#thanks for all the questions <3

[lietpolski]

For Feliks?

50. A memory they’ve blocked out

49. Favorite toy as a child

37. What they really think about themselves

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

20. Scars

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

12. Crack headcanon

me when feliks <3 <3 <3

50. i think he doesn't like to remember the time leading up to the second and third partitions. unlike other difficult times in his life, he wasn't able to do anything about what was happening to him. he just had to watch as russians gained more and more control in his government until it was forced to dissolve, and i think that would've been harder on a restless person like feliks, because it's not something he could (try to) solve with a revolution. he pretty much spaced out through that entire time period

49. SUCH A CUTE QUESTION i have to go for a rocking horse because :,) yeah

37. ooh a good one!! i think feliks does genuinely like himself, but i don't think his extreme shyness and social anxiety come out of nowhere. i think he's very conscious of how he appears to others and can often "mold" his demeanor to fit the situation. he struggles a bit with his identity and liking his "true" self because of it, because after all the changes in his life and things he's had to adapt to he's not sure who the true feliks is

33. celebrations!! things like weddings, baptisms, and especially his own birthday/independence day. he always sheds a tear

20. i think rather than any big scars, feliks just has a lot of small ones! i also think any scars he received during the soviet era would've been more likely to stay on him permanently than any of the scars before that

16. ohhh man not sure,, i think feliks struggles to let go of the past and accept that things won't ever be like before. i think deep down he knows he and his friends are not the nations they were in the world they used to live in, but he can be in denial about it even to himself

12. if it counts, i read in a fic once that he gets his hair done every two weeks and although it's silly it's kinda become my go-to headcanon for his personal habits :,)

[dasmondkuss]

[ bumblebee ] // [ olive ] // [ navy ] & [ mauve for Alois if I can choose ]

@lured-into-wonderland | 🐝  *  ―  𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑹𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑽𝑰𝑬𝑾. 

[ bumblebee ]  where have you always wanted to travel to?

I HAVE WANTED TO GO TO A LOT OF PLACES THROUGHOUT MY LIFE, OKAY? I've always wanted to travel frequently, and I've been lucky enough to have traveled to three countries. I've learned something from every experience that definitely shaped me. But it's not enough.

As of now, I am divided between Japan, Argentina, and Spain. Beyond the cultural experiences, I have my closest friends in these countries, and so far, it is easier for me to get to them than for them to get to me, so, of course, I want that fervently. Ultimately, I'll take that decision based on what's more practical. I'm bound to travel to Canada first, anyway, and while it isn't my dream destination, I still want it because, yeah, traveling is great.

[ olive ]  what gives you the most inspiration for your muse(s)?

Honestly? A good conversation with my writing partner. I'm very methodical and detail-oriented, so the more material I have to work with regarding our muses' interaction, the easier it is for me to daydream about scenarios and flesh them out. It makes the writing more fluent because I have enough information to make sense of a scene without feeling my character doesn't fit in there.

Then, everything could literally become a source of inspiration because it's like OMG IT'S AUTUMN AND *insert any character in here*

[ navy ]  what do your muse(s) mean to you?

I love them a lot! But they're more a creative outlet than anything. I've been writing since a very young age, and what keeps me attached to it is the process of exploration and discovery that comes with rationalizing/putting experiences, emotions, and interactions into words. I love that moment when I snap my fingers because I see and understand something better without necessarily going through it. And the best part? I don't have to accept or incorporate it into my life simply 'cause now I understand it. Long live fiction!

Also, isn't it lovely? Our muses belong to us, which is one thing that no one could take away from us.

[ mauve ]  give one random headcanon about your muse / one of your muses. / For Alois.

THIS IS SO FUNNY.

Listen, it was hard to come up with something because I think we talk about Alois a lot, so what haven't I mentioned yet?!?! I had to poke him a little for him to give me something new, and this is what happened in my brain.

Me: Alois, give me something; anything is fine. Something you like? Something you hate? Fear?

Alois: No.

Me: BEHAVING LIKE AUTUMN, ARE YOU? TALK! WHAT IS IT?

Alois: ...

Me: Is it stupid? Are you afraid of darkness? No, wait, no. Haunted houses?

