the scalding sands event and hghsdfksdkljrk

this one in particular is just going to live rent free in my head for a bit they're so gdsfhlksd

THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE THIS AND I LOVE THEM SO MUCH😭😭😭💖💖💖

[mihotose]

my favourite genre of disco elysium post is a small collection of quotes that Maybe allude to the same deep lore phenomenon or historical event but is literally all the information we have on it. like thats interesting! what am i meant to do with this

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

okay tomorrow i'm really gonna DO IT, i'm gonna TRY the THREE SENTENCES CHALLENGE that cee polk told us about, i will REPORT BACK ON HOW IT GOES

[doodles-with-noodles]

Writing my dnd character’s backstory but writing it like a YouTube essayist analyzing the original media is so spiritually healing to me

[cup-noodle]

You know what rules? Putting little bits of yourself and your loved ones into your characters. I recently saw someone comment how unoriginal that is and honestly, I couldn’t disagree more.

It’s just the opposite - it’s how you make your writing authentic. As long as the basics of the character are well laid and you don’t completely you-ify them, sprinkling in bits and pieces from your life has so much potential to make the story more grounded and compelling. Everyone’s life experience varies in ways that we could never even imagine, and it’s all in the little things. It’s in the personal quirks and habits and preferences that might not be the primary things that define your character, but they’re what make them them. That’s exactly what makes characters seem like real, fleshed out people. And that, in turn, is going to make people care about them.

So please, add in the stupid greeting dance you and your siblings do. Give a character your own cereal preferences, with specific argumentation. Make them super interested in a niche period of history you love. Give them your great aunt’s sense of humour. Make them eat apples the weird way your dad does. I’m serious, it’ll make all the difference.

[blindecho6]

[agentnatesewell]

👀👀👀👀 I saw this and am very curious (but no pressure :) )!!!

Hello PD!! Thank you for the ask! It’s just something that’s been rattling in my brain for a while that’s really taken more of a shape lately

Have a few major things to work out but! I’ve had this idea for an AU where Nate and Suri were engaged once upon a time but then he went off with that Naval ship and the rest is history … but that she (and I need to figure this out) is turned into a vampire independently as well and had to disappear from society (and whatever circumstances kept them from realizing they were both still alive)

And, of course, a few centuries later, they’re both in Wayhaven working on this Murphy mission

So, there’s a lot of things to figure out to make it work but I wanted a bit of a twist of a reunion sort of story!

[selfspinninglies]

hi happy pride I wrote gays

word count: 2765 [<- what possessed me to write this much how did I do that]

tws/cws: implied/discussed murder, desecration of a body, not technically cannibalism but they do eat a person [<- not graphic]

notes: I wrote 2530 words of this in 2 days somehow . The oc hyperfixation is real . Also some of this might not make sense cause I still haven't wrote an experimental plot summary yet sooo oops . They're both so oblivious it makes me ill anyway enjoyy

1-2 shifts slightly on the couch. Its not the most comfortable place to lay down, but he doesn't feel like getting up and into bed (or moving at all for that matter). His vessel feels like it's going to rip itself apart. He should've went hunting a few days ago, but he's gotten inconsistent. And now this was a result. He buries his face in the throw pillow next to him. Stupid rapidly deteriorating body.

After a few minutes of nothing he feels a nudge on his foot.

"Scoot. You're taking up the whole couch laying like that."

1-3 is the owner of the complaint. He didn't even have to look to know it was them. It was the only person who made sense, since the two lived together and he would've heard the door. Its not like they get visitors anyway.

He sighs in an exaggerated fashion, unclear if this actually bothers him or not, moves over a little and tucks his knees in to make room. He would've been more bitchy about it if he wasn't exhausted and if the only other place to sit in the apartment wasn't a mattress.

1-3 rolls their eyes at his antics. They glance at him for a moment. "You look like shit." They say flatly.

He makes a small angry noise in response, not feeling like using regular words. He looks up. Surprising nobody, 1-3 also looks like shit. Neither of them ever look that great, but apparently he looked bad enough to warrant a comment.

Was it concern? It was always hard to tell with them. Their face didn't change that much. Or maybe it was clear as day and 1-2 was just terrible at reading people.

