#EDIT: fixed the tag list i think my bad!

[emchant3d]

Final part of Eddie forgetting about Valentine's day!! Part 1 Part 2

Thank you to everyone who's had a kind word to say about this, I hope the ending does it justice!

Eddie doesn’t know how fast he drives, just that he gets to Steve’s place in record time. The big house is quiet, Steve’s car the only one on the driveway.

All the lights are off, and yeah, it’s kind of late, but Steve is almost always up later than this. But even his bedroom window is cast in shadow, and something about it makes Eddie’s heart twist in his chest. 

He slams the van door behind himself and runs up the walkway, almost colliding with the front door when he reaches it. He beats on it, knocking hard enough that he knows the sound will echo through the empty house and up those grand stairs and right into Steve’s room, and he prays to anything that’s listening that Steve will come down and meet him.

“Steve!” he yells, like it isn’t late as fuck and Steve doesn’t have neighbors. “Stevie, baby, come on!” 

He feels frantic, like he’s going to die if Steve doesn’t get this door open in the next ten seconds. 

“STEVE,” he shouts again, slamming his fist into the door, right before it’s ripped open in front of him and he almost goes ass over teakettle through the doorway.

“Eddie, what the fuck?” Steve asks, frantic as he catches Eddie with a hand around his bicep, pulling him into the house and closing the door behind them. He flicks the locks one-handed because the other is holding the nail bat in the kind of absent grip that tells Eddie he wasn’t sure he’d really need it, but he was going to be prepared just in case. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you have the bat?” Eddie asks, like that’s what he should be focusing on, and Steve gives him a bewildered look.

“You’re knocking my door down in the middle of the night, why wouldn’t I have the bat?” And yeah, okay, fair, but Steve sets the thing down next to the front door and Eddie closes the distance between them. “I need to get you a key, that way next time you show up outta nowhere you don’t wake the whole neighborhood - uh–” Eddie takes Steve’s upper arms in a tight grip, interrupting him. “Eds?” Steve asks, looking at him, and shit, Steve looks too fucking cute when he’s confused. His thick brows are furrowed, lips turned down, big eyes all wide - and that’s when Eddie notices how red they look.

Bloodshot, a little swollen, like Steve’s been rubbing at them in that harsh way he does. He hates crying, feels humiliated when it happens, and Eddie’s been a witness more than once to the way he’ll bury his fingers in his eyes like they’ve personally offended him.

He’s pale, a little shaky, now that Eddie’s really looking, lips bitten red and sore.

He doesn't need to ask what's wrong. He's uncomfortably, acutely aware of what's wrong. Instead, he reaches up, laying his hand along Steve's jaw to smooth his thumb over his cheek. 

"Sweetheart," he says, and Steve glances away, gaze avoiding Eddie's. "I'm so sorry."

“Skip what?” This isn’t what he expected at all. He thought he’d get here and Steve would be angry, would be yelling. He thought he’d get chewed out, possibly broken up with, was catastrophizing the whole way here.

"For what?" Steve’s trying to keep his voice light, trying to keep it casual, but he reaches up and wraps his hand around Eddie's wrist, thumb pressing at his pulse point like it's his own lifeline.

"Honey, I know what I did now. We don't have to act like I didn't royally fuck up Valentine's day." Steve winces.

"Oh god," he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his face roughly. He paces a few steps away, looking absolutely mortified. "I was really hoping we could skip this." Eddie follows him with his eyes, lost.

“The part where you realize and we, like, talk it out.” Steve gestures between the two of them. “We don’t need to do this. It’s not a big deal.” He says it like he’s repeating something he’s said before, and Eddie’s heart sinks, wondering how often Steve has told himself that very sentence tonight.

“It is a big deal,” Eddie says cautiously. Steve opens his mouth to protest, but Eddie cuts him off. “You’ve been miserable for days, Steve, that’s a big deal.” Steve actually rolls his eyes, and Eddie barely bites his tongue.

“We can just move past this, though,” Steve insists, and Eddie approaches him slowly, like a spooked animal. Steve’s shoulders jump to his ears, but he doesn’t bolt away, and Eddie takes that as a win.

“What if I don’t want to move past it?” he asks, and Steve flushes an embarrassed pink, eyes darting around like he’s looking for an escape route. 

He sniffles, raises his hand to pinch his nose, and mumbles, “Please,” halting and quiet, “let’s just let it go.”

“But why?”  Eddie asks, and Steve makes an angry little sound.

“Cause it doesn’t matter!” he snaps. Eddie reaches out then, snagging Steve’s hand and pulling him in close. 

Steve fights him for two seconds before suddenly slumping against him, and Eddie sighs in relief, wrapping his arms around his baby and holding him tight. Steve gives a shuddery little breath, and Eddie lets him hide his face in his shoulder, turning his head to kiss his temple.

“It does matter,” he says fiercely. “Sweetheart, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I hurt you.” Steve makes a quiet, protesting sound, and Eddie shushes him. “Let me apologize to you, you absolute brat,” he says, and Steve snorts a little laugh. “I’m gonna make it up to you,” Eddie promises. “I mean it. And I’m never going to forget about it again, I fucking swear, okay? I’m gonna get February 14th tattooed on my fucking face, I swear to God.” Steve finally laughs, a breathless, squeaky little thing, and Eddie smiles, pulling back. 

“Please don’t tattoo your face,” Steve mumbles, looking at Eddie with a crooked little grin. The expression reaches his eyes for the first time in days, and something in Eddie unwinds at the sight. 

“What, you don’t want me to ruin the moneymaker, huh?” he asks, and Steve laughs again, rolling his eyes. There’s some levity in the air, and finally, the frantic pace of Eddie’s heart slows. "Sweetheart," he says softly, because this is important, because this is on him and no one else but he can't not ask,  gentle and imploring and cupping Steve's flushed cheek to trace the shine of pink on his skin, "why didn't you say anything?" Steve's eyes flick away from his.

"It's stupid," he says, and Eddie frowns.

"What is?" And just like that Steve’s back to being annoyed, shifting in Eddie’s hold. He loosens his arms, watching as Steve starts pacing again. He walks closer, steadily closing the distance as Steve rambles.

"Being this upset! It's just - it's just a stupid day, right, like, we don't need a particular day to show that we love each other, it's commercialized and overdone and dramatic and it's stupid to be upset that you forgot one little day when objectively you're, like, fantastic. So I didn't want to say anything because it's dumb to be so worked up and make a big deal out of it and I need to just get over it--"

Eddie kisses him quiet. Maybe it's rude, but he knows when Steve gets going like this, works himself up, he'll talk in circles for ages. It's a mostly-endearing quality he's picked up from Robin, but Eddie knows sometimes Steve needs him to catch him before he spirals too far.

"No," he murmurs softly in the space between them when they part, lips still brushing one another's. "You do not need to just get over it." Because Eddie gets it, now.

Yeah, it's about the holiday. Steve is upset and hurt and Eddie feels like a total fucking asshole, and he's going to grovel for the rest of his life if that's what it takes. But this isn't just about Valentine's day.

"I'm being ridiculous," Steve insists. Eddie shakes his head, and Steve makes a frustrated sound. "I am. It is. It's stupid. I'm - I'm stupid–”

"Hey," Eddie says, and it's a little sharper than he means, but it works because Steve goes quiet, and the look he gives Eddie about breaks his heart all over again.

It's not about Valentine's day.

Steve is so, so used to not being taken seriously. To being dismissed. To being told to just get over it when he's upset, to being minimized, to the things that matter to him being framed as dumb or unimportant.

As stupid.

He's the strong one. The tank, made to take the hits and keep moving. He shouldn't have wants or desires. He's the caretaker, makes sure everyone is looked after, ensures they have anything they could ever want, goes out of his way to get it for them.

And he's shit at doing the same for himself.

"It's just a stupid day," Steve insists, but his eyes are wet and his voice is catching and he sniffles.

"Oh, honey," Eddie whispers, and Steve cracks, tears spilling over the edges of his red eyes and running down his pretty face. “Oh, sweetheart, come here. I’ve got you.”

They end up on the couch, Eddie holding Steve tight and whispering his apologies into his hair as his baby clings to him. 

“It’s not stupid,” he tells him softly. “You aren’t stupid. You’re allowed to want things, Stevie. You’re allowed to expect these things. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t give you what you deserve.” He repeats his promises and doesn’t let the guilt eat him alive because he might not have been there when Steve wanted him, but he’s here now, and that has to count for something, he knows it does.

He’s here holding this beautiful boy as he cries and he dries his face with the soft sleeves of his sweater, whispering to him that he loves him, that he’s here, that he’ll make it better.

And Steve believes him, thank fucking God. Steve trusts in him, is looking at him with soft, hooded eyes, is pressing his mouth to Eddie’s and nipping at his lips and clinging to him. He’s letting Eddie strip him bare, letting him press him into the couch, letting him make love to him until he’s crying for an entirely different reason, clutching at Eddie’s back and gasping his pleasure into his throat. 

And that weekend Eddie brings his baby flowers, a stuffed bear, a necklace with a delicate silver chain and a small E hanging from it to join with the guitar pick that Steve has long ago claimed. He plays him the song he’d written for him, gives him the cherry chocolates, tells him over and over how much he loves him, and shows him in every way he can think of.

And through it all Steve keeps that sweet smile, and Eddie just knows he’s going to be spending the rest of his life keeping that look on his baby’s face.

Tag list! I'm very sorry if I've missed anyone!

