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i need these bitches to meet eachother

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Imagine if the Main casts of Lucifer (tv show), Hazbin Hotel and The Good Place could interact with each other

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Hey, uh, where's my Pirates SMP Fic where Scott's crew gets a quest to transport the Runeblade somewhere?

Where's my story where they're all out at sea for an unforeseeable time, sailing to distant lands, trapped on the ship with a sword they don't realize is more than it seems until it's far too late to turn back. Trapped with memories they don't know what to do with, and ghosts they never meant to invite onboard.

Scott sets the sword beside his bed, wrapped in it's careful cloth per the specific instructions from the harried collector. It's tucked away carefully, more carefully than even he is prone to, for reasons he can't explain.

Is that care why he wakes choking in the night, spitting up blood, and reaching out hands to yank the blade from his chest only to realize nothing is there, and the thick crimson spilling from his mouth has left no stain?

Is that why the pale dried petals in one of the many books on board slip into red and reform into a flower being tucked behind his ear, by a man in blue, a man in green, a man wearing a wedding ring. He thinks my husband before he thinks stranger, except when he goes to stand nobody is there, and the petals are still tucked between the pages.

Cleo eyes it warily, when it's brought aboard, but thinks nothing more of it, and maybe her carelessness is why she doesn't pay attention when the first flashes begin, just the barest hint of color shifting in the corner of her eye that she passes off as a trick of the light.

Then she turns her head and finds Scott's sprouted fins at his head, red streaked in his hair. A faceless figure behind him raises their sword, and she shrieks and slams into them, only to fall through and tackle her captain instead.

She leans back against the mast, and green flashes beside her, a toothy grin she smiles back at, a name on the tip of her tongue dying as Olive's face comes into focus, smile much softer, and the moss she swore made up their coat vanishes. She can't remember who else she thought it was going to be. She thinks it was someone she would've died for.

Owen has other priorities, and unless he's asked, he doesn't see the need to worry about it. And then, she spills some expensive wine he'd sweet-talked from a Kestrel's hands on the ground, and the exasperation is, for a moment, overwritten by terror. The liquid darkens and the scent of iron makes him reel back for a single moment, before she blinks and it's just....wine again.

He stumbles his way to the ship's side, not nearly drunk enough to wash away the unease in his heart, and double takes at her reflection, now blond and boyish, a warm brown jacket tucked around them tight in the chilly air. Someone calls her name behind him, except it's not his name, it can't be, so fundamentally wrong when the boy staring back at her would never know it was supposed to be his. It takes Water's hand at his shoulder before she responds.

Olive thinks the sword is curious, but that's the extent. Until, at least, the world wobbles under their feet, and the door to the captain's cabin suddenly seems impossibly tall, how are they possibly meant to get in there, they can't reach-

It's utterly nonsensical. It keeps happening. The ship lurches, their heart flutters in terror, for surely they'll be tossed into the walls, and they shake to realize they somehow stayed on their feet. Cruppy prods at their hands, concerned at their behavior, but it's not Cruppy, it's something else that's edges fade too fast for them to grasp. A shadow looks wrong along the ground, and it lunges for them, and they almost goes overboard trying to get away from some phantom that isn't there.

Eloise blinks back sleep from her eyes, not even thinking of the sword in the midst of her crew's strangeness, up until an absolutely beautiful shark swims beneath their boat, and the whole crew watches in quiet appreciation. She spins on her heel, goes to spill forth something that she knows in her heart will be just as pretty but the words don't come out how she wants them to, falling like flat notes in an off-tune song, and she's not even sure what she was trying to do when it's done.

She splits her hand cleaning a sword, and opens her mouth to call for Cleo, even though Owen is mere feet from her and already going for the bandages. The words catch in her throat anyway, when she sees her there with Scott, and the sunlight spins across orange locks turned greenish-ebony, and a tattered overcoat becomes a gorgeous, elegant dress that has no place on a pirate ship, and-and she averts her eyes trying to make sense of the sudden wish to be half as strong as the strangers that had stood where her friends were as Owen helps wrap her hand.

Water dreams. Oh, how she dreams. She dreams of a world where a single red heart hums on her wrist, and knows with a terrible sureness that she won't come back should she misstep here. But that means little, not when the warm earth beneath her fingers settles there so beautifully. Not when the food she pulls from the earth is so ripe, waiting to be torn into and devoured.