He sits up into a horribly slouched position, one arm looped around the armrest and the other dangling oddly. He gives a glance to 1-3, who is watching him carefully. They probably know what's coming. They can see the rivulets of cracks piercing his shell. The two go through this weird routine often.

He exhales sharply, opening his mouth and willing the words in his brain to crawl out and onto his tounge. A few seconds of nothing. Yep. Not happening.

Grabbing 1-3's hand, he lifts it and turns it carefully, examining the similar darkness enveloping their fingertips. He listens and feels for a flinch or glare or hitch of breath, which usually indicates that they aren't in the mood for his antics, but he catches nothing. In fact, they're barely looking, head turned the other way, pupils facing him.

They've only been living together for a few months or so and they're so used to each other. It makes him feel weird.

He moves 1-3's hand up to his mouth bites down. He must have done it too hard, since he hears a quiet "shit" from 1-3. They take their hand from his and turn to face him. "I'd prefer if you asked next time." They say, a little sharply, though they never hold grudges over little things like this.

1-2 shakes his head and puts a smirk on his face, which earns a scoff from 1-3. They get up to leave anyway.

He tugs on their longsleeve, using it to pull himself up. They look confused for a second before an incredulous expression takes over and they shake their head.

"You are not coming with me. You cannot move well and don't have the energy for it. Sit."

1-2 rolls his eyes, but sits back down anyway. He knew that they were right, though he would rather explode right at that moment than admit that.

"Don't do anything stupid." They nod and give a half-hearted wave as they exit the [truthfully] cramped space. The door closes with a nice click.

He listens to 1-3's footfalls as they walk down the hall, as if he expected them to turn around and come back. He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not. Anything was better than sitting around and doing nothing, even if they usually didn't take long.

He gets bored and decides to heave himself to the bathroom. His feet drag against the floor and his posture sags. It doesn't particularly hurt, besides the dull aches where his vessel splits from neglect, it just feels like every ounce of energy has been stolen out of his strange hands.

After pulling himself up to the mirror, he examines himself. The cracks under his eyes look wide enough to stick a finger through it. He doesn't try. The thought of it makes him feel gross.

His hair is disheveled and overgrown. His bangs fall on his eyes slightly and stick in different directions, stuck there by natural grease and some brown stuff that's probably blood. It isn't his. He doesn't have any. The last time he went hunting was a few weeks ago. Had it really been that long since he showered? Fuck, he was gross.

He laughs. Its a weird, crackly sound, but it's rare so he lets it escape his throat. Nobody was here to listen to it. 1-3 really was right, he absolutely looked like shit.

He slinks back to the couch and passes out as soon as he hits the cushions.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

1-3 sighs, slumping against the wall of an alley. The world is humid and oppressive, or maybe that's the blood soaked into most of them talking, a mix of their's, One's, and the body on the pavement's.

The unexpected run-in made this outing take longer than it usually would have. They don't have anything to tell the time on them, so they can only guess, but it's likely been around an hour. God, why did they have to see One when they were in a hurry?

They shake their head. The body. They have to take care of that. They didn't want to. It was the last thing they wanted to do. Just don't think about it. Don't think about anything, just grab the knife-

It takes longer than they would like to put themself into the thoughtless haze that helps with the process. This isn't a person, it is a creature, this is necessary, if not for you then for Two. Remember what he looked like? Shit, that's what you said.

Swish thud swish thud swish thud swish thud swish- over and over again.

There's even more blood now. Less of it belonging to them. It's on the wall, the floor, in the air, in their vessel, in their soul, eating them alive. It's disgusting. If they had insides they would have thrown them up by now. The world smells and tastes and feels of viscera, it's made of it.

The meat is in neat pieces now. The knife is put into a pocket. The bones and unnecessary bits will be left there to be picked off by something that can use it. They gather the pieces they cut into a bag and stand, swaying like they were trying to be pulled in different directions by the universe.

They take their sweater off and tie it around their waist to get some of the flesh off of them, unveiling a slightly oversized white t-shirt. It's cold, but they'd rather deal with that then the feeling of your clothes being soaked with remnants and wafting into your nose and tounge.

They shuffle through the bag and take a piece between their fingers. Don't think about it, just eat it, you have to-

The only taste that registers is the sharp, metallic tang of blood. They swallow it quickly. It always makes them feel sick, the texture, smell, taste, and the weight of taking a life. But they have to. It's the only way.