Alois: ... 🫠🫠🫠

Me: OH MY GOD, ALOIS. YOU'RE AFRAID OF CLOWNS!?!?!?!

Alois:

He also listens to metal, and symphonic metal is his favorite genre. I believe he had an emo phase..., but after treating him so poorly about his fear of clowns, he hasn't affirmed it nor denied it.

[hinamie]

august

[stevebabey]

part one here. ze part two to touch-starved stevie that absolutely no one requested hehe <3 but i gots to let my boys have a wee kiss :")

So, hugs with Eddie become… well, a thing.

Not a thing. They’re not a thing, Steve and Eddie. It’s totally the same as when he gets hugs from Robin. Eddie’s doing him a favour as a friend. It’s got the 100% platonic energy of getting a hug from a friend — a hug that usually melts into some form of a cuddle, limbs all tangled together until they can’t tell whose are whose.

Except, Steve doesn’t really do that second part with Robin. Like he hasn’t done it ever with Robin.

So, it’s an Eddie thing.

But they’re not a thing. Not matter how much Steve would actually very much like for that happen. Okay, maybe Steve’s overthinking the whole thing a bit, but he just can’t tell.

Where’s the line? It’s infuriating not being able to discern between platonic and more, just because Steve wasn’t held enough as a fucking baby. Out of all the things he resents his parents for, Steve’s surprised that this is so near the top.

Because, sure, Steve’s had more than his fair share of hookups. He knows that sort of touch. He knows the shape of lust; the scrapes of fingernails down backs, the tight grips over skin, the push and pull of the heat of the moment.

And this thing with Eddie… is not that.

So, really, Steve knows that it’s all friendly. Eddie is just being nice. He’s being a decent dude and helping his friend out — by catapulting himself into Steve’s arms at every opportune moment.

(Steve’s only dropped 3 mugs of coffee because of this so far. It’s only because Eddie says good catch, big boy with a devilish grin every time that Steve manages to catch Eddie that Steve hasn’t completely told him to knock it off. Just yet, at least.)

And he’s different in other areas. He’ll always seem to choose the seat next to Steve on movie-nights now, content to snuggle right up to him. They get thigh to thigh, arm to arm — and Eddie only needs to get about 20 minutes in for him to do a big sigh, like an old dog, and slump over, resting his head on Steve’s shoulder.

Steve notices though. He always notices.

It’s impossible not to— the skin, even if there’s 3 layers between them, burns blazing warm. Eddie’s hair drapes over his arm, a curl inevitably tickling along Steve’s collar. He can feel the rise and fall of Eddie’s breathing, the little shake of when he laughs.

It drives Steve a little insane— insane in the way that makes him think about burying his fingers in those curls again, about pressing his lips against Eddie’s pretty mouth just to feel the smile against his skin, about digging into his chest so he can climb into his chest and live there.

Yeah, it’s— well, it’s safe to say that the effect of Eddie’s touchiness has sent what was once a fleeting thought of a crush into mind-melting levels of affection.

But he can’t fucking tell.

-

To Steve’s credit, neither can Eddie.

Which is not surprisingly considering sometimes he catches himself wondering how the hell he ended up here; in a close-knit friendship with band-geek Robin Buckley, princess Nancy Wheeler, and King Steve Harrington.

Okay, the Robin one sort of makes sense. He thinks that if no matter when their paths crossed, he and Robin would’ve always even some sort of strange friends - her snark complimenting his bitchiness. Also, the whole super queer thing helps too. Even the friendship with Nancy works, in its own weird way.

Steve though? He’s the fucking curve ball.

It works though, the two of them. Surprisingly well, actually — the two of them get on like a house on fire, bitchy quips back and forth. Even better, is the quiet that they can share. Steve loves to come around and do… nothing. Do nothing with Eddie, though.

So, even though Eddie had noticed the tension in Steve with touch, little moments where he turned rigid when Eddie’s usual wandering hands got too comfortable — Eddie chalked it up to the usual. Guys bring too uncomfortable with him, too weird about another guy being touchy. It didn’t matter than Eddie wasn’t even out to Steve yet, he was still might be that type of guy.

