#[ hope this is ok! i left it kind of obscure ]

[venus-haze]

Reach Out, Touch Faith (Father Charlie Mayhew x Reader)

Summary: Day 22 - Thigh Riding. Someone to hear your prayers, someone who cares.

Note: Female reader, but no other descriptors are used. No spoilers for the show in this fic. I finally caught up on Grotesquerie and had to write something for Father Charlie! Shoutout to @leopard-skin-pillbox-hat-ok for even putting this show on my radar. Title comes from Personal Jesus by Depeche Mode.

Word count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sexually explicit content involving a member of the clergy, thigh riding, some degradation.

Only Father Charlie could walk the line between a wet dream and a saint. You found this out rather quickly after becoming a parishioner. It’d been years since you went to church, but moving to the small town offered little in the way of a social life outside of work, so you swallowed your pride and began showing up to mass, and then getting involved in everything from the soup kitchen to movie nights. He didn’t judge you when you admitted you were there to make friends. In fact, he encouraged it.

“People feel increasingly isolated these days,” he had told you. “The church used to be a place for people to meet and make connections, I’m glad it’s serving you that way. Gives me hope for the future of our parish.”

After just a few weeks, people actually got to know you, to the point where you were invited to get coffee with some or join others for dinner. But in your heart, you knew you were mostly showing up for Father Charlie. Especially since he followed you on Instagram, and you almost considered softblocking him so he couldn’t see what you were up to. Morbid curiosity got the better of you, and you followed him back, dragged to the depths your desire by the videos of him exercising on his feed—his toned muscles flexing, skin glimmering with sweat. Your hand flew to your mouth when he squirted water from a bottle on himself. What the fuck kind of priest even did that?

You could hardly look him in the eye the next time you saw him. When he cornered you after a book club meeting, it was almost like he knew.

“You know, for everything you’re involved in, all of the meetings and events you show up to, I’ve never had you for confession,” he said.

It was the way he said it—had you—that made you take pause. As if his being a priest obscured something close to lust, almost implied consummation.

“I thought you weren’t supposed to know who’s confessing,” you said.

“I’d know your voice.”

“I guess I’m just scared, Father.”

“Of what? God’s judgment?” he asked. “He’s merciful if you bring your sins to Him.”

“More along the lines of what you’ll think of me.”

He smiled. “You haven’t killed anyone, have you?”

“God, no!”

“Well, there’s blasphemy,” he joked. “Come by tomorrow at seven. No one else will be here. No pressure.”

Sitting in the confessional almost made you feel claustrophobic. You didn’t know what to do with your hands, so you folded them across your lap, waiting for Father Charlie to speak from the other side of the screen.

“How long has it been since your last confession?”

You paused, trying to remember an exact date, but nothing came to mind. “A few years, probably.”

“That’s alright. What sins do you bring forward today?”

“I don’t know,” you lied.

“You don’t know?” he repeated incredulously.

“No. I can’t think of anything.”

He scoffed. You could practically see the sneer on his face through the screen. “I can list off some. Pride, selfishness, leading others into temptation—do you have any idea what you’re capable of doing? The depths you can cause a man to sink to? The sins of the flesh proliferate every aspect of our modern lives and you—you just—”

“Father?”

After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke your name softly. “I want you to leave the confessional. If there’s no one around, come over to my side.”

“What?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Against your better judgment, you left the confessional and rounded it to the other side. When you opened the door, he looked at you expectantly, curling his pointer and index fingers to beckon you inside.

You hesitated. Almost took a step back, except he reached for you, pulling you in with him. If you thought it was claustrophobic before, your body, cramped in so closely with his, would have been enough to make you anxious on its own, but the proximity, his body heat, his dark brown eyes blazing with a vengeful lust, drew a whine from you when you were maneuvered onto his lap, one of his thick thighs between your legs. You suddenly wished you hadn’t worn a skirt—knee-length, modest enough when you picked it out, but woefully inadequate for the way his hand slipped up it, his fingers brushing your pussy through your panties.

“You should be ashamed of yourself, dripping with arousal in the house of the Lord.”

Rage filled your chest at his taunt. “You have some fucking nerve to accuse me,” you hissed. “Your socials are shameless. I almost thought I was on OnlyFans, the way you flaunt yourself.”

“But you liked what you saw, didn’t you?” he pressed. “Why else would you have come to confession if not for your guilty conscience?” He flexed his muscular thigh beneath you, a pathetic sounding whimper echoing from your lips in the confessional. “Unless you’re only chasing lust, that fleeting, deadly sin.”

“For the love of God, put up or shut up,” you snapped.

He was at a loss for words, then, and letting your pride get the better of you, you kissed him—claiming him was more like it, sinking your teeth into his bottom lip until he shivered beneath you. 

Steadying yourself on his shoulders, you rocked your hips back and forth against his thigh, the friction from the fabric teasing your clit so perfectly, you couldn’t help the cry that tore from your throat until he silenced you with his mouth on yours. Sweat rolled down your back at your exertion, making your blouse stick to your skin, the confessional almost suffocatingly hot.

“Is this what you had in mind, Father?” you mocked, your voice husky and almost cruel, though you knew if anyone walked in, they’d be able to hear. Wouldn’t take very long for a keen listener to figure out what was going on. “Is this my penance?”

“God, yes,” he groaned, his strong hands kneading your ass.

You chased your orgasm, finally finding it when he moaned your name in your ear like a prayer. Rode out your ecstasy on his thigh, a sick thrill rushing through you at the thought of the wet spot you’d leave on his pants, the physical evidence of your debauchery, if the only witness to it was the ever-silent, omnipresent, judging eyes of God.

“Is that all, Father?” you asked breathlessly, glancing down at the prominent tent in his pants.

With a shaky sigh, he leaned his head back, palming his crotch. “Go—go say ten Hail Marys.” 

When you knelt down at the pew just outside of the confessional, you began the first of your penitent prayers with the sound of his groans and soft curses echoing in your ears.

[marisashorror]

Hi there, love your art! And especially the little flavor text / lore snippets you attach to them sometimes The grimy wire-tangle of the Factory is really intriguing - could you share a bit more about it?

Hey there, I'm glad you like it! The Factory is just me being indulgent with myself. I like the aesthetic of old, outdated industrial stuff. The more obscure, dirty and unknowable the machinery is, and the more it looks like an OSHA violation waiting to happen, the happier I am. I've had dreams of similar cramped and claustrophobic places and it's fun to put it on paper.

As a kid I grew up spending the summers at my grandparents restaurant equipment cleaning business. I was totally well taken care of, but I was around a lot of dirty, greasy machines, nuts and bolts and the sound of welding and metal grinding. I liked to play in the giant bin of packing peanuts and help my grandparents scrape grease. There were definitely dingey, claustrophobic rooms full of tools, chemicals and spare machine parts, and a vat of acid that stripped grease off of things (or your hand if you were stupid enough to put it in there). Did this have an influence on my art? Maybe.

LASTLY, I like to draw scenes that show places where there's a lot of...despair?... I guess. Something about the idea of a place where things are so bad they can't get worse is kind of cathartic. In the Factory, conditions have deteriorated to this point, so there's no bad thing left to worry about. Things will also never improve and they'll never leave, so they don't have the burden of hoping and....being disappointed I suppose? I think this scenario soothes my anxiety, which always dreads the worst. At the Factory the worst has occurred, so there *is* no anxiety.

Ok this got pretty long winded, so if you read it, thanks! If you want to know more about individual character lore let me know. ❤️

[galamalion]

୨୧. 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐃

summary. you visit sabo after his sudden collapse.

⤷ contents. sabo x gn!reader, fluff + angst, light angst

⤷ notes. hello!! sorry for the long wait, college has been very busy! this is for my flower prompts and requested by @resetjupiter! hope you enjoy!

It’d been three days since Sabo suddenly collapsed. You’d been exiled from his room in the medical bay, checking in far too often for the doctor’s liking and causing a disturbance with your constant pestering. Koala and Ivankov did their best to inform you of any updates for his condition, but for the past three days it’d been static. At least, until now.

You’d been pacing in the medical bay for the past two hours (the doctor said you couldn’t enter his room, but right outside the door was fair game), waiting for the ‘ok’ to enter.

Sabo’s health wasn’t something you ever had to worry about. He was one of the strongest soldiers in the Revolutionary Army and right-hand man to Monkey D. Dragon. The two of you were inseparable, unstoppable. No matter the challenges you faced, you always came out on top. Lady Luck was on your side, protecting you from any and all harm. So why did this happen?

Suddenly, the door to Sabo’s room creaked open. Koala’s head poked out, gently nodding for you to enter, which you hurriedly obliged. Upon entering, you saw Sabo laying in the hospital bed, looking unimaginably tired and stressed despite having slept for the last three days. You slowly approached his bed and sat on the edge, giving Koala a nod as she silently exited the room, leaving the two of you alone.

It was hard to look at Sabo. Strands of soft blonde hair obscured his face which made it difficult for him to see, but that was hardly a problem at the moment as he only stared blankly at the wall ahead of him. His eyes had dark circles around them, clearly stress-induced judging by the shaky frowned etched into his face. Yes, he was incredibly hard to look at, and yet you could see the man you loved hidden behind this shell.

Testing the waters, you stretched your hand over his palm, gently grazing him with your touch. Immediately, Sabo grasped your hand, pulling it up to his mouth, peppering it with light kisses. You felt your heart swell in your chest as your lover slowly raised his other hand to your cheek, carefully brushing it. No words were spoken, only a silent reassurance that you were both still here, in presence and spirit.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered hoarsely. His eyes slightly crinkled, likely from the stress of using his unused throat. But you could still see that familiar glimmer in his eyes, barely burning from the strain of the past three days.

“Don’t,” you mumbled, pulling him into a gentle hug, “don’t be sorry, ever. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

You could hear a tiny sniffle coming from Sabo as he dug his head into the crook of your neck. His arms came to your back, holding you close in an embrace. This was the first hug you shared since Sabo’s collapse, and it reassured you that he hadn’t left. That he wasn’t going anywhere. You heard him speak up from the safety of your shoulder, clutching onto you even tighter.

“I…remember now.” he took a deep breath in, preparing himself for his next words.

“Everything, from before I joined the Revolutionaries. I remember everything,” Sabo’s body began shaking, “My home, my family—my real family, my brothers—Ace!” he grasped onto you for any kind of stability in his moment of complete vulnerability, quivering in your arms as his tears flowed freely.

Slowly, his head parted from your shoulder, but his hands lingered. Your mind went blank as you attempted to comprehend his words. You were aware that Sabo couldn’t remember what happened during his childhood, that when Dragon brought him aboard he was an amnesiac who refused to return back to his family, but you knew nothing of his past. No one did.

“Have you told Dragon?” you asked carefully, resting your hand on his knee.

“No, I wanted you to know first. I’ll tell him and Ivankov later,” his hands fled to your own, running them across the creases in your fingers, “for now, I just want you to be here with me.”