 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zerokrox-blog @m-owo-n @honhonbaguettegofuckyourself @bejeweledbaby @snapshotmaestro @ineffablecolors @uwujinniee @munsonsduchess @avacrebs @estrellami-1 @huskysarelife @afewproblems @messrs-weasley @bitchysunflower @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @nvybloo @unclewaynemunson @valecitainwonderland @megaweird-2-point-0 @resident-gay-bitch @disasterlia @iwouldsail @tinynebula @ilsewrites @umjamlam @booksandsience @xtkxkrzrizir @trikigirl271 @mistlafey @bornonthesavage @baron-zemo-trash @beckkthewreck @a-random-nerd @bela-valdis @goodolefashionedloverboi @em9515 @newtstabber @callmesirkay @ohwelsh

[starlight-library]

slip (stream) into my heart | CL16 (sm au pt. 2)

pairing: charles leclerc x streamer!reader

summary: a certain ferrari driver has taken a liking to a certain streamer and sees his chance to finally start chatting with them (pt. 2)

warnings: fluff, swearing (positive)

fc: none!

a/n: the parts will be labeled as past and current streams!

past stream | current stream

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, carlossainz55, and 6,084 more

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view all 605 comments

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yourusername posted a story

↳ landonorris still think you’d have more fun in mclaren 🥱

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↳ charles_leclerc lunch already?

yourusername more like brunch, forgot to eat breakfast this morning… 😬 charles_leclerc y/n! yourusername it’s fiiiine i’m getting food now charles_leclerc well, that’s good. making new friends? yourusername nope, just at my own table editing charles_leclerc well that’s a bit…you know what, i’ll have lunch with you yourusername oh it’s fine! i don’t mind sitting by myself charles_leclerc you’re my guest, i insist. and where are my manners! xx-xx-xx-xx, signal can be bad at times so just text me yourusername okay! see you soon 🥰

tag list: @emryb

[guardian-angle22]

Happy to present to y'all this 911LS fic list for stories related to one of my favorite episodes 3.13 Riddle of the Sphynx! I try to make these as comprehensive as possible, so if you have any you think I missed, let me know so I can add them. (I also might make edits to these posts to add more fics as they get written. If I ever do so I'll be sure to reblog the post for visibility!)

Enjoy all of our amazing fandom writers and leave them some comments & love!

[Disclaimers: • If you're an author and don't like to be tagged or linked for any reason, let me know and I'll remove the tag and make sure not to do so in the future, no questions asked. • I usually post TWs in rec lists. Due to the episode subject matter, assume all of these have a TW for discussion of addiction/drug use and possibly discussion of parent death/grief.]

◆ Heard the risk is drowning by @paperstorm (Words: 15.3 K; Rating: M)

A tag for 3x13, "Riddle of the Sphynx", in which Carlos combats his own insecurities as TK tries to heal.

◆ Chasers by @carlos-in-glasses (Words: 13.4K; Rating: E)

After 3x13 – while TK is alone with Cooper, Carlos is alone with his thoughts. Both recall times they’ve chased the next high, other men, or each other. When Carlos arrives home, TK still has something important to say – and it's something he didn’t tell Cooper.

◆ trying my best by @reyescarlos (Words: 10.3K; Rating: M)

An exploration of TK's sobriety journey from 2017 to now. Or, a season 3 coda spanning 3x08-3x13

◆ You Showed me How it feels to Truly be Seen by @ramblingdisaster73 (Words: 3K; Rating: T)

Carlos works through the events of 3x13 "The Riddle of the Sphinx".

◆ Measure of a Man by @chicgeekgirl89 (Words: 1.8K; Rating: T)

“I want to be everything you need. That I can’t be, it hurts, T.K. It feels like a failure on my part. And as much as I’m trying to accept it, it’s hard.” A 3x13 coda in which Carlos struggles with a new definition of being "enough."

◆ I'll be here all the same by @strandnreyes (Words: 4.8K; Rating: G)

“I am glad you have someone you can talk to who can maybe do a better job at fixing things,” Carlos insists before dropping his eyes to their tangled together fingers. “All I want is for you to be okay.”It’s not surprising to hear, but it hits as if it was. That really is the root of this whole thing. As much as Carlos wants to do what he can to be the person to get TK to that place, at the end of the day all he really wants is for TK to get there.“I will be.”Or, three late night conversations following the events of 3.13

◆ Trigger by comes2gusu (Words: 4.7K; Rating: T)

TK is struggling with his newly found sobriety. After being triggered at an NA meeting, Cooper takes TK for omelets

◆ this love we carry by @thevenstar (Words: 7.6K; Rating: T)

A 3x13 coda in which Carlos has a conversation with a friend, puts his heart to rest, and learns that walking away does not mean surrender.

◆ Those Pieces by @taralaurel (Words: 7.3K; Rating: M)

"I, I'm not telling you all - this - so you can fix me," TK huffs a hot breath against Carlos' chin, "or save me or really, do anything, okay?" Carlos nods against TK's forehead. TK has done a lot of things in his life to deserve the bad that has happened to him. He has no idea what good he's done to deserve Carlos. Coda to 3x13

◆ the one i want by @chaotictarlos (Words: 2K; Rating: E)

TK gets Carlos to take his shirt off.

◆ i want you to unravel me by @reyescarlos (Words: 4.2K; Rating: E)

In the aftermath of the strain that's fallen over them, TK and Carlos bridge the gap with open conversation that brings them closer together, both emotionally and physically. [3x13 coda]

◆ Just Wanna Breathe by @theoceanismyinkwell (Words: 1.9K; Rating: G)

Carlos doesn’t dare look at him for long, knowing that his eyes have always been the window to his soul, the weakest part of his body, unveiling everything in the well of truths he’s kept a lid on for years and years. His family may not be able to read him as well as he feared for the decades he was in the closet, but TK has a way of crashing into his life with a formidable gentleness and a piercing understanding that unmoors him in every possible way.And that’s precisely what TK is doing now, keeping the warmth of his palms flush against the beating of Carlos’ skin, cradling his face, forcing them both to gaze into each other’s eyes and face each other’s unspoken terrors without flinching.TK sounds like he has a lump in his throat. “I’m going to say something, and I want you to listen to me and I want you to remember it.”---Or: What happens when Carlos comes back home after TK's talk with Cooper, and the confessions that spill out after.

◆ waiting on the sidelines by @morganaspendragonss (Words: 1.5K; Rating: T)

They’d promised each other no more secrets, and while Carlos rationally knows that these aren’t exactly secrets, there’s still this grain of resentment inside of him that scratches away with every beat of his heart. It’s something he can’t let show in front of TK ever again, which is why he’s here, outside Owen's house while TK and Cooper talk in the loft.If anyone’s going to understand what he’s feeling, it’s Owen Strand.

◆ Three Weeks In by @masterroadtripper (Words: 3K; Rating: T; TW: self-harm)

It’d been three weeks since Sadie had drugged them - nineteen days since TK started a ninety-day NA sobriety program at the local Synagogue and eleven days since Carlos had met Cooper for the first time - before Carlos realized that there was something else TK wasn’t telling him.

◆ What We Need by Ehm (Words: 3.1K; Rating: T)

"You okay, bud?" Cooper startled him out of his thoughts and he let go of the spoon with a clinking noise. He straightened up, embarrassed. "Sorry, I zoned out." "I can see that," Cooper sounded vaguely amused. "You wanna talk about it?" --- Three times TK has a conversation with Cooper, and one time he talks to Carlos. Or, 3x13 and beyond from TK's point of view.

◆ Nocturne by @sanctuaryforalluniverses (Words: 735; Rating: T)

Carlos comes home. (Post-ep for 3x13)

◆ Precious Love by @rmd-writes (Words: 11.6K; Rating: M)

This is five times TK thinks he doesn’t deserve love and one time he knows he does – an exploration of TK’s relationship with love and self-worth.

◆ Inside a snow globe by @goodways (Words: 6.9K; Rating: E)

It isn’t until TK is on top, lavishing Carlos’ neck, stroking his hand up his side, that Carlos brings their faces together, barely a suggestion of a kiss between them. He holds TK’s jaw and keeps him close whilst he readies the question in his mind. He breathes out a straightforward and tempting, “fuck me,” over TK’s lips which silences the world outside their bedroom. TK’s response whenever he’s asked for this has few variations between immediate enthusiastic compliancy and the sweet reassurance he knows Carlos is dying for. The answer is always yes. - The evening after TK gets his one month sobriety chip.

◆ my home has been your heart since the day i met you by @lavendergiroux (Words: 1.8K; Rating: M)

After Carlos leaves Cooper and TK to talk, all they do is talk about him. When Carlos comes home - they are still talking about him.

◆ Deep Talks and Cuddles by raniaswritings (Words: 1.2K; Rating: T)

TK talks to Cooper and Carlos comes back home after a few hours

◆ “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” by @irispurpurea (Words: 1.1K; Rating: T)

Fictober 2022 Day 13 and 14. Prompts: “What are you doing?” “I don’t want you to do that.” “What are you doing?” Carlos looks up to find TK frowning at him from their bedroom. “I…” Carlos holds up the blanket in his hands, unsure what else to say. He thinks it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing. Then again, tonight has proven that he can’t do anything right, apparently, when it comes to TK.

◆ "It's your shirt..." by @lavendergiroux (Words: 780; Rating: M)

TK really didn't want to talk about it, he just really needed Carlos to claim him...

◆ sunkissed face by mooshkat (Words: 1K; Rating: T)

To show his appreciation, TK decides to make Carlos breakfast.

Spec Fics Written Prior to the Episode Airing/Canon Convergence:

◆ if the darkness comes, i'll stay by @doublel27 (Words: 3.2K; Rating: T)

“I had some things to do,” TK says, his stomach twisting. “Some things?” “Carlos, I texted,” TK reminds his boyfriend, because he did. “It’s fine.” “Is it?” Carlos asks, his voice dangerously calm. or TK comes home late for the third night in one week, and he and Carlos have a necessary confrontation. A speculative fic for 3x13.

◆ Caught by @littlemissmarianna (Words: 761; Rating: G)

“Who’s that?” Carlos doesn’t answer Mitchell’s question because he doesn’t know. There’s only a handful of people he can identify from the back, and this guy isn’t on the list. He has broad shoulders, though, and nice hair and is probably good-looking. Why else would TK be staring at him so intently?

◆ In Order to Get Back to Us by reyestrand (Words: 2.2K; Rating: G)

Carlos waits up for TK when he’s late coming home and they talk about the things they’re afraid to. - a 3x13 speculation fic

◆ still comparing your past to my future by @kiras-sunshine (Words: 17.4K; Rating: T)

Something else than the wallowing feeling of uneasiness, anxiety and hurt in the bottom of his stomach. All of it seems to have a chokehold on his heart and no matter what he tries to think about, his thoughts always go back to TK, to worry that keeps mixing in with everything, and the brightness of TK’s smile, the way the corner of his mouth curled up and his eyes shone, when he smiled at someone else than him.

[cuckoo-on-a-string]

Civilian Asset 3.

Polyamorous/femme/female reader x multiple

Summary: Things go from bad to worse.