Well, Eddie had certainly thought so. Sure, Steve might not be one of those jocks who smacked around boys who looked too long in the locker room, but if he knew a smidge of the truth, who really knows. It would explain the tenseness at least.

But then— ‘Can I… have a hug?’ There had been a dozen things Eddie was thinking that Steve could’ve asked for but that? Wasn’t even in the ballpark. It was so left-field it left Eddie speechless for a whole moment. And Steve had been staring at the ceiling, his hands curled up tight again like- like he thought Eddie might say no.

A ridiculous thought, honestly. Anyone who knew Eddie well enough knew he was touchy; loved giving it, loved getting it. Like an overly affectionate cat, Wayne had once called him, just 11 years old, because Eddie’s need for affection seem to never be sated.

After that night, Steve’s lack of touch became far more obvious. It’s always hair ruffles or high-fives, yet never hugs. Normally, Eddie would keep to that boundary; some people are less touchy other than others, he knows that.

But… “Sometimes I realise it’s been awhile, since I’ve had some touch.” That’s what Steve had said, his words. Eddie doesn’t even think he meant to say something so heartbreaking. In fact, the guy seemed embarrassed.

It had thrown Eddie for a loop— because Steve gets around. He’s nearly notorious for one-night stands and failed flings, as Robin loves to drone on about considering she’s subjected to all the flirting. What had originally been a point of envy for Eddie, just saturates the bleakness of Steve’s words. Sex but without a moment of intimacy.

So, while Eddie is miles away from being the person who gets into Steve’s pants — not for lack of want, mind you — he does try hike up the touchiness. Little things. Lingering when he taps him on the arm, hooking his chin over Steve’s shoulder to peer over it, leaning up against him when they’re side by side watching a film.

It’s good. It helps Eddie release the pressure of his stupid monumental god-awful crush he has. Yeah, yeah, it’s laughable, even to Eddie. It’s like Gay 101; don’t get crush on straight dudes, especially the ones you’re friends with. And yet…

Steve lets him. He lets Eddie give him touch, more than he lets anyone else. He still tenses; there’s still always a moment before he can remember to relax, like he’s trying to shake off bad thoughts but then he melts. He always melts into Eddie’s touch eventually — in a way Eddie knows Steve actually loves it, drinks it up as much as he can.

And maybe, Eddie is the biggest fool to grace the Earth to let that fact give him some hope. Sue his gooey heart, he’s a romantic. It’s a quiet hope but, it’s there.

Tonight, it seems relaxing for Steve is been harder than usual— several times has Eddie traced a quite long along Steve’s arms, a subtle point that they were far too tense for someone who was wrapped up in cuddles on the couch. ‘Cos that’s 100% what they are now. Eddie will still call them hugs, but usually, when it’s just the two of them, it becomes this.

Steve, tucked up into the corner of the couch, one leg flush along the back of the couch and one hanging off the edge. It’s the prime position for Eddie to crawl up, wind his arms around Steve’s middle and give him a good squeeze and then settle there. Head on Steve’s chest, lying in the cradle of his hips. Safe. Warm.

It makes him warm, oh very warm to know that he gets this. That Steve doesn’t give this amount of trust to many, if any, other people but Eddie — he trusts Eddie.

“Y’know,” Eddie says, cheeks smushed against the plain of Steve’s pec. It feels deliciously warm and Eddie’s fairly sure he can feel how toned it is just through his cheek. Hot bastard. “I’m actually real glad you asked for that hug all those weeks ago.”

He leaves it there ‘cos he knows Steve will ask. Eddie’s eyes stay on the buzzing tv-screen even as Steve’s head shifts, turning to peer down at the boy slumped on his chest. Eddie’s pretty sure he can see Steve’s mouth twitch up into a smile.

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah,” Eddie affirms, giving a nod and his eyes flick up to meet Steve’s for just a moment. “Think I’ve had some of the best hugs in the world.”

Okay, that was maybe more honest and sappy than Eddie was going for. He is just letting Steve know he isn’t just doing it for Steve — that he enjoys these moments just as much. He lays it on thick, tries for a smarmy angle.