In response to Sabo’s words, all you could do was stare into his eyes. You weren’t sure if it was possible to love Sabo more than you already had, but time and time again he proved you wrong. His devotion, to his family, friends, and you, was unmatched by all.

Sabo shuffled in the hospital bed, continuing to stare down at your hands. Slowly, his eyes met your own once again. 

“Thank you,” he murmured, voice cracking, “for everything.”

You gave him a small smile, “Didn’t I already tell you to knock that off? You’ve got nothing to thank me for.”

“You told me not to apologize. Gratitude is still on the table.”

Already Sabo was returning to his usual self, the lingering tears in his eyes drying as you two jabbed each other with sharp barbs, just like how things were before. You knew he was still your Sabo, but seeing and hearing is different than believing. Being able to see his unshakable grin was completely different than recalling a memory of it.

A soft knock at the door interrupted your lover's quarrel, your heads turning to see Dragon opening the door. He gave you a curt nod, and you knew he was silently asking for privacy. One glimpse at Sabo showed that he knew it too, laying a kiss on your hand before your incoming departure.

“Come visit again soon, yeah?” he smiled. “It’d be cruel to abandon a sick man.”

You brushed his stray hairs from his forehead, leaving room for a light peck on his forehead, “You poor thing, I'll bring you some fresh flowers when I come back,” you teased.

You slid off the bed and pranced towards the door, hearing it creak shut as you stepped out into the hallway. Walking through the halls of the infirmary gave you time to think about your parting words, pondering what bouquet would suit your rough, yet incredibly posh and polished, lover.

As you exited the building you spied numerous carnations lining the walkway, planted to raise the spirits of the injured and their families. What caught your eye, however, was a single sapphire flower in the middle of the swathes of carnations.

'A unique flower for a unique man,’ you chuckled to yourself, moving to carefully pluck the flower from its place.

"Just our luck," you whispered, bringing it to your lips for a single kiss.

[spnfic85]

First Comes Love... (Ch. 6)

WARNINGS: 18+ -Minors DNI ‼️- Fluff, Protective Uncle Peter, Protective Thor

Word Count: 1.85k

Author’s Note: Thank you again @slytherinqueen4life for reminding me how much I love this story! I know this chapter is a bit short, but I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Little trips can bring big announcements

Masterlist

Chapter 6

Your phone pinged almost immediately as Tony simply texted your name. You bit your lip and kissed Thor on the cheek before the pair of you decided to duck out of the bookstore and retreat to the parked car left in front of the café. Thor chuckled a bit at you as you ducked your head, hiding away your face as a photographer asked for your name. Although your partner was used to the attention, it made your face flush to be bombarded with questions as you slipped into the shadow and safety of the passenger seat while Thor gently closed your door with a wink.  

He smiled politely at the few who were eager to get information and murmured an apology and need to get somewhere before slipping into the driver’s seat and starting the engine. Your phone buzzed again, and you looked at your screen to see a tabloid link in the team’s group chat.

Shellhead: Thor. Y/N. Do I need to be worried?       Nat: Are you guys ok??       Shellhead: I thought you were taking her to lunch Thor, not notifying the world you were expecting children.        Jolly Green: Bringing anything back?        Nat: They’re allowed to, Tony.        Petah: Bring leftovers!!! I’ve been here training with Mr. Stark all day Dx       Y/N: We are okay… Leaving out now.       Nat: They’re a lot huh? I hated going out for a long time because of the photos.       Jolly Green: I thought you stayed out of sight out of habit… Once a spy, always a spy.        Nat: Shaddup Bruce.         Petah: 007 connections...         Shellhead: What?

            You snorted and put your phone away. The conversations were going to just repeat themselves once you got back to Stark Tower. You looked over to Thor and smiled softly as he glanced over a moment, noticing you.

            “Are you okay with this?” He asked gently, his fingers finding yours and lacing together with a soft squeeze. You nodded and smiled, your stomach flipping a bit thinking about now having to formally make some kind of post on your Instagram or something. Thor had one as well, but never could figure it out.

            “I think this is good… You can’t just have a secret family forever.” You teased and he squeezed your hand again. He chuckled and agreed smiling at you lovingly before keeping his eyes on the road as the car merged on the highway and headed home. You watched the scenery breeze past you and tried to imagine having two small children in the tower this time next year…

The fact that this time next year, your whole life is going to be so different…

            Getting back into Stark Tower was slightly a mess. There were a good number of paparazzi huddled around the front of the building, but only a few knew of the obscured entrance to the garage a block away.

            Thor groaned softly when he pulled up to the opening of the garage and saw three persistent men holding cameras and ready to ask questions the moment the vehicle slowed. The security system to the entrance refused to open due to the man who came up to your side window and started knocking persistently, attempting to convince you to roll your window down.

            “Thor! Are you really going to be a father? Who’s the mystery woman??” They pressed and tried to record your face as you ducked down and thanked god the windows had dark tint. Thor growled low in his throat and revved the engine a bit, inching closer to the entrance and triggered the door to open this time, before quickly and carefully zipping into the garage. Unfortunately, neither of you noticed the small figure that was able to roll under the closing door and hide in the shadows of another vehicle.

            “I’m sorry petal, I don’t know what’s gotten into me…” He murmured and cleared his throat. You felt your heart flutter a bit realizing that he was being overprotective with the person at your window. “I don’t like them swarming you. This is not the life you chose.”

            “It’s not yours either.” You murmured softly and kissed his cheek. “I chose you. My heart chose you. Whatever else comes, I’ll put up with it.” You smiled at the big blonde lug. He continually forgot that this wasn’t the life he wanted either, being so far away from home, losing his home completely… If he could adjust, CLEARLY you could too.

            You tried to slip from your seat and Thor rushed out the car to catch your door before stopping and staring down at you in the quiet space. “I love you Y/N… Thank you for finding me…” he murmured softly and kissed you deeply, hands pulling you close and gripping your hips.

            It amazed you. After all the time you have been with this man, kissing him still made your head go fuzzy and your stomach flutter when he looked at you. Those pure bright blue eyes looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. You bit your lip before kissing him again and hugging into his chest, just enjoying a moment together.

            “Hey!” You both jumped as a voice echoed loudly from the door to the tower. Peter stood in the doorway excited, “Sorry- did you guys need help? Oh! And did you get leftovers??” He asked excitedly as he started heading to you both, parked just a few cars from the door.

            “We could use your help.” You teased, “But don’t worry- we got leftovers. So many leftovers…” You opened the back door to the big white bags filled with takeout boxes.

            Peter grinned and started to help grabbing bags and shopping things. He was about to turn back in the tower while he asked how your trip went and froze.

            “Hold on… Something isn’t right…” He murmured, his head turning towards the dark corner of the garage. Peter’s Spidey senses still wigged you out a bit to see in person, but your heart raced more for the fact that you had no idea what Peter heard.

            He carefully and quietly put down the bags in front of you and turned to the corner completely, crouching as he neared the older car stored in the corner closest to the entrance. Before you knew it, Peter moved fast, scuffling with someone before a heavy thud was heard as someone hit the side of the car. Thor ran over and helped, and as fast as the whole altercation started, it was over. Thor pulled a very dusty reporter from the corner, hand gripping the collar of his coat.

            “He was taking pictures,” Peter said huffing and picking up a camera, “You want me to delete them?

            “H-hey! You guys don’t have to do that- I-I’m sorry!” The guy apologized, squinting as if he expected to be hit for speaking up. Peter looked up at him and you saw the tick in his jaw that only showed when he was angry.

“They didn’t consent and you’re trespassing.” Peter said coolly, “The photos you have are of a private moment. Just because she’s with him doesn’t mean they lose that.”

Your heart thudded in your chest as Peter waited for the reporter to relent. You hadn’t realized you were holding your breath until the man nodded and Peter deleted the images before reaching to hand the camera back to its owner. Just as the camera was about to grace the fingers of the reporter, the man murmured something cruel under his breath to himself. You barely caught the tail end of something pertaining your size as Thor’s head snapped to lock in on the reporter’s eyes. There was an energy that radiated from Peter that you had never seen in person. The same muscle ticked on his jaw as he ground his teeth and took a deep breath. The man panicked as his eyes flit between the two men’s cold stares while Peter stepped closer to him.

Peter never broke eye contact as he held his hand out for the man to take his camera before the crack of the expensive lens echoed across the dark garage. The man flinched as the silent teen reached his hand out and dropped the now crushed equipment in the reporter’s hand. He leaned in and you held your breath praying no one lashed out, “If you’d like that to not extend to other parts of your career, never show your face around Stark Tower again.” He spoke softly, his eyes cold and promising nothing kind.

A wave of protectiveness radiated from both men that made your eyes water as Thor gruffly directed the shaken gentleman to the foot entry access on the other side of the garage. Peter turned to you and immediately his face softened into one of concern as you hiccupped and allowed the tears that were battling to fall.

“Y/N! What’s wrong??” He worried and checked over your face panicked as Thor hurried back over to the pair of you once the intruder was successfully locked out. You shook your head and offered them both a watery smile.

“I’m okay, you just- thank you.” You broke down and hugged Peter tightly, “Thank you for defending me.” He seemed too lax under your grip and hugged you back tightly.

“Of course! We’re family, no one gets to speak to you that way.” He said sternly and Thor chuckled.

“You are quite the protective little brother Spider Lad.” Thor clapped Peter on the shoulder and all three of you redirected your attention to carrying in your loot from earlier. As you wiped your tears from your now puffy cheeks, both men refused to let you pick up more than your small bag of books before being ushered back into the private access hall.

Within a few minutes, Peter was doing a happy wiggle, arms laden with white bags, as the three of you rode the elevator up to the commons shared with the team. Thor shifted his bags and took your hand before walking you to the shining kitchen to look over your baby loot once again. Natasha fawned over the small onesies before comparing a small sock to her own finger.

“We are going to need a nursery around here soon…” She murmured, “Any ideas you guys have come up with?” she inquired curiously while arching a brow. You hadn’t even considered preparing for the twins at the tower- or anywhere else for that matter. You chewed your lip worried a bit,

“I honestly hadn’t considered that yet… Eeek- We have to babyproof Tony and Bruce’s labs…” you worried quietly, Thor stopped chuckling at Peter’s excitement over the layout of foods and froze., “I wonder if Tony has anything in the works yet, I’m sure he does.” You continued.

“No- no we have not considered that.” He murmured, turning to look for Tony, “Where is Stark???” He inquired before heading to the small lab in the commons.

Natasha quietly picked up a piece of a cinnamon roll before sheepishly murmuring, “Oops,” and popping the bite in her mouth.

