#she lookin fruity....

[spongek-squidge]

The fact Caroline hasn’t been caught out in her Abigail-old lie is a miracle honestly. Abigail might not be biologically related to Pierre but by god did she inherit his shit observation skills.

Abigail: “how am I related to both of you yet got NONE of your height?”

Heights: Pierre - 6’0”, Caroline - 5’4”, Abigail, 5’1”, Wizard - 5’2”

(All headcanon heights)

Also I’m aware that the wizard is canonically one of the taller folks in town but a) I’ve decided he’s short now he suits it b) he also seems like the kinda a guy to wear like 5” platforms around idk he gives off those vibes

[honeykitsu]

I just... Love them so much... Adoration was such a lovely episode

Zoe x Marinette - Zoenette Song: Holiday by KSI

[peony-always]

Dial Drunk

wolverine/logan howlett x afab!reader

words - 4k

tags: dp&w!Logan, damsel(ish)!reader, angst angst angst (he has so much potential as a sad wet tomcat), feelings (Logan isn't good at them), use of alcohol, canon-typical violence, !attempted assault!, implied assault

quick an: this is my first full fic!! the ghost of Logan's past hovered over my shoulder as I wrote this, loosely based on Dial Drunk by Noah Kahan but it's more of just an inspiration border creds to @/bunnysrph

Logan was pissed. Furious. He was so overwhelmingly angry with himself that his claws had extended and for a while, he couldn’t retract them. He finally got them to slide back under his skin when the cop standing outside his holding cell door threatened to put him in with the general population if he didn’t put his ‘weapons’ away.

That was the last thing he needed right now. He was already on edge, and being surrounded by people who hated him just for who he was would probably be his last straw. He sighed, slumping back against the dirty concrete wall behind him. He rubbed his temples, taking a few deep breaths to calm his once again rising anger.

He understood why he was in that stupid cell. Bar fights were enough to get a normal person arrested for being drunk and disorderly, but cops were always especially ready to arrest a mutant. He hated that he had let his animalistic side get him here, proving them right about how dangerous he was, but he could only take so much of that stupid guy in the booth behind him spewing ant-mutant hatred right in his face.

“Damn liquor,” Logan thought to himself as his head continued to throb. That in and of itself was enough to make him upset, as he was typically so well acquainted with alcohol that it never got to him. Tonight, however, he had drunk way more than usual, throwing back shots in the dingy bar a few blocks from his apartment as quickly as the bartender could pour them up.

The idiotic man he had beaten at the bar wasn’t the true cause of his anger though. That honor fell to his stupid, stupid brain. It was after the cops had wrangled him and shoved him into their stuffy, too-small cruiser that Logan had made his infuriating error.

The driving officer, a short and stocky man with a pudgy face, had looked back at him from the rearview mirror and said,” The guy you were fightin’, George, he ain’t gonna press charges on ya. He’s in and outta the lockup every other week, and he ain’t gonna be lookin’ for any more trouble than he’s already in. Plus, I think you’re more of a danger to yourself than to anybody else, goin’ around that drunk. You ain’t caused any trouble before, but we still gotta bring you in. Procedure, ya know. Got anybody you want us to call to pick ya up?”

Logan hadn’t even thought about it before your name came spilling from his lips. He hadn’t even realized what he said until they arrived at the jail and the pudgy cop pulled him from the back seat. “Her? Really?” the cop said, suspicion heavy in his voice. “She babysits my kids on the weekends, didn’t know she associated with drunk fighters like you.”

Logan snarled on instinct as he heard the inherent prejudice in the cop's voice before he realized who the cop was talking about. ‘No,’, he thought. ‘God, no.’ He hadn’t seen you in months, and he hadn’t been planning on seeing you ever again. He didn’t know why he didn’t tell the cop he wanted to change his call. He could have gotten him to phone Wade or Laura, they would have picked him up in a heartbeat. 

Maybe he didn’t say anything because he wanted to see you, to make sure you were okay after the long months you had spent apart. Or maybe he was just still drunk, forgetting the past and wanting you to take him home with you, to let him have his seat on the couch while he sobered up, drinking your fruity teas and eating the sickeningly sweet cookies you always bought from the local bakery. “Too much sugar and you’ll rot your teeth out,” he’d tell you with a lopsided smile, knowing how you’d respond. Every time he said it you’d prance up to him and poke a finger into his chest, grinning,” You’re already so sweet that my teeth ache, so what does more sugar hurt?” And then you’d lean up, pecking him on the lips as you move to go back to your tasks. 

His heart ached as that memory resurfaced and his head fell to join his back against the unforgiving chill of the cell wall. He tried to fight it (no he didn’t), but his drink-addled brain was unable to stop the memories of you from flooding back into his system.

Your first meeting, a year ago that felt more like ten since you had left. Logan had been stalking his way down the street, huffing and puffing, pissed at Wade for inviting people over and blaring music when he had known that day was Logan’s only day off for two weeks. He had grabbed his jacket and stormed out into the chilly New York evening, turning left outside their apartment as he made his way toward the nearest bar. He craved a stiff drink, damn Wade and Laura had hidden all of the alcohol in the house from him. They told him he needed to dry out, and he did. He knew it as well as everyone else, but it was hard. After years of drowning his guilt and grief in drink, it made him nervous to let go, to face his days head-on instead of looking at them from the syrupy brown lens of his old friend whiskey.

It was on his way to the bar that he heard it. A muffled cry, the sound of flesh hitting concrete, a grunt of pain. He took off in the direction of the sound, his hyper-sensitive nose smelling the fear lacing the air the closer he got to a dingy alley two streets over. As he rounded the corner, he saw you. Your hands were bound behind your back and there was a gag stuffed in your mouth. Your eyes pled with Logan to save you as your attacker dragged you across the ground, mumbling and lurching back and forth as he pulled you along,” Stupid fuckin’ whore. Women. Always gettin’ in the way of what I deserve. Maybe I’ll put you in the dumpster when I’m done with you, let you rot with the flies.” 

Logan’s nostrils flared as he surged forward, yanking your leg from the man’s grip and pushing you further away as your attacker spun to face him. “What the-” was all the scumbag got out before Logan clocked him, knocking him out with one punch. He really wanted to keep beating on the guy, but his enhanced hearing had him turning toward you as you shuddered, whimpers escaping the gag as tears rolled down your face.

He held his hands up, approaching slowly and kneeling on the dirty ground in front of you and gently pulling the gag from your mouth as you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out shuddering sobs as he reached around you to loosen your bindings, careful not to touch you more than he had to. He had experienced more than his fair share of trauma, and he knew how hard it could be to have someone be so close to you when you were going through it, so he made sure to lean back as soon as he had freed you.

However, you immediately proved his assumption wrong. You slumped down against him, your hands fisting his t-shirt as you sniffled and coughed. “Thank-thank you.” you stuttered as you tried to calm yourself. “Thank you so, so much.” Logan tentatively reached around you to pat your back,” You’re welcome, bub. Just doin’ what needed to be done.” As his hand tapped out a soothing beat against your back, you felt yourself begin to come down from the adrenaline rush of almost being kidnapped. You thought back to the man’s ugly words, sniffling again as you whispered, “He was going to kill me.”

Logan bristled immediately, his hand coming to a halt on your back. “Never would have let that happen, ya hear me. I’d have heard ya from a mile away,” he grunted and gently stood to his feet, pulling you up with him. 

“You live close?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “Just down the street.”

He finally got a good look at you, and by God were you pretty. Even with bits of gravel leaving red divots in your cheeks and your eyes watery with tears, you were among the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. He shook himself out of his daze as you took a deep breath and started walking shakily down the street. He tried to stay close but not too close as you walked, following behind you and scenting the air for any more threats. He sure as hell didn’t want to put you through anything else tonight.

The two of you walked in silence until you finally stopped, turning to face Logan as you stood outside the lobby door of your apartment complex. You managed a slight smile as you looked up at him, “I’m sorry that I’m not inviting you in,” you said. “It’s just that this evening has been hellish and I’d like to be alone.”

Logan shook his head, stepping back, “No, no, I understand, I’ll be-”. You cut him off,” Come tomorrow around noon. I’ll treat you to coffee for saving me.” You said this forcefully, almost demanding him to do as you said. It shocked Logan, and a small smile made it’s way onto his lips. “Yes, ma’am.” You thanked him one more time and headed into your building, leaving Logan standing outside, staring at the doors, more curious about you than he had been about anyone in a good long while. 

He did show up the next day, letting you take him to a quaint cafe and buy him a coffee, plain black, which you teased him for. You spent what felt like hours asking him questions and telling him about yourself, and it felt so right, so natural for both of you. Just being there with you was enough to take Logan’s mind off of the things that haunted him, solely focused on your beautiful face and animated expression.

When you realized you had been yapping at this near-stranger for almost 3 hours, you figured it was time to go, gathering your trash and standing up, blush heating up your cheeks. “Thank you again,” you said. “For saving me last night and for letting me talk your ear off today.” Logan flashed you a small smile, tilting his head slightly, “How about the same time tomorrow then? My treat.”

He watched your face light up and thought to himself that he’d go broke buying you coffee if you’d just keep looking at him that way. You quickly agreed, telling him that you’d definitely be there if he wouldn’t mind you being a little late, as work was a little further than your apartment. 