“Swept up in these pillowy arms?” He croons, giving Steve’s bicep a quick squeeze, making the other chuckle softly. “Who wouldn’t think so? I’m a lucky guy.”

Despite the joking tone, there’s no quick comeback from Steve. That’s alright. Eddie’s quite happy if this is one of the times Steve just takes the compliment; let’s the word sink in and hopefully, believes them, even if it’s just a little bit. He watches the film and doesn’t read into the silence.

Not even when Steve says, “Eddie?” all soft. Nearly shy sounding. It doesn’t quite register to Eddie’s ears.

“Mm?”

“Eddie.” Steve says again, a little firmer and that catches Eddie’s attention. He turns his head and rests his chin on Steve’s chest, his brows drawn together in silent question.

But the moment he makes eye contact, Steve’s doing that scrunched up face again. Is studying the ceiling instead of facing Eddie. And just like all those weeks ago, his hands clench up tight. Twists up the fabric of Eddie’s sweater in between his fingers and uses it to ground himself.

Last time, he asked for a hug. Considering he’s currently just about squishing Steve beneath his body weight, Eddie can’t fathom what he might be worked up to ask for. Unless he was going to ask for something more than a hug— which, well, just wasn’t going to happen, even if Eddie really wanted it to.

“Can I-” Steve starts. He sucks in a breath, almost like he’s gathering courage. But he’s not, because he’s not about to ask for what Eddie hopes for, he’s not, he’s—

Unless…?

“Can I… have a kiss?” Steve asks, barely audible. The sentence is murmured, soft words that hit Eddie like a gentle kiss in itself — imprinting right onto his heart. Steve Harrington wants a kiss — from him!

“Oh.” Eddie says, in a breathy delightful way. He’s fairly certain the little monkey in his brain is clapping its cymbals at double-speed as the words process; or maybe it’s his heart, which feels like it’s leapt up his throat.

“Oh?” Steve echoes, a smile already playing at the edges of his mouth, because he can see Eddie’s want. Because he knows him.

“Yes.” Eddie says suddenly, with a frantic nod, pushing up closer so their faces are aligned. “Yes, absolutely, you can.” He affirms.

Steve huffs a quiet laugh at the eagerness and then his arm that had been slung around Eddie shifts. It moves up til his hand caresses along the line of Eddie’s jaw, tilting him just how he likes.

Eddie holds his breath. Counts the freckles he can see this close. Tries to feel Steve’s heartbeat through where they’re pressed so closely together; can Steve feel his? Thundering and hurried, beating so hard Eddie thinks he might bruise the inside of his ribs.

Then Steve kisses him. And shit, Steve’s lip are better by ten-fold than every daydream Eddie’s ever had about them. They’re warm and so soft — plush and pressing against his own and Eddie is freezing. Fuck, wait, how does this go again? Right, Eddie’s never… well, kissed anybody before.

Steve pulls back and Eddie screws his eyes up — not ready in the slightest for the disappointment of his own shoddy kissing skills. Fuck, did he really just freeze? Steve — Steve Harrington — asks for a kiss and Eddie decides to stab himself in the back by not figuring out how to fuck to kiss back.

“You call that a kiss?” Steve teases and Eddie’s well aware of the parallel — of the irony of Steve repeating his own words back at him. But he can’t make himself laugh even though it’s funny. Instead, a little groan wiggles out his throat.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie says, earnest. He forces his eyes opens — he needs to see what’s Steve’s thinking. Where he’s expecting disappointment or perhaps regret, is only patience. Maybe a touch of concern. Eddie continues, despite the humiliation that makes his throat sticky.

“I haven’t- I don’t do this often.” He coughs awkwardly clearing his throat and hoping it hides the next word. “Ever.”

There’s a jump in Steve’s eyebrows, a moment of surprise in his eyes that lets him know he did, indeed, hear that final word. It makes Eddie feel… well, it’s nice that Steve had expected him to have been kissed by now. Even if he hasn’t. He tries to take it as a compliment.

“That’s okay,” Steve assures. Absentmindedly, his thumb rubs soothing along Eddie’s jaw. It makes Eddie shiver, some outrageous amount of joy clawing into every nerve. Steve likes Eddie. He wants to kiss Eddie.