Master List / Prev chapter

Warnings: 18+, Mild/brief self harm (over-washing), language, peril, first aid/wound care, discussion of terrorism, emotional break downs

Tagging: A couple folks have asked about tagging. Unfortunately tagging breaks my posts, so I don't keep lists. But I DO reply to each comment on each chapter when I post something new. So it's like a hand-written invitation delivered by butler to your inbox.

A/N: Thank you for your continued support! I hope you enjoy this chapter. Barely edited, but made with love. Keeping chapters short for quicker updates, so that Soap teaser I dropped will actually be in 4. My bad.

3.

You can’t think beyond my face hurts and I thought I died.

The men to either side have you packed in tight, shoulders pressing against yours, knees bumping with every sway and turn. All four of the soldiers keep their eyes on the passing landscape and the road leading through it. The men only speak to make note of potential tails, to confirm or deny the presence of new threats.

You left London a while back, and you’re in the patchwork of expanding towns spilling out beyond the green belt by the time you regain enough sense to notice.

You see very little. Fewer houses. More fields.

None of it really sinks in. The inside of the car smells like gun oil, sweat, and a coppery stink you know rises from your own clothes. Your own skin and hair and empty nail beds.

You let yourself disappear for a while. For maybe an hour, you let the static blanket your mind like snow. It’s like floating on the top of the lake, and if you break that surface tension, you’ll drown, so you let it blind your senses instead. So long as no one notices you, you don’t have to exist. You tell yourself it’s just for a minute, just for a bit, just until something else goes wrong and you have to remember pain, and fear, and whatever else makes up your life in the moment. The protective blur stretches on forever, and you lose track of time.

An itch pulls you back into your body. Eyes on you. Someone watching.

You glance up, and you meet death’s gaze in the rearview. There are eyes, but no face. Only a skull. For a brief instant you think of trying to jerk awake, like you would in a falling dream, because maybe the reaper isn’t real, unlike every other horror of the day. But then you notice the cloth beneath the bone and the military headgear.

It’s just a man in a mask, the one in the front passenger seat with the rifle you noticed as you piled in behind the Scotsman.

Skull-face blinks slowly, twice, confident you won’t look away while his eyes are closed, patiently enigmatic as a cat.

The SUV turns sharply onto a gravel track, and Skull-face turns back to the window, like he didn’t just stare you down through the mirror.

The uneven jolts as the tires dip into grooves and potholes drives away the last of the static. And you blink, eyes still on the mirror, trying to come to grips with reality.

What the actual fuck?

Around the bend, a farmhouse creeps into view. It sits low over the green turf, unassuming apart from old leaded windows that make it look too much like something out of a cottage core mood board for the situation. This isn’t a space for men with guns and tac vests.

But the man in the bucket hat taps on the brakes, nods, and says, “Ghost, Gaz: clear the house.” He doesn’t change gear. Doesn’t park. Even now, he’s ready for an ambush.

You don’t think the men who grabbed you were capable of thinking that far ahead. They did find the original safehouse, though, so maybe you should be a good civilian and keep those thoughts to yourself.

The Brit who clipped the zip ties off your wrists and helped you out of the warehouse pops out with a “Yes, sir.” So does the grim reaper up front. The doors slam shut again, and the two move in concert, guns raised, sights fixed on the windows and door as they approach. The man in the mask takes point, rushing through the door the instant his colleague turns the knob, and they disappear inside.

You’re uncomfortably aware of… everything. Your breath. The ants roving under your skin. The two men still in the car with you. It’s impossible to sit still, and you peer around your enclosure like a gerbil in a hamster ball – technically safe but in no control. The wind stirs the bushes at the edge of the driveway, and you imagine people behind them who move like your escorts. Cold. Efficient. And they’re already too close.

Your neck strains as you try to see through all the windows at once, struggling to catch a glimpse of doom before it drags you under.

“You broken?”

The leader, the man behind the wheel, must be addressing the Scot. It only registers he’s talking to you when you find said Scot watching you, too. There’s more room in the back now, but you still feel crowded and exposed in a horrible, nonsensical mess.

And – oh, right, the man is talking to you.

“Hey.” He doesn’t look through the mirror. He physically turns, arm over the back of the seat, so he can look you in the eye as he asks again, and his words come slow to your adrenaline-scoured brain. “Are you broken?”

You flounder. Puzzled. That… means what? You’re missing context. Is what broken? No bones. They didn’t – technically – hurt you that badly. Everything will fix itself in time. It could’ve been worse. You know that, even if in the moment all you want to do is sprint to the ends of the earth, find a blanket, and curl up in the darkest corner at the edge of the map.

Is he asking if you’re functional? If you can make it through debriefing?

That must be it.

And, fuck, you’d physically fight all four of them at this point if they tried to stop you from passing on the intelligence you’ve literally bled for.

“No.” You’re surprised by your own conviction (and how little your voice shakes). “Not broken.”

There’s an actual twinkle in his eye – and really, how dare he? – but his approval and the uptick of those bushy, bearded cheeks is the right kind of ridiculous in the moment. The Scot huffs beside you, but you don’t have the bandwidth for any more smirks, twinkles, or other bullshittery, so you keep your eyes forward and hope to fuck someone will tell you what to do. You can only hop between so many distractions before you miss a step and fall into a heaving mess on the floor.

“Good,” says Captain Fishing Hat. He turns back to the wheel just as Skull Face comes back.

The burly man signals, and as the boss finally turns off the engine, he opens the door and reports, “House is clear. Gaz is setting up for debrief.”

Gaz, then, must be the youngest Englishman. The Scot shifts, subtly ushering you out, and you scoot along as instructed, letting the men more or less herd you across the yard, through the door, into the kitchen. They keep their heads on a swivel, and that doesn’t help your nerves. Not at all. But they don’t give you time to stop and angst over it, either.

You find yourself in the kitchen, guided to one of four wooden chairs around a square table. It’s covered in tech. A black case sits open on one of the other seats, and the empty foam imprints inside match the boxes, cables, and laptop before you.

“Ready, Kyle?” Fishing Hat asks.

“Nearly, Captain,” Gaz replies. “Working on the connection now.”

So, Captain Fishing Hat is an actual captain. You aren’t shocked. Maybe in shock, but not surprised.

But as you sit where you’re told and watch the screen illuminate, a realization dawns on you. You won’t be debriefing to these men. Someone else at the other end of this connection is waiting for the whole story, and fear flutters to life in your gut like a startled pigeon. Loud, awkward, probably diseased.

What if you’ve misjudged all this? What if it’s a ploy? The enemy of your enemy is not always your friend, and the proper authorities aren’t the only ones hungry for the information you carry. Stiffening in your seat, you prepare for another fight, lifting the prickly guard you let drop as you knelt in the back of the SUV, clinging to the Scotsman’s tac vest.

Just as you’re glancing at the window over the kitchen sink and wondering if you jump high enough to break through the glass before any of the men grab you, a face appears on the screen, and the woman says your name.

You recognize her. Or at least her voice.

It’s the woman from the phone.

You physically droop against the back of the chair, gasping in relief.

Fuck. Fuck.

You’re going to be okay.

“Glad to see you in one piece,” she says.

“Me, too.” A rasp taints your voice, and you feel the phantom pressure of an arm crushing your trachea.

“Kate Laswell,” she introduces herself. “This is a secure line. Go ahead and tell me what you know.”

It’s easier than you expect. You’ve been thinking so much about everything you need to say, turning over pieces in your head, putting it into clearer words, ordering it by importance, that now it just flows. You lean forward, desperately ready to spill. But just because you’ve gathered everything into a coherent thread doesn’t make it any less painful to acknowledge. It’s like tugging up a string of barbed wire from your gut, pulling it out of your mouth inch by inch. You worry if you have to stop, the blades will lodge in your throat.

The woman is clearly a pro, though, and she saves her questions.

You list names first: people in American alphabet agencies with ties to a particularly violent white supremacist group. If there’s any chance they could be listening, she could end the call and try again in a secure location. But she must’ve guessed something was off when the official safehouse she sent you to was compromised. This time she’s prepared, and she lets you continue.

There’s a bomb, a new alliance with ultranationalists, someone named Makarov. It’s a test. To see if the American terrorists are as good as they say, if they’re worth Makarov’s investment. There’s a promise of more if they get the body count Makarov’s set (thousands).

The man whose blood you’ll always feel, slick between your fingers as you confused the thump of the nightclub’s base with your own pulse, kept his cover long enough to get the details of the attack. Date, location, time, target. He didn’t live long enough to give you more. He gave you what he thought was most important. You hope it’s enough. You hope it’s worth it.

Laswell thinks for a minute, then asks, “Did the men who kidnapped you indicate they knew how much of this information you possessed?”

“No. They, uh – that was the whole point, I think.” You lift you hand, so she can see the missing nails. “They wanted to know how compromised they were before they shot me.”

You say it so quickly it only clicks after it leaves your mouth. They were going to shoot you. You knew that, but away from the rough hands and zip ties it feels surreal. People like you don’t get shot. People like you have car accidents and a few too many fast food dinners for your general wellbeing. But the gun against your head was real. It’s a true thing that just happened, and that means people like you do get shot. Every safe, calm moment in your life looks like a lie, a skewed carnival mirror in retrospect.

People like you get shot.

People want to kill you.

You may still get shot. That’s why you’re in this safehouse with four heavily armed men.

Time isn’t the endless resource you imaged yesterday morning. It isn’t a solid path with clear, expected landmarks with which to gauge your progress. It’s ice, and the patch under your feet spiderwebs with ominous cracks.

You realize Laswell is speaking again.

“- handle the situation Stateside. Your current location is one of my private safehouses. Not on any list. Totally secure. I think it’s best to stay there and treat it as your base of operations for now, Captain.”

The captain, leaning over your shoulder to get in frame, nods. He’s too close without touching you, but no one’s indicated your part in this is finished. So you stay put.

“Rog,” he says.

“The attack is our chief priority, but closing the active cell in England and following their trail back to Makarov is a close second. I already have taps being set on a few of the names on that list.” Laswell says your name, and she clearly tries to soften her war face, but she’s all business right now. “I’m leaving you in the custody of the 141, under Captain Price.”

He gently claps you on the shoulder, like he’s assuming command. “Understood. Keep us in the loop, Kate.”

“Roger that. Keep your heads down. Stay safe. Over and out.”

The feed cuts out, Gaz – Kyle? – closes the laptop, moving the chaos out of the way as the Scotsman appears with a first aid kit. None of the soldiers leave space for an awkward pause. They all have a mission. Somewhere to be. Something to do.

