#< no idea how i would tag this its just. Scary shit

[fruitviine]

she probably will. if a chicken has an open wound, the other chickens will cannibalize it i believe. no questions asked.

that's terrifying thank you! it's really weird to think about how when you think of chickens you think of them eating shit like corn. grains, fruits, whatever. but they'll eat almost anything! don't ask why but I saw this video on my recommended at like 4 am of a guy uh. butchering. rabbits. and he'd just toss its giblets to his chickens on the other side of the fence and they ate that shit up. like a special snacky snack

[front-facing-pokemon]

[somerandomdudelmao]

i was writing this all out in the tags of one of your recent updates (part 9 of 'donatello') when i realized i might as well just send it to you directly before i hit tag limit. (i hope you don't mind haha) this recent comic really reminded me of a concept that i've seen in your work that i haven't seen commented on a lot (though i could be wrong.)

casey jr and donatello's relationship as you've portrayed it is interesting in a number of ways. one i've been thinking about recently is the aspect of physical touch, and how you use that to represent the underlying themes/ideas behind their dynamic (and the story as a whole).

in the series, donnie is generally the least physical of his brothers, in that he prefers to be the one to initiate contact. (as a fellow autistic, i relate to this on a visceral level /lighthearted.) however, in your portrayal, this rule bends for casey's sake.

you've been setting up casey to follow in donatello's metaphorical footsteps for a while now, with this coming to fruition (to an extent) in recent storylines.

but going back a bit further. there's this major theme of... i guess i would call it 'responsibility?' that has been weaved through the story from... basically, day one.

in the first comic, his conversation with f!leo following leo's brief foray as a nugget (one of my favorite lines from this series overall is "...and leo-nugget." amazing, genuinely), casey admits to him that it was scary being responsible for someone that could get hurt so easily.

in one of the following chapters, we see the question asked: 'but who is there to save you?' (this chapter being a bit of a microcosm of the theme/story as a whole haha.)

though it was a chapter i had originally assumed was just for funsies and angst opportunities, i now realize i was wrong (though, i don't know exactly how intentional you were being with all of this, so i could be missing the mark here.) it actually sets up his arc rather nicely -- with casey being the one to save donatello when he was injured/knocked unconcious.

now, bringing this all back around to the original intent of this ask: how physical touch is used to represent their narrative dynamic (is that a thing? 'narrative dynamic'? am i just making shit up right now? whatever its fine /rehtorical)

taking everything in account, i want to return to a specific moment that really struck me in the comics leading up to donatello's death. it's the time where the resistance is being attacked, and donnie, despite being sick, goes out and uhhh... extirpates the problem (its always fun to see donnie go apeshit with dangerous weaponry /positive.)

during his dramatic reveal and attack, casey is by his side, clutching onto him not to cling, but to physically support him (at least, that's how i think that moment was supposed to be interpreted? i could be totally wrong here.)

i can't help but feel this is emblematic of the larger themes at play here-- i.e., casey's arc in relation to donatello.

i can't help but find it interesting how donatello, backbone of the resistance--

(despite his soft shell... which is why him no longer wearing his battle shell when he got sick was actually symbolic foreshadowing of-- *sound of gunshots*)

[editors note: i'm gonna stop myself right there, before this goes from ungodly long to "will break your dash and ask box if allowed to continue further"]

-- and certified plot mechanic (oh, so that's why he named it convenient plot-twist serum... finally, the mystery has been solved /joking /lighthearted), who is a very independent/self-sufficient character, allows casey jr to subvert his rules with casual touch. enough so, that when he is so weak that he can barely stand, he trusts casey jr to keep him upright.

out of everyone, he trusts casey.

casey jr, who, at the very beginning of the comic, saved donatello's life, physically carrying him back to the base. and casey jr, the one who, now, has rescued donatello from a fate worse than death, only to once again bring him back to safety.

(...can you tell i'm a little bit obsessed with your comic? lmao)

[also to note those most recent panels: a return to the "norm," with casey clinging to donatello's side, also providing a nice parallel. i know it's because he is very much reunited with his uncle who has been dead for two years, but c'mon. let me have this /joking.)]

anyway, i hope this made sense, and if you did manage to get through my pretentious (and probably somewhat far-fetched) rambles about the "symbolic narrative significance of touch" in a fanwork about the teenage mutant ninja turtles (/lighthearted), may i just say: i am in love with your work, and can only aspire to tell a story as engaging, heartfelt, and clever as the one you have woven.

you are a blessing to this fandom, and i am so excited to see where you go with this story.

I have to say that I didn't specifically do the mental planning for all of this. Most of this theme is simply because I do what I feel will be right. It's more of an intuitive desire than a prescribed plan, so it was pretty surprising to me to see this thought actually being formulated haha

Thank you:>

[milksnake-tea]

Dunno if you've ever answered an ask like this before, but do you mind telling us about your mutuals?

Rather, their writing styles and how they interact (No pressure if this sounds like I'm intruding on a boundary or something, I've noticed that you reblog a lot of works and I'm trying to find more fic writers from HSR and Genshin to support, but sometimes it feels a little scary 😅)

HELP NO IT'S OKAY !!! no fear in asking, we love people like you <333 these are mainly the mutuals that i've read fics from so that i can actually tell you how they write but still. THIS IS GOING TO BE A LONG ONE STRAP IN FOLKS. if i forgot ygs im sorry oops... also sorry for the tag COUGHS (esp to the ppl i keep tagging when i get asked abt my moots BYE kawa skip mhie naru ren im so sorry i love you i swear)

@generalsmemories

NARU !!! ONE OF MY FIRST EVER HSR MOOTS AND ONE OF THE WRITERS I LOOK UP TO THE MOST. her writing style is very scenic?? if i were to describe it, it's very dreamy and whimsical and it's like reading a fantasy book. very descriptive but not so descriptive that you're eating fancy words. she's jing yuan centric but occasionally writes for others such as dan heng and sunday! she's honestly very very silly when it comes to interaction, like in an older sister way <33 she talks like an aesthetic if that makes sense

@inarvii

skip has a very elegant feel to her writing like LORD. it's giving noble/fantasy thriller enemies to lovers but in a writing style i love her prose and how she really makes you feel the vibe of a scene. she's really kind and sweet, gives older sister vibes lowkey

@k9wa

kawa is like me but x497842389 cooler and with a lot better grasp on characters. you want proper characterization? you want big brain ideas? GO TO HIM. his writing feels theatric, like a movie or a play. it's so descriptive and he does an amazing job at describing action and characters and GRGRGRGR

@luvether

lord i dont know if its okay to tag you but uhm. hi waves hand 😭😭 honestly i haven't interacted w kou much but from what i can tell she's really nice!! BUT I HAVE READ HER WRITING. AND LAWRD. her writing feels like little snapshots of life, you feel like you're actually like. THERE. she always has the biggest brain of ideas i swear and i highly recommend her writing. mostly fluff with a touch of angst, one of my favorites fr !!

@emiken-070907

hi emi. bet you didn't expect to get tagged here huh. but you have one hsr fic and that's enough for me to slap you onto here and promo you (it's on ao3 and it's not an x reader, but it is a tragedy yanqing timeskip!!! i beta read for that btw flips hair (i still need to edit im so sorry emi please)). as for interaction, she is silly asf. TO ME PERSONALLY? shes like the ratty little sibling that you want to throw out the window but would also kill for. has great vibes over all, she's so sweet but sometimes shes a lil shit so. yeah. idk how she acts to followers but she is like that to ME. but she is full of whimsy and glee so there's that

@rainswept

edgar allan poe incarnate over here??? HELLO??? crow is. her writing is RAW. like okay this is going to get a bit gorey but they write like a freshly opened wound, it's vulnerable, it's poetic, it's pure imagery and i LOVE it. also another goofy moot. i think like just attracts like atp

@tragedy-of-commons

gwen is an absolute SWEETHEART. very silly. BUT THEY'RE SO SWEET. her writing is literally sunlight put into literary terms, if that makes sense. it's warm, comfy, and cozy (except when she kills you in the arms of your favorite character. which she has done) and i highly recommend her writing for a comfy read <3

@iceunhie

mhie is a HATER OF THE HIGHEST ORDER jk i love her she just bullies me GOODBYE 😭 mhie gives off older sister vibes, a lot of people (including me HELP) see her as intimidating but she's really sweet once you get to know her. or she calls you milk. who knows. ANYWAYS genuinely one of the people i look up to most, she always gives amazing feedback on writing and her own writing??? the prose??? she's a master at it. knows how to really elevate a piece and it's just really easy on the eyes. she's also a research writer, her jiaoqiu fic utilizes chinese proverbs and terminology and i think that's really neat <3

@st6rly

hi bottom beta. okay wait sorry you have a reputation i forgot ANYWAYS. SOL IS SUCH A SILLY GOOSE. i love him. BUT HE IS SO GOOFY AND I MEAN THAT IN A POSITIVE WAY. i haven't read that much about what sol writes unfortunately since i'm no longer interested in genshin that much 😭😭 but i've heard good things !! definitely someone you wanna check out if you like good vibes :D

@lowkeyren

ren my pookiebear my LORD !!! resident aquila favonia haver (she has like 21 as of right now) and she serves every time she writes. always gets slapped onto my rec list because she's one of the few writers that genuinely have me kicking and giggling 😭 really cute, really tension filled, one of my favorite authors :))

@scribs-dibs

SUNNIII true to his name his writing feels just so warm and light, like a slice of life anime. very relaxing reads, at least from what i've seen !! very warm, really really cute <33 like the main one that ive read from him is that alhaitham jealousy fic and??? the characterization was ON POINT. i loved it so much (the switch up made me laugh) as for personality. HES FUNNY. LIKE HES STRAIGHT UP HILARIOUS I LOVE HIM GO CHECK HIM OUT I SWEAR ITS WORTH IT

@akutasoda

q has a very pretty vibe if that makes sense, i haven't read much from them but i can definitely say that their writing style is beautiful, like a meadow full of flowers or a quiet stream. they've always been kind to me in that sort of older sibling way, and they're someone that i would trust as an emergency contact. lots of genshin and hsr from what i've seen on my dash, so definitely go check them out!

