here's hoping canon doesn't end up shipping any of the fallen heroes with each other because i've already built up an entire found family sibling dynamic for their past selves inside of my head. eternal sugar's the youngest, mystic flour the oldest (shadow milk may seem like the leader atm but his middle child energy is THERE). silent salt takes on the responsibility of keeping the group out of trouble (it's tricky, but they've grown accustomed to their friends' antics). burning spice declares themselves the others' biggest protector (they will throw hands with anyone who so much as glances at their siblings friends the wrong way). eternal sugar & shadow milk are so good at making everyone smile and laugh but also they're absolute gremlins who can and will start a ridiculously extreme prank war on a whim (shadow is not subtle in the slightest and cackles at the top of his lungs, sugar plays innocent while sporting the most devious smirks known to cookiekind). mystic flour is like a mentor to the younger four, the glue that holds them together and the light that guides them towards staying on the right track. spice & shadow regularly fight each other on and off their training grounds as a weird way to show affection, flour & salt pretend to be exasperated but find it endearing, they all value each other so much and share a house together while still protecting earthbread. they're entirely platonic and entirely family and until their soul jam corrupts, they care about each other more than anything <33
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last v/ocwlot post scared me bc I drew smthn like that lmao
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Reasons why Meta Knight and Dedede aren't gay.
Reason 1:
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❛ you have to step out of this darkness and let them see you for who you are, like i have. ❜ for Camus please ❤
ayoo angst time
"Why are you so stubborn?" Camus asks, as he pushes himself off the chair with a tired sigh.
"You’re only needlessly hurting yourself.”
Your attempt to avoid his stare is in vain as he positions himself right in front of you, blue eyes locking you into place and leaving no room to escape.
“You know it’s not like that,” you mutter, trying to hide the hurt in your voice. You may know what he actually means, but hearing him say it like that still feels like a slap. He of all people knows exactly why you’re doing the things you do.
For no reason? As if you have fun doing that. As if there was another choice. It’s easy for others to make suggestions, to judge, but no one has seen the things you have, no one has the responsibility you carry.
So naturally no one can understand your pain.
You know they try, you know he tries and you know that he’s being through similar things, but nothing he experienced could ever compare.
You don’t care whether he’s doing it out of concern either.
Camus knows that you can’t change and that’s that.
And that’s why you’re tired of him telling you otherwise.
“When will you finally step out of this darkness?” he asks, reaching out to touch your face, his knuckles softly brushing your cheek.
“Let them see you for who you are,” he says and stops for a moment, his eyes flitting over your features as if searching for something.
“Like I have.” The last part is barely above a whisper and the silent plead in his eyes sends a pang through your chest.
As much as you want to accept his comfort, you can’t, the pain becoming too much for you to handle.
This is your fate, your life, your purpose. The darkness is not only a part of you, it is you and it’s time he finally accepted this fact.
So you brush off his hand and shake your head, putting some distance between you. You look him deep in the eyes as you give him your answer.
“I can’t.”
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If hojbjerg just gave a pen away I’m gonna turn up at his house
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ohhh something something phallic symbolism.
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But America you really took 'go forth and spread thy seed' and gave it a new meaning.
“...I’m pretty sure I fulfilled it’s meaning perfectly,” America answered, before yanking his study’s curtains open, “I mean, look at the landscape outside! Took a lot of gardening and allergy season is hell, but the plants look great! I might’ve gotten carried away with the roses, though...”
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