Fuck, they hate it all.

Taking a breath, they steel themself and begin walking down the street and back to the building. They aren't worried about being spotted, nobody is ever here. The silence presses itself into their body. Bricks in walls are staring at them, singing, guilty, guilty.

The walk is short, as horrid as it is. The apartment is close to many places. It's convenient for hunting. The bag swings awkwardly in their needlessly tight grip.

They knock on the door in their usual pattern, opening it and walking inside. They set the bag on the counter like it's groceries.

"Two. I'm home." They announce, though the noise of the door opening and rustling of the bag should have alerted him. Strange. Knowing him, he's probably long passed out. Still, they look over the couch to check.

Exactly like they thought. He's sprawled out awkwardly on the couch (he'll probably be sore if he stays like that) out cold. He always slept like this, which made it especially annoying to share the mattress with him. They still let him, though. It always feels weird now when he isn't there.

"Two." They say again, walking over to him and poking his face. "C'mon. Hey, wake up." This probably won't work. 1-2 is an obnoxiously heavy sleeper.

Surprisingly, they see 1-2's eyes flicker open.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

1-2 stirs, feeling fingers tap against his cheek. Ones that kind of look like his, with the way they sharpen into claws and darken at the ends. It's 1-3. Right. They left. They're back. What time was it?

He inhales and smells something weird. Quickly recognizing it as blood and probably a bit of sweat, he looks up at 1-3 questioningly. He points a finger at them and starts talking, voice still groggy from sleep.

"Blood. 'Sit yours?"

1-3 shrugs, making a so-so motion with their hand. "Some of it is, some of it isn't." Their voice is oddly nonchalant.

"What happened?" He asks, sitting against the cushions.

"Had a run in with One. I'll tell you later."

1-2 just nods. As long as he finds out eventually, he doesn't care when. He's also curious as to what 1-1 was doing anyways. The last time anyone saw her was in the lab, before all of them were released.

1-3 sits next to him again and crosses their legs, hands in their lap. He doesn't know how they sit like that, it doesn't look comfortable in the slightest.

He fiddles with his hair awkwardly. He really needed to do something with it. He remembers his reflection in the mirror. Too long. He puts a strand between his fingers and continues to twist it.

1-3 seems to notice. "Do you want me to cut it for you?" They ask.

"You can cut hair?"

"I've done it before. Did my own." They gesture to their own hair.

1-2 examines it for a second, leaning forward a bit. It looks pretty good, actually. He doesn't know if he trusts them to do it, his always picky about his hair. It's not like he can go and get it cut, though, with how he looks.

He nods, moving his gaze to 1-3's eyes. Their face is a little red. Oh. Right. Their faces were still only separated by a few inches. He leans back and speaks again. "Fine. Just be careful. If you fuck it up I get to fuck up yours." He pokes the air near 1-3 to make his point.

Something he didn't expect at all happens. 1-3 laughs. Really laughs. At a stupid threat that really isn't one.

What.

"Alright, I won't fuck it up." They reply.

The smile lingers on their face a little. Their laugh is also crackly and weird and nonhuman like his. What. They never laugh at his dumb jokes. They must be tired. Or they hit their head. He stares at their expression for way too long.

They interrupt the developing silence. "I'll cut your hair after you eat. I went out." They lean their head towards the counter. He follows their line of sight and sees a plastic black back placed there. "Thanks." He says quickly, before he forgets.

Its weird how they just. Do that. For him. They both dance around talking about it, for obvious reasons, but in his head he knows what they mean by "went out". They killed someone. For him. So he didn't sit here and rot.

He stops himself from thinking about it and walks over to the counter. He takes a few pieces and forces it down his throat. It tastes bad, it always does, but he's pretty used to it. It's easier to just get it over with. Not like he really has a choice in it. Could be worse. 1-3 hates it much more than he does.

------‐--------------------------------------------------------------

They're in the bedroom now, 1-3 sitting on the mattress and 1-2 on the floor directly below them. They hold a pair of thin scissors in their hand. It's not the right kind, but it'll work.

1-2 told them what they wanted earlier, and while they weren't a professional in the slightest, it would be easy. And he didn't need to know that, anyway.