@aviiarie

avery's on the more reserved side, at least from my point of view, or maybe that's because when i first met them they had a ferminet pfp. they're pretty chill and casual, and can i just say? their writing is very easy to read, it has great flow and i can just lose myself in the fic. like i don't see the words i see what the words are saying, if that makes sense. avery also focuses on platonic writing, although they have been writing some romance with furina!! my personal favorite work of theirs was that fic of arlecchino comforting her crying child because it made me feel so much better about my life at 9 am when i just woke up.

@vynicity

FELICITYYYY she's a mutual in my heart even tho apparently tumblr thinks i dont follow her. but i do. ANYWAYS. another person that i consider on the more reserved side, but she's been fun whenever we talked. can i just say. SHE IS SO GOOD AT WRITING AVENTURINE. there's this one fic down the line about him being drunk??? i think??? and I ATE THAT UP because the tension and atmosphere that she managed to create. just magnificent. she has an aventurine series up right now iirc (i still need to read the new chapter im so sorry feli) and the prologue was. a roller coaster so definitely go check her out!

@vxnuslogy

vee is literally bursting with ideas and by god does she put them to use. i always see them brainrotting or thinking of new ideas or things to write, literally one of the most creative people ive met. can be a little silly, but still a sweetheart <33 her writing is more formal than what i'm used to i'll admit, but still a delight to read nevertheless <33 very descriptive is how i'd describe it, like it feels like she's looking at the scene as shes writing it

@ughscara

ayame is like. the sweetest person i have ever met. like ill be here being a little shit and she'll still be an absolute sweetheart I ALMOST FEEL BAD BECAUSE SHE HAS TO DEAL WITH MY ASS BYE 😭😭 i just recently reblogged one of her works and it straight up feels like it came out of a fairytale, it was so light and sweet <33

[shiocreator]

I absolutely know i wont be able to write anything like this cuz not my expertise but

Had an idea of an undertale (i personally had this thought about underfell in particular though) x reader where you end up very vocally defending the monsters when they first arrive, (sure the idea monsters existed might be scary but its just cruel to toss em away again)

and after abit, end up working for Grillby, cuz, hey you need a job and hes apparently hirin', you have a good enough rep with monsters for gossip to spred from before, and you end up helping kick out a shitty human who was tryna start shit and getting a better reputation in the monster community, but you also end up gaining a mixed one with some of the humans in there

How I personally would end up making it, is a mettaton x reader, where eventually he learns about you through the positive rumors and he would love to meet a human that isn't against monsterkind, and you end up becomin pals with him n stuff,

but I can personally see a LOT of kinda potential with it on others, essentially just a good baseline maybe, monsters know who you are cuz gossip spreads like wildfire among em, and you work at a monster run establishment thats probably decently known to the monsters? So they could just pop on in and see you,

Grillby x reader? You work there, Sans x reader? Yeah you see that guy a lot, (he also witnessed you almost punch a guy as a first meeting) papyrus x reader? That one regulars loud brother(he also witnessed you almost punch someone),

alphys/undyne/tori/asgore etc etc who probably might not go to grillbys often x reader? they watched you violently defend the monsters right to exist day 1 and hear about you from the grapevine and end up curious about this human whos been a friend to monsterkind, etc etc

I DOUBT i'm original with this cuz its pretty basic, but I think its fun to mention just in case it can spark smthn creatively in someone, somewhere when I just can't find the motivation to write that in particular

I've personally been thinking about the kinda idea a whole lot with my oc in place of the reader n been havin a blast w it at least hvghv

So, go wild go crazy and if ANYONE does anything with this idea please tag me bc i would LOVE to see abnjks

[joannasteez]

tanks of blood (4) - i'll be your mirror

pairing: biker!roman reigns x black reader warning: angst. talks of parental neglect. consensual underage intimacy (just a kiss!) roman and reader are 17 & 16 in this flashback authors note: we going down that memory lane again. this chapter is inspired by the velvet underground's song "i'll be your mirror". it's such a bittersweet song, something that i think perfectly sums up the relationship. word count: 3900 tagging: @333creolelady @harmshake @theninthwonder @thesamoanqueen @kill-the-artiste @empressdede @spritelucozade @gg-trini

roman didn't, and still doesn't have the burden of being an only child—thank God—and certainly not the burden of being an only child to such disagreeable parents. i love you, i hate you, and then that heavy  drowning silence to follow. and no, he's never seen your mother and KG fight, but the after affects of such tumultuous affairs are always evident. cleaner and more clear than a chrome finish. a force fed sort of isolation he can feel, even if such feelings are just, to him, a secondary burden. pain by association. and he hates to imagine the messiness of it, that mangled and tattered sort of hurt littered everywhere, but his imagination is all he has, because you never say much about it.  leaving the air as dry and brittle as they had. but maybe if you do ever say something, give the silence a soft solemn touch, he can restore it the rest of the way. or try to at least. he can do or say or be something, enough of whatever you need to remedy what he can. but even the idea of that is scary, a new desire the sixteen year old him that existed the year prior wouldn't have. lacking so much urgency about anything that wasn't him inspired. 'you need to grow up fast', he'd heard his mother say once. maybe this is what she meant. his seventeen year old sensibilities a little different. a little more urgent than easy, a little more ardently driven. 

priorities are funny though. a list constantly shifting. everything ever that he liked, maybe even loved—parties, bikes, parties, girls, his hair, his bike—trumped by the state of your emotional being. which was interesting. a tire skid of an abrupt shift. and not to mention your hair, and your eyes and your face. full lips that love to pout in time with their irritations. and how would he notice that unless he was lingering? his eyes there, trailing up and over, down and everywhere. a twist in his belly, hearing you call his name. he can't help but to like it. to crave that rushing energy of getting you to squirm, to smile. to have your eyes fix themselves on him.  

and if he didn't like you so damn much he'd probably hate you. his heart sinking into himself all the time now. a habitual falling that couldn't be stopped. regardless of how deep he breathed. self soothing be damned. so its nothing new to work through, when he gets to you—twisting open the door with a spare key he forced you to get made for him because he hated the idea of you being alone a lot at night —comfortable in your very empty house but not really. wrestling still with his body, because doesn't it know he has a coolness to maintain? an air? a quality? prince of pensacola and all that nice prestigious shit. but maybe that wasn't the point. maybe that wasn't supposed to exist with you. his fingers playing over the velvet box in the right pocket of his sweatpants.

but when roman says empty, he doesn't mean barren because your house is homey. comfortable. lived in. theres just no one here to indulge in it. to indulge in earth tones and splashes of green. plants and throw blankets. KG staining the place with pops of black leather jackets and silver things. little harley bikes and idle jewelry. no one but you. but whatever you've done, it leaves him hungry. the air warm and savory scented. tomatoes and garlic and bread and other fragrant little seasonings. 

roman's sneakers thud over hardwood floors. your voice carrying from the lit kitchen. music low and melodic under your words, just enough to fill in the emptiness of the house. "roman i swear if you don't have my ice cream, please turn your ass about face and exit stage left". 

he leads himself into the kitchen easy paced. overly familiar with the lay of the house. sliding into a too tiny for him kitchen island table high chair. his body half way off the seat. "you tryin to kick me out when i have a key is real backwards shit". 

and you pout. full lips down turning. brows pulling. it makes the tip of his fingers itch. his tongue working over the roof of his mouth. he'd thought about it, once or twice. your mouth. questioned how good mango lip balm tastes. 

you throw a balled up napkin his way. "the one little thing i ask for, you keep forgetting. its like you hate me". 