And so it began, the two of you had gotten closer and closer, until a random Tuesday when you blurted out that you wanted to be his girlfriend, if he’d have you. After teasing you about your blush, he of course agreed, claiming that you had been his girlfriend for weeks and you had just noticed. 

You brought him around to your place, where you cooked with him, watched all your favorite movies, and made love. He brought you around to his place, too. You met Wade and Al, which prompted the discussion about his mutation and history. You took everything in stride, reassuring Logan that his past changed nothing, that you were still his if he was still yours. He found a job at a local community college, taking training classes and becoming one of the campus security officers. He quit drinking so much, instead relying on your perfectly brewed cups of coffee to get him through the day, only having a drink or two after work if you were feeling like it.

Logan had never been happier. It was like you were made for him. He took care of you and in turn, you soothed his battered soul. No one had ever touched him with the tenderness that you did, no one ever made him feel as good as you. His existence had become pure bliss and he felt he finally had a purpose again. 

Your lives went on this way for a year and three months, until, just like with every other good thing he had ever had, he ruined it. 

Logan had come to your place before you got off work, aiming to surprise you with dinner after you had complained of a particularly hard week. He had just stepped through the door when he stopped cold, smelling that someone was here, or had been here recently. It wasn’t a scent he recognized, and he prowled through the apartment, checking every room thoroughly for an intruder. When he found no one, he made his way back to the kitchen, still uneasy.

It was there that he saw the papers on the counter, one neat little stack that would change his life. He moved the blank paper on top and a chill shot up his spine. It was a photo of you, taken when he was sure you thought no one was watching. It showed you through the window of your apartment, a soft smile on your face as you put on a coat over your work uniform. He could even make out the locket around your neck that he had given you for your anniversary. 

He moved on to the next pages, letters detailing your entire life, down to how much your water bill had been that month. 

It was the second to last page that sealed his fate, his name next to a summons, a set of coordinates he was to come to or they would kill you. He quickly thought to himself that he could protect you from anyone who tried to hurt you, then immediately realized that that wasn’t the kind of life he had wanted to give you, always on the run and afraid for your life. No, he would have to end things with you and go take care of this mess himself. It broke him to think of hurting you in the way that he would be required to. You were so resilient, so passionate, and stubborn when it came to him. He would have to destroy all of that to get you to leave him alone.

And so, he sat down in the living room and waited, tucking the papers into his jacket so you wouldn’t see them. Dread filled his bones, dragging him down into the couch and he thought he might not make it out of your apartment alive.

It wasn’t much later when he heard the front door open, your lively humming filling his ears and making him feel so much worse. He stayed seated as you made your way through the apartment, shedding your bag and coat as you went.

“Oh, Lo! You scared me!” you said as you saw him, your hand going to your chest in mock shock. “What are you doing here before me?”

Logan swallowed and spoke, trying not to let his voice shake,”We need to talk.”

Your smile dropped instantly and you moved toward him, balking when he held a hand up to stop you. “Lo, you’re scaring me. What’s wrong?”

The look on your face was killing him, so he looked away as he spoke,”I want to break up.”

You sank down to your knees, squinting as you tried to get him to meet your eyes,” What? Lo, what happened? I promise we can figure it out together. You’ve just got to tell me what’s wro-”

“I cheated,” he said, cutting you off. “I don’t want to be with you anymore. I want to be with her.” As soon as he said it, he knew if he could just convince you that he had really broken your trust that way, you’d be done with him.

You laughed slightly, awkwardly,” Logan, that’s not funny. You shouldn’t say things like that. Did I do something wrong or make you mad? I’m sorry for whatever I did, but you really shouldn’t lie.”

The look on your face was almost enough to break his resolve, but the need to protect you won out over his impending grief, “I’m not joking. I’m done with this relationship and I’m done with you. I've found something better.” He felt so wrong saying those words, knowing you feared that you weren’t good enough for him.

“Lo-Logan, please, we can work this out. I can do better, I can be better if you’ll just tell me what you need that I’m not giving you. Please.”

You reached out and grabbed his sleeve, your expression pleading. Logan felt his heart that you had mended shatter back into a million pieces, standing up and ripping his sleeve from your grasp.

“Are you stupid?” he asked, injecting as much venom into his voice as he could. “I said I don’t want you anymore. I don’t want you stupid food, or your stupid gifts, or your pathetic love. I’m done. Do you hear me? Get it through your thick skull and stay away from me. I never want to see you again.” He turned away from you as he walked toward the door, stomping over his heart on the way.

He shook you off again as you grabbed his pant leg, still on your knees on the floor. Your voice warbled as you begged.  “Logan, baby, please,” you cried. “I can change I swear. I can be whatever you need. Just please don’t leave me. You’re my whole life. You make me so happy. I can’t-I can’t do it without you. Please.”

He risked one glance back at you, telling himself he needed to see your face one more time to remind himself why he was leaving. The sight of you on the floor, tears pouring down your cheeks, was killing him. He should have known that he couldn’t have you, that something would force him to leave, but he had foolishly hoped that he could spite whatever higher power kept hurting him by keeping you.

“Don’t come around,” he spat with as much vitriol as he could muster. “I won’t contact you, and you don’t contact me. Let’s make this as easy for you as possible. Just forget I ever existed.”

He didn’t look back again, didn’t watch you weep as you began to mourn what you thought would be forever, knowing you could never stop loving him, even now that he hated you.

Logan groaned, leaning forward against his knees as he came back to himself, his heart aching as painfully as it had when he had lived it the first time. After he had left you, he had gone to the coordinates on the papers he had taken from the apartment. They led to a rural town in Quebec, a place he couldn’t remember but felt like he had been before. There, he met up with a gang of mutant hunters who believed that somehow the universe’s Logan had come back from the dead. They tried to kill him again and threatened him with more violence toward you if he didn’t die willingly. Fat chance. Logan was a newly hollow man and had no qualms about tracking and slaughtering every one of the mutant hunters so that his kind could live in a semblance of peace. 

He stayed up north for a while, squatting in an abandoned cabin and letting his instincts rule him. That was better than having his every waking thought be filled with how he had left you broken on your living room floor, believing that he had betrayed you.

Eventually, he went back to Vancouver. Somehow, his job let him come back, and Wade didn’t pester him with questions (probably because Logan had almost bitten his head off after he asked the second one).

He had considered going to your apartment now that the threat against you was handled, but he knew that as soon as he found happiness with you he’d have to leave again. It was for your own good, really. He wanted you to be happy, and you couldn’t be happy if Logan was constantly walking out on you.

So he went to work and started drinking heavily again, which had led him to the inside of a holding cell, coming to terms with the fact that he would be there all night.

As soon has he had laid down on the hard metal bench he had been sat on for hours, he heard footsteps approaching. He turned his head and watched the cop approach, fully expecting him to say that you had hung up as soon as you heard what they were asking of you. Maybe you hadn’t even answered and Logan would get another call. 

What he didn’t expect, however, was for the cop to swing the cell door open and grunt at him, motioning for him to get up. Logan quirked up a brow as he stood, “Is it chow or somethin’?” he asked. The cop chuckled, “You sure you’d rather eat the slop they serve here than leave with the pretty little lady that came to get you? She signed your papers, so you’re good to go. And please, don’t come back.”

Logan almost stumbled as he processed what the cop had said, his mind racing as he sniffed the air. 

You.

You were here, close. Your scent was so strong. Logan’s heart clenched. He truly believed he would never smell you again, the sweet musk of your skin paired with your perfume. He slowly turned, and there you were.

You were soaking wet, your hair drenched and your mascara slightly smudged, a jean jacket falling from your shoulders. Something was wrong, though. You were hunched over yourself, almost cowering in his presence. Your hands shook as you pulled your jacket further up your arms. Logan would have thought nothing of it and assumed you were just cold if you scent hadn’t changed. He could smell fear on you, a fear he hadn’t come into contact with since the night you met.

You turned and started walking toward the jailhouse door, glancing over your shoulder to make sure Logan was following you. He caught up to you in a couple strides, staying slightly behind you to give you your space. All he wanted was to reach out and touch you, to hold you in his arms again, but he resisted. On one hand, he was immensely grateful that you had come to get him. On the other hand, he felt so guilty that you had come to save someone who had broken your heart.

The two of you walked out into the rain, Logan still following you. You led him to a small car, one that you hadn’t had when he left you. He didn’t move as you rounded the car to get in, assuming he’d walk back to Wade’s from there.

“Get in, Logan,” you said quietly. 

He took a deep breath as he opened the passenger seat and got in, leaning forward so as to get as little water on your seats as possible. “Thank you,” he said. “Really, you didn’t have to come get me. I don’t even know why I gave them your name. I’ve just had too much to drink and-”

It was only then that you turned to face him, your face illuminated softly in the hazy light from the lamps lining the street. He scanned your face, his blood running cold as he saw your black eye and split lip, your eyes bright red with shed tears. “Logan,” you said, cutting him off. You took a deep, shaky breath, “We need to talk.”

[dichromaticdyke]

@plvtosun drew devon because she's a sweetheart and so here's a payback fic 😘

hope i did a good job with blanquita i love her so much i'm halfway through Selenicerus

The girl with blue hair had been sitting at the bar for a while, anxiously scribbling away at her notepad. Devon had been keeping an eye on her, wondering if she’d ever actually order anything. The bar wasn’t busy, it was still early enough in the evening before all that, so they could manage feasibly manage one loiterer up here.