God, they were close. It wasn't uncomfortable, but for some reason their brain latched onto their proximity and didn't let go. Like earlier, when 1-2 looked them in the eyes and moved towards them.

Do NOT think about his face right now just cut his hair it's what he asked of you- They hold some of his hair in their hand and begin cutting. The satisfying snip snip snip of the scissors echoes around the space as hair flutters to the carpeted floor.

It doesn't take long for them to finish. There wasn't much to do. They look at their work for a bit just to see if there's anything they need to fix in the back. They move to sit infront of 1-2 and look at the front, hands brushing against his forehead to adjust the strands slightly before giving a curt nod and leaning back. It's his turn to redden.

They push any thoughts related to 1-2's face [for the second time] and the contact they just made with him to the back of their mind.

1-2 gets up and goes to the bathroom quickly to look at what they did. He comes back after a short moment, taking his place on the floor again. He nods back. "Your hair's safe from me." He says, which is his way of giving them a compliment.

1-3 goes to sit next to him instead of infront so its less awkward. They both bathe in the sound of absolutely nothing. They do this a lot, simply sit in the same space. It was kind of nice. Better than being alone.

"You're tired." 1-2 says, now eyeing them carefully. They hate how easily he can read them most of the time. "As are you. I was only gone for an hour or so and you passed out waiting."

"Touché."

"Well," 1-2 says, standing. "We might as well sleep now, then. Neither of us have plans."

They nod and crawl into bed after him. They don't feel like denying it today. He needs the rest and so do they.

They sleep on opposite sides of the bed, though they're still close do to the size of it. They also share a blanket, which 1-3 often has to steal back from 1-2. He has a habit of taking it all in his sleep. God, they already know his sleeping habits and it's only been a few months.

He falls asleep quickly [he always does, he's always tired] but 1-3 takes a bit longer. More thoughts than usual bubble to the surface of their head and spill over. Some involve blood and the experiments and slicing, which always makes it hard to sleep, but a select few involve him.

They want to get closer, so, so badly for no reason at all. The thought of it sounds nice. It rings like gentle bells. When was the last time they were close to someone who they weren't trying to kill?

After a contemplative silence, they shift towards him and wrap their arms around him. They think this is selfish, they don't even know if he'd like it, if he'd feel the same, but they let themself have this. If he asks they'll say that it just happened in their sleep. He wont believe it, since they never move much in their sleep, but it will probably get him to not ask.

It feels nice, like they thought, a pleasant warmth to it all. It's also a little awkward since they don't do this often, but it doesn't matter. The sounds of soft breathing fill the silence.

It doesn't take them long to fall asleep now.

[silverskye13]

Are situation asks still a thing we can send in

Sure go for it! I'm writing them a lot slower now, but I am still picking away at them.

On that note, if you have a prompt that isn't a situation ask, you're free to send those in as well. If I think I can write something for it [or have time] I will.

[gxlden-angels]

I need Americans that were never Christian™️ to realize that the average conservative cult christian's thoughts are basically that one episode of Spongebob where he gets elected Hall Monitor and gives a speech with "Crime and Punishment. Punishment and Crime"

[gettin-edgy-all-the-time]

all my thoughts and feelings about the offspring in one big post

I owe this band so fucking much for all they’ve gotten me through so far so here’s a kind of overview of how I got into the band and why they mean so much to me

before you read on though, trigger warnings for depression, anxiety, and implied suicidal thoughts for the like second half the post

So the first offspring song I heard was either The Kids Aren’t All Right or Come Out and Play and I remember being pretty young but still recognizing the songs. my little kid mind used to hear ‘carburetor’ instead of ‘keep ‘em separated’ and absolutely loved that guitar riff from Come Out and Play.

The next two songs I remember are Pretty Fly For A White Guy, Gotta Get Away, and Self Esteem. I distinctly remember my dad singing along to Pretty Fly in the car. I think Gotta Get Away was the first offspring song I knew all the words to and was a large part of the reason I got into the band (it is my favorite offspring because of this). When I first listened to Self Esteem I related to it because I did not, in fact have much self esteem and the line ‘the more you suffer, the more it shows you really care right?’ really hammered home how good the song is for me.

Then at some point in there I learned the lyrics to Gone Away. I really liked the lyrics kind of related to the grief even thought the song was about losing someone but I could not explain why. I think I just like themes of pain and loss in stuff that I listen to or read.