“Do you want to try again?”

Eddie nods before the questions even out of his mouth. Steve smiles, all sunshine. This time when he draws Eddie in, he notices the way Eddie holds his breath — the rigidness in his body.

Steve kisses him again, another short and soft one and then whispers against his lips, “Relax.”

‘Cos isn’t tonight just full of the parallels, Eddie thinks. He listens, tries to focus on how sweet Steve’s kiss is than his panicky heart, forcing out a breath between the kisses. His hands along Steve’s sides find a grip, grounding and good, and by the fourth kiss, he begins to feel a bit melty.

It’s good. It’s really good. Kissing Steve is top 5– nay, the top moment of his life so far. Somehow, it’s made all that much better knowing the build-up behind it. Knowing that Steve knows he isn’t just kissing him for a heat of the moment — that Eddie wants kisses here, kisses before bed, in the morning, on dates. Eddie wants Steve.

And with the way he kisses, Eddie’s pretty sure Steve wants him just as bad.

It doesn’t take long for Steve to reach what Eddie decides is an ultra pretty fuckin’ state; lips swollen from kisses, cheeks flushed, hair a little mussed up. He bets he looks no better. The thought makes him grin, enough they have to break the kiss ‘cos Eddie can’t stop his stupid happy grin ‘cos shit— he actually gets to have this Steve.

“What?” Steve asks, somehow half heart-eyed and half suspicious at the mischief in Eddie’s eyes.

“Can I... have a hickie?”

now with a part three !

[daily-odile]

AUGH I’d love to see more time looping odile if possible,,,,, how do you think she’d like; “devolve” over each of the acts as compared to Siffrin over time :O

ok im gonna be honest i did like portrait edits months ago and just never finished them. so here you go

act 3:

act 5:

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Bonus 9: So that's where the turtle came from!

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[jimmyjamboree]

I FINALLY FINISHED THE POSTER!!!

I haven't drawn that stinky guy in awhile, so It was a challenge.

I can say that Haunted Attraction will wrap up around the end of this year. I don't have a specific date in mind but I'm hoping to get it released by then!! I'm doing a majority of the work and Man Does It Suck. I'll be posting more updates soon!! Thank you for taking interest in my degenerate dating game.

[httyd-art-requests]

Happy 100th dragon post! 🎉

(I talk in tags!)

Requests are currently closed!

[zu-is-here]

Wait, Aim wears those glasses for a specific reason? (an eye problem maybe?).

Pd: I just noticed the detail that his gap teeth are still the same TuT.

[vynnyal]

Turns out Sunlit Trail isn't quite done just yet, so after all that they just send you to a dead end 😂

[jojo-schmo]

How did you come up with roleswap Elfilis' design? It's really cool!

Hi! Thank you so much! :D I'd love to share my thought process! Gather round the armchair by the fireplace, friends! It's story time!

I've said before that the Forgotten Land Roleswap started off as a doodle that swapped Dedede and Bandana Dee's roles as Player 2 and the Brainwashed Beast. But when I realized how fun that one little change was, how about EVEN MORE changes? That's how my one-time doodle turned into the full AU story. I swapped Meta Knight and Kirby, Clawroline and Leongar, and Sillydillo and Gorimondo- and because the story is so Waddle-Dee centric, I promoted Dedede to "Player 1" since the stakes would be higher for him as their King.

So now I had a story that had a lot of opposite traits to canon and I wanted to explore that further! When it came to the matter of Elfilin, I thought he would probably behave too similarly towards Dedede and Meta as he did to Kirby and Bandee. He'd be friendly and trusting, communicative, optimistic, knowledgeable, and cooperative. So how about providing them a travel companion who is defensive, has trouble communicating, a little wild, uninformed about themselves and the world around them, and has a bit of a temper?

But working with all these opposite traits didn't feel in-character for Elfilin anymore. So my natural next step was to swap Elfilin with Elfilis and make a new version of the Forgotten Land's lost little pup!

Enough yapping about the context behind my decisions, tho. How'd I come up with Roleswap Elfilis' design?