"first", he starts. eyeing the portion of food you've tonged onto a plate. "that lil market you want it from is out of my way", snagging a fork and dipping it into the heat of the plate. your hand sliding him a can of coke. "second, its expensive as hell. tryna have me travel damn near across country for a forgettable ass flavor". 

you gasp offended. full on dramatics that confirm just how spoiled you are. because KG and your mother were many things. complicated people he couldn't at times understand. but they always gave you things. whether it was wanted or needed. you always had it. 

"my needs are forgettable?" 

his eyes roll playfully. pulling his fork to watch the heat rise from it. "gimme a few days. i'll draft up a nice fat invoice for your pops. show him just how needy you are. spending all my money".

"money you let me spend!", you give. smiling. because you were right. there was never a moment where he let you buy things around him. not since the development of such abrupt, overwhelming feelings. harsh butterfly's and hard to quell desire making him do things he otherwise wouldn't think of. and he never saw his dad do it. never saw his mother reach into her wallet. your fingers pointing to the once upon a time crew neck band tee that you cut into a tank top. "your contributions paid for this top by the way. and my shorts", the neck of it slit into a v shape that gave him a view he didn't need to see. it wouldn't do much but excite things that didn't need exciting. ideas that didn't need encouragement. not now anyways. the biker shorts hitting mid thigh, soft brown skin left to the air. and you seem none the wiser to his examinations. cleaning out the contents of the fridge. your voice carrying over to him still. "the best thing you can do for a woman is open up that little wallet of yours". 

roman snorts. sips at his coke with a smile. "when this so called woman shows up, give her my number so we can chat". 

your teeth suck. throwing in a little mumble of "whatever", taking a towel to the fridge shelves. a diligent but bizarre work of your hands. because the house was already clean. already presentable. there was no reason for you to drench cloths in pine scented product. to work in a wipe down that left reflections rivaling the fresh chrome finish of his father's vintage cruiser. maybe that's why you've been on him about ice cream pick ups and late night last minute shopping mall trips for band tees and flannel shirts. everything a project. a process to pass the time. and his sudden willingness to say yes to everything didn't help. it only drew him in. manifesting itself in the form of a little black velvet box. one which sat in his pocket, waiting for some much needed exposure. exposure roman is sure won't be given tonight. not if his fears have anything to say about it. obnoxiously loud, heart thumping fears. seventeen isn't the age for rejection anyways. and he's seen it before, he can do well without that type of pain. 

and with all this passion filled anxiety, roman goes unaware. tunnel visioned by thoughts and the impression of that velvet box pressing into his leg. levels the good heap of food you've given him easily. growing boy and all that jazz.

your reaction is cute though, when you do finally face him again. a play at disgust. pretty brown eyes watching the roll his tongue takes over his lips to taste the remnants of flavor. and he can feel the exacting of them. a sensation over his mouth from your eyes. hesitant and curious. 

"y'know you could've chewed it right? it wasn't going nowhere"

roman stands. a finished plate in one hand and his unfinished coke in the other. shuffling to the sink. "the way you mindin my business is kinda crazy actually". 

"the way you eat is crazy actually. very much like a starved animal". 

and roman does a lesser by the day rare thing, slipping out of the hesitancy that comes with what if's and unknowns. the saucy mess of his plate in his right hand, body inching close, smooth and unashamed, till he's caging you in between his height and the sink. his eyes catching onto the slight hitch in your shoulders as you flush up against the counter. his head tilting, narrowing in on the surprise of your face. the stillness in your body that comes with unsure thoughts. mixed desire. or at least. thats what he hopes. this would be bad if you absolutely hated everything about what he was doing. but he kills that way of thinking. pushes it to a deeper, quieter corner. his blood racing. something in him wanting to see you thrash and break against the hold of your resolve for him. for him only. "all that jealous energy for a plate of food is unnecessary. i got enough attention to go around".

you gasp. catching his drift. his thigh nudging into yours. this teasing, faint knock in that has your hands rushing into him. a not so hard pushing away. "be so fuckin for real right now".

"starin me down, watchin me cause you like the way i eat", his emphasis on words, sharper on some than others. it makes your nose flare and the pulling in your brows deepen. his body rife with sweet satisfaction. he smiles, teasing, and the slip of it catches your eyes again. "it's ok to admit i make you feel something". his hand reaching down to dump the plate in the sink and sit down his can of coke. a maneuvering that gets him closer, deeper into the warmth of your space. "squirmin n'shit away from me like you don't like it". 

your eyes dilate. a black heat pushing against the sweet docile brown. something new and unknown pushing against something comfortable and old. telling him everything he needs to know.

you bristle. short of breath."roman shut the fuck up and-...", your teeth sucking as you push against him again. "...and make yourself useful". getting away from what he's sure is suffocating air. and no this isn't totally his ego, but he knows that the intoxication of such a new feeling is more than likely overwhelming, because roman isn't new to making girls melt. to having them go weak and silly eyed for him. he was and is who he is, and the aura is natural, comes to him as true as would a birthright to the firstborn son of ancient nobility. but its never left such a satisfaction in him as it does now. 

"need me to eat somethin else?"

your fist balls around a towel you've picked up. standing in front the light of the open fridge. you hurl it fast to hit him, approaching to have your hands push at his solid chest. so obviously overdone by whatever truths you're fighting to avoid. because why else would it bother you so much if it isn't true. if you don't feel the same way he does. 

"close this", your finger pointing as his mouth. "wash this", directed at his still saucy plate. 

eyes rolling for dramatic effect. to really sink home that overflowing of disgust. you fooled nobody. nobody but yourself. 

"not sure if you know this...", his hands soapy and wet as he starts to clean his plate. heart pounding in his chest. a giant step of words tumbling down off his tongue. heavy and thumping as they hit the air less implied than they've ever been. "...but we can't work if you're gonna be violent to me. it's gotta be fifty-fifty. give and take and all that good shit". 

you wipe mindless at another fridge shelf. from what he can see of your face, the gears turning slow and cautious. "and what exactly is supposed to be workin?"

"don't be dense". he throws a look your way. mocking and a little impatient. 

you wince. a slight hitch in your arms. like such a thing to hear was painful. "roman. stop saying that", you scold. his name leaving you violent and parental. 

and he feels an immediate failing in his chest. a stuttering that forms as the complete summation of every heavy bout and measly piece of anxiety since he's taken his first step past your front door. of course he didn't mean to be so wounding as to bring up in your eyes a more than mild detesting but there it is. brown and burning and heavy. a loathing born from the awful slip of his memory. too comfortable in his slip from caution to reign in the no go phrasing. because KG—as cool as roman thinks him to be—says not so nice things sometimes. 'don't be dense', as a way to inspire common sense from the other guys romans age. ones that hang around lazily. doing half ass jobs and wasting his—your fathers— time. but it doesn't mean you hate it any less, even if it never is directed at you. 

"sorry", he gives softly. "sorry".

and the silence after is agony. like his body is working through the painstaking process of drowning. a suffocation that makes him squirm. uncomfortable in his skin. soft music playing still, the only thing that attempts to fill in the deep well of quiet. his hands toweling dry, leaning up against the sink to watch you work. steeping further into a self directed annoyance. the banter at one point ok. teasing but never so much that it made you go quiet. because quiet, from you, means that roman can't access whatever you're thinking. he can't gauge whatever feelings exist. and he's never been so brainless about a thing before, so disconnected that his words make you mount with a displeasured heat that quickly. again, this care for all of your feelings all the time. happening so quickly. when the fuck did that start and how the hell is he going to catch up? 

he needs to fill the silence. the loudness of it nearly killing him. 

"how's your mom?"

because he hasn't seen her for a while. her always less than warm stare and short words. smiles that don't reach the eyes and tense, unsure hugs. it was better when you both were younger. she gave him more to work with then. always smiling and cooking and present. her eyes bright and warm and brown, similar to the ones you have now. they looked at him with less distance then. 

the circular wipe down of your hand falters for some seconds. picks back up as if nothing has happened. "she's fine", your voice flat. unenthused. "went up north to visit family". 

and he's heard his own mother and father talk about it before. hushed words when they think others don't know. a sadness to the syllables. to the air when they say things. he figures its an excuse. visiting family is an excuse for other things. 

the curiosity crushes into him. for the sake of wanting to do something. to have you not be so quiet about it. so alone in it. "how long has she been gone-"

"a few days", sighing out answers. seemingly exhausted with his prying. you stack things back into a clean—it was already fairly clean—fridge. dumping out not so old containers and ceramic dishes into the sink. "she'll be back whenever". 

"whenever?"

you give him a look. one that peers up from under your lashes. one that says to stop. to drop the subject. to let it go. but roman is compelled by his own needs to get closer. to be something more than whatever it is that exists now. he wants to be let in. 

"listen", picking his brain for words to say. anything that will properly stick. "...i'm here... if you wanna talk about it... you don't have to shutdown-"

you wipe out a tupper-ware bowl. old food and a nasty smell. disinterested. "don't really know what you want me to say". 

romans jaw clenches. "don't do that". 