Still— “Look, I don’t mind if you draw up here, but can I at least see some ID first?” they asked, putting their hand on the table, as close to the girl’s sketchpad as they could get without actually touching it.

Her eyes peeked up through her bangs, and she blinked up at them a couple times. “’m twenty-three,” she mumbled, eyes turning down a bit.

“I’m sure you are. I’d like to see that on ID, though.”

She blushed, a ghost of a pout on her face, before sitting up a bit. Devon could get a partial glance of her sketch now, but they tried not to pry. She pulled out her wallet, throwing her ID onto the bar. “There.” She was really turning away from Devon now, as they picked it up to double check the birth date and validity of the card. She tapped her pen against her sketchbook until Devon handed the card back.

“Okay, Blanca,” they said, “can I getcha anything while you’re here at least?”

She pressed her lips together, squirming a bit. “I dunno. Just something fruity.”

They took one look at her stark blue hair and smirked. “I think I got just the thing for ya.”

“Alright. Thanks.” She returned to her sketching, again keeping her head down.

Devon didn’t mind quiet patrons, and sometimes it was easier that way. But she’d recognized Blanca’s name—how could she not when that name had been listed as the artist of Dethklok’s last few album covers? They desperately wanted to pick her brain, to see if she was working on something else for the band, but instead they casually slid her a Blue Hawaiian.

It took her a few moments to realize her drink had been delivered to her. But when she did, she let out a bit of a scoff. “On the nose,” she muttered.

“I can make ya something else—“

“No! No, it’s fine.” She pulled it closer to her sipping from it idly as she drew.

“Well, good.” They watched as her posture straightened a bit, the drawing becoming a bit more visible. It looked like something with horns and sunken eyes, doodles at the corners that seemed to resemble cartoony ghosts. “So it’s comin’ along?”

“Huh?”

“Your piece.” He gestured to the drawing. “Lookin’ alright to my eye.”

She scrambled to pull the sketchpad back towards her. “It’s not ready, don’t be looking at it!”

“Sorry—”

“I’m already not supposed to let too many people outside of Mordhaus see it before it’s ready, okay?” She let out a frustrated huff. “I just…wanted a change of scenery to inspire me, but I think this was a mistake. How much do I owe you?”

“Uh, Blanca—”

“You’re right, I’ll just put it on Toki’s tab.” She slid off the barstool, but not before Devon barked out a laugh.

“Oh. Toki’s tab? Why not all of Dethklok?”

At that comment, Blanca’s face turned redder than her lipstick, and she looked up at Devon while sputtering. “I—! I meant all of Dethklok. Just because I said that baboso’s name doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh really?” They chuckled again. “You have a pet name for him, and it doesn’t mean anything?”

“What? No! It’s not a pet name. Just stop it, okay? I gotta go, just lemme pay—”

“Yo entiendo, no te preocupes. Es gratís.”

Blanca paused, squinting her eyes at Devon, placing her hand back on the barstool. “¿Habla español?”

“Un poco. Mi primera novia fue puertorriqueña. Pero creo que baboso se dice algo más, ¿no?” They smirked. “I won’t bother ya if you wanna stay, promise. Though I do also have quite a few stories of Toki actin’ a fool while he’s sloppy drunk.”

“I don’t care about that!” Blanca proclaimed as she took her seat back at the bar. “But…thanks.”

“No problem. Just make yourself comfortable—“ As they were making this standard offer, they picked up Blanca’s Blue Hawaiian. They made to hand it to her, not noticing as she picked up her sketchbook to adjust its position. In this shifting of movement, the glass knocked into Blanca’s hand, and Devon lost their grip just momentarily.

Momentarily enough for the blue cocktail to spill all over the sketchbook and Blanca’s lap. “¡Chingao!”

“Fuck— Blanca, I’m so sorry!” they cried as they grabbed their towel, pulling the liquid back towards the bar. They considered grabbing her sketchbook and trying to see if they could get that dried off too, but Blanca was frozen in fury. “Shit. I’ll get you a new sketchbook— I’ll fuckin’, I dunno, I’ll—“

“Wow,” she said, her voice quiet and shaking, but still maintaining a dry level to it. “Well. This is fuckin’ great.” She took in a deep inhale. “What was your name?

She winced. “Devon.”

Blanca slammed her wet, now-ocean-blue sketchbook on the counter. “Devon, I spent a week on that sketch. A week for Dethklok, and that was hell enough, but I’m sure I don’t have to tell you that. I’m sure you never see them when they’re drunk or angry or crazy.” She pressed her shaking hand to her forehead. “But. Fuck, y’know what? I probably would have scrapped that fuckin’ drawing when I was done. Would have thrown away a whole month’s worth of work.”

“Oh. You’re welcome?”

“Oh yeah, because getting the choice taken away from me of whether or not I’d finish it is way better.” She was still angry, still spitting sarcasm at Devon, as she stood up, grabbing cocktail napkins from over the bar to wipe across her wet lap. “I’m gonna need another drink. Or four.”

Devon let out a breathy, nervous chuckle. “Yeah. Yeah, whaddya want?”

“Just a shot of tequila.”

“Just a shot of tequila?” They chucked. “Sure you can handle it?”

“I’ve had tequila shots before.” She let out a small huff. “And I don’t think you wanna piss me off even more right now.”

“Alright, alright. You got a preference, then?”

“Silver Patrón. Straight.”

“Boring, but alright.” They grabbed the bottle, pouring two shots of tequila and sliding one to Blanca. “Enjoy,” he said, pulling his own shot glass back and grabbing a lime wedge and salt shaker.

Blanca stared at Devon curiously. “Should you be drinking on the job?”

“I always share the first tequila shot of the night.” They sprinkled a bit of salt on their hand. “Besides, I happen to know for a fact your baboso and his band are coming in later tonight, they called ahead asking to reserve the dining room. I gotta be ready.”

At that comment, Blanca’s frown turned to an expression that more closely resembled resigned acceptance. “Please don’t say anything about me in front of him,” she mumbled.

“There’s nothin’ to say, hon. Don’t worry.” She tapped her shot glass against Blanca’s before tipping it back. Blanca slammed her own empty shot glass down before Devon finished their shot, and she looked at them with a small smirk. With a laugh, he refilled her glass. “At least ya got good taste in music,” he said, gesturing to her Children of Bodom hoodie.

“I know it.” She hid her own half smile behind her second shot.

[gimblegamble]

Gim gimgingim my broski my buddy my boo I literally love the nickname plannonthayssisido that’s so cute oml WOOOOO :DDD

Yes ur walls r great btw I got like snacks n here n shit im lirking in ur shadows I’m sending u invisible appreciation im appreciating u so hard u don’t even no it literally /pos

Oh il ur x desfgin by the way he has such cool hair like if sm1 had fisgety hands imaging if they give it a lil brush u no or a lil tug or put sm cute flowers in it n stuff thatd be cute !!!! he’s a pretty boyi u nko kno u kko yhyhyhyhyh

Also I forgor if I respondede to this yet but ur so correct acc about the new hermits getting thei own crushes on Mumbo too HC stands for Hermits CrushingOnMumboJumbo acctuallye u r so correct n try 💀<<<<333333

…………. Def not m havin thoughts aboy the diff between ppl resctong to gem vs Skizz if they were to find out they gained a hot crush on Mumbo too….. like…. Bro imagine……..

Ppl going to gen like awwww that’s cute bestie we lov that frfr gem welcome to the club bestie n shes so sweet w mumbo n it’s all good n she might be deadly enough to casully take out a sword n death glare any competitors sometime if they’re tryna crash in any dedidcated Mumbo time (COYGHCOUGCVOUGH Grian COUGHCOIYHCIIHJ) but it’s all good ukno all cute :))))))

But like Skizz. And here’s the thing Skizz is such a huge teddy bear o a guy. Fav angel dude fr. But like. I’m lookin at how ZIT already had like a whol competition bet thing going on w seducing Mumbo Outta his sexy pristine normal asssuit pants. I’m looking at the hints of possessivendsc that like Z n I n T all had at times b4 w dear ol mumby boy. I’m lookinh at thr bond ZITS hav going on n how Skizz could b having a gay ol time w mumbo n maybe flirting just a tad (a lot lol) n maybe he throws Mumbo over his arm cus he cute like that n S catches one of the others eye just for a second n motherfucker would SMIRK. LMAO ‘look bitches I got ur man now he’s my man what u gonna do bout it <3’ like iys probs not on the level of Doc n Grian (n X n Scar n probs Keralis lol) petty aaaa possessiveness rivalry becaus ZITS r still a lol goofy w it y’know ykno but like

Sometimesz

Sometimes.

Hffhhffhhffygufhghvvhvjjvjvjvvjjbbj ty gim happy pride btw rip I’m a fruity little plannon today <3

- 🌱 Anon

Plannon it is then! ^^ lmao always a pleasure to receive a message from you. Feels like I have a penpal in the world somewhere. Apparently in my walls though so I hope you're still comfortable in there with how cold its getting again??? (last week we were at the >20C?? Now we're back at single digits???? What happened?????).

As for my Xisuma, maybe no tugging since he has some very sensitive hair roots but flowers are always welcome! (I still think he needs a haircut though)

I agree on your interpretation of the true meaning of HC and shall immediately add it to my dictionary lmao.