Fast forward a few years of me being a casual listener to my freshman year of high school. I kinda felt like shit. I had no real friends for the first few months, my depression had gotten worse the second half the school year, I had started to question my gender and sexuality, and I was just very lost in general. I found You’re Gonna Go Far, Kid (and Teenagers but that’s for a different post) and related to it and it became the song I could take my anger and depression out through.

Somewhere in there Gotta Get Away became my anxiety anthem. I have always struggled with a little bit of social anxiety but once I got to high school where I didn’t know any body and there was a lot more stress from schoolwork my anxiety went through the fucking roof. Honestly it’s still pretty bad today but at least I can cope better, in part thanks to Gotta Get Away.

Then several months ago I went to see The Offspring live. I think that concert was the first time I heard Let The Bad Times Roll and the only lines I could make out were ‘let me know when you decide: apathy or suicide’ and ‘oh baby let the bad times roll.” Then I think I also heard Staring At The Sun for the first time there and I liked it because the chorus was very screamable. I saw Dexter play Gone Away on the piano and now it’s one of my goals to get good enough on piano to play it.

Shortly after the concert I listened to the entire Let The Bad Times Roll album because I loved the song Let The Bad Times Roll so much. It kind of came at just the right time because I started to get depressed again after that and what kept me going was the line ‘let me know when you decide: apathy or suicide.’ I related heavily to it because during that period I was either apathetic or depressed or both the majority of the time. And some other songs from the album like Behind Your Walls and Army Of One have really stuck with me. After listening to that album I started listening to all their other albums, which is what I consider the start of my obsession with their music.

I discovered Rise and Fall, Rage and Grace, which is possibly my favorite album (it’s hard to choose). Half-Truism had me in a vice grip for months mostly because of the line ‘your own liberation will leave this behind’ because at the time i was both grappling with myself over whether or not to come out and trying to decide if I wanted to go to therapy, and both of these would possibly change my life in ways I was not ready for (Spoiler alert I didn’t do either). I also loved the songs Trust In You because it is honestly pretty relatable for me and Kristy, Are You Doing Okay? because I think it’s just such a beautiful and sad song.

At some point pretty far into my listening to every Offspring album I started this blog because The Thoughts were piling up and I needed somewhere to put them before people started to think i was crazy.

Then life got stressful again and depression and anxiety got a hell of a lot worse. My birthday was in there and I just felt like shit because I felt I hadn't done anything in that year of my life. I was questioning my purpose in life and asking myself why I was even still alive. I didn't feel like I had anything to look forward to. I found out that The Offspring had their eleventh album in the works on my birthday through a local radio station's dj randomly talking about it. Maybe its stupid or whatever but the new album has given me something to look forward to and a reason to keep going.

At the time I was also trying to figure out how the hell I would fit into a punk music scene when I was also looking toward higher education and a career in the sciences. In my head that made me a fake or a poser or some stupid shit and because of this I had decided that there was not point in me learning to play guitar if I wasn't going to go anywhere with it (looking back this was a totally irrational thought but i guess that stupid little voice in the back of my head isn't rational either). Then i learned (from a random ass tumblr meme no less) that Dexter had a phd in microbiology. Those notions of 'you cant play guitar if you want to go into the sciences' went right out the fucking window. I've been learning guitar ever since and one of my greatest motivations is getting good enough to play all my favorite Offspring songs.

This last thing is kind of a weird coincidence that I think is pretty cool. So I also have the nickname Noodles. My aunt gave me the nickname when I was really little because I loved the noodles at a local chain restaurant. I don’t know when I figured out that I had the same nickname as Noodles, but I do remember thinking that it’s kind of awesome to share a nickname with a member of your favorite band.

Congratulations you’ve made it to the end of All My Thoughts And Feelings About The Offspring In One Big Post. I know it’s a pretty long post and honestly I’ve probably forgotten stuff and definitely wasn’t able to go into my opinions on all of their music. I think I might do a series of posts going into my thoughts about each album (I originally started this blog with this series in mind), but that’s for another time. Thank you for reading or even just skimming this. The Offspring mean a lot to me (obviously), and I might come back and add onto this post as time passes.

[amalgamationink]

NAPOWRIMO24 #19: wine-drunk wiki-walking on my wedding anniversary