The captain pulls a second chair up beside yours, meeting your gaze with another of his disarmingly charming smiles that crinkles at his eyes. As he and the Scot begin sorting through the kit, he says, “We’re overdue for introductions. Captain John Price.”

He holds out his hand, and you tentatively accept it in a piss poor handshake, but his smile doesn’t break, and he gestures at the Scotsman. “That’s Sergeant Johnny MacTavish, or Soap.”

The sergeant waves with a handful of cotton pads and disinfectant. He points into the corner, where Skull Face lurks. “Grumpy bastard in the corner’s Ghost. He’s a lieutenant. If you were curious.”

No one offers his real name, and you swallow down every question with a vengeance. The names make them seem real, concrete, and you seize the lifeline they’ve thrown.

You make eye contact with the last man, trying to prove you aren’t a sack of potatoes in human skin and have an actual, working brain between your ears. “And you’re Gaz?”

He smiles, reaching over the table to shake your hand in a way that makes you double down on your bet that he’s the youngest. Certainly the least jaded, even if he’s every bit the soldier the others are. “Sergeant Kyle Garrick, yeah.”

Ghost pushes off from the wall and heads back towards the front door. “I’ll take first watch.”

Whether he’ll be watching the road from a sniper’s perch or chilling by a window, you can only guess, but his captain gives him another nod, and off he goes. Sociable as an alley cat.

“Let’s see about that hand, then.” Calloused fingers rasp along the underside of your wrist as the captain lifts your hand into the light. He arranges it carefully on the table, keeping his touch gentle so you don’t feel the raw bands of irritated skin where the zip ties bruised you.

It isn’t like you’re resisting. The bloody nail beds don’t look right, and you’re struggling to believe they belong to you at all. There’s an experiment where people develop an artificial connection to and fear for an artificial hand. You feel like you’re in an opposite test. Your eyes say the hand on the table belongs to you, but it doesn’t feel that way. If the captain sawed it off instead of gingerly spraying antiseptic ointment over the exposed nerves, you might just shrug it off.

The bandages hurt, though.

The pain tugs at your gut, and you rejoin your whole body with a shudder. That hurts, too. You take a deep breath, and your stomach aches. Your free hand squeezes into a fist, and the scabs on your knuckles crack open. When tears flood your eyes, you can only imagine what new agonies they’d summon if you let them fall, so you blink furiously and pretend your eyelashes aren’t so wet they stick together.

As his captain finishes treating your hand, the Scot – MacTavish, Johnny, Soap, whatever the fuck you’re supposed to call him – takes a seat on the table, pinches your chin, and puts one of those little cleansing pads he’d been fussing with to work. It stings like a bitch, and you flinch despite your best efforts.

Still holding your chin, he angles your face up and blows over a series of cleaned scrapes on your cheek. The tiny breeze might as well be a hurricane. It knocks the soul from your body, and you go entirely still, befuddled.

“The fuck, Soap?” Gaz asks.

The Scot huffs, getting back to work with a fresh gauze pad, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “You’re supposed to blow on cuts,” he grumbles, like he’s trying to sound gruff to make up for the accidental sentiment. “So they don’t sting.”

It makes you want to smile. You can’t remember how right now, but maybe you’ll think back to this moment and smile about it later.

“Thanks,” you say instead.

Soap has not forgotten how to smile. “You’re welcome, bonnie. Let me put a butterfly plaster on this, and you’ll be fit as a fiddle again.”

A nice thought, and maybe true for a soldier like him, but every screaming inch of your body informs you this is a lie.

The captain taps your knee, pulling your attention back to the fading crinkles at the corners of his eyes. He lifts a finger and leads your gaze from side to side, leaning in close to see if your pupils are the same size. “Doesn’t look like you have a concussion. Are you hurt anywhere else? Any risk of internal bleeding? Cracked ribs?”

Gaz, seeing your confusion (because how the fuck would you KNOW if you were bleeding internally?) offers some helpful context. “Did they kick you in the stomach? Any sharp pains in your chest when you breathe?”

Did they kick you? You can’t really remember. Probably. It’s all a furious blur of motion and panic.

“I’m not sure.”

It’s the truth, but it’s a bad one. The captain nods as a wintery flash passes over Gaz’s face. “That’s all right. Let us know if you notice any unusual swelling or new pains, yeah?”

“Okay.”

One more big smile – a bit forced, definitely for show – lifts his whiskers, and he climbs out of his chair, pulling it out of your way.

Gaz steps up to lead you out of the kitchen. You feel like a football – always under someone’s control, being run by one teammate to the next. But what else is there to do to, really? You follow him up a narrow flight of stairs to a pokey hall on the second level. There are three doors, and the first you pass has three twin beds crammed inside. The second is smaller but only holds two beds. And the last door leads to a bathroom. Gaz, clearly used to safehouse etiquette, fishes a washcloth, towel, and little bar of soap out of the deep, dark depths of a cupboard too high for you to reach.

He sets them on the counter in a tidy pile and says, “You really shouldn’t get your bandages wet for forty-eight hours, but I bet you feel like hell. Washing up a little with just the sink might help.”

His big brown eyes fix on you, too soft and looking for some kind of confirmation you’re okay without getting in your face.

Are you broken?

Fuck. They’re all trying to make this normal. What happened isn’t their fault, and they’ve surely seen worse. They probably don’t have to babysit damaged goods after the fact very often, though. The least you can do is try to make this normal for them, too.

“Like a bus ran over me, backed up, and ran over me again.” You think for a minute and add: “Might’ve been some Nazgul, or cave trolls, or some other shit, too.”

The soldier snorts. A grin catches him by surprise and turns his whole face bright. The effort was definitely worth it.

“Tolkien? I like it.” As he moves out of the bathroom, he points at the smaller bedroom. “Take whatever bed in there you want. Since one of us will be on watch, we probably won’t need the other one. Give you a bit of privacy. Try to get some rest, yeah?”

You can’t imagine how you’ll fall asleep, but you act like his suggestion is as reasonable as it sounds.

“Of course.”

He leaves you alone.

You soak the washcloth in tepid water and peel off your shirt. There’s a countdown of little tasks in your head, ways to delay the inevitable. How long can you linger over the soap and cheap terrycloth? What if you just lock the door and keep wake sitting on the cold floor?

Then you notice your reflection.

You haven’t thought about what you look like. It’s less your face staring back and more a collection of hurts, and you struggle to find yourself through the bruises and bandages.

Everything aches, throbs, or stings. You’re so scared you want to smash your head into the counter just in case it’s like in the movies, and time rewinds, letting you wake up in bed at the hostel with a clear head and free day to play tourist. You know how to do that. Always going, doing, seeing. Always a task, a plan, an idea.

Now your hands are empty – apart from that one fucking piece of glitter you can’t get off between your thumb and forefinger. It winks in the light, and you scrub at it in a frenzy. You clean everything in a rush, too rough with your bruises, but you’re on the verge of a breakdown, and you don’t want to fall apart in anything resembling a public space.

It’s all been too much for too long.

You open the door carefully, peek up and down the hall, wary of minding eyes. Then you nearly trip over your own feet getting into the smaller bedroom.

Door shut.

Shoes off.

Everything else stays on, every layer between you and the world outside a blessing as you bury yourself alive under a stiff, scratchy blanket that probably came from a secondhand shop two decades ago. Your breath catches when you breathe in, like you’re choking on the stuff you need to live. The air bubbles out in gasps. Painful. On the verge of sobs. But that would be too loud. You must be quiet and still or something awful will find you again.

It's a good thing tears are silent. You soak the flat pillow with them, hiding in the dark under the covers.

Impossibly, you do sleep. It takes a while, but your body screams for rest, and it pulls you deep as you cry yourself out into nightmares of voices arguing just behind your head, and eyes that send beams of light around shadowed walls.

[writingquestionsanswered]

hello, do you perhaps wrote some tips on how to do self-proofreading? i mainly write fanfic for fun, but even so i want to give my best so i can look back at my writing and think that i've done all i can. i feel like i have to proofread my writing to achive that. but the thing is, i have a hard time staying objective. im afraid it will only worsen my draft. however, i can't also afford proofreading service. if you have written that topic before, please let me know. thank you! have a pleasant day.

Proofreading

It's important not to confuse proofreading and editing. In editing, you're finding and fixing big picture items like conceptual problems, structural issues, plot holes, loose threads, loose world building, weak character development, thematic incoherence, meandering narrative arc, wonky pacing and flow, etc.

Proofreading is about finding and correcting errors, such as typos, misspelled words, incorrect grammar, bad or missing punctuation, formatting errors, eliminating crutch words, improving consistency and clarity, cutting back on repeat words, limiting use of passive voice, and minimizing overuse of dialogue tags.

While editing is often subjective--what one persons considers to be a problem may seem fine to another person--proofreading is rarely subjective. Incorrect grammar is incorrect grammar. A typo is a typo. A spelling error is a spelling error.

Whether you're talking about editing, proofreading, or both, there are lots of free checklists for both that you can find online. These checklists provide an item-by-item list of things to watch out for. These can be really helpful when you're editing and when you're proofreading. With editing especially, it can help you stay a little more objective about things that need objectivity, like problems with pace and structure. They can also give you confidence that you've done everything you can in self-editing/self-proofreading. You can find these lists by Googling terms like "fiction editing checklist" or "fiction proofreading checklist."

Happy editing/polishing!

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[attemptingwarhammer]

Week #34: Doing Warhammer Badly

This isn't the best picture, but I like this picture of my current collection of Death Guard that I had chilling out on my bookshelf in my gaming area.

I don't have the biggest collection, I don't have the best collection, hell I don't even have the best painted collection, but it's my collection and I'm really happy with it so far. There are changes that I would definitely like to make and mistakes that I've made on certain miniatures that I would like to fix. However, at the end of the day I'm really happy with how much I've actually gotten painted in the 34 weeks that I have been painting regularly.

I certainly have not finished the entirety of my backlog, but I'm not that deep in unpainted plastic that I should feel shame of any kind. I definitely have quite the road ahead of me, but this journey has been really fun so far and I'm hoping that I improve with every continuing week.

We'll see how things go moving forward. Maybe I'll get to Golden Demon level in the future if I really stick to improving on my painting.