Actually I haven't really thought about Skizz all that much so I'm pretty interested in some headcanons about them. I don't really see much of Skizz in general I suppose.

I say that but for some reason I had no trouble hearing this sentence (‘look bitches I got ur man now he’s my man what u gonna do bout it <3’) in his voice so.. lol.

Happy pride as well plannon! go and be your fruity little self and have fun.

[coco-bean-1218]

claireeeeeeeeee hi love! could i request "heartbeat" for claire/grant? <3

BLU!!!!! I'M SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG!!!! GET COMFY, THIS IS A LONG ONE!!!

Here is 'lucky' for you per your request! Thank you for being flexible!

May, 1944

Upottery, England

The bar was a cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses, a hazy smoke swirling around the yellowed lightbulbs that dangled from the ceiling. The men of Easy Company were scattered throughout the room, savoring the freedom of a weekend pass before jumping into Normandy. The air was thick with the scent of beer and sweat, a tangy reminder that outside these walls, the world was at war. Claire sat at a corner table, illuminated by the soft glow of a hanging lamp. The smoky haze of the bar couldn't obscure her radiant presence.

"Would you look at that hair, Doc?" Eugene's voice was soft, tinged with his Cajun drawl, as he nudged Claire gently with his elbow. Her dark brown locks were pinned up in victory rolls, a style befitting her striking presence.

Claire blushed, a faint color rising on her cheeks, which were otherwise perfectly contoured. "Oh, stop it, Eugene," she replied, her tone playful yet sincere. "You know I can't do anything fancy with these hands unless it's stitching a wound." 

"Which you do exceptionally well," James "Moe" Alley chimed in, his admiration poorly veiled behind a thin veneer of joviality. "But tonight, Claire, you're outdoing yourself."

"Indeed," Shifty added, his gentle demeanor shining through his soft-spoken words. "It's not every day we get to see our combat medic turned into a dame straight out of those Hollywood pictures."

"You'd think the war was already won with how you're lookin' tonight," Eugene said, his dark blue eyes twinkling with the same mirth that always seemed to dance at the edges of their conversations.

"Oh, stop it, you three. You flatter me too much," Claire replied, her voice a melodious blend of gratitude and modesty.

Eugene leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving Claire's face. "I wouldn't dare to flatter you, Claire," he said, his voice laced with sincerity. "You deserve nothing less than the truth."

She took a sip of her cocktail, the fruity sweetness offsetting the bitter taste of war that lingered in the air. Her arm linked comfortably around Eugene's shoulders. They were almost mirror images—both in uniform, both combat medics, both fiercely protective of each other.

"I bet a lot of hearts are breaking across the bar seeing you all dolled up with your arm around Doc Roe," Alley interjected, raising an eyebrow in a playful gesture.

Across the room, Grant stood like a Californian Apollo, his golden complexion catching the dim light as he threw darts with his friends. His light blue eyes occasionally flickered towards Claire, a mixture of admiration and something deeper etching his features into a portrait of bashful longing. He grappled with the courage to cross the bar and step into the orbit of the woman who unknowingly held his heart.

"Go on, Chuck. Show us that California aim!" Skinny rallied, pulling Grant back from his reverie.

"Sure thing," he replied, but his voice lacked conviction. He threw the dart, landing dead center, yet Grant barely noticed, his gaze drifting once more to Claire.

Eugene laughed at something she said, his head thrown back in genuine amusement. It was clear to anyone watching that they shared a bond, a connection forged in the fires of shared experience and trust. Yet, as Claire tossed her head back, her eyes sparkling beneath the bar's muted lights, Grant felt an undeniable pull, a desire to be part of that inner circle, to be the one who could make her laugh like that.

The flickering candlelight danced across the polished mahogany, casting an amber glow over the crowded bar. Laughter and the clink of glass punctuated the smoky air as Claire leaned in closer to Eugene. Her fingers, tipped with nails painted like tiny cherries, brushed against his sleeve, a silent testament to their camaraderie.

Liebgott's eyes gleamed mischievously as he scanned the room and spotted Claire. A subtle smile played at the corners of his mouth. "Hey, O'Connor!" he called out, his voice slicing through the din of the bar. "Why don't you come over and show us how it's done? You've got the steady hands, after all!"

Claire looked up, brown eyes meeting his challenge with a playful spark. "I've never played," she called back, her red lips curving into a half-smile and her fingers tightening involuntarily around Eugene's shoulders. 

"No worries, gorgeous." Talbert chimed in, exchanging a sly glance with Liebgott. "Grant here will teach you. Won't you, Chuck?"

Grant nearly choked on his beer, at the sound of his name coupled with Claire's. He coughed into his sleeve, as he stammered out a protest, "Now, Tab, I'm not sure—"

Liebgott walked up behind Grant and smacked him on the back of his neck. "Ow! What was that for?" Grant winced, rubbing the spot where Liebgott's hand had landed. "—I mean, sure, if—if Claire wants to..."

"See? It's your lucky day," Talbert teased, nudging Grant with an elbow while eyeing Claire with an expression that suggested he knew exactly what he was stirring up.

Eugene's eyes met Grant's, dark blue and impenetrable; a silent message passed between them. The unspoken words hung heavily in the air: 'Be careful with her. If you hurt her, I'll hurt you.'

Claire leaned closer to Eugene, putting her hand over her mouth as she whispered something that only he could hear. He laughed with a mischievous grin on his face. "Go ahead, chérie. Let's see what you've got." he gave Claire's hand a gentle squeeze before releasing her. 

"Alright, then," Claire said, stepping forward with more bravery than she felt. Her heart pounded against her ribcage. "Let's see if I'm any good at this."

As she crossed the room, she felt Eugene’s gaze on her like a silent plea, asking her to stay or perhaps to tread carefully. "Alright, Claire," she thought to herself, "This is your reputation on the line. It took you a long time for them to take you seriously."

Claire took a deep breath as she picked up a dart, steadying her nerves as she stood next to Grant at the dartboard. She looked over at Eugene, giving him a playful wink. "I mean, it can't be that hard, right? All you do is throw it like this-" Claire said as she lazily threw the dart in one swift motion, not looking at the board. 

The dart sailed through the air, spinning aimlessly. Thunk. Bullseye. Dead center.

The room fell into stunned silence as everyone turned their attention to the dartboard. Even Claire couldn't believe her eyes. A smile tugged at the corners of her lips, a mixture of egotism and disbelief, "Nice one, O'Connor. That'll show them." she thought. 

The hush of the bar seemed to stretch for an eternity, the only sound being the soft scratch of vinyl from the jukebox in the corner. Then, slicing through the quiet like a bayonet through fabric, came Liebgott's incredulous exclamation. "Oh, shit," he wheezed, his brown eyes wide with astonishment as he leaned back against the worn wooden paneling of the bar.

Claire could barely process the absurdity of what had just happened; her dart nestled in the bullseye as if it had been guided by unseen hands. The room remained frozen, patrons' conversations cut off mid-sentence, heads turned in disbelief toward the impossible shot.

Grant, standing a few paces away, was a statue carved in shock. His eyes were fixed on the dartboard and his mouth hung open, the beginnings of a stuttered word dying on his lips. He couldn't believe what he had just witnessed, nor could she.

She glanced at Grant, watching as he blinked rapidly, as if trying to reset his perception of reality. The clamor swelled like a wave, crashing against the walls of the bar and washing over Claire in a dizzying rush. The cacophony was strangely harmonious, a symphony of disbelief and admiration that reverberated within her. Her hand trembled slightly, the dart an unlikely extension of her own surprise.

Amid the commotion, Grant finally found his footing. "I...uh...wow," he stammered, clearly struggling to string together a coherent sentence. His gentle nature battled against his awe, wanting to say more but not knowing how.

"Doc, I think you just broke Grant," Liebgott quipped, a smirk tugging at his lips as he nudged his friend whose gaze hadn't left the board.

"Chuck, close your mouth before you catch flies," Talbert called out, snapping him out of his stupor.

"Wow," Grant managed, finally tearing his eyes away to meet Claire's gaze. "That was... incredible." His voice was a soft echo amid the raucous cheers, yet it reached her clearly, wrapping around her with the warmth of an unexpected embrace. "I've never seen anyone throw a dart that way and get a bullseye."

"Thanks, Grant," she murmured, the words spilling out before a shy laugh could follow. She felt the blush rise in her cheeks, a delicate heat that mirrored the buzz of the crowd. Reaching out, she wrapped an arm around him, her fingers grazing the fabric of his uniform as she pulled him into a fleeting side hug. She caught the scent of his cologne, a mix of clean linen and something uniquely him—calming yet exhilarating. "I guess I surprised myself, too."

He seemed to lean into her embrace, if only for a second, but it was enough—a tacit agreement of shared wonderment. Their connection, usually so fraught with tension and unspoken words, felt natural and uncontrived in that instance.

The applause around them began to ebb, but the ringing in Claire's ears persisted, a reminder of what had just transpired. She let her arm fall away from Grant, stepping back into her own space. The sudden clatter of palms against fabric jolted Grant from his reverie, his smile still lingering as Talbert and Liebgott crashed into the moment like a pair of exuberant tornadoes. 

"Chuck, you sly dog!" Talbert bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the bar walls as he slapped Grant's back with a force that made the latter stagger forward. "Look at you, bringing out the hidden talent in our little O'Connor!"