I see you out there, Fecto Forgo fans. Maybe somebody out there's thought, "Roleswap Elfilis does not look like them! Why not? That's what the other 50% of the Ultimate Life Form looks like! I demand justice for the angry glowing rat fetus!"

Maybe nobody has ever thought this. But I wonder sometimes lol

Your feelings are valid, friends. Please lemme explain my reasonings.

This fella, to me, is the abandoned wet specimen left to float in a jar for who-knows-how-long after a forcible physical and mental separation via spatial teleportation shenanigans. And I think part of their appearance is due to their role as the trapped and forgotten half.

The role of the half that got away fully formed his own body and inherited some traits from the complete being-

For Elfilin in canon, he got ears that are proportionally huge compared to the rest of his body, blue eyes that sparkle with the light of a thousand destroyed planets, a tiny bit of pink fur for his adorable blushies, and a really long fluffy tail. Maybe becoming a being free of chaos gave him those sweet eyes like Kirby and the Waddle Dees have.

My reasoning is that whichever half ends up escaping the Lab and fully forming their own body, they would carry the major physical traits the other wouldn't inherit.

Anyway, that left Elfilis with the horns, colorful and expressive eyes, whiskers, beige chest fluff, opposable thumbs, and pink tummy fur.

Elfilin gets the long tail in the bodily divorce so Elfilis has a short stubby little cotton tail like a bunny. Like if he ended up with just the very tip of the Ultimate Life Form's tail.

Behold this diagram above I came up with two years ago! Disclaimer: the canon Elfilin is the one in the chart. And I draw him a little differently these days lol. I ain't showing anyone how he ended up in the Roleswap yet tho!!!! >:0

But Roleswap Elfilis is more than just "baby version of the Ultimate Life Form..."

All the differences in the Forgotten Land Roleswap from canon stem from one event in the timeline. One change that I added to the events that were already supposed to take place. It's why the Ultimate Life Form split differently. Why the Beasts have different roles and aesthetics. Even why the portal took Bandana Dee and Kirby before Meta Knight and King Dedede.

How did that saying go again? The flap of wings somewhere can influence a bunch of huge changes somewhere else down the line...? What was the name of that theory again....? Hmm. Not important, I guess.

Anyway, the end!! You sly dog, you got me monologuing!!1! /lighthearted

[starflungwaddledee]

offering three cookies 🍪🍪🍪

(<< part 1)

[just-j-really]

Unsoulmates AU, part 6!

(Masterpost) (AO3)

"Have you found your person yet?" Morpheus asks, while Hob wrestles with their dinner dishes.

Hob had dragged Morpheus back to his flat to force some food into him after Morpheus had admitted that, with the opening date for Will's play drawing closer, he can't remember the last time he had a full meal. He'd sort of been expecting Morpheus to leave as soon as he'd eaten, since he'd only agreed to food in the first place because Hob had promised to reheat some leftovers and let him go.

He had, in fact, suggested several times that Morpheus consider things like going home and getting some sleep, and Morpheus had replied that sleep could wait until the problem with act two was fixed and-

The point is Hob isn't really sure why Morpheus is still sitting in his kitchen, asking him questions Hob's already answered, instead of doing either of those things, and it takes every ounce of self-control he has to derail himself from saying I think I did. I think I did, even if you find way too much amusement in my lack of spoon-washing ability.

What he says instead is, "Do you think Soulmates account for dishes?"

"What?" Morpheus asks, taking his seeming change of subject entirely in stride.

"They're supposed to be your Perfect Other Half, right?" Hob says, with only a little bit of sarcasm. "So does that mean my soulmate just loves doing dishes? To balance me out? Because that doesn't seem-" and then chokes on the rest of the sentence, because Morpheus has appeared at his elbow and taken the plate he'd been washing directly out of his hands.

"Oh, you don't- I wasn't asking-" Hob manages to sputter, once he's gotten over the shock. In that time, Morpheus has dropped the plate four times, splattered water all over his nice coat, and, crucially, made even less progress re: dishes than Hob was making.

"You can dry," Morpheus informs him, and that's that.

"Have you found your person yet?" Morpheus asks, through the door to Hob's flat. Hob had texted him- something, earlier, to let him know he was too sick to cook tonight, sorry. He's not sure what words he'd used, in hindsight. He's not sure they were English. He'd taken a nap immediately afterwards and woken up to find his fever finally gone down and Morpheus at his door with takeout.