"don't do what?"

"don't downplay shit", words toughing out harsher than he means them to. he sighs, tightening his eyes and going for a deeper breath. "i'm just trying to-", but you maneuver about him regardless. eyes not meeting and your fingers soapy and wet with too hot water. like he's not there. a twist in his gut performs well enough that he thinks somehow it'll bruise internally. his jaw clenching. "stop ignoring me-"

the dishes in your hand drop hard. but somehow not breaking. the fire in your eyes small but dangerous. "s'nothin to say...", you start. each word cutting out. "...because everybody knows. because it's very fuckin obvious. she gets tired, she goes to visit family", your tone playing patronizing. like a parent to a child. "he gets tired, he stays at the clubhouse". 

"...and they leave you here alone", he finishes. upset for you. upset alongside you. why is that so hard for you to see? 

"oh really roman?", sarcasm washing over. "i didn't notice. thanks for telling me". 

and he doesn't really know what to do now. what to say. to much of an abrupt turn back into the banter could make you grow more sour. but he doesn't want to leave you to quietness either. doesn't want you to stew in the heat of all this unaccounted for anger. he's lost. ill feeling. but finally at least coming to some resignation of just how deep the care for you is steadily staking its claim into him. and that insistent scrubbing you're doing, roughing your hand into hot soapy water, almost mindless the way your arm works. like maybe whatever it is you're not saying, you're bleeding into the motions of it. your lips between your teeth. biting in. he wishes you'd just say something. even if that thing is small.  

the ceramic dish breaks. a clacking sort of crack from too much heat and pressure. weak and overworked. the water it suffers under running red from the spill of blood. the skin on your hand lifted and pooling steadily. the pieces dropping to shatter more as you let them go. beads of blood pull up still past your skin but you don't dare to move. shocked maybe? the pain waiting to sink in. 

"shit", a full registration. roman running to your bathroom. rummaging for anything first aid. bandaids and alcohol and gauze and ointments. but the cut itself was easy enough to bandage. yeah no, his speed isn't for the cut. it's for distance coloring your eyes and the way your body refuses to react. the speed of his running is to get back to that. to help that. attempt at a bandaging for that. or maybe thats not something mendable by his hand. maybe not at all.

the kitchen water is running when he comes in. hands full of helpful things and eyes filled with worry. your hand under cold water. grimacing with pain. 

"here", he gives. stripping paper towels and pressing them into your hand. holding tight to pressure over. staring hard at sad eyes. 

your hand pulls from his. releasing him. "thank you", fragile. on the precipice of breaking. soft breaths and a firm standing in front of him. amongst a too clean house and a bloody hand. your eyes not meeting. your lip suffering under the tension of weary teeth. and roman aches but the tower of his body stands over you present and waiting. a comfortable patience. your head falling into his chest. a lean in that asks for the permission to gain relief. if not from pain than from the  carrying of a full burden. something that can be shared. and he takes it gracefully. his arms coming over and around till you're flushed into his chest. fingers spread and soothing. a pleasant caress. 

you sniffle. small like but he can hear you. and maybe in this moment, this is all you can give. a simple cry without the heavy complexity of words. but it's enough. for him it's enough. 

and your face is warm when you decide to shift away from tear staining his shirt. his fingers feeling the brunt of the heat as he thumbs the wet streaks along your cheeks. feeding his eyes into yours. no examinations or readings. just simple presence. an undefiled attention. here now, not so similar to before, he knows what to say. 

"i gotchu". a tender thumbing caress just under glassy pink eyes. 

everything about you here soft and abruptly undone. 

his eyes slip against the seam of your lips. yours doing the same for his. looking away quickly to your hand. 

"i got blood on your shirt", you say. his hands leaving the comfort of your face. looking up to him from under wet curled lashes. "sorry". 

"it's cool", smiling. fingering the fabric of his t-shirt before tugging easy at yours. smudges of blood on it pressed in from the impact of your embrace. "we gotta get you a new tank top though. time to open up my little wallet i guess". 

"that and my ice cream is the least you can do". 

and roman goes about the work of wrapping your hand patiently. a tenderness he's never really known existed in his till the first breaths of this moment. soft music that played before, playing still. his fingers steady as the gauze folds over and over to cover the wound against your palm. 

he can still feel the impression of the velvet box in his pocket. the pressure of it calling to him. heart thudding ill-controlled. with no mind to give him reprieve. 

his thumb runs over the wrapping of gauze against your hand. taking in just how much he towers over you easily. something like possession working into his blood. wanting to keep you safe. 

he does the lesser and lesser rare thing. slipping out of hesitancy. 

"can i show you something?"

you nod. "show me".

the velvet box gets its much needed exposure. after living so long in the shadows of such a deep pocket. his thumb opening it to reveal a pretty silver necklace. slim and simple. a heart at the center covered in diamonds. surprise takes you whole, pretty post-tear brown eyes full of questions. 

"you like it?"

you nod again. "its pretty".

"it's yours if you want it". 

his heart. if you want it, it's yours. 

your eyes trail to his lips again. his tongue licking sly over them, feeling the burden of such a sensation. you reach on your toes, lips planting delicate and shy. an unsure take to his mouth that burst' the ways of his seventeen year old heart. he clutches the necklace dearly, the slim silver of it nestled in his palm as it circles your waist. hugging you in as his lips slot. pursing to pull against yours. a hum of sweet satisfaction slipping up as he maneuvers your mouth gracefully. something tender and fleeting, like a moan, from your throat. breaths heavy as you part from him. his nose knocking gentle into yours. mango lip balm sugary and addicting as he pecks your mouth again. 

he latches the pretty heart to secure around your neck. thumbing your cheeks. his body urging him to go for more. pursing against your lips for another kiss. 

angst and fluff… theyre so sweet!! makes all the present animosity and tension better i think. let me know what you think!!

[lanareadsbooks]

I don’t understand us

This is part two to “I’m confused about us” tho it can be read alone,

Tags: fem!reader oral(f) receiving, spanking as punishment, crying reader, no real spoilers to the show, mean!billy, no use of y/n (I can’t do it! 😭) also this is kinda short but I’m writing two other stories rn. (Also this is not proofread)hope yall enjoy!

I’m still… confused about us. You thought as the cowboy bellow you ate you out like a starving man. But as good as it felt you couldn’t help thinking about how much your ass hurt since he had just smacked the shit out of it.

Your relationship with Billy made you torn. One second he was absolutely mean to you, pulling you over his knee for doing literally nothing. didn’t fold your panties? that did it. Didn’t do your homework right? That did it. Cussing when you stumped your toe? That fucking did it,

Sometimes it made you mad how he acted “is he not man enough to just ask me to be with him?” You thought, no he’s probably the manliest man I know. Than what is it?

Knock knock knock.

You heard as Billy hit your door, he usually just opens it but yesterday he walked in on you changing, he blushed so hard, you laughed thinking about that moment. Yes? You said as you opened your door. I’ve got to go out tomorrow so I won’t be back till early morning. You sighed internally. Billy was always going out at random times. But I guess that’s better than him having a real job and being gone every day.

The first time he went out he told you

“Don’t even think about sneaking out because I will know about it” he said dominantly. You laughed it off thinking there was no way he could actually find out about it. You didn’t go far. You actually just went down to the edge of the fence like 10ft from the house and pet the horses. Sometimes you wonder why the horses were always coming and going. Never seeing the same one more than twice usually.

But of course, the minute he got home he came up to your room. Hey when did you get back- you tried to ask but were cut off.

As he grabbed your face, not harshly enough to hurt you but it wasn’t pleasant. Why can’t you just listen?! He said with a bite in his tone.

I told you to stay inside. But no. only good girls listen. Your a bad one. ain’t cha? He said, letting go of your face. His words brought tears to your eyes. While your still defiantly a ‘’brat’’ as billy calls it. Sometimes your just not in the mood to have someone upset with you.

You sigh. Looking him in the eyes. Billy I-ugh its not a big deal. I was basically 5 ft from the house.you said sighing. Not a big deal? Little girl.

I decide what’s a big deal or not. He said darkly. And I say you disobeyed me. And since you did that you earned your self a good longgg spanking. He said with a condescending smile on his face.

I- billy your so damn mean, you said slightly pouting. Mean? Oh honey, ill show you mean. He said in a scary dark tone.

And boy did he. He made you sob over his lap by using your hairbrush. When you first started crying you heard him laughing. Above you. Is this his idea of fun? Making me cry? You asked yourself. The thought of it made you mad. So you rebelliously kicked your feet, something you had never done before. This… did not make things better for you. He just started smacking your ass a bit harder.

When it was finally over he gently picked you up and put you on your bed. You were still sobbing because your bottom hurt. And you were still upset billy had laughed at you. The whole spanking thing was embarrassing enough without him laughing at you. (you were also incredibly wet)

You had turned away from him as he sat on your bed. Usually billy tried to console you a little bit. Even though he wasn’t very good at it.