Liebgott chimed in with a grin so wide it threatened to split his face in two. "I didn't think she had it in her," he admitted, his brown eyes sparkling with mischief. "But I guess there's more to Doc than meets the eye, huh?"

"Beginner's luck, I suppose," she said, her voice light as air, betraying none of the whirlwind tumbling inside her. Her words were a well-practiced shrug, a way to deflect from the fact that her heart was performing an erratic tap dance against her ribs. Her coy smile remained plastered on her lips as she pivoted gracefully. Each step back toward her friends felt like walking through honey, thick with the buzz of her victory and Grant's lingering gaze.

The clamor of the crowd dwindled to a gentle murmur as Claire navigated through the throng of soldiers and locals, their faces a blur of smiles and astonishment. As she approached her own little nook of the world within the bustling bar, she spotted him—Eugene, his fair skin a stark canvas for the soft glow of pride that seemed to radiate from his dark blue eyes.

His strong hands reached out, ensnaring her in a warm embrace that lifted her from the ground as if she weighed nothing. Her feet dangled for a brief moment in a childlike suspension, a thrill akin to soaring over the hedges of childhood memories. "You did it!" he exclaimed, "You showed them all what you're capable of!"

"Did you see that, Gene? I can't believe I actually did that?" Claire's voice was a mix of giddy disbelief and pride. She could feel her own heart pounding against her chest, a wild drumbeat that matched the rhythm of the evening's excitement.

As Eugene carefully set her down, her heels clicked against the wooden floor, grounding her once more. "Of course, I saw," he replied, his grip on her shoulders loosening but not letting go entirely. "Couldn't miss it."

Alley, then, also picked up Claire and spun her around, her laughter rising above the din, her glasses slightly askew from the force of the twirl. "Unbelievable, Claire! You never cease to amaze me," he exclaimed.

As she regained her footing, the room settled back into its familiar rhythm, the jukebox playing a tune that had everyone tapping their feet. Thanks, guys," she said, pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose,

'What does this mean?' she wondered. 'For Eugene, for Grant, for me?'

Tonight, she was no longer just the awkward girl with a penchant for solitude; tonight, she was Claire "Doc" O'Connor, the woman who'd thrown a dart straight into the heart of possibility.

[pumpkinsy0]

can you make the outsiders trying haitian food headcanons???

i know what u r anon,,,🇭🇹🇭🇹🇭🇹 /j but seriously anon m’ lanmou w paske w mande m sa

ANYWAYS WOOO ANOTHER HAITIAN ASK LETS GOOOOOOOO

•the shepards r literally already haitian so lets just say theres a celebration at their house and they made a shit ton of food

•they made stuff like boulèt (haitian meatballs), pikliz, griot, diri djon djon, diri riz au lait (think of horchata but like pudding form and can be warm or cold) plantains, akra, and some other stuff but if i listed em id b here for a while

•NOW pony hangs out w curly a lot, he knows a good chunk of haitian food so hes chillin and helping everyone w taking what to eat n what not!!!

•darry strikes me as a macaroni kinda guy, partially bc hes autistic and a pretty picky eater, so macaroni is his go to food, so i can def see him liking macaroni au gratin (its basically baked macaroni, but w the shepards they like putting a bit of ground beef in there)

•it was a lil outta his comfort zone but he did rlly like it!!!

•two bit took the plantain and griot and pickliz and made it into a sandwich which i mean hey, whatever floats ya boat mean eat up king🙏🏽🙏🏽

•johnny doesnt even rlly have a big appetite, he was mostly just eating akra and pikliz it was simple but a lil spicy and he was doing cartwheels in his head

��when everyone got to eating diri djon djon i just KNOW dallas, johnny, and soda bit into the actual djon djon and they were having coughing fits

•dallas and soda were coughing bc hello????why is it so spicy for?????? johnny meanwhile, this aint first his rodea with djon djon, hes south asian hes pretty familiar w spicy stuff, its just the fact that it comes out of NO WHERE there is NO WAY to prepare for that shit ur just at the mercy of god atp

•soda would love haitian sodas, particularly the fruit champagne one, a fruity soda for a fruity guy named soda!!

•they all love diri riz au lait, especially darry, he just likes food that isnt crunchy, steve thoight the texture was a lil weird but he got used to it

•tim and darry were talking over kremas the while time, darrys not much of a drinker but he’ll have something to drink here n there he likes it

•curly and angela snuck pony some chocolate kremas lol

•unrelated but angela was in charge of the music the while time and she was mostly paying emeline michel

•haitian food has quite a bit of african influence in it and i hc steve as african so ik he was lookin and eatin this food goin “damn this kinda reminds me of ___” in his head a few times

•after everything was done they all got haitian cake to take home<333

[dcviated]

relationship building :: open

@cloudpools sent: 🍺 for my muses drunk reaction around yours. ((Harima and Holly lololol

Sworn to secrecy. Give him a break. More like a gag order to hide her own devious lifestyle, that's how Harima sees it. But goddamn if he isn't a man of his word. Without his word he ain't got a whole lot else after all. Still. Seeing her mill about in casual clothes is like seeing a lion or other zoo animal standing on two feet. Who's she trying to fool??

"Ain't foolin' me." Harima huffs, taking the glass before him and throwing it back for a hearty chug. "Guhhh.. man! The hell is with this week anyway?" The beer joins similar company in his gut, the swirl in his eyes threatening to wobble into something closer to tears. Sure, maybe she had kinda sorta saved him. But down a job (because he absolutely caught the flack and got fired) he was back to hoofing it for other labor deals.

A damn mercy is what it was, that the owners didn't blacklist him. Or put out some nasty rumors. Similarly he wasn't putting anything out on the Irish girl. Though she still didn't look very Irish to him. If she were Irish, she'd be drinking something really hard, wouldn't she? That glass is all flowery and fruity lookin. Baffling.

Not that Harima's any good at solving logical quandaries to begin with. And after having a few good glasses?

Thunk. Thunk. Through sniffles he thumps the heavy glass mug against the counter. Biting back frustration the same as sorrows. Why's she having a good time anyway?? What's she got to be happy about??

Apparently a whole lot more than him. A proper response would to let bygones be bygones. But the whole ridiculousness of the situation (along with how it seems to dog him) keeps him stuck against it like flypaper. Kinda like how his eyes keep flitting back to her from across the bar.

There's a few good reasons to keep wearing shades... even if, right now at least, the saturation of tears and wrench of frustration decimates any attempt at looking cool with them. Barely at drinking age and he looks about the biggest loser as any old drunkard three times his age.

"Bartender! I need... another."

"Kid, I think you've had enough."

"Youre... goddamn right... about that!!!"

[thebridgetonarnia]

we can all blame @blvckwidow for this steddieXspn crossover

the year is 2008, sam and dean are investigating a vampire coven in a normal town in indiana.

steddie and ronance own a duplex together, they do this bc steve and robin are codependent like that, they even have a door on the insides that connect the homes and all four of them will walk in to the others homes whenever they want.

eddie is a famous but only in metal circles musician, steve is an elementary teacher, robin is an interpreter, and nancy is crime journalist.

nancy in her research has been seeing a lot of weird shit happening in their town, weird bodies with weird gnarly wounds on them. it rings alarm bells in her head screaming "demagorgon!" over and over again.

she approaches robin first, "something weird is happening, and i might be crazy bc el said the gates were 100% closed, i even called her to double check, but these bodies are not normal and my gut is telling me something is wrong."

robin immediately believes nancy, they read in the boys and make a game plan.

nancy says that everything seems localized to one area of the town, so they investigate together during the day on the weekend.

in their investigation they run into same and dean. who look at this group of 40-something year olds, with a nail studded bat, a sawed off shotgun, a... sword? and immediately assume theyre hunters.

the lady with the shotgun stands in front of the group, "who the hell are you?" the pretty one chokes up on the bat preparing to swing, taking a protective stance in front of the other two.

"hey hey hey hey hey hold up lady, we're on the same side we're hunters too! We're lookin for the vamps!"

"Vamps? as in vampires? as in undead creatures of the night who suck your blood?" the other woman starts babbling.

sam and dean are immediately confused. but blah blah blah more dialogue and exposition, long story short they end up at a dive bar to discuss whats happening in the town. (brief interlude of steve absolutely FREAKING OUT over the impala)

the fruity four immediately want to help kill the vamps, sam and dean are hesitant to let a bunch of rookies on the scene, but robin says something about this not being their first rodeo and nancy and steve are kind of scary so they relent.

the entire time, dean keeps looking at eddie, like he knows him, like he's trying to place him, it's not until they're all deep in the vampire nest that he sees eddie swing the sword recklessly that he realizes that that's eddie freaking munson but dean cant freak out about bc a vampire is on his ass.

it was probably the fastest that sam and dean ever dispatched of a vampire nest. no one was seriously hurt and all the vamps were dead.

the fruity four invite sam and dean over their house where they realize that its not steve&robin and eddie&nancy, but steve&eddie and robin&nancy

dean watches the couples a lot closer after that, something deep and buried is clawing its way out, thoughts of a trench coat and a gravelly voice flit through his mind.

eddie and steve give dean a knowing look, something that made him feel more seen than he has ever felt in all his years on this earth. he looks away from them, unable to cope with being bared open by virtual strangers.

the six of them chat, they offer sam and dean a room to sleep in, "the kids usually stay in those rooms, but they havent been buy in a while so it should be fine for you guys, we've got plenty of space, and better water pressure than whatever shitty motel your staying at"

from then on, steve and robin check in with the boys at least once a week, to make sure theyre doing okay. sam and dean always stop by if they're passing through the area, nancy creates a network for hunters, eventually opening her own bar (like the roadhouse)

when the apocalypse begins for real for real, the fruity four plus a tiny army of seemingly normal people show up to fight alongside sam and dean. including a woman who can move things with her mind, without demon blood.