[highdramas]

hi ! i absolutely love everything you’ve written about joel so far and i think you really capture the essence of the character. i would love it if you could write an imagine where joel, ellie and the reader make it to tommy’s and settle there and become a family (kind of), maybe the reader and joel have a kid and he’s scared but they make it work (?) i think it’d be super cute and who doesn’t love daddy!joel? 🥺

i loved this request!! i changed it just a tiny bit and made r come to jackson after joel and ellie so i hope that's ok. also fucked around with ages so joel is 47 here! thank you sm for sending and reading and i hope that you enjoy <3

wc: 2679

--

there was a story about jackson and the people who protected it. the people who had built it into a fortress, a civilization almost resembling the one that you knew years ago. so many years ago-- god, you were a different person now. you were hardened after so much time spent fighting, clambering to stay above running water.

the river of death. you'd heard the whispers on the wind about it, but you didn't believe it. not really. not when one person told one person who told you about this place-- but you would beg. shit, you would get on your hands and knees and plead if you absolutely needed to.

you're just one person. one person looking for her sister, and if what you'd been told on your journey proved true... she was here. and you would find her.

like clockwork, the charging of horses approaches you. instantly you raise your gun into eyesight and set it onto the ground, keep your hands up. "i've got nothin' else." one of the many men and women keeps their eyes fixed on you, the rest of their face obscured by the bandana they wear. but there's some distinctly masculine about the look. his harsh eyes are unrelenting. "i'm just looking for my sister. my baby sister." your eyes shine with unshed tears. "she's sixteen-- i know you probably think i'm bluffing to get your sympathy, i'm not! i promise you i'm not."

your near tears when the one who had been staring at you so intently hops off his horse, bringing forth a dog. "you infected?" he asks in a deep southern drawl. "this thing'll sniff it on you if you are."

"no," you say instantly and the dog is brought towards you, sniffing at you, before it starts licking your hands. you manage a smile and you look back up to the man. "her name is birdie."

when people start looking at one another, you feel an instinct in yourself spike. "where is she."

--

there was a long while that jackson didn't feel real. a long while where you were still not all that unlike a feral animal. wounded, scared, skittish. a year later, with a beer in hand and laughter on your lips, you remark how it's wonderful that they didn't shoot you point blank that very first day.

but it was joel who found you. and joel would never have done such a thing; not when you mentioned the one thing that he felt so deeply in his bones that it was like he knew you from the moment you laid eyes on him. you were a sister. you were an older sibling. and he recognized that feral look in your eye. it was not dissimilar to the one he had that first time he came to jackson, hoping that maybe tommy would be out there.

your relationship with joel had been trepidatious. after your reunion with your sister-- sixteen years old and alive, miraculously alive thanks to friends the two of you had made out in that scary world who you would never be able to repay enough-- it was joel who sought you out. joel and ellie, so much like him in a way that you recognized instantly. birdie was introducing you to anyone who would bear to stick around her rambunctious energy, but if there was anyone who could match it, it was ellie.

and that left you with joel.

those dark eyes burn into the side of your face as you watch ellie and birdie find a spot for movie night. they're playing mulan, which birdie had let you know had become her favorite in the months she'd been in jackson without you.

without you. because in those months apart, you had failed her.

"movies. crazy, isn't it? that they watch fuckin' movies?"

that gruff voice coaxes you from your own thoughts, which perhaps was joel's goal in the first place. there's a small smile on his face which he turns towards you. "unbelievable," you get out.

joel, with a slight nod of his head, beckons you to follow him. "c'mon. they'll be fine."

"but--"

"they'll be fine." joel says, reassurance and not annoyance in his voice. "i know it's hard. but she's safe."

joel had lead you to the bar and he poured you a low glass of whiskey, and as you sat there, he didn't even have to say anything for the story to start tumbling from your lips. you smuggled your little sister out of kc when it all went to shit. there wasn't a chance in hell you were going to stick around in that hell hole-- not with kathleen in control. you weren't the only one who felt that way, of course. a group of you had planned to go west together. and that's what you did. until a group of raiders fell upon you and you, you were supposed to be the distraction. but being a distraction quickly turned into being left behind, watching as your group, your friends, your baby sister-- they ran off to what you hoped could be safety.

it still felt like a failure. it felt like a failure because you heard birdie crying, heard her pleading them to stay, just to wait. that they didn't have to leave you. but this world was do or die, and you didn't resent them for leaving. you were glad they had.

failure. it was a failure. it was a failure that birdie had to be brought up in a world like this, not one where she could've been in choir and gone to prom. it was a failure.

and then joel's story. of sarah and of ellie and of everything in between-- and that hospital. his lie. "you're the only person i've ever told. well, besides tommy," he says with a rub at his chin. "but i couldn't-- i couldn't let her--"

your hand folds over his. "i know."

--

"a date." you put your face in your hands and joel rubs his hand up and down your back, with a small smirk. "i mean, she's--"

"she's seventeen years old, kid." joel pats you right between your shoulder blades.

birdie is not the only one who has found love, so it seems.

you feel joel's love everywhere, all around you. it sends a pang to your heart to think about the way that he lived for twenty years. yes, he had tess. and you had mourned a woman that you never met, said your silent thank you's to her. she kept joel alive. she kept joel going, in their own odd way, a life that you cannot fathom now.

not only that. she was just a person-- a person trying to get by. you think about all of the people who are never mourned, never remembered, lost to time and circumstance. you'll mourn every dead person you learn of, just so that they're no longer forgotten.

you feel joel's love when he helps guide you on how to be a parent. he said that it's like riding a bike; he learned with sarah and he never forgot. you feel joel's love when he takes your shift when you're not feeling well. you feel joel's love when he saves you a spot next to him during movie night. you feel joel's love everywhere, wrapped around you like a warm blanket.

"i know she is," you say gently, as if to soothe yourself from the rising anxiety in yourself. "i just..." you look at joel closely. "i don't want her to get hurt. i realize how fucking ridiculous i sound when i say that, believe me."

the corner of joel's mouth turns up into that smile that you absolutely fucking adore. "well, hey-- at least you're aware."

you groan and shove his shoulder but he pulls you in a catches your chin, his lips pressing to yours. you feel joel's love then.

--

"is this going to even be accurate?"

maria shrugs her shoulders and leans against the doorway. "joel is forty seven years old," you say, meeting maria's gaze. "he's not going to want this. and not just for that reason."

of all the people joel had won over, the most surprising had been maria. you'd heard the stories of that first visit, before the hospital. but you were thankful that he had. you were thankful for tommy and maria-- that you had a family. a makeshift family that loved and cared for one another. tommy, maria, their little baby. you, joel, birdie, and ellie.

"stop stalling and take it," maria says and that has you snorting, muttering something about damn district attorney under your breath that has her shaking her head.

so, you do. you take the pregnancy test, put the cap on it, and set it on your bathroom counter. you and maria are staring at nothing for a long time when the timer on maria's phone goes off and she snatches the test. "let me." she glances down at it and looks back at you. her lips are pressed into a thin line. and you don't even have to look at it to know what it says.

pregnant.

--

there's a part of you that think it's slightly fitting that the first snowfall is going to coincide with you telling joel of your pregnancy.

there's something magical in the air. not that you necessarily feel that magic right now... you feel something else entirely. fear and worry, anxiety and curiosity... but still, above it all, you feel happy. you don't know how the hell it makes sense that you can feel happy despite it all, but you do.

you watch joel as he piles together a rough snowball and pelts it right at ellie. "hey! you asshole!" that voice of hers never fails to make you smile, and the same is true now. you hear joel's laughter ring clear and true through jackson and you know that you're going to be alright. everything's gonna be alright.

your thumb nail runs along the little plus sign on the test, having already committed it to memory. for a moment you try and envision the look on joel's face when you tell him. it always ends up slightly muddled in your head, like you can't quite picture the real thing.

across the street joel catches your eye. you've always had the suspicion that he could identify you without even knowing you were around. it's like there was something inside both of you that tugged you towards one another, always. he nods his head at you and you nod back, crossing towards him. his gloved hands go to your waist and tug you in to him. "havin' fun?" he asks you, rubbing his hand up and down your back. "where's little bird?"

you point out birdie and her boyfriend with a smile. "gonna start calling her lovebird."

"ah, sounds fitting." you can feel his eyes on the side of your head. "something's up with you."

head whipping around to look at him, you try to keep your face as neutral as possible. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"don't bullshit me. i see it written all over your face."

pursing your lips at him, you turn your attention over to ellie. "there is something up with me." your hand slides down his arm before you take his hand, leading him away from the crowd.

this is make or break, you realize.

far enough away from other people, you slide the pregnancy test out of your pocket. you stare down at it and tap it against the palm of your hand. following the sound, joel glances downward, eyes snapping back to yours. "what is that?"

facing him, you place it into his hand. you watch as he stares at it and his eyes go shiny, snapping up to meet your gaze. wordless, all you offer is a brief nod of your head. "i missed my last period. and i've had an upset stomach in the mornings. think they call that morning sickness." there's a million different things happening all over his face, and you don't know how to decipher any of them. this is the first time that you feel you haven't been able to fully understand the man that has opened you up. "look-- you didn't sign up for this. you don't have to-- you don't have to stick around out of obligation."

joel's nostrils flare. "you think that i'd do that? that i would do that to you?"

"no! no, of course not-- joel, that's not what i'm saying, and you know it." you put your face on his hand and turn it towards yourself. there's tears shining in your eyes now. "i don't want to back you into a corner that you don't want to be in, is all. i don't-- i don't want you to feel like you have to do this. any of this."

with a long and shaky sigh, joel shakes his head, putting his hands on his hips. a hand scrubs over his face and when it falls, he's looking at you straight on. "i'd be lyin' if i said i wasn't scared shitless. being a dad--" his head instantly turns towards where you can faintly hear ellie's laughter. "i do alright with ellie. and i'm scared with her, too." he swallows. and he stands a bit straighter. "i'm not goin' anywhere. i'm not. and it's not out of obligation. it is because i love you."

you loosen a breath and his hand grips your elbow and tugs you close to him, wrapping his arms around you. "i love you," he murmurs again. and the thing about joel is he doesn't always say his love, but he always shows it. but the words warm you up just the same. "and i'm gonna love the shit out of our kid."

laughing into his chest, you squeeze your eyes closed. "i'm scared too," you admit. "what if i'm not--"

"oh, i know you're not sayin' that." he tips your chin up. "you raised birdie. and you did a damn fine job." he taps your bottom lip with his thumb. "we're... we're gonna be alright, kid."

--

birdie and ellie sit shoulder to shoulder, looking at the bundle in ellie's arms. you smile a little from your spot on the bed. joel takes the other spot next to ellie, his gaze flicking from you, to ellie, and to the baby in her arms.

"little theo," she coos softly, tapping his tiny nose. "i love that name."

joel looks up at you and you swear that something behind his eyes sparkle. "don't look at me. i definitely didn't pick it."

ellie giggles and looks at you. "knew it." she glances over at birdie. "you want to hold him?"

birdie, so soft and delicate, glances over at you. you give a reassuring nod of your head and force yourself onto your feet. joel is up in an instant helping you up, helping you move towards birdie. you sit next to her and brush a piece of her hair back. "only if you want to, bird." she instantly nods her head and turns to ellie, opening her arms up. and when theo is placed into her arms... you feel your eyes well.

family. you glance over at joel and he puts a strong and steadying hand onto her shoulder which you nuzzle your cheek against.