But you shrugged his hand off when he placed it on your shoulder. Stop that honey. He said in a much sweeter tone than before.

No go away. you said ,your voice muffled by the fact that you had your face shoved in your pillow. Sweetheart non of this would happen if you would just obey me. I shouldn’t hav to obey you! You said shooting up from your spot on the bed. You don lemme do nothing. You said with a slight lisp in your voice from crying so hard. I- I can’t even go outside. You said in a whisper. Ugh honey. Everything I do is to protect you. I’m not exactly a loved man around these parts, and I and can’t have anyone thinking they should use you to get to me. Ok? He asked.

You sighed, ok .you agreed. But quickly turned back over into the pillow giving the illusion you were still upset at him.

Now girl. He said in a laughing tone. What is it gon take for you to forgive me?

And that’s how we ended up here. With you grinding your face down on his nose like there’s no tomorrow. He didn’t mind, he defiantly didn’t mind

But you still didn’t understand your relationship. Some nights he had his face buried deep in your cunt, and sometimes he scolded you like a child or yanked you over his knee if you upset him. I don’t understand us. But oh well.

Ok that’s part two! I really like writing for billy but I really want to write for my true love. ✨Finnick✨ I’ve been in love with his character since we first saw him. Tho I write him kinda ooc and like to go a darker route so be prepared for that lol. But comment if y’all want anything else to be added into the next part. Love y’all! #-lanawrites<3

[ghcstao3]

I saw your tags, you have challenged me!

Scary Show AU (cw for cannibalism and murder)

Ghost is a very well-known yet still semi-anonymous Voice Actor for spooky shit. There's a huge following for him because, regardless of what role he's playing, he does a phenomenal job. He's only listed in the cast list as "S.R.Ghost"

Typically he plays the role of the creatures in this super popular show called "Cryptid Season" which follows a gang of college kids desperate for extra credit in their Biology class so they hunt cryptids as evidence/to study for their papers. He does the voice over and some of the motion capture (he's a big dude) for the monsters and such, his most famous one being "Goatman" (from the demonic Goatman's bridge in I think Texas?)

Meanwhile Soap is this animator who's starting to become really popular, and he announces a new show in the work: "Consume", where he voices one of the two lead roles. It's presented as a show about a normal, if not very lonely man, being tormented by a demonic presence in his home.

Plot twist: dude's actually a cannibalistic serial killer and ends up quickly befriending the demon. The demon helps make the man harder to track by police forces in exchange for the bones and souls of his victims.

Cast:

Soap as the killer

Ghost as the demonic entity

Gaz as a detective who's new to the case but also best friends with Soap's character

Price voices the seasoned detective who's been working this case "too damn long"

Ghost and Soap ABSOLUTELY fall in love while recording scenes together. The banter, the flirting, the sexy scenario of cutting up a corpse together; it's too much not to fall in love irl

(actually such a big brain idea but I don't know how you'd write it tbh lmao. Maybe the show itself, where the boys keep their names? Idk the original idea turned into something much greater)

took a minute to figure something out i'm ngl but i did. something (in any case i would love to see your proper takes(s) if you'd be up to it, seeing as it's your idea!! i feel like i couldn’t do it justice)

-

Just like any other actor, Ghost had to audition for the role.

His agent books it for him without consultation, knowing the project would be right up his alley—horror, monsters, no face required—and Ghost makes no argument in sending in his tape. He recognizes this process and takes no issue with it, and once out of his hands, he waits patiently for a congratulatory offer or a gentle rejection.

Just like any other movie, or show, or what have you. Consume is no different.

Supposedly. At first.

John "Soap" MacTavish is... many things. He's charming, according to most. Talented. A joy to be around. A man who wears more than several hats of a project, which certainly tells of someone trying to worm their way into the commercial industry.

He has the spirit and creativity, Ghost will allow him that. But he also doesn't know when to stop talking as soon as the important work is done.

Is Soap professional? Sure. Does Soap make sure all jobs are done with efficiency and done well? Yes, he does. Does it make him any less of a nuisance to Ghost? Absolutely not.

But Ghost would be damned if the project doesn’t find its way into his soft spots, despite its nature. He’d be damned if he doesn’t fall in love with Soap’s animations and the hard work and craft he puts into them.

Then he blinks, and the pilot is premiering. It does well (again, considering its content), and Consume is properly green-lit.

Which is when Soap proposes the idea of recording their lines in the same room. Together. Facing one another. Because banter, and chemistry, and whatever other reasons he insists upon.

Personally, Ghost wants to decline. He’s always felt somewhat awkward when recording as such with anyone, but professionally? He couldn’t really say no, could he?

And it is awkward, at first. There’s more takes than usual, and Ghost can sense Soap’s frustration, though the man never expresses it. He just plasters on a tight smile, calls for a break, and pulls Ghost aside.

Surely, surely this is where Ghost gets fired. This is where Ghost is told he’s going to be replaced, where he’s told to say goodbye to Gaz and Price and wish them luck, and move onto his next gig. This is where—

“Have I done something wrong?”

Soap’s face is so earnest. So painfully sincere.

Ghost clenches his jaw. Shakes his head.

“No, I—“ He sighs. “Just have to get used to the… face-to-face. Let’s—I’ll try again.”

Soap smiles wider, now, as he nods, something kind and warm and brilliant.

The second try goes much smoother. Ghost takes a deep breath and eases himself into scripted dialogue, into witty banter and subtle flirts like it’s any other project.

They continue to record lines as such, just the two of them, each episode at a time. At some point, Ghost worries, the line between script and show and reality gets blurred. At some point, he fears, that flirting becomes genuine.

And what would he know—the reviews only get better as that line becomes less and less clear. Natural, real-feeling dialogue, critics say. The relationship is authentic, claim viewers.

The love is actually heartfelt.

And fuck, if that doesn’t make Ghost realize a few things about himself.

About Soap.

Consume is no different, his ass. He might have to have a stern talk with his agent in the near future.

(Or not.)

[moralesmilesanhour]

arachnophobia

genre: horror-ish pairings: none summary: playing with the idea of miles and miles g's fates being inextricably linked to each other. also spidey senses but make it a little weird wc: 2,072 warnings: spiders (like one spider), canon deaths, brief mention of blood...and translated Spanish for like two sentences (shout out to SpanishDict) A/N: ngl...this didn't turn out to be as scary as I originally envisioned it. but I still hope you enjoy it anyway! pls feel free to reblog and leave ur reactions in the tags/comments if you do <3

The floor. The floor was on the ceiling, though nothing was falling.

Miles blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness of his bedroom. It would’ve been pitch-black if not for the street lamps and traffic lights providing a dim light source.

With careful steps, he moved to where his bed seemed to hang just above him, and let himself fall back onto the mattress. Again.

The sleepwalking began a year ago.

 Miles had just come home from school, and entered the bathroom to wash his face. No sooner had he turned on the faucet, he looked into the mirror and saw that his right eye was a coppery green. Stranger still, when Miles felt himself furrow his brows in confusion, his reflection’s eyes widened in surprise instead. That’s when he felt it on his hand.

A gangly, medium-sized spider whose legs took up about the width of his palm. The thing bit him just before he could slap it, letting its body fall limply to the tiled bathroom floor.

When Miles looked up again, both of his eyes were brown.

Not long after, Aaron Davis was found dead by his brother in a dark alleyway. No one had been charged yet for the murder - at least, no one who could be charged. The news reports just seemed relieved that another “criminal” was off the streets. It made Miles’ blood boil.

After the funeral, he rushed to the bathroom to escape the litany of “I’m sorry”s and whispers of “Jefferson’s boy” so as to not lose his mind before the day’s end. His eyes were bloodshot, still stinging with tears that he had tried so hard to hold back in front of his parents. Uncle Aaron would’ve wanted him to tough it out, right?

Heaving in front of the dirty mirror, Miles blinked, and the sight before him made his blood run cold. His reflection’s right eye was green again, and this time, a pair of cornrows seemed to brush his shoulders, framing a tired and gaunt-looking face.

 His face. And he looked angry.

“What the fuck…?” Miles muttered to himself as he held his own gaze.

“I should be asking the same thing,” his reflection replied in a muted, raspy voice, making Miles jump.“You did this, didn’t you?”

“Did-did what? I didn’t–”

“You killed him. I can feel it. Everytime you get hurt, every time you cry, your fear, your guilt, all of it–I can fucking feel it!”

Miles said nothing as his not-a-reflection began to tear up. 

It was technically his fault, wasn’t it? He ran to Aaron’s apartment for help, like a coward. It all went to shit after the fact. He didn’t dare ask about the autopsy results; Miles already knew what they would say. 

He’d watched the bullet blow a hole in his uncle’s chest.

“Yeah, you look guilty as hell right now,” said the not-a-reflection, shakily. “You got bit by something, right?”

Miles slowly began to back away from the mirror.

“H-how did you–”

The other Miles chuckled mirthlessly. “Felt a prick on my hand.”