[criohfreeze]

Sexuality headcanons:

**I HAVE NOT READ THEIR LORE, I ONLY KNOW BASIC DETAILS**

Dwight — You cannot convince me this man is 100% straight. He's gotta be bi or pan or something

Claudette — a soft bisexual who adores frogs but doesn't make it her whole personality

Meg — she gives me straight vibes. Only a straight person would throw down Shack pallet at 5 gens.

Jake — Unlabled, he just doesn't care anymore. Whatever he feels he feels.

Nea — 1000% a lesbian. Hard-core lesbian.

Ace — He's bi. No way he's not.

Laurie — I don't know Laurie that well, don't come at me but I haven't watched the Halloween movies yet

Bill — I haven't played Left4Dead either but he seems straight

Feng — Bi but leaning towards women.

David — well he's confirmed gay so??

Tapp — aaa I don't know the licensed characters that well. He looks straight though. That pose in his profile is lookin a little suspicious but otherwise he's straight.

Ada — I love her but she's probably straight.

Rebecca — Why is this so hard?? Like I have no clue?? My gaydar is broken???

Kate — she's straight but not afraid to say when a gal is looking FINE

Adam — why do so many of them seem straight to me?? Is it just cause I don't know them that well?? Anyways Adam seems straight.

Jeff — he probably has a girlfriend that paints and loves his doggeh.

Jane — Bi, leaning towards men

Ash — I have no fucking clue.

Steve — a bisexual fucking wreck. Nancy? Pretty hot. Quentin? GODDAMN.

Nancy — Just like Steve. Steve? Pretty hot. But Robin???

Quentin — he's part of the trio. He's a bi mess, he likes Nancy (Holbrook) but Steve too, and it's just a mess.

Yui — hard-core lesbian.

Zarina — I know this isn't a sexuality but she seems like she's a demi-girl. Also probably but gay. She's just got that hair.

Cheryl — Cheryl just looks gay. She might have a boyfriend but maybe he's just a placeholder.

Felix — Happily bi. He had a wife that he loves very much but he's come to terms that he's never going to see her again(oh god the feels. I might start tearing up /gen) and he's also come to terms that he knows he likes men as well. He's bi but leans towards women.

Élodie — some form of gay, not particularly bi, but she definitely likes women.

Yun-Jin — a sassy gay woman.

Jill — again, I have absolutely no fuckung clue. She could like women but also maybe men?? Maybe??

Leon — fruity as fuck. How are you gonna be that sassy and sarcastic be be STRAIGHT?

Mikaela — she's a lil bit fruity. She's def said the phrase "you are what you eat" when someone called her a pussy

Jonah — straight. Only straight people or people who actually have something wrong with them like math.

Yoichi — he gives gay vibes.

Haddie — she seems fruity, I'm not sure to what degree, but she most likely likes women.

Vittorio — gay.

Edit: NEW CHARACTERS !! (edited Sunday, March 19th, 2023 at 9:52pm)

Thatalia — she seems pan

Renato — GAY ASF‼️‼️

[mizumech]

Day 7: Blade/Ocean/Death

Hi! It’s mizumech. I know I’ve been late on Day 5 and 6, but Day 5 is spiralling out of control in length. Well, here’s Day 7, inspired by the Magnus Archives, coming in at 2451 words named ‘Gone Fission’.

(Subtext: I have never interacted with the original Magnus Archives)

All rights reserved.

TW: Death, Altered state of consciousness, Bloodlust

Enjoy!

-

[Click]

[MARTYN]

Statement of Ren “The Dog” Lycan, regarding an…incident of violence and potential altered state of consciousness during a LARP session. Recorded direct from subject today, 17th September, 2023—

[REN]

…do we need to be so formal, my dude?

[MARTYN]

It’s mainly for the sake of archival and whoever the next archivist is, my liege.

[REN]

…

[MARTYN]

You—you know what? Tell you what, I’m going to…re-record this. Or something. If that’s okay with you. God, I should not have taken that coffee from Grian this morning…

[REN]

Yeah, I’m okay with anything at this point—wait...Grian works here?

[MARTYN]

Yeah, surprising, right? I always thought he would be in architecture or something else that has to do with eyes.

[Click]

[Click]

[MARTYN]

Statement of Ren “The Dog” Lycan, regarding an incident of violence and potential altered state of consciousness during a LARP session. Recorded direct from the subject today, 17th September, 2023. Statement begins. 

[REN]

So, backstory first. Death’s been a big thing for me all my life. I love acting and storytelling, and Death is always a big theme. I die a lot, actually. 

[MARTYN]

…what? You never told me about this?

[REN]

Yeah, I’ll come back to that later. Anways, I first died when I was…uh…when was that? I think I was like…ten? I drowned on a beach trip, and everything was white. I think I might’ve even met Death herself! Death’s not as strange as it seems. It’s like drifting away with the sound of your family accompanying you. It’s also moist. She waved to me, and I waved back, but then I got pulled back to the living world where Ma and Pa Dog were lookin’ down worriedly at me. They later told me that they had done CPR and mouth-to-mouth on me and that had saved me life.

I don’t think that’s true. CPR in fact fails most of the time, did you know that?

Well, as a ten year old, I didn’t know that. 

I jumped off the roof of my house back then at night and I think I broke my neck or something,

Now, neck breakage doesn’t always kill you. I’ve actually heard that immediate medical attention regarding injuries like that can save lives.

Well, I didn’t have that. It was nighttime and I hadn’t told anyone that I was planning to jump.

I just kinda laid there for a while.

When I finally died, Death and I met again. She offered me a seat, and I think we chatted a bit. We might’ve talked about Transformers.

[MARTYN]

Sorry to interrupt, but you met Death and you talked about Transformers?

[REN]

Heck yeah! We talked about Optimus Prime and Bumblebee before I came back. This proved that I could die and come back, which my ten-year-old-self did not think to take advantage of.

I love kitter-me to death, heh, but he’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer.

Well, I got through life rather smoothly until my sixteenth birthday. I participated in a group-outing-friendly-championship with some friends; Falsie, H Mama, and Fruity were on my team. This time, the game was some sort of tag with darts and normal other rules.

So. You know by now. I somehow died. Something about the darts. I broke off from the group and got ambushed by Sapnap. I don’t even think anyone noticed. The recovery period this time was so short that I didn’t even get to wave to Death before I got pulled back. 

We won that game, for the record.

There weren’t really any major events like that other than a different tournament where I might have died. For that one, I’m not sure. It felt more like I had gotten on a train, fallen asleep, and missed my station.

That was a strange dream, I tell you. I dreamt Zed was with me, and there was a melancholy guy called Wilbur. There was also a guy called Schlatt.

[MARTYN]

The name Zedaph sounds familiar. Has he made a statement here before?

[REN]

I don’t know. He does seem like the sort of person to do that, though.

When I got off ‘the train’, people patted me on the back with nicknames like “Grimdog”, and “The Reaper”, which is kinda strange, if you ask me.

I know for a fact almost no one knows I can die.

Okay, maybe Falsie knows. She looked at me like she’d seen a ghost when I came back from that whole deal with Sapnap, and she’d already made quite a few death related jokes in front of me when we first became friends. That’s not even her normal humour!

Well, so do you.

[MARTYN]

...excuse me?

[REN]

I even died one of the first times we met.

Remember?

Grian organised a LARP thing with his friend groups, which included you and me. He called it a social experiment. Well, to him and Mumbo, everything is a social experiment, I guess.

Did I tell you about the time Mumbo put a button near our office pantry that dispensed chocolate coins? It had lights to indicate when it had last been pressed and the number of chocolate coins dispensed depended on how long we waited to press it. If no one pressed it for too long it would supposedly explode. He even found a way to make the timing pressed correspond with a different coloured sweet wrapper!

Hilarious, I tell you! Workplace drama for days!

Oop. I think I’m off topic at this point.

Anyhoozle, you and I were allied. All of this game was merely meant to be a game, if you don’t remember. I was the king of a fictional place called Dogwarts and we were against Grian and Scar’s faction. I lost my ‘green life’ to an explosive trap, and my ‘yellow life’ to you.

That was a real life.

Remember?

That axe I gave you, it was supposed to be foam. I knew it was foam. Grian wouldn’t have allowed the circulation of weapons made of anything other than foam.

You know what happens next, I get you to behead me, right?

Funny story: that was inspired by a thick epic that appeared in my mail one time. I think the inside was stamped “Library of Joe Hills”?

Well, I see the axe come down. Mumbo’s behind the camera, and he’s recording this.

And then the axe glints.

I see that axe glint in the moonlight, and deep down I know that’s not plastic, or foam. That’s metal and it’s coming for my head.

One moment, I’m sprawled out on Blackheart Altar, and one moment, I’m facing Death.

I think I even got some pickup lines in there.

(a laugh)

Does that make me a more successful Thanos? Ladies get in line! Ladies, gentlemen, anyone can get in the line!