However, right now I'm still bad at this whole Warhammer thing. Especially with how many posts I've scheduled in the past that I either didn't finish editing because I was busy or I just didn't put any tags on the post so no one actually saw them, but hey I'm not trying to strive to be the next big Warhammer influencer I'm just posting my stuff so that I have somewhere to look back on my progress. I'm also really happy to have been able to enjoy this experience with my wife who's been incredibly supportive since day one of me starting the hobby. Even going so far as to join on the hobby with me.

Also, for those of your wondering at all, yes I did buy her more Wardogs. I'm honestly gonna need to by myself some more too if I was to ever run them in a list in the future.

Anyway, I like the title "Doing Warhammer Badly" so I think I might change my blogs name to that. Let me know what you think in particular.

EDIT: I've decided to go with "Attempting Warhammer" instead.

[darekasama]

Writeblr Interview Tag

Thank you for the tag, @sableglass!

Short stories, novels, or poems?

To read, all of the above. To write, I’m very good with journal articles and short stories but if left unchecked some of them might turn into giant novels.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, romance, adventure, but really anything that brings me into a world different from ours. Also I have a weakness for dragons and animals in general, so anything that tangentially involves them is on my radar.

Are you a planner or a “write as I go” kind of person?

I am trying really hard to be a planner! My first big story project crashed because I tried to write as I go, resulting in a mess of scenes with the same ideas in five different pages at the same time (including the backside of hundreds of drawings) and too many re-starts to count. Lots of re-writing that didn’t fix the core issues, and ultimately more material added to the chaos. It did not work out.

My current WIP, Project TL, is going at a slower pace, but this time I made sure to organise everything from the start so it’s actually pretty neat and I have no trouble navigating my files or editing!

What music do you listen to while writing?

Sometimes it’s a song, sometimes just music, sometimes ambient sounds. Genre doesn’t matter either, as long as it is appropriate to the scene. In general terms, if the song/music reminds me of good memories, then it is on my list.

For a while I listened to BTS, then to a piano cover of Heaven Official’s Blessing, then to the  lo-fi hip-hop radio. It really, really varies.

Favorite books/movies?

I love all of Licia Troisi’s books, but especially the Chronicles of the Emerged World trilogy. I grew up with her books!

As for movies I think the LOTR movies could be my favourite.

Any current WIPs?

One! In short, Project TL is about dudes, drama and dinosaurs.

What happens if the mentor isn’t there to guide the young noble boy? Very avoidable teenage adventures of course! From getting his nose into the local drama to exploring dangerous forests, all while trying to find some great treasure to bring home. Also, a possible romance with his roommate (who can shapeshift into a dinosaur for reasons you’ll have to read later to know)...

If someone were to make a cartoon out of you what would your standard outfit be?

^ Something of the sort, I suppose. My wardrobe is very basic.

Create a character description of yourself: 

I'm shy! My drawings are all you'll get :P

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Not really. Some aspects of people yes, but the people themselves are a big no-no. I prefer detaching the real person from the behaviour of a fictional character. I don’t even like to use names of people I know in stories.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Sometimes I put them in very dangerous situations, but I actually prefer when they get out of them. Killing my darlings feels very bad. I want them to live happily, or to at least get a happy ending. They do deserve it.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

In the winter, tea! This year I found a very nice tea shop and got many different flavours to try. Some were a hit and some less so, but I'm pretty excited to start drinking again hot stuff once summer is over!

In any season other that winter, water and fruit juice. This girl does not have what it takes to drink sparkly water.

Slow or fast writer?

Slooooooow! I like to edit a lot. Althought English is not my first language, I feel like I got the grasp on ho to make a sentence flow well.

Where/who/what do you draw inspiration from?

A lot comes from knowledge I acquired over the course of my life. Often I ask myself how a situation could go differently, or why things have to be a certain way. Then boom, a story is born. Most of them last a short few minutes while others make it to the end of the day. Only a handful stay with me for a lifetime, and those I hold very dearly.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Let me be a cat! They have the perfect life literally in any world. Eat fancy (or not), lounge in the sun for hours, strut around the town, climb high places and even get loved for just meowing. I wish my life was like that.

Most fav book cliche:

Saving the damsell in distress. Does not have to be literal, but I love it when someone in trouble gets a helping hand!

Least favorite cliche:

Miscommunication. Please just talk to each other!!!!

Favorite scene to write?

Quiet moments together. Comfortable in each other’s presence, maybe joking a little, maybe opening up about what they really think… So many possibilities in a simple stress-free interaction.

Also cuddles and physical closeness in general.

Reason for writing?

I must release my visions into this world.

Tag list (because I think you are all cool people):

@mr-orion @glitched-dawn @silentstaresfanficandfanart @theverumproject @uraniumwriting @princefluph @xenascribbles @wordsandwordsbyme @shenaniganssketched @creative-author @thedeerwight

[princesscolumbia]

Ranma 1/2 Thoughts, Meta Edition

I have consumed...a lot of Ranma 1/2 content.

I mean, this is kinda what happens when you're a repressed transgirl who discovers the manga a year into a marriage that you got into to "fix" being trans and be "a real boy" in a desperate bid to fill the hole that you wouldn't learn for two decades could only be filled by living as your true self.

I've encountered precisely four (4) types of Ranma 1/2 fans in that time:

Transwomen who see Ranma as their idealized expression of the gender experience ("I'm not like this because I want to be, it's a curse. A curse that gives me a smokin' hot body and HUGE tits! But it's tooootally a curse, for realsies! I'll find a cure any day now, see how hard I'm looking? I'm trying sooooo hard to find a cure...")

Transmen who see Ranma as their perfect representation of their gender experience ("I'm a guy, damnit! This body...it's a curse! I hate it and I want nothing better than to be cured, but all sorts of Life Bullshit keeps getting in the way!")

Lesbians who kin either Ranma (butch NB lesbian) or one of their love interests (Akane - comphet closetted butch lesbian, Shampoo - Strong, smokin' hot bad bitch who goes after what she wants, Ukyo - transmasc coded genderfluid NB)

Completely clueless nimrods who miss the FUCKING POINT and are only into the show for the martial arts and think it would be better if Ranma got cured and they stopped having funny stuff happen.

(In case it's not obvious, IMHO the last group are the worst parts of the fandom and need to Go Away. Most of the toxic stuff that exists in R.5 fanspaces is because of this group of assholes which includes the incels that think everything would be better if Ranma just did stuff that's questionable from an ethics and morality perspective and chased after Shampoo because she's the closest thing to a Barbie-doll these closet fascists can allow themselves to fantasize about playing with, completely ignoring that she's a complex character that's a subversive pastiche to the Japanese racist stereotypes of the 1980s.)

I'm not kidding when I say that in the early days of the public Internet (before Facebook and Twitter ruined it for everyone), Ranma 1/2 was the SINGLE largest fandom by a MASSIVE stretch. I once checked my math on this by going to Fanfiction.net (before the massive purges) and brought up the Big List of All Fandoms and right there at the top with a MASSIVE number of fics was Ranma 1/2 by a HUGE margin. It took three fandoms (Star Trek, Doctor Who, and I believe Naruto if I'm recalling correctly) to have their combined total number of fics exceed the number of R.5 fics on FF.net...and that was JUST FF.net. There was an entire separate index (The Penultimate Ranma 1/2 Fanfic Index) that had the single task of listing, not even curating or reading or reviewing, ONLY Ranma 1/2 fanfics. Not fanart, not commentary, no RP blogs or chat transcripts or whatever, JUST fanfics. And only about half of those linked to FF.net, meaning that if you dig up the archives you'll find at least 60% of all fanfics that people had managed to index in the Ranma 1/2 fandom are missing because they were never properly archived and just...faded from the Internet as the public servers and places like Geocities started disappearing. You can find teasing, tantalizing hints of larger works that all we have left, like scraps of ancient papyri revealing a quote from a missing book of the Bible, are single chapters backed up on niche sites that managed to get spider-crawled by Archive.org, but many great works are just...lost. (There's an ero fic called "Playing with Water" that was SUPER hot and featured elements that we have tags for on porn sites but didn't really have proper words for back in the day...but even back when it was first being written finding the thing was hard...and today? Nearly impossible.)

(If you wonder why I'm such an absolute RABID advocate of AO3, this is why)

For me, Ranma will always be the transfemme coded genderfluid hero that we needed in the late 80s and early 90s. We were on the tail end of the AIDS pandemic, and just like COVID-19 there were a bunch of assholes who used it to ride to power and marginalize queer folk. It was easier to do with AIDS, of course, given the absolutely massive numbers of queer cis men and transwomen who contracted it and died. (Sidebar: the reason "L" comes first in "LGBTQIA+" is because it was the Lesbian nurses who were the caretakers of the Gay men who were dying in numbers large enough to be counted as a tragic statistic instead of a mere tragedy) and while the world was starting to acknowledge (again) that gay men was a thing that existed and they weren't actually trying to corrupt the youth, what we now call "transgender" was still listed in the DSM as a mental disorder that required treatment to "cure." According to the cultural majority in damn near every field you can imagine, the Gender Binary was the only way to exist and if you didn't fit neatly into one or the other then you were Damaged™ and had to be Fixed™ for The Good of All People™ (but specifically so cis-het-white folks, usually men, could feel comfy and not be confronted by things that made them feel icky and might have cooties). It's a truism that's treated as a joke that transwomen get into coding and wind up doing IT work in such massive numbers that between us and the furries we ARE the foundation of the modern Internet. And into the fanspaces packed to the brim with closetted AMAB transwomen who hadn't yet had their egg cracked came this plucky martial artist that gets to swap their gender with a splash of water but somehow still winds up the best of the best, the finest martial artist of their generation. (Goku can suck it, Ranma would turn the Kamea-meha right back on the over-muscled, braindead loser with a food fetish and still make it home in time for Kasumi's dinner)

I'm no sociologist, anthropologist, behaviorist, whatever, but I suspect that the reason Ranma Saotome spawned such a large fanbase so early in the modern Internet's history was specifically because the series created a safe space where people could talk about gender issues with a degree of separation that helped strip away the stigma surrounding feeling like you were in the wrong body.

I get why people like the martial arts aspect. I mean, Ranma kills a demigod. This is NOT something to sneeze at. I also understand the transmen who latch onto Ranma as a kin because I get the feeling like you have no control over what your body's doing and you're going through your days in existential dread of what might be dragging you further and further away from what you always knew was right and correct about yourself. It's a terrifying thing and here's someone who (esp. the anime version) IS a guy trapped in a girl's body.