"he's perfect," birdie murmurs, stroking his cheek. "i didn't know a baby could be perfect, but he is."

you hum and nod your head. "glad i'm not the only one who thinks so," you tease. birdie leans against you for a moment and she looks at you with sparkly eyes. "i remember when i held you for the first time," you whisper. "i thought you were pretty perfect, too."

a tear falls down her cheek and you catch it with your thumb. joel's hand rubs at your shoulder and that word rings true once more.

family.

you'll be okay. you know you will.

[system-architect]

no one tagged me in it but i rlly wanted to do a character tag meme like ive seen ppl on my dash doing so,,, :"") here's the one that's been going around, for plex!

personally obsessed with the fact that his ingame visage is extremely babied boy and then when i draw him it reveals the fact like oh this is a very tired, awkwardly built, angular guy who's nearing 30. ok anyways, stuff below the cut!

-- B A S I C S

Name: Plex (fully titled: Infotechnist Plex)

Nicknames: (none. his handle on various console software is pl3x tho)

Age: 28

Birthday: 63 Scion 1308

Race: Asura

Gender: trans dude of some kind, he/him

Orientation: gay

Profession: he is an Inquest Technician very literally! minus the wiki bit mentioning magic since the stock npc is an ele lmao. ingame he's an engi, but as a character he has no combat skills whatsoever other than basic required training on how to use a firearm (which he hopes to never have to use)

-- P H Y S I C A L A S P E C T S

Hair: white (technically very very platinum blonde, natural)

Eyes: they're technically black with permanent yellow nightshine going on in his pupils. or irises. whatever the yellow dots are. don't worry about it.

Skin: albino (w/ light cream-tan stripe markings)

Tattoos/Scars: he's got a Y-shaped scar across his chest, and a couple of metal ports embedded on the right (viewer's left) side of his chest near his sternum, which have scarring around them

-- F A M I L Y

This section of the report has been obscured from view by the Inquest Legal Bureau at the behest of Redactor Trejj. Please contact your krewe's Overseer to initiate the proper clearance check measures if you believe this was in error. If you do not believe that it was in error, and instead that your ability to access this report whatsoever was unintended, please close the report at your earliest convenience and report to your facility's Inquisitor to be disciplined for reading this far.

-- S K I L L S

Abilities: Adept programmer with an eye for detail, and a photographic memory for numbers/strings of code specifically. Excels at combining complex pieces of information.

Hobbies: Gaming, movies/animations/shows, putting together model kits. Gets in a lot of arguments on programming and golemancy forums.

-- T R A I T S

Most positive generally helpful traits: Hard working (....usually), fast + thorough at things he puts his mind to, prefers to stay out of other people's business, good at keeping secrets, relatively open minded, has a pretty big capacity for empathy (even if he doesn't always show/use it)

Most negative generally unhelpful traits: Has a big mouth/isn't able to suppress his opinions about certain things, picky/fussy/whiny, socially awkward, tends to make interactions tense quickly, deep insecurity that bleeds over into how he acts around others, wants to 'win' things constantly, easily gets an inflated ego from said 'wins' that leads him to bite off more than he can chew after that

-- L I K E S

Colors: black LOL. also yellow (matches him!)

Smells: fresh coffee, cool rain on concrete, lemon, pine, canned air

Textures: leather and suede, soft fabrics (but not 'plush')

Drinks: coffee of course... also novelty flavor energy drinks even though they make his stomach feel like it's caving in on itself every time

-- O T H E R D E T A I L S

Smokes: lord no he'd start coughing on it

Drinks: his alcohol tolerance is about -2 so this is also a no. the man's veins and stomach lining are made of like.. tissue paper

Drugs: what do u think

Been arrested: no.. aside from being in the inquest (Which Is In Itself Literally Not A Crime) he's a fairly law abiding mild-mannered citizen lmfao. i mean he probably torrents things under a vpn but that's very low on the list of concerns for the peacemakers,

[allthefandomthings55]

Life in the Limelight

Chapter 3

Spencer’s POV

After my text conversation with Y/N, I got back to work. All I had to do was hope that we didn’t get a case in two days. I hopped off the elevator and walked to my desk and greeted everybody as I went. As I sat at my desk I started to do paperwork that had been piling up. 

“Hey Reid, my man,” Derek said slapping his hands on my shoulders. 

“Oh no, what do you want, Derek?”

“Nothing, I just think you should come out with me this weekend. Maybe Saturday?”

“I don’t know, Derek, I think I’m busy Saturday.”

“Ok Pretty Boy! What are you doing, hmm? Are you going to watch some obscure movie? Maybe reading a whole bunch of obscure books?”

“Yeah, actually I was thinking about going out and getting lunch after going for a walk in the park then going to an early movie then going home and reading some books.”

Derek, JJ, and Emily seemed surprised for me to have a detailed plan ready. “Ok Reid,” Emily starts, “Are you going with anyone?”

“No, I’m not. I’m actually kind of excited to go out by myself and enjoy life.”

Everyone was staring at me, trying to read my micro-expressions but I knew they couldn’t. “Everyone in the meeting room in five,” Hotch said as he walked passed us. After everyone left to go to the meeting room, I let out a deep breath. I hope this case doesn’t take us out of state and doesn’t take us long. I don’t want to miss my hangout/date with Y/N. I walk up to the meeting room to see everyone sitting there. 

I take my seat and Garcia starts the meeting, “Ok friends we have trouble in our backyard. First victim, Alyssa Caldwater, was last seen leaving her job at 10:30 last Tuesday night. She was found dead two days ago in an alley, and get this, completely naked. Then just yesterday an Amanda Clarke was found in another alley about two blocks from where Miss Alyssa was found. Also they were both strangled to death then stabbed 30 times postmortem.”

“So,” Emily started, “we’re clearly dealing with someone who has extreme aggression problems.”

“Yeah, they might also be impotent. Maybe that’s why he stabbed them,” JJ commented.

“You know, because of the overkill, we’re definitely dealing with someone who is really fit, or is on some kind of stimulant drug that would give them the strength and energy to do something like this,” I said. 

“Well, it seems like this guy is speeding up. One girl dumped two days ago and another one dumped yesterday.” Rossi added.

Hotch spoke up, “Either way we better get down to the D.C. field office and help them figure this out. Everyone at the cars in 10 minutes.”

I got worried because I don’t know if we’ll be done in time for my brunch with Y/N so I decided to call her. 

“Hello?”

“Hey Y/N, how are you?”

“I’m good, Spencer, I’m just leaving rehearsal. What about you?”

“Uh, I’m ok. Look I hate to do this, but my team and I just got a case and I don’t know if it will be done by Saturday. Luckily it’s here, well in D.C., but close enough, right?”

“Oh,” she sounded disappointed, “well that’s ok. I mean you can’t just let people die, right? How about this, we’ll play it by ear. What I do for work is really flexible so I can meet you really anytime I want. Within reason though.” She chuckled after that sentence and I liked the sound of it. I honestly didn’t even know what to say. “Spencer? Did I say something wrong?”

“No! I mean no you didn’t. I just haven’t always had people in my life that understood my situation.”

“Oh believe me I get your situation. Don’t be nervous but I really need to tell you something when we do get to meet. It’s nothing bad, but I think it’s important that you know.”

“Ok, yeah no worries right? But I have to get going to solve this and hopefully I can make our time and date.”

“Yeah you go catch a killer, Spencer. Good luck.”

“Thank you. Bye,” and I hung up the phone. I made my way downstairs and before I got off the elevator I took a deep breath and made my face neutral so the team couldn’t read me. 

As I walk out of the elevator I see the team waiting for me. “Petty Boy! What took you so long?”

“Uh, I just had to make a phone call.”

“Really? To whom?” I decided to ignore him and just follow everyone else and get into the SUV.

[lacontroller1991]

Fluff/WhumpTOBER Day 2: Deacon x GN!Reader

Day 2: "Left, Other Left"/Trust Issues Masterlist Warnings: 18+, Canon Typical Violence, Language, Gun Usage, Murder Word Count: 1.5k

It’s quiet in your home, allowing you the time you need to sulk in peace. You had known that traveling with Deacon would lead to issues given his charisma and inability to tell the truth, but you didn’t think it would be this much of an issue. 

So you sit, on your bed, arms crossed as the scowl doesn’t dare leave your face. How could he seriously say those things and expect you to be ok with it. Maybe you should’ve listened to him when he told you that all he does is lie. Maybe you should’ve listened to the warning when he gave you his recall code. But you didn’t want to believe his several warnings. Not like it matters now. Not when he’s probably halfway across the Commonwealth, licking his wounds while you tend to yours.

A series of knocks rapport against the door to your former house as you let out a groan. Getting out of bed, you shuffle to the front door, praying to God that it’s not Preston on the other side, asking for your help with yet another settlement.

“Now is not a-” swinging the door open, your words die in your mouth as Deacon stands in front of you, a smile on his face, glasses obscuring his eyes. “What do you want?”

“I wanted to apologize. I shouldn’t have said what I said to Des. Forgive me?” You eye him in hesitance. You for sure thought that Deacon would be one who is too arrogant to admit when he’s wrong, but here he is in your doorway, an apologetic smile on his face. “Can I come in?”

Scooting to the side, you allow him into your house as he jumps over the couch, manspreading as you shut the door in shock. He isn’t normally the kind to immediately come back after an argument. Normally, your “arguments” last for days after it happens. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you, I wanted to apologize.”

“How do I know that I can trust you? You hurt me real bad Deacon.” Taking a seat across from him, your eyes train onto him, watching his movements as emotions run through your body. On one hand, you want to strangle him for betraying you like that, but on the other hand, you just want to curl up into his side, even if the feelings aren’t mutual.

“You can’t, but I want you to know that I am sincere in my apology.”

“Ok, talk.”

—————

Deacon kicks the ground in front of him, not sticking to the shadows. Of course you’d be angry when you found out that he told your biggest secret to his secret organization. Of course you’d blow a fuse, not that he can really blame you, but was your argument with him really worth it? Neither of you got your point across and now you’re all alone in your house and he’s here, wandering around the open like a mindless fool. Tell them how you really feel, you idiot.

With a groan, Deacon spins around on his heels, making his way back to your home. With any hope he’ll be there by nightfall.

In record time flat, Deacon lets out a sigh of relief when he hears that you’re not in bed, but instead are talking to someone? Probably Mac or Piper. Huffing out a breath, his hand falls to the knob and opens the door. “Hey I wanted to apolo-” what he sees though stops him in his tracks. On your couch, sits him? “What the fuck?”

----------

“What the fuck?” Your head snaps up to the door, spotting Deacon in the walkway.

“Huh?” Your eyes flit back to Deacon sitting right next to you. “WHAT THE FUCK?” You scream out abruptly, standing up and drawing your gun from your hip, backing away as your eyes shift from the Deacon on the couch, holding a gun of his own to the Deacon in the doorway, also holding a gun. To any passerby, it would be a Mexican Stand-Off. “WHAT THE FUCK? Someone better explain NOW?”

“Who the fuck are you?”

“You answer first.” Their guns point at each other, ignoring your presence as your brain tries to comprehend the situation. 

