#It's what Ive been able to write !

[starry-bi-sky]

mmmmmm read a disciple shen yuan/shizun luo binghe fanfic about two days ago where the first chapter was the Immortal Conference arc, and SQQ was the one who had to be pushed into the abyss (he was still the villain) except Luo Binghe was refusing and was like, lowkey losing his mind about SQQ being so close to the edge. SQQ ended up having to be the one to fall in himself because of the system's punishment system. The rest of the fic is leading up to that moment. But like, MMM i've been obsessively thinking about that first chapter for DAYS ever since.

now i've been in svsss for a grand total of *checks watch* a week. but god obsessed with that. I want to write/read a fic where disciple SQQ goes a little nuts down there. Like keep all of the things that make SQQ, SQQ, but just. Throw in a little bit more trauma in there. A little bit of a mental break. Let him go a little nuts as a treat. Just a tad unhinged. I wanna see him go, just a little, "god fuck it, i've tried so hard to change this shitty story's outcome and it feels like everything i've done has been for nothing. I'm going to die in this world no matter what I do, I've been doomed from the start, so might as well die the way I want to." and he just, breaks a little! Under all the stress.

He still retains the traits that makes shen yuan, shen yuan, like his overwhelming kindness. But he's just! yk. A little less patient. Paranoid. Jumpy. Colder. A little more aloof and closed off. A little more Shen Jiu. He's no asshole child abuser, but he was a Number One Hater in his past life and he's leaning into that old habit a little more now.

(On a totally coincidental not-at-all related note, there's not enough SJ-and-SY-are-the-same-people fics out there that i've found. This is totally unrelated...)

The Endless Abyss turns the mind into an over-sharpened blade, and SQQ is both fascinated and perhaps a little excited to explore a place that doesn't have a lot of info on it in the mortal realm, but still terrified out of his mind. And he's no Luo Binghe, he doesn't have the sheer brute strength and power to just bulldoze his way through, so he has to be a lot more sneaky and cunning if he wants to survive.

The fic itself role-swapped LBH and SQQ so that SQQ was the half-demon (which lowkey fucks) and LBH the human, but I'm equally-if-not-more obsessed with the idea that LBH remains the half-heavenly demon and SQQ the human. If only because I keep thinking about SQQ befriending some demons (particularly and specifically a group of succubi) and they grow very attached to this Human Cultivator so through magic plot stuff they create some kind of seal/illusion/talisman that makes SQQ appear as a demon because a human cultivator in the endless abyss may as well be the equivalent of putting a giant neon target on your back.

And iirc Shen Jiu was taught demonic cultivation by that one guy(?? i've only been here a week so im not caught up in ALL of the lore yet) so that could totally happen here.

(On the other end of the realms, poor Shizun Luo Binghe is just. losing his fucking mind over losing his most precious and beloved disciple. About .5 seconds from burning down the peaks himself. somebody sedate him.)

The Endless Abyss sucks and SQQ is having a really terrible time and can feel himself going lowkey mad, but also holy shit look at all this WORLD-BUILDING. look at all this flora and fauna, and oh if he had the equipment for it he'd be writing all of this down. ALL OF IT. He was kinda-sorta-already planning on never leaving the Abyss as some sort of fucked up self-exile and self-preservation thing, but now he might? actually just?? never leave if he can help it, like he lowkey likes it down here.

anyways the next time anyone ever sees SQQ again he's got hair so long its almost touching the ground and he's either in rags and half-feral or he's been completely dolled up by his adoptive succubi sisters and still about three seconds from biting anyone who tries to touch him. (he's also lowkey trying to book it back down to the abyss even if he has desperately missed all of his friends and shizun)

[deoidesign]

My comic is so pretty...

The hiatus is letting me take a little extra time on these episodes, and I'm definitely putting it to good use!!!

[eikichi-supremacy]

If nothing else Koenma is a Kuwabara stan and I'm right there with him o7 (I need to write the kuwameshi fic that goes with this fr)

[realbeefman]

stacy is sooo interesting because she's in love with house but knows that they will never ever be able to have a healthy, stable, sane relationship because they're too similar so. she finds house-lite instead and marries him and. essentially moves on with her life! and is successful in this because she's a moderately well-adjusted person!

wilson, in contrast, never manages to escape the inevitable, in spite of his best efforts to find a house-lite of his very own, because he's an absolute fucking freak and ends up glued to house to the bitter. bitter end

[rubra-wav]

[ Entry #10 ] What it would be like actually dating Vox hcs

A/N I love Vox, but the reality of it is that he'd be terrible for a lot of reasons and I'm not gonna sugarcoat it in here like at all.

Me when theoretically very complex but ultimately still extremely problematic character: *foaming at mouth*

I love him.. but God I also hate him... but I also love hi-

This is a long one jfc.

Cw: Nsfw - no smut but strong themes, discussion of toxic relationships, manipulation, discussion of emotionally abusive/controlling behaviour, insecure aa toxic cis man behaviour, suggestive at one point

Someone asked me what I thought he'd be like with a yes-man reader so here it is

The worst out of the way first

The thing about Vox is that he's got a fuckton of baggage and bad traits that need desperate management, and they would sure as hell not be being managed by him on his own choice.

As his partner, you would NOT be able to be a pushover or shy away from any kind of confrontation about actions that have upset you because if Vox had a partner like this? He'd become the absolute worst version of himself in your relationship because you would not be calling him out or enforcing boundaries with him.

- He's insecure, and it's in the worst way possible.