Hob's not letting him in. He's not risking spreading this bullshit.

"You find 'em for me," Hob says, sliding to a seat against the door. It's nice, not to be standing. He might take a nap here.

Morpheus makes. A noise. A raspy, grating noise, like the sound that the concept of rusted metal would make if it were sentient, had some sort of lung disease, and was being tortured.

Hob is back on his feet and flinging the door open before he can think, coming face-to-face with Morpheus, who has one hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his-

Laughter, Hob realizes. With the context of the way Morpheus' eyes are sparkling and his hand is doing nothing to hide a wry smile, that horrific noise was definitely laughter. The weird little snorting sound he's currently doing an extremely unsuccessful job of muffling is him giggling.

It's hideous, and unrestrained, and adorable, and Hob immediately decides that he would cross and burn any number of bridges in order to hear him laugh like that again.

"I'll take the food for now, though," he says, voice hoarse in a way that has nothing to do with illness.

For some reason this sets off Morpheus laughing again, which means that despite the ache in all Hob's limbs and the fact that standing so quickly made the room start wobbling and his stomach churning, today officially gets marked as one of the best he's had all year.

"Have you found your person yet?" Morpheus asks, opening night of his and Will's play, the moment Hob pushes through the crowd in the lobby close enough to speak to him.

"You're asking me that now?" Hob replies. His eyes are still itchy from crying and he thinks he's going to need another week or so to be able to think clearly, after Morpheus methodically, delicately pulled his soul apart and rewove it into something better over the course of four acts, and he doesn't have the words to explain any of that so instead he just sweeps Morpheus up in a hug that lifts his feet from the ground.

Morpheus makes a startled little noise and clings to Hob's shoulders with both arms. "You're incredible," Hob says. He allows himself to hold Morpheus for one more moment, not long enough to matter to anyone but him, before gently setting him down. "Absolutely incredible. I don't- that was amazing. How the fuck are you this talented," he says. "I think you broke me."

In all the time he's been rambling, Morpheus has kept his arms around Hob's neck, perfectly still, like he's afraid he'll fall if he lets go even though his feet are firmly back on the floor. So Hob tugs him a little closer, and Morpheus sighs a little and leans against his chest, and Hob gets so distracted trying to preserve every detail of this moment in his memory that he forgets he was trying to explain to Morpheus how beautiful his play was-

And now they're just. Standing in a corner. Hugging.

Hob's life is perfect.

"Sorry," Hob says, eventually. "I should let you talk to people." The crowd around them is beginning to thin out, and as much as he wants to Morpheus all to himself he knows he should let him go mingle.

To his surprise, Morpheus shrugs. "That can wait."

It's a shot of sugary delight directly into Hob's bloodstream, and he can't restrain the smile that spreads across his face, over-enthusiastic to the point of hurting his cheeks a little. Morpheus wants to spend time with him! Specifically! Over reaping the rewards of the project that's consumed his heart and soul for as long as Hob's known him! Life is so wonderful!

Hob pulls out of the hug, just enough to scan the room. He's not familiar with this theater, but there has to be somewhere nearby they could slip off to, for a bit. Maybe talk a little. Maybe-

Maybe. Maybe Morpheus still has an arm looped around his shoulders, even though they're no longer hugging. Maybe Hob's arm is still around Morpheus' waist, and Morpheus has done nothing to shrug it off. Maybe, when Hob wraps that arm a little tighter, Morpheus only leans into him, lets his head drop onto Hob's shoulder. Even though there's a crowd around them, and anyone could see him nuzzling up against Hob in a way most people only do with their soulmates.

Maybe, Hob realizes, that crowd is so firmly clustered around Will not a single one of them would notice if he and Morpheus were actually, currently fucking. They're looking with Will with a sort of fervor that suggests he's going to start healing the sick with a touch or something. It doesn't seem like he's making any particular effort to direct them over to Morpheus, either, and sure Hob's been clinging to Morpheus for the past several minutes but Will's never seen that as a problem before.