“The Institute sure is getting crafty. Gotta hand it to ya, you sure know how to make an entrance.” Couch Deacon comments, gun trained on Doorway Deacon.

“(Y/N), get away, he’s a clone.”

“I’m not going anywhere. You’re such a liar. How am I supposed to believe that one of you is the real you?” Your voice is shaky, the grip on your gun turning white. 

Couch Deacon raises his hands in surrender, turning to you. “You can trust me, look, I’m setting down the gun.” Couch Deacon sets down his weapon, but you alternate your aim between the two of them.

“No, I can’t trust you. That’s the whole damn issue.”

“Look (Y/N), I know we had an argument, but let’s be real here. One of us is real, me, and one of us is a wannabe.” Doorway Deacon lowers his gun, his sunglasses covered eyes watching you.

“Ok ok, both of you shut up,” you shout out, both of them watching you intensely, curious as to what your next move is. “Ok. There’s only one way to determine who is who. I am going to ask the both of you a series of questions and you are to answer them, truthfully. If I suspect one lie, I’m shooting. Clear?”

“Crystal.” “As clear as water.” Both stand next to each other, eyeing each other up and down and if this was a different circumstance you would almost find it comical.

“Ok, what’s my favorite color?”

“Serious Boss?” “You couldn’t ask a less obvious question?” Your gun clicks in response. The only way that you’re going to find out who is who is by asking some tough questions. 

“Answer.”

“Blue,” both comment in unison as you curse. This might be more difficult than I thought.

“What’s my favorite food?”

“Steak.” “Steak.” Rats. Time to bring out the big guns.

“What’s my code name?”

“Charmer.” “Charms.” They look at each other, one sporting a ridiculous wig and the other baring his bald head.

“Where is my son?”

“The Institute.” “Institute.” Shit, this is getting nowhere. He has a wife, ask about his wife.

“How did your wife die?” Doorway Deacon freezes as Couch Deacon sighs, rubbing his forehead.

“I suppose it’s time you knew. When I was younger, I was a part of a gang called University Point Deathclaws. We were complete bigots. Hated anything and anyone who wasn’t human, including synths. They somehow found out that Barbara was a synth all along and they executed her. I didn’t know about it until I got home and saw her dead body strung up. And, well, after, I killed every single one of those bastards.” 

You aim your gun and pull the trigger, the body falling limply to the floor as you let out a sob, tossing the gun aside. “Please don’t be wrong, please don’t be wrong.” Sliding onto your knees, you pull a knife from your pants and cut the back of the neck open, ignoring the gushing of blood while you search for what you’re hoping is a synth component. After a minute of digging, you pull out a shiny piece of plastic, letting a sigh of relief fall from your lips. “Oh thank God.” Tossing it to the side, you wipe your hands on the shirt of Couch Deacon as you stand up, Doorway Deacon standing to your right. Without much thought, you launch yourself into his arms, legs wrapping around his waist as your head buried in his neck. “Thank God I killed the right one.” One of his hands supports your body while the other rubs your back. “I’m so sorry I was a bitch earlier Deacon. I shouldn’t have gotten angry at you.”

“No, I shouldn’t have told Des about Shaun. That was something between us and I completely blew it.” You continue to hold onto Deacon as he lets out a sigh. “How did you know about Barbara?”

“Glory mentioned it one day.” Silence. “Is what that synth said true?” Setting you down on the floor, his hands don’t leave yours. “I’m not proud of it, but yeah. After her execution, I murdered each of them in cold blood. I’m not the great guy that you think I am. You, Des, Glory, and even Carrington all deserve to be in the Railroad. I don’t. I killed synths because I thought it was funny,” he looks away, but you can tell that he’s hurting.

With a small smile, you take his face in your hands, thumbs running across his cheeks. “We all make mistakes, Deacon. All that matters is that you changed. Now look at you. You help synths on the daily, you’re helping to bring down the institute. You’re helping me. I think that’s gotta count for something.”

He removes his glasses, holding them limply in his hands as you finally see his eyes for the first time, pools of blue holding back tears. “I’m sorry (Y/N),” he sniffles, leaning down and dragging your body into his. After the shock of Deacon actually hugging you subsides, you wrap your arms around the spy and hold him close to your body.

“It’s okay, Deacon. We’ll be ok.”

- fin -

@unrepentantweirdo

[jackfrombaskinrobbins]

matt murdock as your legal guardian headcanons :)

type of writing: headcanons / scenario

word count: 1.15k

request: yes / no

dynamic: matt murdock x teen!reader

characters: reader, matt murdock, foggy nelson, karen page

a/n: ik this isn't a request, but it's something i think about a lot!! i had to get it out lol. i was originally gonna use a more aesthetic picture but then i found this & it was too cute not to include lol <3 also requests are still open! just send in an ask :)

taglist: @nutellani (fill out this form if you'd like to be included!)

-----------------------✰----------------------

first i’m gonna explain how matt murdock actually became your legal guardian.

because i just want to establish that lol

so your parents were involved with wilson fisk.

you had no idea about this of course, since you were very young when they were still involved in his business.

and btw when i say business i mean like his shady dealings

you were kind of left on your own a lot as a kid. you didn’t really mind it, and figured out how to entertain yourself.

however, when you were five years old, you returned home to find a truly awful crime scene.

you would learn much later in life that your parents had decided to report fisk, but before they were able to do so, he had them killed.

the perp was still there, and almost got you. however, a man with a black mask over his eyes was able to stop him for a second, yelling at you to run.

so you did. 

you ended up at an orphanage, but one day, a blind man came in looking to adopt.

you felt an immediate connection, and he adopted you when you were six. 

you’ve been inseparable ever since!!!

he told you all about your parents when you were older btw

anyways so now onto the fun stuff!!

one perk of living with matt is that your room is bomb.

bc his apartment is lowkey the coolest

if you like to visualise like i do, i imagine that your room is like next to the closet where he keeps the daredevil stuff

RANDOM LITTLE DETAIL LOL

anyways it’s super cosy

and you also can basically see in the dark because even though it doesn’t matter if the lights are on, matt tells you to keep them off because then the electric bill will stay low 

you called him a cheapskate but he said that was rude :(

you still did it though #rebel 🥶🥶🥶

you guys bully each other all the time

it’s the way you bond :)

you go to the nelson & murdock offices after school or during the summers.

you have your own little desk there!

one time you said it was too distracting and so foggy bought a privacy folder for you LMAO

needless to say it didn’t help at all

most of the clients are really nice and they’ll ask you about school and life and stuff

you kind of put them at ease

you tried to talk to matt about him being kind of intimidating but he didn’t want to hear it.

and then foggy kept asking why you didn’t think HE was intimidating.

“i mean come on y/n! have you SEEN this face? matt has a little baby face compared to mine!!”

you laughed so hard omg

matt calls you if he needs anything or if you need to tell him something, but you mostly just text foggy to keep them both updated

in my mind, foggy texts like five texts for one sentence

he uses every emoji twice

and every time he uses an abbreviation he always capitalizes it and puts the real meaning in parentheses next to it

here is an example

“hi y/n. hope your day is going well 😃😃 matt and i just won our case 😎😎 so we are going to go to josie’s tonight to celebrate!!!!!!! yay!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 🥳🥳 let me know if you need anything from the store 🏬🏬 ok TTYL (TALK TO YOU LATER) OMG (OH MY GOSH) matt just fell LOL (LAUGH OUT LOUD) 😱😱 gotta go ☹️☹️”

he’s so silly i love him

also matt collects records and cds.

he used to go with you to buy them and let you choose whatever you thought looked good

which is why you have everything from no doubt to frank sinatra to obscure french music

you always have music on at the apartment

like all the time

which brings me to my next point

matt never wanted you to have to see him as daredevil

but it wasn’t like the topic could be avoided.

so when he comes home with awful wounds and stuff, you help clean him up, just like he used to do for his father

and you’re damn good at it too. you have a very steady hand and no squeamish attitude at all. 

but similar to how the scotch used to help matt steady himself when he helped his father, music helps you steady yourself.

you’ll listen to soft & acoustic songs, and it helps ease you AND him.

usually you don’t talk about the things he does. but if he mentions something, you will

but usually it goes without any mention

in my mind, you and matt have a tradition of listening to baseball games on the radio together

you don’t really have a team you alaays root for, it changes year to year

but the two of you get really invested.

like you left the office early every time there’s a game so you can listen together.

or one time he and foggy were prepping a case and there was a game on so he wasn’t even focused HAH

i also think that even though josie’s is a bar, you’re allowed in

not only that, josie will let you behind the bar to make yourself a drink.

ok not like an alcoholic one but still

you have this one mixture of cranberry juice and ginger ale with a lime that you call the “y/n special” and foggy tried it and spit it out :(

josie and some of the regulars almost kicked him out LMAO it was so funny

ok also i have this very clear vision of something foggy does

so to preface this

it’s a rainy day

or just a generally gloomy day

and you and matt are home.

karen is over too.

maybe you’re reading a book and matt and karen are prepping a case or something

and then the door suddenly bursts open

matt isn’t surprised because he heard it coming obvi 

but it caught you off guard

you look over to the kitchen, where the perpetrator is completely covered by the GIGANTIC grocery bags he’s holding.

“oh no.” 

you say, and matt shakes his head. karen is already laughing

foggy drops the bags and exhales, a huge grin overtaking his face.

“WHO’S READY FOR FOGGY’S FAMOUS CHICKEN SOUP????!!!”

“we are” you and karen and matt say in unison, trying to hold back laughter

basically every time the littlest bit of winter rolls around, foggy will bring every ingredient known to man over to your and matt’s apartment and make chicken soup

you make fun of this tradition but it’s been going on since foggy and matt were in law school

and the soup is actually so good

you four always eat it together and it makes you so happy

your family, all together at one table :)

-----------------------✰----------------------

[random-thoughts4u]

Headcanons about how Keigo Takami (BNHA), Taishiro Toyomitsu (BNHA), and Rei Suwa (Buddy Daddies) would confess to gn reader?

GN! READER HC confessions, falling in love scenarios♡

Ok, so this idea is SO CUTE, and you picked such wonderful men too 💗 I hope you enjoy this list. Sorry it took so long! 😊 I hope you don't mind me adding how you met them as well for a bit of a more realistic touch 🥺💙

I wanted a bit more story building! 🐰

I really hope I did them justice. These are a few of my comfort characters 🥺

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

♡Keigo Takami♡

❤️ He remembers the first day he saw you. The way you made your way into the bar, he would frequently gather new information. Something about you light up the room. His eyes were stuck for a moment, but he soon shook it off. He had a job to do.

❤️ Months had passed, and he still thought of your face. If only he knew how close he was to seeing you. Then there you stood one day. A sparkling image in the small office space besides another pro hero. You were the newest intern. A glint of excitement shone behind his eyes as his curious gaze greedily took in every ounce of you. Almost as of feeding this growing hunger inside of him.

❤️It takes this man days to become attached to you. It seemed as if every day he was bumping into you in the hall or in need of your help for some obscure task that you're absolutely sure he'd be able to do alone. He never came across as aggressive or creepy. No. He was sweet, gentle.