For me, though, and for a LOT of transwomen out there, Ranma is transfemme. And, yes, canonically Ranma states right near the end of the manga that they're both and they kinda forgot about the 'cure' when they had to pick between that and the really important stuff and that they're okay with being fluid ('cause water, gettit?!) about their gender and it's a damn shame this was the 80s 'cause a continuation might wind up showing Ranma embracing being both...

BUT, and this is a transfemme thing, I know, if you continue the parabolic arc of Ranma's character development, the logical conclusion (for us) is that she eventually decides that she's a woman and just lives in her "cursed" form the majority (or all) of the time.

And yes, this is because that's the transfemme story arc. In the manga in some distant part of the multiverse that peers into our universe and for some reason decides to make me the MC (god, that must be a FUCKING BORING manga by our standards, I weep for those fans), my story arc is the gradual progression of uncracked, closetted transgirl to transitioned out and proud transbien mom. At one point I swapped back and forth between gender presentations because it was safer for me to appear in some spaces as the male that they thought I was. Now I would prefer to die before being forced to go back to pretending to be a man again.

Ranma has the choice, and good for them. Until the Kaisufuu is permanently destroyed, even if the "curse" is locked, they have the option of going one way or the other based solely on their own, personal desire. I can't say I'd be comfortable with that option being available. In that theoretical manga where there's a reboot that gives me a condition like Ranma's, I'd probably wind up destroying the equivalent to the Kaisufuu just because of the threat to my mental wellbeing it presents.

So it's not a stretch to imagine Ranma making the same choice. She's a woman now, she has the life she never realized she wanted because she never had the choice so didn't know she was allowed to imagine it, but now she's happier than ever and why would she ever go back to that struggle of being a guy that only ever brought her pain and challenges and heartache?

[spunsugarmusings]

M!A List: Crybaby Edition

Magic anons based on Melanie Martinez's 2015 album Crybaby, as well as a similar list I made nearly ten years ago.

Cry Baby: Your muse has lost any and all emotional control and will sob at the slightest provocation. Anon decides length.

Dollhouse: Why does everything look so big? Your muse has been shrunken down to the size of a Barbie Doll and must find a way to survive in a much bigger world.  Anon decides length.

Sippy Cup: Your muse believes they’ve done something horrible and is trying their best to hide it from their loved ones. How well can they handle it?  Anon decides length.

Carousel: Is that calliope music? Your muse has suddenly taken on the appearance and/or personality of a circus act. Anon decides the act and the length.

Alphabet Boy: Your muse suddenly believes themselves to know anything and everything, and share their superiority with the world. Hopefully they live through this one… Anon decides length.

Soap: Why, oh why did I say that?! Your muse suddenly finds themselves blurting out everything they think to and about other people, unable to filter their thoughts. Anon decides length.

Training Wheels: Your muse has developed a debilitating fear of commitment and intimacy and tries to avoid their loved ones at all costs. Anon decides length.

Pity Party: It’s my party and I’ll cry if I want to! Feeling abandoned and rejected, your muse takes in a level of emotional instability and wants to take out their loneliness on others. Anon decides length.

Tag, You’re It: What happened last night? Your muse wakes up in a dark room, not knowing where they are or how they got there and it appears that they’ve been kidnapped. Can they escape? Anons can choose to either choose to help or make the situation worse. Anon decides length.

Milk and Cookies: Your muse is in the aftermath of a traumatic event and has to find a way to cope with the terror they’re feeling. Will things get better for them, or worse? Anon decides length.

Pacify Her: Your muse finds themselves wanting things they know aren’t theirs, but is determined to take them anyway. After all, was it really yours if they want it so bad? Anon decides length.

Mrs. Potato Head: Your muse suddenly despises their appearance to a dangerous extreme and is determined to “fix” what they dislike, no matter the cost. Can they be stopped before they permanently disfigure themselves? Anon decides length.

Mad Hatter: We all go a little mad sometimes, right? Your muse finds themselves drawn to fantasy and willfully shutting out the real world, possibly to the point of harm. Anon decides length.

[romanceclubprompts]

Angstgiving 2024

September is smutty and October is fluffy so this year, November will be angsty!

This event will run for the entire month of November 2024.

The Rules:

Open to all RC fandoms. All forms of creative expression are accepted: Fics, artwork, edits, text fics, etc.

Deadline is November 30th, 2024 11:59 CST.

To ensure you get reblogged and added to the master list, make sure to do the following:

Tag @romanceclubprompts

hashtag #rcprompts and #angstgiving2024

Don't forget to tell us which prompt you're using!

Prompts don't have to be done in order or used on any particular day. Pick and choose as you like, and submit whenever. You may combine prompts. You may have more than one submission per prompt if you like.

That's it! Go forth, create and be great!

The Prompts:

I regret everything

How can you not love me anymore?

Please don’t leave

This is all my fault

Watching the ex you still love fall for someone else

Betrayal

Finding out you’re the “other person”

The person you love was tortured/killed to get to you

Helping the person you love fix their relationship with someone else

What could have been

What used to be

A funeral

Sacrifice

Let him/her think I’m the bad guy

I can’t go back there

I won’t let you hurt him/her

I’m not coming back

I’ll wait forever

Did you ever love me at all?

Everything is always just out of reach

I can never make it right, but this is a start….

Trapped by my own lies

This can’t be happening again

You have to believe me

We’re going to die here. I’m sorry I drug you into this.

I love you, but we can never be together

I see your face everywhere, but you’re not really there

I made a mistake. I want you back.

I risked everything and lost

A secret I can never tell.

[rainbowgod666]

Welcome to the Multiverse

Colors sendable (the first image is from @sizzlingcandyjellyfishhh while thesecond image is from @gaybichon), and also the @wynmu vibes thing. While the divider was made by @sister-lucifer (weird url ik but mines weirder soooo)

To all RPers: my very existence takes the narrative and uses it as toilet paper. The 4th wall is my onahole. You can use the askbox to talk to your blorbos.

To let you get started, here are some of my best posts. Remember that the Ourple ones are KINDA mandatory if you want ANY background on wtf is this blog.

List of my powers / Its the end of the world as you know it (and i did it on purpose) / an admin kicked me off the island lmao / Mental Health Time / You Absolute Buffoons / The Numeron Game / Well thats a thing that happened! / Out of touch: leap yeap / 🅱️usiness / Magnus did nothing wrong, except its steven universe / welcome to the internet, SCP edition / #HALLOLLAH# / AMERICA IS FASCIST HEAVEN BECAUSE FUNNY / Lost Childhoods / please save those poor gay americans / Free Disco Elysco / Bone to the bad / Priting Wrojects / the True Range of my abilities / the fuck's an apocalypse knight anyway? / @punkitt-is-here fucked Geronimo Stilton and i think its a good thing / Alex goes batshit insane and forces everyone to do as he says... again 🙄 / Screaming in a Pattern. / wizardposting: because powerscaling needed fuckign Zeno Dragonballsuper apparently / BEN 10 BUT LANCER? FUCK YEAH! / So i went batshit insane again / High Geology / fantasy settings on tumblr are really fucking cool actually / RIFLE. IS. FINE. BUT YOU FUCK UP DESIGN YOU UROD. / i technically claimed ownership of Dr. Bright and Betty from glitchtale do you seriously think im NOT gonna do that for homestuck? / XenasOuch / SCP-8000 contest, OR: WHAT THE ACTUAL FUC- / LEMMINO but like, 8 years ago / Hazbin Hotel: a necessary... something i guess. / research attempt: the wizardposting wine aunt /

Below is who i am, and also the tags you can (and should) search for

Hi, name's Alex.

Born on the first ever day of 2005 and also having aspergers, i am a guy from italy trying to make it impossible for anyone to spend a day without knowing who i am. Also i literally trascend powerscaling so hard the only things that can even put a DENT on me are... decided by me. Welcome to the multiverse i guess.

DNI: people who support genocide, people who tolerate corporate bullshit, racists, and terfs.

The following list is ALL THE TAGS USED TO NAVIGATE THIS BLOG. Seriously. This masterpost is an explaiantion for the "portal hub" i placed in the search bar

Lore Post: sometimes the lore of the multiverse, sometimes my personal life.

Welcome to the multiverse: sometimes MASSIVE textpost telling everyone "oh yeah right, this dude has autism", usually me existing. tHE MAIN TAG.

Alex's Answering Machine: literally my asks

The magical workshop: turns out the wizards of tumblr are the reason the phrase "some of y'all have gotten too comfortable saying stuff without getting punched for it" exist. And its up to my autistic, protagonism-fueled low self-esteem high self-awareness ass to... fix shit up.

Belowstory: undertale but REALLY FUCKED UP: so basically frisk falls down and is greeted by a feminine voice that calls itself chara (it becomes slightly visible after getting out of the ruins) and like the good boi undertale character he is he proceeds to save the world. This entire thing exists because one time I was like "how fucked up OP can a sans be before its My Immortal levels of wtf?" And uh yeah here we are uuuuuuh sans greets you by pointing a .44 magnum at you so thank the head of the guards (papyrus) for saving you. Everyone here is broken and just wants A Fucking Break. Also you gain levels in pacifist because LOVE is Level Of VirtuE. Fuck you lmao

Undertale.exe: so I looked at Camilla Cuevas being an awful person. Then i looked at the beautiful anime that is @jakei95's underverse... then i smushed it all toghether to basically create the perfect AU. Frisk is a pansexual fuccboi that Has Game, Chara is THICC and powerful, Betty is built like a ballerina and is 1000 years old, and Asriel is a Streemur. All of them live in this house far away from the city thats literally a larger version of sans' house. All charachters can legally drink (prepare for Drunk Chara shenanigans where its Betty Glitchtale the drunk one instead) and the only one who (probably) isnt gay is Asriel (even though frisk covets the Dreemur Dong) (one day soldier, one day...). Many chatachters from many AUs sometimes come to visit cause, you know. Its a nice place.

Curseworld: massive writing project of mine which is just "adventure time shaped mass of autism". The world is cursed and fucked over, and everything is colorful. Its also part Owl House because fuck you the magic system is FUCKED here.