"Wow," Hob says, not bothering to disguise his distaste, "Does he normally do this?"

"What?" Morpheus asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"This," Hob says, nodding at Will and His Adoring Public. They're still standing close enough that he barely needs to move his chin for Morpheus to understand what he means.

"It's his work," Morpheus says, his voice distant. "He deserves the credit."

Which is. Fair, Hob supposes. Probably. He could maybe even convince himself of that if Morpheus' expression weren't so resigned.

So he turns his head to Morpheus, close enough that no one else will be able to hear him, and says, "You deserve just as much. That bit where they hold hands in the last scene, after she dies? That made me cry. And I know that was all you." It was a tiny, subtle bit of stage directing that had the entire play's worth of meaning packed into it, of course that was Morpheus'.

Morpheus goes very, very still. The look on his face is less shocked than entirely disbelieving, like Hob had just recited some lost verse of poetry that archaeologists would sell their souls to rediscover.

"Don't deny it," Hob says, softly. "You broke my heart. Take responsibility," he adds, keeping his tone light enough that Morpheus can accept it as teasing even if what he means is Take my heart.

A small, pleased smile slips across Morpheus' face, and he melts back against Hob's side, lets his arm drop to Hob's waist. "I'm. In fucking awe of how talented you are," Hob says quietly. "And everybody else should be, too. You should have to wear sunglasses in public all the time to avoid getting mobbed by fans. There should be statues of you, and parades, and-"

"Yes, yes, alright," Morpheus says, elbowing him. He somehow manages to bring them even closer together with the gesture, so he's leaning more against Hob's chest than his side. "That part isn't important," he adds. "The play itself is. People saw it and it moved them, inspired them. That's what matters." His tone is the textbook example of 'haughty artist, far above mortal concerns.' It compliments his smile- satisfied, a little flustered- beautifully. What matters to Hob, at any rate, is that the confidence finally doesn't seem like a front.

"I still think you should get a statue," he murmurs, voice low, "But if you really don't mind missing out on all this, you wanna get out of here?"

[nombitenary]

THANK YOU ALL FOR 143 FOLLOWERS SEEMINGLY OVERNIGHT WHAT THE FUCK. WHERE DID YOU PEOPLE COME FROM. thank you all for sticking around and being so kind to myself and my lil guy! Here's a quick doodle of him celebrating. I think he deserves to be about that full of little guys <3

[whos-hotter-jjba]

And the results are in!

The ultimate hottest JoJo villain has been crowned! Congratulations to Kars and everyone that voted for him, and my condolences to DIO fans. Special mention to Kira fans for being really funny in my tags ksksjdksjhilkd

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

childhood friend!sugu vs childhood friend!toru

YOU’VE COME TO THE RIGHT PLACE .

thank you for saying this anon i’ve been thinking of it a lot actually. i’m morally and legally binded to choose childhood friend!sugu no matter what because he’s literally……. my favorite Ever. and i think the inherent devotion of the childhood friend trope blends soooo well with his natural devotion. his protective urges. etcetc. i have wayyyy too many thoughts about childhood friend!sugu 😭 but it mostly boils down to him wanting to be by your side forever. he wants to make you happy and he wants to protect you and he knows you so well that he doesn’t trust anyone else to love you like he can. he’s selfish and he wants you to lean on him more than he wants anything for himself.

childhood friend!toru though….. i feel like he would be your estranged childhood friend. that makes most sense to me :3 like, you met when you were really really young, and ended up playing together in an empty park. he was a brat, kind of quiet, and you were just sweet, y’know? you were the closest thing to a friend he had as a child. then you ended up moving away, he never got to say goodbye… and you meet again as adults. you don’t remember him — it was just so, so long ago — but he remembers you. he remembers you a little too well.

so now you just kinda have to deal with this tall, handsome, cheery man who keeps talking to you like you’re best friends even though you literally don’t remember him…. he’s sweet though. a little annoying, but sweet. he has a soft spot for you. i think having anything remotely close to a childhood friend makes him feel human in a way he can’t help but crave.

sooooo. overall!!! both are good :3 i will always be a childhood friend!sugu truther before anything else but childhood friend!toru has sm potential..