❤️He respects your bounds as best as he can. There are times he messes up, but that's just part of living. You better bet he'd do what he could to make you comfortable once again. He was learning how to love.

❤️It was a warm spring day when it happened. You were out in the field with him. A small smile graced his features as he held his hand out to you.

❤️Trusting this man with everything you had, you took it. The way his palm cradled your hands had your heart exploding in your chest.

❤️ Noticing the change in your demeanor, he scooped you into his arms. His wings spread wide, creating a gentle gust around you both before the ground below left your feet.

❤️But you weren't scared. Those golden hues lovingly gazing at the city line soon pointed at you. He chuckled before speaking.

"I know it's a bit out of nowhere, but you are one of the most amazing individuals I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

❤️ With that, a deep scarlet bruised your cheeks as your eyes glistened in want. Every bit of you felt electrified as he rambled on about how kind your were, and what you made him feel.

"I guess... I'm asking if you want to be my partner. Not like a hero team, ya know?"

❤️ As you process his question, your mind didn't even register the roof under your shoes. The only thing you could focus on was the sheepish grin on the man's face. It's not the one he usually wears. Oh no, this one was far better. It was real.

❤️All you could do was toss an arm around him, pressing a small kiss to his cheek.

"I take it, that's a yes?" You rolled your eyes before he lifted your chin with his pointer finger, holding your gazes together.

"Yes, it is smartass~," was all you said as he lightly brushed his nose against your cheek.

❤️Your new nicknames have become "Babybird," "Sunflower," "Angel," "Dollface."

●●●●●●●●●●●●●

♡ Taishiro Toyomitsu ♡

🍑You first met Tai after a recent villain attack. He was relentless chasing down the villain that had decided to come into your shop of all places. Well, more like the villain Canon balled through the bricks.

🍑 Pro hero Fatgum, as you'd learned about through various news outlets, had burst through the now shattered wall with a smoking fist. The size of the now small hole was left a missing wall at this point. Dust surrounding you forced a harsh cough from your lungs. Quickly grabbing the attention of the villain.

🍑 Fatgums eyes widened as he saw you trying to hide behind the remains of the front desk of your business. Everyone was supposed to have been evacuated. How were you still here?

🍑Shaking it off, his intense gaze focuses on the villain. Before you could blink, the large hero had dived over the man completely engulfing him with his quirk. The villains arms helplessly waved out as he was swolled hole.

🍑After that day, he found himself checking in in you. He'd profusely apologize about the wall while simultaneously scolding you for not following orders to leave the area. You explained you'd recently broken your phone and had been cleaning with your headphones in. There was no warning for you.

🍑He felt the obligation to look after you, seeing as how oblivious you could be. He'd find himself inviting you out day by day.

🍑It happened during the stat festival. He stared at you with bright eyes, full of joy. A chuckle leaves your lips, and his heart does flips. Before he could stop himself, he asked.

🍑His words flowed smoothly, as they usually did when he became serious. A large hand light drags along your jawline as you both share a gaze. "I'm not sure how to ask this, but I'd be honored to have you as mine.."

🍑His face was burning a deep crimson as his eyes flickered away sheepishly. His heart roared behind his chest as his shaking hand did their best to steady along your jaw.

🍑A timid smile tugs at the corner of your lips as you playfully reach out to him. Your hand cradles something. A gift for him.

🍑He nervously reaches down, holding his palm up to you. There, you sit a small piece of candy. It's the same brand he'd first given you the day you met.

🍑His hand classes over the candy as he gives you a toothy grin. "I'll do all I can for you, sweetheart! I promise."

🍑That's where your story began.

●●●●●●●●●●●●●●

♡Rei Suwa♡

🔫 It was another day at the playground for Rei. He found himself frequenting the area for a reason he himself didn't know. Maybe the peace after everyone left and the sun was down made him feel serene.

🔫He headed to the swing, a cigarette loosely hung from his lips as he stuffed his hands into his pockets. His fingers play with the lighter that sat inside his pants.

🔫That's when he noticed something. A figure with their back facing him, sitting on his swing. A soft voice hummed out from them, pulling the man in. Curiously, he listened, crossing both arms over his chest to help him relax.

🔫 Whatever spell you had him under was working. He'd come back every other night to find you there. Singing the same song to yourself. He couldn't stop himself from sitting beside you tonight. Silently, he listened as you continued.

🔫Over a year had passed of you both enjoying one anothers company in the late night. He'd even asked you to go places with him after a few months of this ritual.

🔫Rei had become infatuated with you and the peace you brought him. Pretty soon, he had realized he'd fallen deep. Worry laced his eyes as his usually aloof demeanor flakes away. Fear, for a moment, flashes behind his orbs.

🔫He let his guard down. With a small sigh of relief he gave in, wrapping his beds blanket tightly around you both. It wasn't unusual for him to do this, so you responded just as you always did. You snuggled against the crook of his neck as he ran circles along your spine.

🔫 "I think you already know what I want to ask you." Was all he managed to say as his smooth voice lulled you into a safe haven. You smiled against his neck before allowing your eyes to slip shut.

🔫You sat still, finally feeling the wave of relief hit you as he let himself feel. You responded simply by humming, as you did often during moments like these. New feelings, experienced for the first time. It had to be slow. Words weren't needed. Only feelings. For the both of you had beaten down hearts. He knew to take this as acceptance. With that, he placed a small kiss on top of your head as he held you against him.

🔫You will never be hurt. Not anymore. Not if he can help it.

[steveinscarlet]

Another Pyro-era Sounds article for your delectation (text under the cut)

IT'S BETTER TO BURNOUT than fade away

GEOFF BARTON ignites DEF LEPPARD and stands well back

RECOGNISE THE headline to this feature? It's a phrase intoned by Def Leppard vocalist Joe Elliott at the beginning of 'Rock Of Ages', the awesomely anthemic and best track on the band's Friday-released third album, 'Pyromania'. In addition, the words are emblazoned for all to see on Joe's stylishly tatty UK tour T-shirt stagewear.

'It's better to burn out than fade away. A catchy slogan - and one that accurately defines the current Def Lep philosophy?

"Oh yeah." confirms Elliott. "I'd rather die at 25 than end up fat, old, bald and nowhere at 50."

But it's not really a 'hope I die before I get old' statement though, is it? I took it more to mean that it's better to go for broke than take a slow slide into obscurity.

Elliott mulls this point over for a couple of seconds. "I suppose you're right. And if you take it to to mean that, then it kind of relates our British tour, you know?

"Just because we're British we want to be big in Britain. But the fact is, the reality is, America's paying for us not to be big in Britain at the moment. 'Pyromania's doing great in the States; even our second album 'High 'N' Dry' is still selling well. But in Britain his voice trails off. "We're losing a heckuva lot of money here. We're going to lose £50,000 just by playing 11 gigs. It's ridiculous..."

"If we were businessmen, only in it for the money like some people think we are, then faced with that kind of financial disaster we'd probably go, uh-uhl No way! But, contrary to popular belief, we've never been like that. If the money comes in, great, if it doesn't, OK, at least we're having a good time doing what we're doing. If I had been in it just for the money I'd have left the band two-and-a-half years ago, when I first realised how difficult it really is to keep your head above water In this business."

Elliott gets momentarily mournful. "It's not worth it. It's terrible. If we actually were selling out we'd just say, 'Up yours, Britain, stuff ya!" He shoves his middle finger In the air for effect. "We wouldn't play one gig here and we'd be £50,000 better off. That's £10,000 for each member of the band, which is a deposit on a house, whatever..."

It's a matter of pride." Sitting in the bar of an Edinburgh hotel, a couple of hours after the Def Ones' gig at the Playhouse, you can't help but feel for Elliott. The guy craves for success and acceptance in his home country, you can see the hunger and, yes, desperation in his eyes. But at the moment that gleaming, glittering goal seems light years away. Unreachable. Unobtainable. Impossible.

As I said in my recent review of the 'Pyromania' LP, the reasons for Def Leppard's current, apparently untenable UK position have been well documented. No HM fan worth his salt should be unaware of the band's spectacular rise to fame and abrupt fall from grace or of the part played by a certain hard-hearted rock journalist as the so-called instigator of the whole sorry affair.

Can just one slag-off article have caused such a dramatic change of fortune? Or was it just one negative element amidst a whole heap of other minus factors? I know the right answers to these questions and I think Joe Elliott does too, otherwise we'd be tearing at each other's throats instead of sitting here sensibly, semi-tearfully,

attempting to right some of those wrongs.

"Trouble is," continues Elliott, "now is a terrible time to try and re-establish yourself as a band. It's not hard rock time any more, is it? That was 1979, 1980, let's face it."

Right. The ol' metal scene definitely seems to have peaked. When 'Big Al Lewis and I first launched Kerrang! the joint was jumpin' with dynamite bands, great albums, killer commitment and boundless enthusiasm. But now there's been a definite downturn. The hot new acts, with one or two honourable exceptions. just don't seem to be coming through any more and the old guard's constant games of musical chairs (Gillan 'n' Sabbath? Do me a favour!!) make everything seen faintly ludicrous.

"Plus people can't afford to go to as many gigs as they used to," says Elliott, making an equally pertinent point."

"Now they just save their money for the big tours your AC/DCs and Queens and the like. They haven't got the dough to see bands like us out of interest, like they used to in the old days. People might be thinking, Hey. I wonder what Def Leppard are like live these days? But they haven't got the readies to find out. They've just got to keep wondering.

And just in case you were.

ONLY 700 People in the Edinburgh Playhouse this Tuesday night. A doctor's just poked down Joe Elliott's throat and diagnosed acute laryngitis.

Support act Rock Goddess are kicking up a storm but are only garnering a polite, vaguely blase reception. It's cold. Echoey. The atmosphere is far from electric. The situation is far from ideal.

But I've I've been stuck behind my hi-rise executive desk for too long to become depressed or downhearted.

And the Leps, it seems, have much the same attitude. Show opener 'Rock! Rock! (Till You Drop) sounds very much like a statement of intent, a plan of attack, the band obviously aiming to recreate the scene of desolation painted on their (creased-up) stage backdrop out front in the auditorium.

As the set progresses it steadily dawns on you what an incredible wealth of quality material these youthful Leppard cubs have at their disposal. From fist-clenching skull- cleavers like 'Rock Brigade' and 'Let It Go', through the cleavers like Rock beefy, barbarous ballads 'Bringin' On The Heartbreak' and 'Overture', to the breathless steamhammer sounds of 'Wasted' and 'Rocks Off', the group are unquestioned masters of the art of good, strong, memorable HM songwriting.

Would that their stagework was equally irreproachable. While the collective Def dudes work well and hard on the boards, they still lack the distinction and sheer, superior presence of their peers.

The addition of Phil Collen on guitar (replacing Pete The Midget Willis, who used to go offstage during shows to hide behind his amps) is a definite step in the right direction, although the ex-Girl axeman's zippy choice of performance costumery is too punky by half.