She wakes up, and steps from her bed, half-expecting the world to fall out from under her where it flashes gold for a moment, and stumbling for it. A phantom weight twitches at her back, and she greens at the smell of the sea for one, strange second, wondering where the flowers are. She comes back to herself, and tries to shake it off.

They all try to shake it off.

Scott's eyes are not green, or yellow, or red. He makes no noise when Cleo slams him to the floor with a protective snarl, aiming for some opponent no longer there to strike him. He waits for Owen to blink back to herself, and realize Scott cannot do whatever it is he thinks he can, does not know magic the way she sometimes is assured he does. And they quietly disperse the phantoms they catch him begging to in the night without a word, correct him when he inquires after a different brother than the one he has, half-asleep.

Olive is not small. But they are not shoved off when they desperately grasp at Eloise's arms, or tries to steady themselves against Water, when the world seems too big. And they take Water's hands when she scrabbles for the deck, digging at wood until it bloodies her hands, holding them until the other remembers they are at sea. When Eloise grabs for something that isn't there, and goes to jump ship at a flash of pink in the water, Olive pulls her back, and calls her name until she knows herself again.

They try to shake it off, and they utterly fail.

The Runeblade leaves it's mark. Even once it's tossed to it's next owner at their destination by Scott's too cold hands. The dreams fade, but still sit, waiting for them to doze and come awake crying out. The ghosts fall back to the corner of their vision, stepping forward when they make the mistake of wavering, with names they shouldn't know on their lips, and promises none of them ever managed to keep spilling forth.

Give the story, where a wretched quest changes them at their cores in a way they never anticipated.

[easily-distracted-by-fandom]

Whenever I see someone use the word "neat" I will automatically make the assumption you are a wtnv fan. People who use the word "neat" who are not fans of wtnv should Listen to wtnv immediately.

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boo edgy traffic! scott poem // I desperately need this guy to stop sacrificing himself

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i think what’s on a person’s nightstand is very telling so reblog this and put in the tags the things you have on your nightstand

#I have two nightstand #they have #a lamp #lip balm #some books I read and liked #fake roses #2 kindle readers (one is broken) #and 2 paintings of birds #And a lava lamp that’s broken #and a broken wolf statue

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Being a young adult is so strange. You enter a coffee shop. The 20 year old girl waiting behind you cried all night because she just came to a new city for university and she feels so alone. That 27 year old guy over there works a job he is overqualified for, he lives with his parents and wants to move out but doesn't know what to do about it. That one 24 year old dude already has a car, a house, and a job waiting for him once he graduates thanks to his dad's connections. The 26 year old barista couldn't complete his higher education because he has to work and take care of his family. The 28 year old girl sitting next to you has no friends to go out with so she is texting her mother. That couple (both 25 years old) are married and the girl is pregnant. The 29 year old writing something on her laptop has realized that she chose the wrong major so she is trying to start all over. We are not alone in this, but we are actually so alone. Do you feel me

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Happy 3rd life anniversary to the damned duo that changed my brain chemistry forever

i hate them

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who else is still stuck in the desert

they make me insane everyday [note : i was gonna edit this to tongue and teeth but i found a better audio, enjoy]

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I have been waiting all year to post this.

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The winners!

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Every season has a distinct feel, I tried a new style to tell their stories through distinct shapes (and rl is like that for funsies)

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things i’ll not call you a whore for:

sexual activity

how you dress

things i’ll call you a whore for:

stealing my food 

stealing my lemons

my cat likes you more than me

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im insane about scotts "i love you" task in secret life wrt his exes

Martyn and Jimmy don't say it back, they just say goodbye. They're both over their alliance with him; Martyn was in it for strategic reasons only, and Jimmy is disillusioned with Scott

Pearl doesn't say it back, but she's touched. She isn't sure how to feel about him anymore - has she forgiven him? She says it back next session, but only when guilted.

Cleo says it back instantly. No matter what happens, no matter the universe, they and Scott will care about each other.

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in the hour or so it took me to draw this op turned reblogs off

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been obsessed w their dynamic lately. please ask me about them i beg.

i loveee using this shading style but it takes so long (this took an hour and a half,,)