Internet friends: basically internet stereotype-shaped people. We have a furry thats normal, a reddit/discord mod that just wants to work in peace, and the protagonist is Just A Guy but a-ha! He has both an xbox an...d ps5 thus fucking over any CAD reference. The last sketch i made was a mr.monopoly shaped guy who really wants youngsters to actually AFFORD shit who is married to a very obvious reference to Meru the succubus. Also i 100% intend to put a gag about mr beast living in an ATM when he isnt making videos

Im looking respectfully: look. Back then tumblr was basically Rule 34 with twitter users. Now its way better at the cost of a fraction of their value. Have fun looking at attactive women!

TOH:NEXT GENERATION: not even @moringmark's comics are safe! Enjoy the adventures of ayzee commented by me... telling everyone that shes STRONG strong. Like holy shit girl inherited will much?

Warhammer 50k: listen. This is just me looking at games workshop and fucking emperors tts and going "fuck that. Heres mine". This is a project where my "shard" assegned to this universe basically copies the imperium because, and im not joking, "the emperor is kind of a baka, but then again tzeentch is a thing so...". Also btw TTS is canon as SHIT. Like fr its all canon. Yes even the shadowsun fling, let kitten rest.

Pluripotent Impotence: an scp canon of mine thats basically "the foundation is so cold and clinical they MASSIVELY misunderstood shit". 6140, 6500, 5500 and 7000 are canon. 2718 and 5000 are in the files but they basically might as well not exist. 3812 is living tech support. 166 is in her early 20s and 239 is 19 and they fuck nasty (theyre also childhood friends. Girl Love i guess~) because fuck you clef love wins especially yuri go snort telekill dust. 2317 loves humans and thins theyre cute and squishy and when its seventh child turned out to be fucking JoyBoy? Yeah get this: he DID condemn the fortune teller that was like "dude your sevent child is one of those prophecy children that are so in vogue these days" but also messed with fate so that her death ended up being the coolest and most inspiring shit ever because he was like "considering the average Evil King story, i might as well just... let this happen! Maybe i can convince my literal offspring to spare me!" And it fucking worked. Also a bunch of shit is canon. @i-am-dado looks like a Kpop star and is somft. Dr Jack bright is my character and mine alone and also elias shaw is there i guess. My OC bangs the first one of these 2 amulet boys on a regular basis and the second one occasionally, dont ask why is there a gay polycule when im straight, there are some things that escape my mind. I have been in SCP for a long time and regardless of me making my account 6/1/2024 (LA BEFANAH) i have been here longer than you believe in. From my perspective it took a year before a 5000 contest was announced, so fcuk yoyu

Earth-ℵ₀: the best way to take care of the DC and Marvel universes is... let an autistic dude fix damages done by money-hungry idiots in hollywood. The joker is unimportant. Dr.Manhattan is Done With This Shit. I made a squad with random charachters i like. Lmao suck on uranium rods UwU

ytposting: (Funkdela Catalogue: Encounter starts playing)

Omni-shit: ben 10 is actually a good series guys, and the reboot is an interesting way of showing what would Ben 10 Classic look like if it was made Now

1% enhancement: basically i look at something and go like "hey what if the charachters were basically part me but not in a Knights of the Apocalypse way"

Tumblr italia: aò sono italiano che cos'altro vi aspettate

components: basically i use tumblr as image hosting. LoL.

Items: images turned undertale items. For reference, i have 2³¹-1 HP and my stats are ATK 100000 and DEF 65535. Yes the attack is a yugioh zexal reference. NOSTALGIA IS PTSD BUT GOOD.

Mungeon Deshi: dunmeshi is a good anime and marcille is italian

Full Nelson Analchemist: if FMA exists in my presence im going to give the 20k mg weed gummy to Truth

Evangelion 4.0: look, hideki anno has gone insane. Every time he makes evangelion as the most brain damaging version of telling someone to go touch grass people inevitably miss the point. I take it upon myself to give the @jakei95 treatment to the poor creatures (also fun fact: KAWOSHIN CANON. THEY KISS ON SCREEN. FUCK YOU AMERICA.)

The hoes are stuck: homestuck. What you thought they were safe from my grasp? 人間 you havent seen sheiße.

FeeF the BeeB: minecraft mod bullsheiße

[[Nothing Is Worth The Risk]]: lets just say that sometimes, the multiverse isnt that "cool and good"

Ultimate Sonic: i have a Sonic AU where... uhm... just. If i have a post about that. Just look at it. LoL.

Multiverse Polls: i make tHEM-

Autistic and Artistic: (draws happily)

Side effects of reading this blog can vary between true insight into the inner workings of the universe and self-defenestration from the top of the burj khalifa.

Anyways welcome to the multiverse

Do yourself a favour and dont go out without a loaded gun.

[detailtilted]

Sample of Upcoming "Enhanced Edition" CHICON 2007 Solo Jensen Panel

This sample was removed when I updated the full video with drastically improved video quality. I did not recreate the sample, but you can find the full video here.

Original post:

This is just a small, 1+ minute segment of a larger video that I’ll probably post next week.  Thanks so much to the people who watched, reblogged, and/or liked the CHICON 2007 Enhanced Edition Breakfast video!  It made me super happy to see some interest, and I know that was mostly thanks to those of you who managed to stumble across my obscure post and reblog it so people would actually see it.

I’ve started working on the main panels involving Jared and/or Jensen from the same convention.  Jensen’s solo panel is next sequentially, so that’s what this sample is from.  This clip was one of my favorite parts from his panel.  I’m including Jared and J2 in the tags because Jensen talks about working with Jared here.

If you don’t have any particular interest in the subtitles, you can skip the wall of text below.

On this sample, I used a much lighter color of blue for Jensen’s subtitles.  The more I looked at the shade I'd been using, the more I thought it was too dark to be read easily.  It became more apparent to me while working on his solo panel because there’s so much more of it.  I’d be happy to get opinions, good or bad.  I was really attached to the idea of using blue for Jensen and red for Jared because of their marker tape colors, and I’m pretty sure the previous shade of blue was more accurate in that regard, but it’s far more important to me that the subtitles be readable than that they be symbolic!

If people like this color better, I’ll go back and update the subtitles for the Breakfast video to use the same color for Jensen.  Subtitles are a separate file from the video, so it’s not too difficult to make changes and switch the subtitle file out without affecting the video itself. 

Speaking of which, feel free to let me know if you catch any errors with the subtitles and I’ll fix them.  Also, if there’s a subtitle that I marked as [inaudible] and you’re confident that you know what they said, let me know.  There were parts I marked as [inaudible] even though I felt sure I could guess what they’d said based on the context, but I couldn’t hear any sounds or see any mouth movements to clearly confirm it.  I tried not to put words in their mouths that they might not have said, and I didn’t want to force my own interpretation on anyone.  Sometimes though, there were places where I felt like I should have been able to figure out what they were saying but I just couldn’t get the sounds to make sense to my ears, so someone else might be able to hear those.  Other times, I would hear something for the umpteenth time, often when I was focusing on some other aspect of the video and not thinking about the subtitles at all, and suddenly it would seem blatantly obvious to me what they were saying.

As far as issues with the videos themselves, I can’t easily change them after I publish them because it would create a new video link on YouTube and I'd rather not create a confusion of links.  However, please do still feel free to let me know if you catch any errors in my added content.  I’ll keep a list of errata for my own notes in case I ever do have a reason to update the video.  If it’s particularly egregious, I can at least put a note in the video description. (And since this is a sample, if you catch any issues, I can fix it for the full version.)

[choicesprompts]

Angstgiving 2024

Angsty prompts were specifically requested in our survey, so here they are. Since September is smutty and October is fluffy, I decided that November will be angsty. Special shout out to @dcbbw for coming up with the name for the event.

This event will run for the entire month of November 2024.

The Rules:

Open to all choices fandoms. All forms of creative expression are accepted: Fics, artwork, edits, text fics, etc.

Deadline is November 30th, 2024 11:59 CST.

To ensure you get reblogged and added to the master list, make sure to do the following:

Tag @choicesprompts

hashtag #choicesprompts and #angstgiving2024

Don't forget to tell us which prompt you're using!

Prompts don't have to be done in order or used on any particular day. Pick and choose as you like, and submit whenever. You may combine prompts. You may have more than one submission per prompt if you like.

That's it! Go forth, create and be great!

The Prompts:

I regret everything

How can you not love me anymore?

Please don’t leave

This is all my fault

Watching the ex you still love fall for someone else

Betrayal

Finding out you’re the “other person”

The person you love was tortured/killed to get to you

Helping the person you love fix their relationship with someone else

What could have been

What used to be

A funeral

Sacrifice

Let him/her think I’m the bad guy

I can’t go back there

I won’t let you hurt him/her

I’m not coming back

I’ll wait forever

Did you ever love me at all?

Everything is always just out of reach

I can never make it right, but this is a start….

Trapped by my own lies

This can’t be happening again

You have to believe me

We’re going to die here. I’m sorry I drug you into this.

I love you, but we can never be together

I see your face everywhere, but you’re not really there

I made a mistake. I want you back.

I risked everything and lost

A secret I can never tell.

[lemonmoxy]

Ok just to preface this. I am not a fan of AI. For labor reasons, for quality reasons, for the selfish reason of when I’m looking for art I don’t want it clogged down with just objectively bad art (like the hands are fucked up and extra feet).

I do think the primary problem isn’t AI itself but unregulated capitalism that doesn’t care about quality, only lowering costs and the lack of safety nets for people who are ejected to cut costs. It’s bad that the companies do that. It’s bad that there are no safety nets. The problem isn’t really AI BUT until we fix those problems we should regulate the thing directly causing harm.

But some of you anti-AI people have lost your fucking minds.

So. A lot of you are crying about stolen commissions. I promise you, most of the people using AI to generate pictures of their OCs were never going to pay you. They cannot afford to pay you. Or that’s a luxury expense that just isn’t going to happen. I am paycheck to paycheck and I’m never going to spend a whole video game’s worth of money on a picture of my little goblin. Your art IS worth that much, I promise you, I’m not telling you to lower your rates. But I do not have that kind of money for that sort of indulgence. I’m sorry but you peddle luxury, there’s a reason why we had art patrons back in the day.

Some of my friends use AI for their OCs for table top games. I don’t. Because honestly sitting there fucking with it sounds tedious and frustrating to me and the results are always mid at best. But y’all also get mad about people “taking” your art to use for their OCs and maybe editing it to fit the character they have in mind. Which is WILD. I’ll agree, people who do that shouldn’t post it, but if you’re so mad at what people are doing in the privacy of their non published casual dnd sessions, maybe chill the fuck out? Being you sounds exhausting. I also see some of you get mad at people tagging things as inspiration. So what? You want people to pay the poor tax of using piccrew? Even though the results are samey and kinda bad? Idk y’all just are tripping on something.