Hopefully the ebullient Collen will bring his counterpart strummer Steve 'Steamin" Clark out of his shell. The unrecognised compositional lynchpin of the band, to my mind Clark needs to cultivate and build upon his soundcheck style, where I saw him posing fag-handed and moody, like some taciturn, sunken-cheeked Keefalike.

Slimline Joe Elliott, also, is still a far from ideal frontman. Tonight he over-compensates for his bad throat by flinging himself about the stage like a man possessed. He also does some very silly things, like picking Collen's guitar strings with his teeth, climbing a lighting rig to shine a white spotlight over the crowd and making a Dave Lee Roth-style splits leap from the drum riser at the end of the show.

However, Def Leppard are still an incredibly young band; plus, prior to this current series of British dates, they'd been off the road for all of 14 months. Their stagecraft can only improve. And when it matches the quality of the music the result'll music be devastating

MEANWHILE, back at the hotel and our regularly-scheduled interview. Elliott and myself are chatting more genially. The solemnity that tainted the start of our conversation is slowly beginning to ebb away..

So tell me about 'Rock Of Ages'. Its basic, stompalong sound reminds me of Judas Priest's "Take On The World', although it's nowhere near as crass..

"Yeah you know, we've re-christened 'Rock Of Ages' Another One Bites The Stroke' by Joan Jett's Rainbow! People've got to realise that we're taking the piss not out of the audience, but out of ourselves, out of 'anthems' in general. We've always been renowned for anthems, what with 'Rock Brigade', 'Let It Go', 'Rocks Off', you name it, we've got so many we don't know what to do with them. But with 'Ages' we wanted to bring a bit of fun back into it, put our tongues in our cheeks slightly. I don't know, I just got the feeling that things were were becoming too po-faced, too serious. This is the entertainment business, after all, and you can't entertain people unless you're enjoying what you're doing yourself."

"It's like tonight. I was sick. I know for a fact that I didn't sing particularly well, but I enjoyed it. I got a buzz back from the crowd, it made feel good. I've never been one of those singers who, all due respect to David Coverdale, who's a brilliant vocalist, I could never touch - just stands there and sticks his cock in people's faces. I want to smile, I want to be happy, I don't want to prowl around the stage all stern and grim-faced. Singing 'Rock Of Ages', I try to bring that sort of feeling across." Do you think Def Leppard were guilty of taking things too seriously at the early part of their career?

'Yes, definitely. But when you're as young as we were when we started out you can fall into loads of traps, which I admit we did. Mind you, at the time I was sure we were doing the right things; around the time we first started getting knocked God couldn't have told me I was wrong.

"Now I realise, yeah, alright, the first album 'On Through The Night' was a load of shit. It was very representative of the band for six weeks; six weeks after it came out it was true to our sound, afterwards we weren't anything like that any more. I learnt to sing, the band got better..."

"We've always been able to write good songs that first LP has some great numbers on it, they just weren't that well played, recorded or sung. Our second album 'High 'N' Dry' I can still listen to. Yeah, I think that's a good LP.

And 'Pyromania'?

'Pyromania' I'd like to be regarded and revered like Montrose's first album in the years to come. I'd like it to be awarded the same kind of stature. Whether it will or not don't know, but without wishing to come across all big headed. I seriously think 'Pyromania' is one of the best recorded LPs I've ever heard

For which kudos must go to producer 'Mutt' Lange.. surely and indisputably the reigning king of HM in-studio knob-twiddlers. Elliott is also quick to quick to credit Lange for an inestimable improvement in the vocal department.

"Mutt's really patient" relates Elliott. "he does take into consideration that I haven't got the talent of Lou Gramm or Robert Plant, he just tries to bring out in my voice what I'm capable of but what I wouldn't do myself because I'd get fed up with trying. If I was in charge of recording vocals I'd probably pack it in after six attempts but Mutt'll keep me going for twelve, It's painful and I hate him for it at the time. but when I listen to the end result I'm proud because know that's me at my best. It's the best I can do.

GOING back to what you were saying earlier, about it not being hard rock time any more, how do you see the genre developing in the future? Is there another sudden upswing on the horizon? Or will we be in the doldrums for years to come?

"It's very 1969 now, isn't it?" comments Elliott. "All these bands with names ending in -ER are are coming back! It's like everything is growing old again. I don't know. I guess what we really need is an audience that'll accept a band that looks like Duran Duran but sounds like Saxon. That's the next step because, let's face it, Duran Duran look amazing. And if a heavy rock version of Simon Le Bon and company is possible then, who knows, could be on the way to recreating the spirit of "74,"

You're talking about an early Eighties version of the Sweet?

"Could be, could be... because, thinking about it, by today's standards of pop music, the Sweet were heavy metal! 'Blockbuster. 'Ballroom Blitz... that is definitely heavy metal compared to Depeche Mode, Spandau Ballet and the Belle Stars."

What do you think about Hanoi Rocks' chances?

"If they only sounded as good as they look, they could be in with a shot. But at the moment they're too much like the New York Dolls. That's not to say that I never liked the Dolls, but I can't really see a pastiche of their music getting chart success in 1983. If Hanol Rocks practised, they'd be great. Maybe in two or three years...

But if Joe Elliott's vision of the future is accurate, then where does this leave Def Leppard? Is a quick trip down the Kajagoogoo instant image clinic in order?

"No," laughs Elliott, his depression now fully dissipated, "of course not! I've just got this gut feeling that, whatever happens, one day we will do it in Britain, on our own terms. We'll have a hit single, the crowds will start coming to gigs, the albums will begin selling..."

"I don't want to sound arrogant, but I I know I'm right."

He's got to be.

[ferennstudios]

All right, so this is my first post I’m making on Tumblr. I want to say a few things about me and what I plan to post here but I’d also like to say really quick that I have been really inspired by afraid parade on Tumblr, another user who also shares fanart and story about their original characters, to do this. I’ve followed them for a long time and if they ever happened to see this that would make me all happier and grateful.

OK, so for a while I’ve had this idea of a story (the title at this is king of thunder [it’s bad I know, but just go with it] ) and i’ve been drawing the characters from it in the back of notebooks and on pieces of paper for such a long time, and I just decided that it was about time I put some writing behind the pictures you know?

Most people (especially people still in school like me) who have ideas like this for stories, Just kind of let it sit in their mind until they either become an adult with their own money, taxes, and free will, and they just decide to make it a real thing. Or they just let it fade into obscurity until they completely forget about it and all the characters they’ve made just go to waste. Here’s my problem, I refused to let my story go to waste just because I don’t have the current resources to publish it and make it a thing, but I am also terribly, terribly impatient, and I also refuse to wait seven years just so I can have my own place and taxes just so I can finally decide to start drawing panels. Which is why I’ve started full art and full chapters of comic books on paper so that I can maybe eventually have enough panels to, just straight up publish them then, or I spend such a long time doing this that when I become an adult, I can just refurbish the old panels that Im making now, and publish it then.

This is why I’ve decided to use Tumblr as a sort of archival/brainstorming place for my ideas. I can post drawings and character/plot summaries here, and later i can just come back here and pick up where i left off, plus, maybe some of you can even give me advice on things i can do to make my story better.

Thanks for reading this far. I will shortly start posting character designs, a plot summary, and comic panels from kings of thunder soon after i make this first post. I hope all of you will be respectful here and that some of you will check back here every now and then to read up on my work. Thanks for your support

Ps: my names oren

[astra-galaxie]

What about HCs for Natheron and Avi? Snake-man, younger Explosion-man and their adorable son! If it's too many at once, that's OK.

Don’t worry; three isn’t too much in this scenario! And you know I love Nathan enough to give him two sets of weird headcanons!🥰

These answers are for my version of Nathan, as seen in my Criminal Case series! Now, let’s read about our snakey-boi and his family!����

Nathan

How’s their cooking: Nathan’s a good cook. I just hope you like spicy food! (He can make non-spicy food, he just enjoys watching Jones suffer through the heat)

It’s movie night; what movie do they pick: Horror. But if it's with his family, action or a kid’s move (if Avi is with him)

How would they hold up in a pillow war: Nathan is the last man standing in a pillow war. Avi is the only one who can defeat him (mainly because he lets his son win but don’t tell Avi that!)

Who do they go to for comfort: In order, Oberon, his Dad, his grandfather, and Jones

Something small that they enjoy: When his husband has a cup of coffee or chai ready for him in the morning

How do they feel about physical contact by others: If it's his family or friends, he doesn’t mind physical contact but still prefers to have it in moderation. If its a stranger, the best he’ll give them is a handshake or a high-five

Biggest pet peeve: People who think they know it all and act like they’re superior

What’s something they like that may be surprising to others: Drawing and painting. Most people assume he doesn’t have many hobbies besides gardening, but Nathan loves bringing his ideas to life on a canvas. He made all the artwork around his house, and he has gifted artwork to family and friends

Any bad habits that they have: Talking too much about death. Nathan has creeped out way too many people by rambling about his fascination with death and the ways people can die

Do they like being in pictures: Nathan’s camera shy, but his family and friends always drag him into the frame, so plenty of pictures of him exist

Is there anything they’re bad at: Socializing. Nathan didn’t have many friends growing up and preferred to keep to himself. He’s introverted and is nervous when meeting new people, so he usually leaves the socializing to his extroverted husband

Something that disgusts them: When someone coughs or sneezes and doesn't cover their mouth

That’s our snake-boi done; now let’s move on to his explosive, magic-loving rockstar husband, Oberon Douglas!

Oberon

What they smell like: Shea butter and oatmeal due to the moisturizer he uses for his burn scars. Also can smell like smoke if he’s recently been around an explosion

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc.): Unlike his husband, Oberon likes going to bed early and is a morning person. He sleeps on his stomach and sometimes his side because of the scars on his back and loves cuddling Nathan

What music they enjoy: Death metal, rock & roll, and Jazz

How much time they spend getting ready every morning: Thirty minutes because he has to apply his scar treatment cream and moisturizer every morning

Their favourite thing to collect: Lighters

Left or right-handed: Taught himself to be ambidextrous after sustaining burns to his right hand

Religion (if any): Agnostic

Favourite sport: Football (soccer) and archery

Favourite touristy thing to do when travelling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc.): Learning about a place’s culture and getting to experience it in-person

Favourite kind of weather: Autumn, specifically October, because it is, and I quote, “spooky season”

A weird/obscure fear they have: Not a weird fear, but Oberon is afraid he won’t be able to protect the people he loves. He nearly lost his husband and son and, ever since, fears the day he won’t be able to keep them or the rest of his family and friends safe anymore

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: Shooting games. This man has accuracy!

And lastly, Natheron’s baby snake Avi!