“Y’know, I wonder…” he mused, venom seeping into his voice, “if it works the other way around.”

Miles squeezed his eyes shut.

“I’m dreaming. This is all a dream. You’re not real.”

His not-a-reflection smirked.

“We’ll see.”

After that day, Miles would begin to wander in the middle of the night, and end up standing in the hallway or in the kitchen. Sometimes he’d be woken up by his mother’s startled screaming, or realize that he’d gotten himself a glass of water. 

…And that was when his newfound twin was feeling nice.

One night, Miles woke up with his father’s strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back from where he seemed to have been perched on the edge of the roof, like a bird ready to spring into action. Or a spider.

It was now the first week of sophomore year.

Miles could hardly stay upright as he rose to make his bed. Between the blaring of his alarm and all the bustling in the kitchen, his eardrums felt like someone was taking a baseball bat to them and hitting several home runs.

He squinted, and saw that the door was opening behind him.

“Mijo–oh, you’re up already?”

“Yup. I’ll be down in a couple minutes.”

“Alright, see you then. Don’t drag your feet.”

Once Rio gently shut the door, Miles realized that he wasn’t supposed to see things that were behind him.

School turned out to be even more of a nightmare; the swarm of students passing by in the hallways felt like a million invisible strings tugging each way. He finally reached his seat in homeroom, dizzy and irate, when one particular string seemed to tug at him. Violently.

His head snapped up.

“You got a twin brother, Morales?” A girl from his cohort last year whispered behind him, soundly oddly excited about the possibility.

“A new student will be joining us this week,” the teacher in charge of homeroom announced. As she read off of the attendance sheet, her brows furrowed. The woman even adjusted her glasses to do a double take. Miles knew exactly what for.

“That’s funny. We have another Miles Morales sitting right over there!”

The boy standing to her left was already staring across the room, directly at Miles. He felt his body temperature drop rapidly the longer he maintained eye contact with the other’s blank stare, so he looked away. 

Didn’t help much. Miles could still sense where he was going. He sensed a small shift in the light at the side of his head–not peripheral vision, but something more akin to the aura that surrounds your eyes when you get a migraine–moving to the back of the classroom.

This ‘twin’ started calling himself ‘Miles G.’ as the week went on, to preemptively avoid any inevitable confusion as his new teachers got to know him. There was never a point where he didn’t need to; the two Miles had all of their classes together, all except for fifth period. 

Miles G. tapped his pen on the desk impatiently as the professor explained the process of chemical bonding. He frowned when he noticed his leg bouncing on its own. It seemed that Miles was equally bored sitting in AP Literature.

That was where their similarities ended, though.

Friday afternoon, Miles was halfway through his daily school-issued PB&J when a painful jolt in his solar plexus nearly made him vomit it back up. The boy doubled over in his seat with a pained cry, and felt a warm liquid running from his nose. He looked down to discover that his uniform blazer was stained with little red dots.

“I’m telling you, I had nothing to do with it,” Miles explained frantically to the school counselor. 

The middle aged woman looked unconvinced, hands folded neatly on the desk in front of her.

“Then can you explain why both of your noses are bleeding?”

“He wasn’t there with me. I don’t jump people,” Miles G. chimed in, earning a glare from his counterpart sitting next to him. “What? I’m tryna help you.”

The counselor sighed. “Well, your teachers told me that they only saw one of you at the fight,” she turned to Miles. “So it seems like you’re off the hook. For now. You can go to class.”

The woman waved her hand dismissively as Miles shot up from his seat and stalked out of the small office and into the now-empty hallway. 

The encounter in the mirror at Uncle Aaron’s funeral suddenly came back to him:

“You killed him. I can feel it. Everytime you get hurt, every time you cry, your fear, your guilt, all of it–I can fucking feel it!”

Miles whipped around before the other could even say a word.

“Who the fuck are you?” he hissed.

Miles G. snorted. “You know who I am.”

“Why are you here, then? What’s your deal? Since you clearly exist.”

“You think it’s fair, Miles?”

Miles’ brows knit together in confusion. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I’m asking,” Miles G. took a step closer, “if you think it’s fair. That you get to sit up here comfortable while you have blood on your hands.”

The other boy looked away.

“...No.”

He nodded curtly, then brushed past Miles to go to class. “I’m here to make things fair.”

A pit began to form in Miles’ stomach as he let the words linger.

Miles G. was nowhere to be found amongst the sea of students spilling into the hallway when the final bell rang.

“Yo Miles, where’s your evil twin at?” asked Jason, current captain of the basketball team. “He’s supposed to hoop with us today.”

Miles shrugged. “I ain’t keepin’ tabs on him.”

The captain joked, “You’d better start. He could be outside framing you for murder right now!”

The group of boys surrounding him erupted into laughter as they all turned to leave. Miles couldn’t laugh; it was a little too close to the truth. 

“I’m here to make things fair.”

‘Fair’. ‘Fair’ meant leveling the playing field, evening out the score.

…Oh no.

With his heart in his throat, he threw on his jacket and bolted out of the building as fast as his long legs could carry him.

“I don’t know, Jeff, he’s just been…off, lately.”

Rio leaned her head on her husband’s shoulder. She was hardly paying any attention to the news flashing across the television.

“More than usual?” Jefferson laughed, earning him a smack on the shoulder.

“I’m being serious. He looks dead in the eyes, like he’s not getting any sleep. I’m just worried after what happened in the summer. Scared me half to death, that boy.”

He nodded solemnly. 

“I still don’t know how he managed to even find the roof with his eyes closed.”

“You think we should still take him to the doctor’s, just in case?”

“Maybe,” Jefferson looked deep in thought. “Y’know, that reminds me: A week before school started, I was in the kitchen grabbing a mug from the cupboard. With my luck, of course it slipped right outta my hands–”

“It better not have been my good mug.”

“That’s besides the point, honey. Anyway, Miles is standing right next to me, and he catches it the moment I drop it!”

Rio’s eyes narrowed. “What’s special about that?”

“He wasn’t even looking in my direction.”

“Hm. Now that I think about it, sometimes he does this weird thing where he turns around and says ‘hi’ to me–”

“--Before you even enter the room!”

“Exactly! It creeps me out, sometimes. I thought I was going crazy.”

“At least he’ll never get robbed.”

The sound of the doorbell interrupted their conversation.

“Speak of the devil,” Rio said as she rose from the sofa. “I’ll get it.”

Her son stood in the door frame, his small suitcase trailing behind him as he waved and began to haul it up the steps.

She took it from him before pulling him into a warm hug. 

“Hola, Mami.”

Rio pulled back to get a good look at Miles’ face. She made a tsk sound at the newly-formed bags under his eyes. The pimples were another story.

“¿Qué tal te fue en la escuela? You look tired.”

“Teníamos un montón de tareas,” he sighed. “The usual.”

“And you’d better be doing all of it. Now get in here, your father’s waiting in the living room.”

Miles kicked off his sneakers at the entrance while his mother set his luggage against the wall.

“Dad…?”

“Miles, my man! How’s it–oof!”

Jefferson could hardly get a word in before Miles went in for a second hug. He gave his son a pat on the back.

“Missed you too, buddy.”

Miles quickly pulled away with an awkward smile, opting to plop down onto the couch instead.

“I thought you didn’t watch the news anymore,” Rio teased as she sat down with him. “All that ‘negativity’.”

He laughed, “I’ll make an exception for tonight.”

“You hear that, Rio? We’re cool enough for him to hang out with us again,” Jeff remarked.

Miles was soon sandwiched between both of his parents, but it hardly felt cramped. He wouldn’t have it any other way. A comfortable silence fell over the three as their faces were illuminated by the soft glow from the TV. It was Miles who broke it again:

“How’s Uncle Aaron doing?”