[MARTYN]

Ren…

[REN]

When I came back, I was not the same. There was something in my head, and it was telling me to kill. It was urging me to snatch the axe to lop off your head, actually!

But I have to resist, right? No killing of the bros.

Besides, only I get the private landline to Death herself!

Back to the story.

I think there were voices in my head. All of a sudden, it felt like I was the character I had been illustrating. I wholly believed that we hated Grian and we hated Scar and we all hated each other. 

I don’t know why this death was so different.

I wholly believed that you were my Hand, and that Scar was nothing but—nothing but scum!

It’s a horrible thing, to think of your friends that way, and it’s so terrible to actually consider killing them.

I didn’t even know you well back then, but I would’ve trusted you with my life.

But in that moment, when I was staring at the pool of my own blood, those voices wanted more blood.

It wasn’t just a game anymore. I wanted them to die. Those voices were pushing against each other, overlapping and reaching at fantasies of revenge.

Kill. Kill. Kill.

When I was still vaguely sane I knew my plan was to gift you that axe. But when I knew that was a real weapon, my hindbrain could not take not having it for myself.

I needed their blood dripping down my hands. It was going to be me and Scar to the death, my Hand.

That axe…

I think the thing that should have really rattled me was when I ‘killed’ Joel.

We were chasing him and his ‘wolf army’ and we chased him into the woods. Now, normal me would not have had the stamina to do that. I would’ve been panting and on my knees at that point if I was normal, pre-death Ren. 

But I wasn’t. This wasn’t a roleplay anymore to me. 

I was the Red King, protector of my country; and my vision was tinging with red. Literally. I had a doctor check it out a week later. Nothing.

It was an animalistic sort of desire. At the speed I was going, I wasn’t even feeling tired. I knew I could freakin’ eat him whole if I wanted to, but I was just nipping at his heels and taking big swings at him with a foam blade.

Thank God I wasn’t holding the real axe. I don’t think you realised the danger of that axe at the time, to be honest.

I would’ve killed him. I would’ve.

Eventually, I caught up. In Joel’s eyes was some sort of fake bravado. 

I don’t even know how I could tell. Normal me would not have been able to do that.

I think the Red King could smell the fear rolling off Joel, because I was suddenly in his space; punching him and snarling like one of his wolves.

I didn’t stop. I wanted to tear him to pieces. I wanted him dead. I needed him dead. I didn’t stop until Mumbo started frantically gesturing at me to stop and you were pulling me away.

In that moment, I had never felt more…alive.

It’s a strange euphoria. It’s strange to feel so good to beat someone up.

Now that I look back on it, that’s a terrifying sensation; the electric tingle I had after I did what I did. 

Joel was just lying there; trembling. 

He looked so…small to me. 

I think he might’ve been hyperventilating.

We never spoke much after that, in any of the later LARP sessions. 

I still couldn’t get the idea that this was a game to stick to my brain. It was all so real to me.

Even after I lost my ‘red life’—my last one, I couldn’t get the bloodlust out of my brain.

I watched you die in vain; trying to protect Dogwarts, and it took me all my self control not to stand right back up and stab Scar.

I watched your axe fall.

It had turned back to foam.

When I got back to the car, I realised I couldn’t remember how to drive. I had to get you to drive me home.

I couldn’t figure out how any of my technology worked, in fact.

It was only halfway home when my ears kinda popped.

My heart was racing because I didn’t know you.

All the voices seemed to shut up all at once.

I didn’t know who you were.

I knew how to drive. I knew how to use a comm. I knew that I had been invited to LARP.

But I didn’t know you.

You were talking about how believable my improv was and I was just sitting there in the passenger seat with adrenline coursing through me like a drug. 

Something had shifted.

At that moment, I don’t think I recognised you. I don’t think you recognised me either. 

Just a moment before that, we had been as thick as thieves. Then, it felt like I was looking at you through a periscope across the ocean. 

Your eyes…they were blue. I don’t know why that shocked me. Blue is one of the colours I see best. But it did. I could’ve sworn they were a more purplish-grey.

It was weird.

I eventually got to know you normally, and we have a great friendship now.

Well, I don’t think I’ve died since.

I don’t think I’ve tried to kill anyone since.

(a laugh)

Or at least I don’t think so.

End of statement?

[MARTYN]

Thanks for coming in, man. I really appreciate it.

[REN]

Love ya face. See you sometime soon!

[MARTYN]

You too, my lord!

(audible sigh)

[Click]

[Click]

[MARTYN]

For the sake of archival and the benefit of the next archivist, I want to contribute my side of the story to the tape. 

So. Ren. He’s a funny guy, has a big heart. He’s a good friend.

What he’s just said all really did happen. While I can’t verify whether Death is a woman or whether dying is moist, I do admit he wasn’t really the same after he turned red.

Context here. Grian’s social experiment gave all LARPers three lives each. On your green life, you just had to survive. On your yellow life, you were supposed to be more anxious and cautious.

On your red life, you were supposed to be aggressive, and you were allowed to ‘kill’ people.

I say ‘kill’ with big air-quotes because no, you were not supposed to actually kill people.

When I pretended to behead him—

(clears throat)

Beheaded him. Actually beheaded him, I guess.

I did note a change in his behaviour. 

I chalked this up to something else. After all, that was part of his character. 

He had asked me to behead him so he could be permitted to kill his enemies, and after I killed him, he said that “Red Winter is Coming!”

Pardon the accent. I can’t do it the same as Ren. 

Speaking of which. He had some sort of accent on his last life. He never tripped over it. Some sort of inflection I’ve never understood.

Well, when I cut his head off, it actually came off.

I didn’t really think about it at first. I don’t know why. There was actually blood all over, but I had thought it was just some movie magic I didn’t understand.

I know this seems unlikely, but being Ren’s Hand? That was of my own accord. I don’t think I was brainwashed into it. 

I think I would’ve known if I had been brainwashed.

Right?

Well, my character was so…devoted to Ren’s. 

Even now, I do cherish our friendship. It’s a deep one. Love hanging out with him.

Well, him and me forever.

I hope he’s doing well.

[Click]

[blackbeauty15]

cold,warm

chapter :1

Quick note ; hiii guys this is my first fanfic i hope you enjoy. the reader will be described as plus sized, African American and she will be somewhat on the tall side. you can change it thats just how i see her. this will take place when Snape was dying. i might change the dates/ years and yes there will be mature content later in the chapters but ill put a warning ;)

its over.

The war that has lasted to bring down the one home he knew is over. Harry finally beat him , Voldemort .

Severus wishes that he wasn’t bleeding out to enjoy this moment of happiness. something he hasn’t felt since the love of his life (lily )died.

continuous blood seeping out of his neck almost choking him, making him cough. this is it. He thought. he wasn’t surprised that he was going to die, He knew the consequences when he became a double agent. There are so many things he would redo if he had another chance. but at last he knew that would not happen.

Blood started to draw out of his mouth making it hard for him to breathe. his chest started to rise even faster than before, his eyes became blurry and heavy. before he caused them he saw a silhouette of a person walking… no running up to him at a fast paste. the person kneeled down fast behind his head . slowly moving severus’s head with soft ample hands softly on their lap.

They lifted his head up a little, drink this. A strong but quiet voice said you will be fine but I need you to try with the little strength you have. He felt a small vile pressing against his lips tilting downward.

He tried moving his eyes up to peer at the person who tried to save his life, he could tell it was a woman by the sweet voice that spewed from her lips.not only that but the light fruity perfume that he could smell,Honestly he found the smell comforting especially at a time like this holding our dear life.

he was so in thought that the contaminants in the vile gently streamed thru his mouth and down his throat. winching severus tries his best to drink while the woman brings her left hand down to hold the two dotted wound that leaked dark blood applying pressure making it easier for him to swallow.

Whatever she gave Severus it worked making it easier for him to breath but still he was losing consciousness.

even tho he wasn’t fully conscious he could help but think the question still was

who was this woman before passing out ?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

y/n sighed in real grabbing her wand and making the unconscious man float with a whispered spell then making her way threw the castle and on her way home. when she arrived to her small comfortable house she made sure to keep lookin to the side of her seeing if the slowly recovering man was doing fine.

opening the lock to her door the man floating behind her she slowly moves him with her wand threw the living room gently landing him on the couch. y/n takes off his shoes and sets them down on the side. she walks to the bathroom and got the first aid kit in order to patch up his wounds.

Wow, this is my life patching up a dying professor you really got something going for you she thought , But she couldn’t leave him even tho she really dint know him. well she did a little bit , hearing about him threw the castle and how he betrayed Dumbledore joining forces with an evil wizard.

She didn’t believe it tho. even thou she didn’t know Dumbledore on a personal level she could tell she was a shady old man.

Letting the golden trio get into trouble and in harms way sticking their head in drama that hal fly had nothing to do with them but never less they did help stop Voldemort. this year was her senior year officially becoming an adult , she was supposed to be partying with her friends, getting faced ass drunk. but no instead has a 35-36 year old man on her couch bleeding to death.

sighing , she stopped wasting time and got to work grabbing the first Aid kit and returning to him kneeling down face-level and got to work on his neck.

a hiss rooted out of snapes throat kind of scaring y/n sorry I’m almost done i promise. she said giving him a small smile of reassurance , taking his rough hand in the hand that wasn’t doing neck work.

He wearily tilts his head almost barely moving to the left wanting to see who was his savior.