Avi

What they smell like: Vanilla and chai because his soap is vanilla scented, and Nathan’s second favourite drink is chai, so there’s a pot of it being brewed at some point during the day

How they sleep (sleeping position, schedule, etc.): Avi goes to bed early and isn’t a morning person like his father, Nathan. Avi curls up into a tight ball under his sheets and always has at least one stuffie with him to help keep away his nightmares and like listening to soft music to put him to sleep

What music they enjoy: Children’s music and anything his fathers play or sing, especially if it's Oberon

How much time they spend getting ready every morning: About 15 minutes with the help of one of his dads. If they let him do it alone, it would take 20-30 minutes

Their favourite thing to collect: Snow globes. Avi loves shaking them and watching the snowfall. He has them in many designs and themes, and his favourite ones are snow globes that also play music

Left or right-handed: Left

Religion (if any): Avi doesn’t follow any religions. His parents are waiting to let him decide when he's older if he would like to join a religion or not

Favourite sport: Football (soccer) and American football. He likes playing the first with his Dad Oberon and the second with his Uncle David Jones

Favourite touristy thing to do when travelling (museums, local food, sightseeing, etc.): Collecting souvenirs/postcards and taking pictures

Favourite kind of weather: Rain. Avi loves wearing his raincoat, boots and carrying an umbrella. His favourite part about when it rains is jumping into puddles

A weird/obscure fear they have: Like Oberon, not a weird fear, but Avi is scared to lose his family and friends, especially his dads. He already went five years thinking Oberon was dead, and while he was happy when he came back, Avi is afraid to lose him again or to lose his other dad…

The carnival/arcade game they always win without fail: Racing arcade games like Mario Kart

And thus concludes my weird headcanons for the Pandit-Douglas family!

[lookbluesoup]

I think something that gets overlooked a lot in the nuance of whether people are supposed to comment/interact with people's fics and art is that... enjoying interaction and being motivated by it is not the same as being utterly destroyed and depressed by a lack of interaction. Lemme talk about how the kudos-craze affected me, personally.

Before anyone pulls out the "oh you're just such'n'such kind of writer you don't know what it feels like to be on the other side" I have been both an obscure writer with little engagement and one that was big enough to get multiple pieces of gift art/fics for my ocs.

This was the kind of stuff I got for my Fallout fics back in the day:

This is what I've been getting on my FFXIV stuff:

So... yes. It's been an adjustment changing fandoms to one that is arguably much bigger and finding I'm getting much less interaction.

Initially, back in the Fallout fandom, I was writing very personal stories, just for me, and then sharing them with people online in case they resonated with others. Getting interaction now and then was nice. And this worked great. I was writing because I enjoyed the process, connected with the characters, wanted to know what would happen next.

But as I got more and more attention, I ended up feeling a LOT of pressure to perform. And I ultimately spent so much time staring at my open drafts, worrying about whether I was writing something other people would like because I was so afraid of disappointing my followers, that I couldn't actually write anymore or enjoy creating.

That's one of those points where wanting kudos/comments/etc becomes unhealthy, and you need to take a step back from it.

I've had a lot of therapy since then. I've built some stronger, healthier relationships with people I trust, and don't feel that pressure as much anymore because I have a more stable sense of self worth. I'm not perfect about it, but I'm learning.

I think it's often brushed over by people who are in the kudos-dont-define-you camp (it even was by me, for many years), but, yes, we tell stories because we want attention. We want to reach people. Even if we have a strong internal sense of self and aren't insecure about whether there's interaction on our fics... most of us, I think, are still posting in hopes our words reach someone else, even if we don't ever know for sure that they did. I even met my now partner of two years through fic, and the wonderful comments he left on my Ao3. So I'm the last person who should be dissing the incredible power stories have for connecting people.

It should also be noted, however, that using "number go up" as a way to get happiness and motivation is scientifically proven to be harmful to creativity. They did studies with children where kids were given points for reading books, the more books they read the more points they got, and they would be rewarded for points milestones. But when that study ended, and the points system was removed? Even the kids who used to read for fun before the challenge stopped reading. Because their brains had been trained, very quickly, to be reward motivated rather than to just enjoy reading for its own sake. They didn't enjoy something they used to like anymore, and that's extremely sad.

Social media capitalizes on this, basically addiction behavior, and as creators we do need to be aware of how our brain works. It's so, so easy to fall into the mindset where writing or drawing is only worth it if we're getting flower petals back, and to end up trapped in a place where we can't even create for ourselves anymore. The goalpost is always moving, in this situation, because we're always comparing our numbers to others, or to previous posts, or just saying its not enough to hurt ourselves and always needing more. It doesn't end up being about the quality or the sincerity of the interaction.

So while it's good, completely ok, to want comments, kudos, reblogs, whatever, and to enjoy getting them, and to be motivated by them... if not getting them is causing you to spiral into disappointment and depression to such an extreme degree that you don't even like your own stories and characters anymore, consider, without shame, whether your brain has been tricked into equating numbers with self-worth.

I wish people would stop using shame as a bludgeon, though I understand there's a lot of frustration on both sides, too, and that's valid. But attacking people who are too nervous to comment on fics, and attacking people who want comments and to connect with people, are both not going to solve anything. They'll just create defensiveness and hurt.

I have seen some people say they don't even read fics anymore because they don't always have the energy to leave a thoughtful comment afterwards and they feel stressed about not giving anything to the author. So they don't read the author's writing at all because they can't do it the "correct" way. A lot of posts demanding comments and holding updates for fics hostage have hurt readers and added anxiety to the process of even taking part in fandom, and that's not healthy either. I'd much rather someone be able to read my fic, enjoy it, and say nothing to me. Because that way someone did still get to enjoy it.

While I love getting interaction, nice comments can have me smiling for days or months or years, and have allowed me to meet some incredible people, I'll continue to preach that comments and kudos are never an obligation. Readers don't have to interact with my stuff, and they don't have to give me a reason why. There's a lot of reasons why people don't leave those and most of them are benign.

[donnerpartyofone]

I had a dream that I had gotten heavily into a (fictional) indie rock band with a lot of thoughtful, poignant lyrics about life and relationships and stuff. I was telling people, "I don't usually listen to anything like this, but this is so good, it's my new favorite thing!" In reality I haven't listened to anything like that in years.

I started removing myself from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff during and after my Very Abusive Relationship, which semi-permanently alienated me from most forms of sentimental, romantic media--ESPECIALLY media that romanticizes destructive obsessions and shitty behavior, which is practically all media as you may have immediately realized. That stuff used to be fun before I actually lived through it and realized that it's always about infantile egomania and that I actually hate people who have to hurt others in order to feel like they have the slightest shred of efficacy/value/relevance in their own narrow little lives (which is a surprising number of people btw). The /bad romance/ thing seems so monolithic, like the biggest most desirable thing in the world, until you get right up close with your nose to it and you realize it's made out of particle board and vinyl siding and it has to be that big to cast an obscuring shadow over a whole lot of adult babies (sorry, adult baby community, I actually don't mean you) who are hoping you won't notice how spineless and pathetic they are. Spending a few years with someone who made it his business to scare the shit out of me and try to ruin my life, fairly publicly, had the one-two punch of making me feel like I simply wasn't good enough to be in one of those dark and brooding romances because otherwise why would he try to convince me I was nothing--and conversely, leaving me totally disillusioned about dark and brooding romances because I had been up close and seen how the sausage was made and it's not remotely as exotic and delicious as people try to tell you it is. It's just off-brand baby food, left on the shelf long past its expiry.

Right after that was over another factor pulled me away from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff, which was working in an open-plan office next to the tech guy pool. Us sensitive, artistic nerds in the production department had a pretty high-stress job that required constant focus, and we were pretty much only ever noticed by the overlords if one of us screwed something up; we were constantly being monitored not just for poor performance, but for potential political incorrectness or any little thing that could be construed as an HR problem--and in the meantime, the tech guys were literally screaming misogynistic jokes and racial slurs and throwing shit at each other, sometimes hitting us or our computers, but the executives had this hypnosis telling them that tech guys are Valuable so everything they do is OK forever. One of my main coping mechanisms was to get heavily into metal and harsh noise: anything with a cathartically brutal wall-of-sound quality and no discernible lyrics to speak of, that prevented me from having to hear anyone around me or even think about other people and their emotions. This kind of music became a huge passion for me, so in a way it was a net positive experience.

Nowadays I don't have a lot of time for music, which seems crazy even to me, like I don't want to be one of those sociopaths who say they don't listen to music! I just have to spend a LOT of time watching movies, when I have time for A/V entertainment, and I don't drive or have a commute anymore, so that's pretty limiting. When I do have time for music, it's a weird 7-10 split of trashy hype dance music like Atari Teenage Riot or Rob Zombie (or other things I'm too embarrassed to mention atm) to burn off my anxiety and give me a temporary ego boost that I can feel ashamed of later, and on the other hand, really heady, long ambient or experimental compositions, preferably with no vox. I think I'd like to get more into jazz and classical music and I occasionally go down a youtube rabbit hole that I really enjoy, but not much sticks because it turns into information overload and I get distracted.

Sometimes for whatever neurotic reason I have this allergic reaction to our collective preciousness about Human Drama, like why don't we have anything better to think about? There's some Herzog quote, I won't know how to find it, where he wonders why people always make movies about interpersonal problems, why not the drama of insect life, of cellular activities, of geological metamorphosis? And I really feel that way, often. But for some reason I am now dreaming that I've found some thoughtful, poignant indie rock band with lyrics about life and relationships and stuff that I cannot get enough of and I'm telling the world. I wonder what shifted to make me imagine that.

[h-worksrambles]

Sonic Superstars is low-key looking to be exactly what I’ve been wanting from the series since 2017. Mania was everything I loved about the Classic Sonic formula in one refined package and quickly became a personal favourite. But I’ve been dying to see more mechanical expansion and evolution on that formula. The recent Triple Trouble fan remake has proven that you can do more to develop this style further. And Superstars looks to be offering those exact shake ups. And this is not to disparage any of the 3D games or the later titles in the series. But Classic Sonic is still my favourite style of Sonic and I think it still has more potential.

Visually it also looks very pleasing. The classic visuals and character designs are still my favourite look for the series and its cast and (much as I will always love 2D spritework) this seems to do a very good job translating that into 3D in a way we got a taste of back in Generations. And I’m REALLY excited about co-op. Kid me has been fantasising at the idea of 2D Sonic co op ever since I played Rayman Origins and it proved fast paced co op platforming CAN work. And this looks to offer precisely that PLUS playable Classic Amy (ok I know Origins Plus will have her too but still). Plus, the inclusion of Nack/Fang gives me hope that Sonic Team will finally take advantage of the Classic/Modern Sonic split to really dig into some of the more obscure stuff from the series’ early years. Ray and Mighty in Mania Plus was an excellent start and I hope this is the sign of more.

I think the biggest factor of whether this game will work is gonna be the controls and level design. That will decide if this either a worthy successor to Mania or another Sonic 4 situation. But I’m certainly keeping my fingers crossed.

As much as 2022 was a big year for Sonic, it was also one that left me kind of disconnected from it. Frontiers, while I’m glad was a financial and critical success, changed the series in a lot of ways that didn’t really work for me, and honestly the piece of Sonic media I liked the most that year was probably the second movie. But after Murder of Sonic the Hedgehog reminded me that I’m still really attached to this series’ characters, this feels like a promise that the gameplay I love in this series hasn’t gone away even if the franchise continues evolving.

Suffice to say I’m very excited for later this year.