[my-traumacore-sideblog]

i rly hate 2 b the 1 2 get mad at ppl 4 liking things but im begging u guys 2 b more discreet abt liking horror games

u can like horror games that's fine

u can talk abt it and post abt it online that's fine

but pls tag ur shit ffs

tag everything properly

don't put fucked up images in the thumbnails of any videos u r gonna make

like idk i thought this was just basic common sense abt liking horror media but 4 some reason i keep seeing rly scary images of the game mouthwashing on every website i go on lately, untagged, no warning, nothing just- GUYS!

like idk im assuming its bc the game is popular or smth but it sucks so much seeing content that is genuinely triggering 4 me, like i know stuff abt this game but i never actually went looking 4 anything abt the game i just can't seem 2 avoid it, just, idk try 2 b more fukin mindful ig?! im not even mad abt ppl just liking the game and making posts or videos or whatever as long as they r tagging stuff and not putting scary shit in the thumbnail so ppl can avoid that content if they don't wanna c it w/out getting jumpscared

i think what's even worse is that the more i learn abt the source material the more i learn that the fandom is legit even more ableist than the villain in the canon source material

like...

im basically bed bound and rely on other ppl taking care of me 4 the most part, i can't rly move much and i usually only hav the energy 2 do 1 or 2 small things in a day like knitting or smth and the rest of the time im basically just laying in bed and mayb watching tv or playing video games (also still laying in bed) it's genuinely triggering 2 c how ppl in the fandom sometimes talk abt curly, im talking abt the "roll away curly" ""jokes"" the fact that some ppl think the idea of him having 2 use aac is funny the ""jokes"" abt how he would b better off dead bc being unable 2 move or look after oneself and in constant pain is smth these ppl can't imagine getting better from, it's smth ppl think is impossible 2 live a life worth living like that, do u hav any fucking idea how fucked up that is 4 me 2 hear as some1 w chronic pain who is basically bed bound!? some of u guys would b jimmy if u ever talked 2 a severely disabled person and it shows

everything i learned abt this game and fandom was without my consent and i hate all of u <3

[gemwolfz]

totals really good visual au and postcanon au, ba 𓅽 yami and akh 𓅜 atem, They are based on simplified versions of ancient egyptian conceptions of the soul but unfortunately i am not well versed enough to explain it personally. and total has not used tumblr in years so it can't explain either. I can throw you the wikipedia page for now also totals rudimentary explanation is somewhere in the live gem reaction tag

actually total offered to write its own explanation so that'll be under the cut along with its art hooray!!!

okay hi so basically:

ygo doesny seem to give a shit about how souls work in egyptian myth but. basically, it would be funny if yami was a ba while appearing to yugi (not while possessing him obv). hes comically small and unintimidating but still a force to be reckoned with. its pretty much just a visual au and im genuinely surprises no ones done it yet?

akh-atem is different, i havent watched dsod yet so maybe that would fuck with canon compliance but. if you dont know, an akh is a complete, elevated soul created by a special union between the ka and the ba. i dont believe everyone in egypt got this treatment (it was a very specific and lengthy process) but atem is a cool guy he deserves it. Mildly fucks with canon but i imagine some of the remaining tomb keepers perform the necessary rituals until the creation of his akh is complete.

though atem was already chilling in the afterlife as a ba, now hes like. one with the gods. a being of pure light with insane amounts of power that can travel between earth and the afterlife (bas can already do this but shhh). what is he going to do with this? probably pay the living he knew a visit. sometimes. domino city is a bit far from egypt and atem is really trying to relax now. still, he is watching over yugi in this state and trying to keep him safe even if yugi has no idea. he can also appear in dreams! and i think he can make himself known when he is visiting earth though 1. he is scary 2. he is selective so he doesnt ever do it unless he has to. i have a scenario in my head where yugi visits atems tomb and tries to give him something (cards maybe) abd then hes like. damn i miss him. and atem flies down from the heavens as bright as the sun and jyst shows up in front of yugi and is like HOLY SHIT YUGI HI and yugi is reasonably horrified at first. luckily being a powerful ascended spirit doesnt change your personality

INFO on the akh design in question:

- i had to make my own buuut it resembles an ibis (has a human head of his likeness too). However akhs can take any form they desire. atem can look like his old self if he wants. you just csnt really fly around like that ykno

- usually, only his two Main Eyes arw open. his forehead eye opens if hes doing some scary magical spirit shit (his other two will be closed).

- his wing eyes only open if he is showing himself to someone (letting them be able to see him, making himself known), or threatening someone (im sure he has his reasons). each individual wing eye produces INSANE amounts of light and when all are open van give him the appearance of being a pure white glowing being. It will also burn your retinas right off. he is one with the sun after all

- atem is human in the afterlife. he only becomes a fucked up shadow bird if he needs to travel down and hang out on earth and stuff

[nopanamaman]

I was scrolling through your pafl tag after the brainrot brick cracked me in the back of the head last night, and after seeing the post where you talked about worrying people would accuse Yura of being being ooc in the prequel comic, I was honestly kind of taken aback?

Like-- part of Yura's appeal is that he's a total cringefail loser. Just an utterly pathetic wet rag of a man. He just has that aura that makes you want to kick his shit in. For every one cool/scary moment he has, there's like three more where he does some stupid shit that has a 50/50 chance of ending badly for the sake of a laugh (or its karma biting him the ass for being-- well-- an ass). That's what makes him so interesting! That he's not some kind of Light Yagami type-- he's a severely fucked up kid who has no idea what he's doing, but is so dead-set on his goal he's convinced himself that he doesn't care who has to get hurt for it to be accomplished, even if that's not really the truth. You can take the man out of the silliness, but you can never take the silliness out of the man-- at most, you just make it go dormant.

If people do complain, it just means more silly and dopey Yura is in order. We can't have Occam's Razor and Convergence tricking more people into believing this man is a smug, scheming mastermind.

(Sorry for the insane ramblings, brainrot under the influence of the flu goes crazy - 🐸)

Aww, anon, that's genuinely such a relief to hear. I suppose I'm just afraid of people being disappointed by the characters not acting exactly as they imagined. Music videos tend to present things in a "cooler" way for the sake of drama and expressiveness, so I often assume people would find my actual idea of how the characters behave pretty lame, hahah. I'm glad there's little confusion about what Yura is like, at least. Thank you a lot for the encouragement!

[youngestdaughtersyndrome]

Tagged by my darling @glassangels <3<3<3

1. Are you named after anyone? Im named after a kinks song which is a massive win for me personally. They almost named me rosa after the pixies album (which wouldve made sense bc we do in fact surf) but one of my moms friends was already knitting a sweater with the kinks-name on it and she convinced them to keep it. My middle name is also my paternal grandmas middle name so i guess that counts too

2. When was the last time you cried? No idea tbh. That thing where you lie down on your side and then your eyes start leaking happens to me a lot but a proper sadness-induced cry hasnt happened for months. I will say that sometimes i say something made me cry, and although it technically didnt due to no tears falling, it did make my soul hurt and crying is the closest phrase that expresses that <3

3. Do you have kids? Thank god no

4. What sports do you play/have you played? Soccer, ran track for a bit, ultimate frisbee, swimming, fencing, fighting (mma, kickboxing, cage, etc), equestrianism (im including my brief and unimpressive time vaulting here), did some stuff with a circus briefly (contortionism, aerial arts, lyra), and then the usual outdoorsy shit (surfing, bouldering, hiking, skiing, and since caving is technically a sport, caving). Also danced for a bit (ballet, contemporary, and jazz). Yeah man idk either

5. Do you use sarcasm? Technically yes but its less "sarcasm" and more "inability to express a truth about myself without making it into a joke". A bit of sarcasm when the time calls for it is always fair game though and i will indulge

6. What's the first thing you notice about someone? The way they carry themself says a lot about their temperament and emotional state and whatnot so thats typically where my eye is drawn. Second place goes to wherever theyre keeping their valuables on them and how expensively theyre dressed though

7. Eye color? Blue but ive got a bit of yellow central heterochromia so they tend to look green if its bright out

8. Scary movies or happy endings? Kill them <3 scary movies 4ever

9. Any talents? Party trick-wise i did retain some contortionist ability and so thats always a good one to break out. Also can spit water up to 30 ft for tooth gap reasons. I am the type of person whos just naturally good at a lot of things (sorry) so i consider that a talent too

10. Where were you born? The top left corner of the USA, not including alaska

11. Hobbies? Writing, journaling, watching movies, reading, various textile arts, going for walks, playing assorted instruments, and occasionally traditional art (im particularly fond of ballpoint pens and oil pastels). Would say listening to music but thats a job to me and i clock into that shit like i get paid

12. Any pets? Maeve the most anxious dog in the world who i love very much <3

13. Height? 5'8/172 cm

14. Favorite school subject? I was a school hater so it really depended on the teacher... in high school i did have the same teacher for like three years in a row (she taught me english in freshman year, history in sophomore, + health in junior) and she was totally awesome so all those classes were great. Typically the classes i had the most fun in were english and history just bc there was more room for fucking around. In the single semester of college i took i did have crazy amounts of fun in my film class though which i will say was mostly because my professor rocked and i got him on my side early so i could kind of do whatever

15. Dream job? Due to the Issues and also common sense mainly i just wish the government actually took care of people and i wouldnt need to work. But if i have to chose a job than itd be a) writing a book or two that are good enough i could live off the royalties and film rights and whatnot for the rest of my life or b) pulling an enya (dropping some widely beloved and largely incomprehensible music and then disappearing totally from the public eye to live in a castle in the middle of nowhere)

Idk whos already done this so ignore me if you have lol @supersonic1994 @nothingrhymedwithcircus @hauntedwoman @halogenstreetlight @evebabitzgf @serethereal and anyone else who wants to <3<3<3

[babbybones]

Oekaki updatez...