Severus stared at her face wanting to say something, for almost one minute of Severus opening and closing his mouth like a good fish depicting what to say. Y/N peaked it out but found it quite funny and quite , cute? Maybe a little bit. After seeing how long this was gonna last she finally raised her voice.

You're welcome. She said meeting his onyx eyes staring straight into them was like staring at the stars in the sky.

Severus furrowed his brows in confusion, pursuing his lips together. He was gonna say that but his throat just wouldn’t let him , This was the first time this ever happened.

Clearly his throat lightly trying not to strain too much Severus spoke.

“Thank you for saving my life.” He never thought he would say this to someone never in a million years but

It finally happened.

Of course I would want the world famous potions teacher to die without honor now would I that’s just not a way to go. She smiled still looking into his eyes

God why are his eyes so damn enchanting the thought to her self

Severus smiled a little he may be weak but he could still read her mind . but he wouldn’t let her know that.

I'm Y/n L/n at your service . She said it a in a British accent you think being in Britain she would actually be able to imitate it but nope. Instead it was a mix between Scottish and British.

Severus continued to stare at her with a small smirk still ghostly riding on his lips. “I’m Severus, Severus snape.”

[rottingskunk]

night at the museum: Kamunrah rises again review

-i was binging the hell out of the night at the museum franchise (I chose to start with Smithsonian museum arc (2) then i’ll end with one). I watched the fourth movie and have many thoughts, as someone who loves this franchise to bits. (If you dont see mentions of the first movie its bc i havent seen it yet from my movie marathon)

1. The timeline is hella off im so confused about it. Nick is in highschool but NATM3 he was going to college?? Laa is there so it can’t be post NATM 2. If it was post NATM3 the best solution to this problem is having the adventure set IN THE UK???

2. I honestly am confused why kamunrah was revived again such a strange character to bring back i mean he was already dead before why bring him back?? (He was so iconic in the 2nd movie. Has funny bits in the fourth but third act bore me sorry) I genuinely wish there was a different bad guy instead

3. Infact i genuinely wish they had a small series for post NATM3 arc wherein its about the British museum rather than our main cast. Theres so much room and potential to introduce interesting historical figures too! Heck even make some of the animal statues talk that would be interesting (i doubt thats possible even with the tablet but shush) (is this an excuse to bring back rebel wilson to be the night guard-maybe Jdjfjsjdk/lh)

4. I love Octavius design he is not ugly to me at all infact he looks amazing in the movie! I love his face and his hair they look good. (I question why Jed is ginger and clean shaven, hes better off looking scruffy and scrappy looking) SIDE NOTE I LOVE THEM ADOPTING A CAT IT WAS MEANT TO BE !! (Their dynamic was off but them being clingy asf to each other made things less unberable)

5. Sacagewea and Joan of arc be lookin fruity in that one scene I see yall HDDJSJ, cute momment too. I love their respective character designs they are very fun plus Sacagewea is more plot relevant for once im glad for that:’D. Ik Joan of Arc wasnt there for the previous movies but my only answer to that plothole is shes also a new exhibit that was installed before NATM4. Or she could be in the British museum AKA AN EXCUSE TO HAVE JOAN AND LANCELOT TO INTERACT BRO THAT WOULD BE COOL

6.i love these movies but NATM4’s final fight scene wasn’t as impactful as the others. No.2 was so fucking good at their fight scenes the characters battling it out with a good amount for both sides, theres different spotlights for the characters even if its one second. The third movie it was more of a chase scene ft. LION STATUES BEING BIG CATS GAHHH<33 and Lancelot identity crisis poor man. This fourth one felt like a fight you see in every cartoon or show, just felt not as creative? Except when Nick destroyed the bird soldiers eye with arrows that was cool.

7. WHY DOES DEXTER NOT LOOK LIKE A CAPUCHIN??? He looks like a generic orange or brown ish monkey. I looked up how they look like irl and they tend to have multi colored fur so his design rlly confused the hell out of me. I genuinely love capuchins bc of dexter and able (choosing them over chimpanze’s just saying)

8.Lightning round bc I RAN OUT OF SPACE: Mia looks cool (wish she was used more in the story), Akmunrah not being there is so saddening, Nick and the bi sticker ™, Fun call back to the subway scene very cute, I love the oil painting joke its corny and useful to the chase, OFFENDED THERES NO BIG ANIMAL IN THE MAM MUSEUM EXCUSE??😭😭 theres always a big boy in there wdym (Rexy, Octopus, Trixie),Comic convention joke was my fave its such a cute moment

Heres some photos yey!! ok im done i spoke too much on this-did not expect such passion over it!!

[oonajaeadira]

I’ve got 2 cats, one of which very much enjoys imitating a rotisserie chicken while she sleeps (she starts in her stomach than works her way onto her back)

Her name is Applesauce.

(Cookie Dough is still a bit scraggly lookin’ post radiation, it’s honestly a bit distressing.)

I think landlords shouldn’t exist and the Ronald Reagan was a idiot figure head in the pockets of corporate America who got into office because of name recognition and charisma. Who extended the Cold War 3+ years because he wanted to build space lasers.

I’m queer as fuck and I’m probably projecting but damn near all of Pedro’s characters come off just a lil fruity, a lil bit like they’ve at least considered the company and comfort of another man’s body heat. (Yes I will be rubbing my grubby gay hands all over Silva once I see Strange Way of Life, no one, not even me, is ready for the kind of person I am likely to become once I see it)

But also like the guy himself, he just seems like such kind man, and a fucking dork, I wanna head bonk him, I wanna hug him! I think he’d be a cool guy to get toasted with!

Look at his stupid pretty face

This is such a beautiful "thrifting and chat and later coffee" of a message. I love a little rotisserie cat. I love a transman Ez. I love and agree with Pedro and his fruity characters. I love a man who has a healthy dose of the feminine in him.

I'll meet you at the thrift store, friend.

[frostedlemonwriter]

Last Line Tag / Heads Up 7 Up

@late-to-the-fandom Awesome thank you for this!

I am not sure who to tag. So, I will cope out and go back to @writingpotato07 as they are spud-tacular. @athena-anna-rose too because I wanna see what they got going on.

Like the end of most jobs, Logan stepped into the neon-lit dungeon of dance and sex, at least in the back rooms you could. Writhing against one another, all manner of metahumanity patronized the club. A drunk gnome wearing only her underwear danced on a table to be the same height as the ork she was with, a man who was beyond his senses—a clear den of chaos, uncontrolled yet controlled, a paradox Logan loved.

The bar was busy as always, with almost every spot full of someone trying to get a drink or a BD to crank themselves off within one of the private booths. Logan pushed between two punk-looking elves who scoffed but said nothing, knowing who she was.

“Renee,” Logan greeted the dwarven bartender. “How are ya, choom?”

“They are lookin’ for ya, Logan. Somethin’ ‘bout nuyen and debriefin’,” The punk rock-looking dwarf gave Logan a crooked grin. “But they are drinkin’. So ya got time. Want somethin’?”

“Somethin’ fruity,” Logan replied.

[twstinginthewind]

Also (tea emoji) cause I can't copy it rn, for our usual ships

Tea picrew here! Top row is Carol and April, bottom is Sindren and Flynn.

Punch raises the cup, looking at it with a smile. "That's the china pattern they use at Ramshackle, isn't it? Nice touch!" He lifts the cup, breathing in the warm, sweet fragrance. He swirls the tea in his cup; it has been made opaque with a splash of milk, but leaves nothing behind on the sides. He nods and takes a sip. "Hm... tart apple and black tea, with a little brown sugar to take the edge off. The milk softens it a bit, but the black tea is strong. Definitely going to keep you up at night." He looks at the cup approvingly. "Just like her."

Joker holds the cup up in front of her. It bore traces of having been broken in the past, but it had been repaired by a master artisan, and had emerged more beautiful than when it was first made. The scent of the tea was delicately sweet, but hard to pick out, almost as if it was trying to hide from her. She took a sip. "Oh.... it's white tea! That's really hard to brew correctly. It needs very exacting conditions to keep from being ruined. There's... hm. Almost something like apple juice? Just a hint. And a little bit of rose. It's unusual but it's such a good combination. Can I get some loose leaf to brew at home?"

Bobby holds his cup awkwardly, like he's not used to handling something so fragile. His fingers itch; he wants so badly to pocket that golden spoon, but he refrains. The scent of his tea hits him long before he goes in for a sip. "Smells like a spice market," he jokes as he brings the cup to his lips. "Oh, yowza. That packs a punch, doesn't it? There's a lot of spice. Lookin' at the color of it, there's probably saffron in there, along with the usual masala chai suspects. Definitely clove and cinnamon. And something fruity, too. Mango, maybe? It's good. It's powerful but it's good!"

Sia flushes a little pink at the presentation of her cup. Whoever ordered this for her included a sprig of her favorite flowers, how charming! And there was a single tea leaf floating in there, pointing up, for good luck. "I don't want to spoil this by drinking it up, but I'd hate to have it go to waste." She lifts her cup, and a sweet scent meets her. She drinks. "Hm. Strong berry flavors; dark ones. Blueberry, blackberry, black currant. Not a standard tea leaf, though. Perhaps a butterfly pea flower? It carries the other flavors well. There's something else in there, too... almost like a sweet liqueur. My goodness." She lowers her cup. "What a delightful mystery our friend has given us."