I’m starting to wonder just what people think inspiration and brainstorming are. People have been pretending to be baffled about why people might use AI to brainstorm. “Use your own brain”. What the fuck do you think brainstorming is? You do not brainstorm by sitting in your room thinking. I mean maybe YOU do. But like you get inspiration from the world around you guys, be for real. A conversation you overheard. An outfit you saw at a crosswalk. The set of the brow of someone on your bus route. A funny post you saw on tumblr. A generative AI like chat GPT is taking things found online and showing them to you. Unless you’re uncritically using it to write a story (and if so that’s bad. Lack of effort and a bad product is bad obviously) you ARE using your brain. We draw inspiration from the world around us, just like the AI does. I know it sucks to feel unoriginal but you just are, sorry. That’s not bad even if it might feel like it. It just is. Even if you sit in a little box and don’t look at the world while you think, you’re thinking about the things you’ve seen and reconfiguring them. Sorry to be the one to break it to you?

Also, you know what chatGPT is good for? Anything an intern could do. You wanna organize your schedule? It’s good at that. You want a grocery list? It’s good at that. You want a menu based of what you got? It’s good at that. Not perfect. Don’t fucking trust a machine without quality checking it, we know that, you guys know that, corporations know that too they just don’t CARE. I don’t know why they’re pretending not to know, money, I don’t know why you guys started pretending.

I saw someone complaining like an old person about spell check and grammar check and how their kid didn’t know that it could be wrong. A ten year old. As if that isn’t normal and explaining to kids how the world works is dystopian. Nah man it’s not a mystery why the kid who still has spelling tests as a part of their everyday school lesions might not know that machines are fallible yet. Probably just how he hasn’t quite learned that adults are idiots too. This person was acting like spell check was some moral sin, some hallmark of the end. Ok grandpa, do you think we should give up the pencil too because writing things down is rotting our brains?

Just like writing things down isn’t an evil action of destroying your memory. I really do not see the difference between me googling for recipes with my ingredients and chatGPT doing it for me. Frankly I’m just as likely to forget I don’t have coriander. But it takes longer for me to do it and sucks.

[pixeljade]

Looks like Photomatt has now deleted several of his posts regarding this whole incident, and edited the original one with further context. The edits to the original are 1) admitting that the hammer part of the "threat" seems silly but that he's apparently "almost died by car accident twice" (which, even if its true, are we taking into account personal triggers for what qualifies as harassment? And if so, why is misgendering people not considered one of those triggers?) And 2) adding that apparently Avery/Rita had "over 20 different blogs" which have names "so sexual to list them here would require a mature tag". (Which, he is perfectly capable of doing, and also it should be noted, there's not really rules against mature content so long as its tagged. There's been no proof of any untagged content. And third here, this is a *sex worker* we are talking about of COURSE she's got horny blogs!)

The posts which were deleted were largely the post-blowup tantrum replies, nothing too major there but overall trying to sweep away the tantrum. One post of note which was deleted is the one where he said the oh you know what i screenshotted it so lemme just post it

This is the one i'm most concerned about. This is the one where he mentions *pulling out investment* as well as saying "oh gosh I suddenly have empathy for those dealing with harassment campaigns now that I'm the victim of one".

Why do I think he deleted this one? He's scared of legal action. See, Tumblr was previously sued for bigoted moderation during the post-porn-ban era, and part of the stipulations is that they must make efforts to fix that. Then, we got in his other major post about this the tidbit that they *outsourced their moderation* and that they *had a known transphobic moderator in that company* LITERALLY last year. And now THIS post says that there (probably) werent plans to fix moderation before his sabbatical began, and even adds on that only *now* does he have empathy for how tumblr's poor moderation tools have made harassment a nightmare. Combine with multiple trustworthy testimonies that queer staff previously pointed this out to him...it sounds like the threat of legal action over moderation problems just led him to utterly ignore that problem until *JUST NOW*.

Now I am no legal expert. I have no clue whether this was culpable enough to show that he didnt make reasonable effort to fix biased moderation. Its entirely possible that fhis only sounds culpable to my untrained eye, and that he actually used secret language which dodges that culpability. But considering there's actual threat of lawsuit again now, and he posted all of this?

Well. Yeah, I'd delete some shit too. Too bad its probably too late. Anyways if you do nuke the site Matt I hope this follows you til you die. Or you could actually man up, and ask your lawyers whats the cheapest way you can apologize for this fuckup. It wouldnt erase this problem, but I think all of us would stop mocking you relentlessly if you at least had the guts to do that.

[puppy-phum]

bad buddy fandom getting-to-know-you meme!

(created by @fiercynn)

thank you for tagging me vi @disasterbabygirlnick and sorry i'm so late!

note: i consider "fanworks" to pretty much everything people create related to a fandom, including but not limited to meta/analysis/discussion, gifs, fanvids/edits/fancams, filk, fanart, fanfic, fan food, fan crafts, etc. please include this note with the meme unless you have a different definition!

name and whatever you want to share about yourself

vish, 25, demi/bi, from finland. lately been thinking about going by she/they instead of she/her. maybe even more they/she if i can put it that way.

when did you watch bad buddy/join the fandom?

i started watching the series and joined the fandom after ep 7 had aired. it all begun on my christmas break at my parents’ place where binged all the available episodes in a couple of days. my christmas was spent thinking about the rooftop kiss and how that absolutely ruined me. BB was never on my radar bc the title didn’t really intrigue me (i have bad experiences with BLs with silly titles) and i wasn’t really thinking about watching a series with ohm again, but i am so happy that tumblr dragged me in. changed my life and my perspective on BLs. and now i’m way too deep in this shit hehe

favorite ship(s)

patpran and waikorn. i adore inkpha too but mainly as a GL couple that has made me feel comfortable and seen. they never stuck with me as much. patpran are my comfort and waikorn give me extreme brainworms.

favorite character(s)

my two architecture losers aka pran and wai. pran is me, i am him. he gets it, to put it simply. wai, then again, is very my brand of blorbo, my bastard son, my horrible wet rat boy, my hissy kitten. the maker of chaos and absolutely horrible with feelings. i could fix him, i could make him worse, and i’d enjoy every moment of it.

favorite episode(s)

ep 11 for the overall bittersweet feeling. the whole episode just feels like the calm before a storm. it’s their sweet goodbye to each other despite nothing ever truly ending between them. also ep 5 for the ending part but also for pat’s journey to self-discovery.

favorite scene(s) 

from ep 5 the whole ending part: the three-way fight, the rooftop kiss, and even pran going through it at the beginning of ep 6. ep 11 shirt scene and pat thanking pran, pat in music store discovering himself, wai protecting hurt pran in the rugby game (the brainworms are real with this one), ep 12 reveal where pran comes to pat's door, hotpot double date, bar scene at the end. oh, and absolutely the fiasco that is wai trying to flirt with pha in the park while ink is there. that one's golden.

one thing you would change about the show if you could

i agree on the wai apology with you vi. it should happen as a nod towards the fact that his behavior was not ok. even if things got sorted out for patpran and even if in their world wai’s actions didn’t have as dire consequences as they could have in the real world (where homophobia is very real), the viewers should get shown that he acknowledges his wrongdoings and that patpran deserve a proper apology from someone like him. ALSO PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD LET WAIKORN BE TOGETHER P’AOF AM UNDER YOUR BED

what are some of your favorite fanworks made by other people

tried to gather some type of list and probably missed so many but at least these:

[x] bad buddy rewatch episode edits by @baifengxis ♥ [x] all this type of random bb gifs (the coloring in all of them is stunning!) [x] this patpran in ep 11 edit [x] patpran + rooftop edit + many other edits bc the style is just stunning, all by @pranink ♥ [x] patpran spiderman au [x] gifted buddy set for my bday both by the amazing @dimpledpran ♥ love you! [x] this lovely just friend? -edit by @/coldties ♥ [x] patpranmusic series by @bevioletskies ♥ [x] this inkpha edit by @akingyouniverse ♥ [x] pran as favourite character [x] favorite patpran moments both made by @nanons who always nails the colors ♥ [x] this super cool just friend? mv edit by @prany ♥ [x] how to get the girl guide by @weiwuxian ♥ [x] this celestial patpran set [x] favorite episode: episode 7 set made with pure magic by @raypakorn ♥ [x] favorite scene: main six at the bar by @dramaism ♥ [x] architecture gang by @mantrisanu ♥ [x] the most amazing bb photobooth art by @/thatgothsamurai ♥ [x] this stunning yet heartbreaking patpran set by @guntapon ♥ [x] inkpha + taylor swift's mastermind [x] best dynamic: person a + person b [x] patpran + distance [x] patpran and the fleeting happiness in ep 11 [x] bb study in film noir [x] bb/patpran ft. the old guard all by my forever inspiration and muse @oswlld ♥ i miss you!

(if you create fanworks) what are your favorite fanworks that you’ve made?

oh yes i managed to make a ton of edits for this show (and still sometimes do), so here are a couple of personal favorites:

[x] patpran + the desire for reassurance [x] patpran + sea of strangers [x] patpran + i had you (what if it all was just a dream) [x] this patpran soulmates edit [x] patpran as sun & moon [x] patpran's love through the season (my peak imo) [x] patpran + signposts (another peak but for different style) [x] my otp: patpran [x] fighter pran [x] the real five love languages [x] pran's life anthem: i won't say (i'm in love)

i've spent so much time and effort making all of my edits for bb and i don't regret any of it. i've had so much fun and met so many amazing ppl through them ♥ thank you!

a song that makes you think of bbs (the ones in the show don’t count lol)

i didn’t have a much of a playlist for BB outside of the songs in the show but maybe: if god had a boat by anyma, are you with me by nilu, and my oasis by sam smith. (i was very focused on not me during this period when it comes to music, so i associate most songs with that instead.)

idk anything else you want us to know?

i think the next edit I need to make for bb is a wai text post meme bc for some reason i haven't made one yet??? so see you there!!

tagging: idk who has done this already bc i'm so late but @dimpledpran @mantrisanu @oswlld @nanons @machikeita @milkpansa @icouldhyperfixatehim @thanawins @seanwhites @i-got-the-feels @patspran @nongnaos ♥