Monster Kidz Oekaki is still up and i'd like to keep it that way, but i need to give it some more attention and keep people updated on what's going on/what my plans are for it. so let me jot some thoughts down...

data scraping for machine learning: this has been a concern for a lot of artists as of late, so I've added a robots.txt file and an ai.txt file (as per the opt-out standard proposed by Spawning.ai) to the site in an effort to keep out as many web crawlers for AI as possible. the site will still be indexed by search engines and the Internet Archive. as an additional measure, later tonight I'll try adding "noai", "noimageai", and "noml" HTML meta tags to the site (this would probably be quick and easy to do but i'm soooo sleepy 🛌)

enabling uploads: right now, most users can only post art by drawing in one of the oekaki applets in the browser. i've already given this some thought for a while now, but it seems like artist-oriented spaces online have been dwindling lately, so i'd like to give upload privileges to anyone who's already made a drawing on the oekaki and make a google form for those who haven't (just to confirm who you are/that you won't use the feature maliciously). i would probably set some ground rules like "don't spam uploads"

rules: i'd like to make the rules a little less anal. like, ok, it's no skin off my ass if some kid draws freddy fazbear even though i hope scott cawthon's whole empire explodes. i should also add rules pertaining to uploads, which means i'm probably going to have to address AI generated content. on one hand i hate how, say, deviantart's front page is loaded with bland, tacky, "trending on artstation"-ass AI generated shit (among other issues i have with the medium) but on the other hand i have no interest in trying to interrogate someone about whether they're a Real Artist or scream at someone with the rage of 1,000 scorned concept artists for referencing an AI generated image someone else posted, or something. so i'm not sure how to tackle this tastefully

"Branding": i'm wondering if i should present this as less of a UTDR Oekaki and more of a General Purpose Oekaki with a monster theming. functionally, there wouldn't be much of a difference, but maybe the oekaki could have its own mascot

fun stuff: is having a poll sort of "obsolete" now because of tumblr polls, or should I keep it...? i'd also like to come up with ideas for Things To Do like weekly/monthly art prompts, or maybe games/events like a splatfest/artfight type thing. if you have any ideas of your own, let me know

boring stuff: i need to figure out how to set up automated backups, so i guess i'll do that sometime soon... i should also update the oekaki software sometime (this is scary because i've made a lot of custom edits to everything)

Money: well this costs money to host so I might put a ko-fi link for donations somewhere... at some point... maybe.......

[rzyraffek]

If slashers interact regulalary, like as if going about more or less like rgeular people(but still slahsers of course :P), I am curious. Jamie Llyod, how would slashers interact with there buddies niece?Suddenly finding herself with a bunch of honorary "uncles"

Specific curisiotes include, Brahms, Jason, Bubba, both Scream guys(Billy and Stu), Leslie Vernon, and anyone else you might wanna toss in there if your happy to answer :)

AWWWW (i had to google Jamie Llyod cuz i thought you meant a guy from lego ninjago cartoon series and i was a little confused) Request open!!

Voorhees Jason

HE WILL BE SO SCARED PLS HE, HE CANT, HE CANNOT COMPERHAND

Accually he seems to be great with kids, he is just overthinking. If they go to shop together he wont be able to resist buying her whatever snack she wants!

He would rather pick her up and carry her around than to hold her hand because he gets distracted easly and he would just loose her in middle of forest

Jason will melt if jamie will say something along the lines "you are the best unlce ever!!" he will litteraly pass out and die

Jason and Micheal are besties so i can see them just hanging around and Micheal just randomly bringing her with him. just to chill and vibe. It would be very quiet vibe due to them being mute but it doesnt stop them from hanging out!

Billy and Stu! (tw to yall homophobes, this biches gay)

"ew a child..." "sup uncle Billy and Stu" "uhh look you are here only because Micheal made us baby sit you" "lol okay"

"I hate childen so much Stu :( " "Cmon its not that bad! She painted my nails!" "of course she did" "Also she said Im way better baby sitter than you!" "I- aint no way you are better than me"

This evening just turned into Billy and Stu trying to beat each other in "who is better uncle" competition

"Hey Jamie wanna see a scary movie :]" "cmon shes like 4" "im almost sure shes like 7 dude"

"I'm hungry im calling Micheal" "NONONO I- i mean why- we ordered fastfood! right Stu?" "uhh yeaahh, wait i just need to go outside for a, eeehh for an *runs to nearest fastfood to buy sometihng to eat*

they forgor that children accualy have to eat

they are so chaotic, they will fall asleep together (all 3) while watching Sponge Bob (Stu and Billy are secretly boyfriends btw i do not care that it has nothing to do with this headcanons, i just wanna inform you all)

"I know you guys are gay" " :O WHAT! I mean- who told you that! pfff some prankster probably" "I saw you hold hands! and thats what people do when they love each other! :3"(top tier sin)

Billy and Stu live together probably and their house is such a mess! its probably huge too, because Stu perents kinda rich. So i can imagine them loosing Jamie in middle of hause and then looking for her (shes goofy ah she will pretend they are playing hide and seek jsut to scare the shit out of them)

Heelshire Brahms

HE he would be so akward!!! Like "ehhh uhh hello child why are you in my house child, uhhh bloody hell" (Quick reminder that hes British and i will make fun of him)

HE WOUDL PROBABLY CALL MICHEAL "Uhhh Mr Micheal ur eeh your niece is here uhh can you like pick her up-" Jamie just standing behind hir "AAH-You, you wanna play scrabbles?" "ew no, can we play hide and seek" "Oh.My.God nevermind you can stay"

Micheal just comes to pick her up or something and Brahms with Jamie are already besties and they prolly made frienship braslets (and shit talk some people too)

okay ladies im back and i will write some more soon! pls comment and dont remember to like and subscibe and hit that bell button

tbh i dint have a lot of ideas (thats why Bubba isnt included i just had no clue what to write) but its good ig, and if i will find any people bullying stu/billy for being homosex i will steal ur steam account B)

x reader tags are only for more people to reach this post nothing sus here

[kalmiaphlox]

✨Writing Interview Tag Game✨

Thank you @pinkberrytea and @preciouslittlebhaalbae for the tags 💕

When did you start writing?

I would write creatively throughout middle school and that was it for the most part. For my first long fic that was planned out and kept up with to completion, I started writing in December 2023 and never stopped. It was like a dam had been broken!

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

I am a horror lover. Movies, books, art, etc I love all horror. I would love to be able to write a horror story, but the things I make up in my mind don't feel all that scary/spooky so I don't think I could translate it well.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

I don't think so? I just write the way I want to read. I don't think its anything special, my writing is just word vomit that I feel happy with.

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

I kinda just write wherever when the mood strikes. Currently I am sitting on my couch with Northernlion playing Slay the Spire on youtube, I like background noise of any kind, doesn't even have to be music. I write on my phone a lot (a regrettable choice) because I like to write anywhere like work or the store if I need to jot something down.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

Lots of daydreaming and driving in the car gives me my best ideas (I think), not sure why it gets my brain going, but it just does. I have also been inspired by art and I put credit for those works in my chapters when they do inspire something.

Sometimes reading fics would also get ideas flowing because it makes me want to write again (I'm not taking ideas from other fics), but I have barely been reading recently.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Maybe for my main fic? I think something that comes up a lot is not letting the past control your future for a lot of my characters. Also realizing family can be anyone, as long as you let them.

What is your reason for writing?

Mostly just for fun. I felt like I had a good story to tell so I wrote it down, regardless of whether other people like it or not. At the end of the day, this is for me.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I like all my comments in general and I go back and reread them occasionally 💕 Some that really stick with me are the ones where people make suggestions or even question things. There have been comments that made me change entire outcomes because someone left a comment that made me rethink how a character was acting or how an event unfolds.

Also anytime anyone says they have reread my fic just blows me away. It's such an honor but I also want to ask "Why?" because that shit is long and so freaking messy lol

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

I don't know, I'm just a person. I hope my readers think they can ask me any questions about anything and that them just taking time out of their day to read my word vomit is so cool and I love every single one of those goobers. Readers are the best. Everyone likes to say they only do it for themselves, but any engagement really keeps us writers going.

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Maybe dialogue and humor. It's hard to say honestly.

How do you feel about your own writing?

I waffle between thinking I write some good shit and then also hating every single thing and how on earth do people read my garbage lmao.

I know I don't use proper sentence structure and grammar, but if I start following all those rules, it won't be fun for me anymore.

I am not very descriptive in my writing specifically because my brain likes to fill in the blanks with limited descriptions. I have things look certain ways in my head, but I like to leave a lot of it up to internal interpretation for other people. I also skim a lot when descriptions get too long while I'm reading so I just try to write the way I want to read something. It's probably boring but at this point, I really don't care, I aint changing.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

Purely for myself. My first fic, I had over 100k words already written before I even thought about posting it for others. I may or may not be working on a sequel to my fic, but who knows if I'll ever post it lol

I hope this is all understandable. I am extremely hungover 😅

tagging my writer pals if you would like to answer any of these! @teamdilf, @busy-baker, @spagyricqueen, @dabbles-in-drabbles, @ofsilentthings