And not in the 'aw he just needs to be loved and then he'll be healed' way. I'm talking in the 'toxic, refuses to remedy his own behaviours, becomes very emotionally abusive abt it if you don't pull up your boots and confront him abt it and make sure he actually does shit about it' way.

The fanfic community likes to portray him as a victim in the relationship with Val, and while it's true Val is certainly worse for obvious/overt reasons - He's still not just a victim in that situation. He's also terrible.

Just for reasons that are less overt and are thus overshadowed a lot. Acknowledging that doesn't make the shit Val (at least seemingly thus far. Vox side-stepped the drink being thrown pretty fast and seems accustomed to violent tantrums) does to him any less terrible, it's just the truth he's not a poor defenceless victim in that. (Vox literally goes to try use his mind control power on Val the second he seems like he's gonna damage their image then throws his lowest earners under the bus.)

- In the beginning if you aren't giving him attention at all times, do something that reminds him of Valentino even slightly, or if you do something that he just mildly doesn't like; then he will be passive aggressive or straight up aggressive as absolute fucking hell.

The second he feels slighted even a little bit, he's going to be so pissy.

- And he can't communicate for absolute shit. He thinks you are doing shit on purpose to piss him off or hurt him. This is due to his relationship with Val, but it's not him being a sad sob story kind of thing (not all around at least), he will be awful to you if you allow him to ever be just a victim who can do no wrong.

- He will project all his bs heavily onto you in the beginning with complete self awareness and no thought given to managing his own shit.

If you ask what's wrong when he's acting up he probably would be the type of bitch to go 'nothing's wrong' and will then proceed to ruminate upon it until he ends up exploding about it later on. Or, maybe he'll even do the 'you know what you've done' type of shit.

- He would probably expect you to be a mind reader and when you inevitably aren't aware of wtf is happening because he hates being emotionally vulnerable at all and can't describe what's going on properly for himself, he will be an absolute bitch about it. (Carried here from my other hc that he has a bunch of self-imposed toxic masculinity he needs to deconstruct)

- If you call him out, he will likely try to convince you he's not doing it.

- He'll become increasingly more self-aware of his behaviour you are aware of and will just be even worse because he hates that you could see something about him he doesn't want you to see.

Basically, he feels embarrassed as fuck about it, and cannot apologise because that's humiliating as all hell to him, so instead of turning inwards and dealing with his crap he then proceeds to consciously project shit onto you even when he knows he's in the wrong.

He'd rather argue the wrong point and behaviour than admit he's capable of making mistakes.

He will probably also try to hypnotise you into forgetting anything he thinks is undesirable you know about him too.

- You will need to actually teach him real consequences for his actions, but also need to be assuring him that you aren't going to do shit like Val would have or leave him for someone else and shit like that simultaneously.

He needs to essentially be taught consequences, boundaries, healthy relationship behaviour, etc. From absolute scratch. I would literally pay for this cunts therapy atp istg.

- And this is gonna be an absolute fucking nightmare because again, he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing and that he's in the wrong. All that interferes with his image he wants to put out at all times in your relationship with him.

He's got masks on masks. Even one for your relationship. The second that cracks in any regard, he's gonna be rushing to compensate for that, and if that doesn't work, he's gonna be pissed and most likely end up pushing that onto you.

- Speaking of image. I mentioned this in a fic, but he'd most likely be extremely controlling over your freedom to disclose your relationship, too. If he thought you would look poor as a partner for his reputation (ie. Low status, bad reputation), he'd most likely never want to publicly reveal your relationship no matter how much he loves you - he'd likely hide this completely behind you having privacy but if you say you want people to know anyway he's going to slowly become more and more overtly pissy about it.

And, if you are openly known to be in a relationship, he will be wanting to control your own image as well.

If you step one foot out of line of what he deems perfect, good lord he will be an absolute nightmare.

- Also mentioned in another post, but he would absolutely also watch you through cameras you don't know are there. Same as what he's seen doing with Val.

- He's got practically zero qualms in the beginning of your relationship with violating your privacy or boundaries if he thinks he'll get away with it/that you won't find out about it. This also likely goes for things like checking your texts, calls, and search history without permission.

- The possibility that he'd try to interfere with your personal relationships if he thought they would try drag you away from him or if they take up a lot of your attention is also pretty present.

He's an incredibly jealous person (as seen by him seeming jealous of Angel with Val of all people), so the second he sees you giving someone else positive attention? He's gonna be fucking furious.

- Again, you could not be a pushover in your relationship with him because he'd be absolutely awful. You'd have to basically be reality checking him every three seconds - it's NOT for the faint of heart and even if you're incredibly patient you will probably be going insane from it at points.

Implying you can actually get him to change tho he would become a lot better - he's gonna be fighting you on practically everything because the second he feels out of control of a situation or himself he's gonna be freaking out.

He will probably be straight up terrified if it seems like you are making him 'change', even if it's for the better and will ultimately ALSO benefit him too.

The SECOND he feels out of control of a situation in any way, he will be terrible.

- Also, if you manage to push him on the path to behaviour management this cunt will be looking smug and proud of himself as all hell the second he even slightly does what you ask and will be a bitch if you don't rain down praise on him for it. 💀

- He's so positive attention motivated it's actually pathetic lmao

With that out of the way - the slightly better/good other stuff

- Vox works fucking nightmare hours with his position in hell, and he hates not being able to be around you much so he's almost always trying to make it up to you.

- He'll be on calls with you or texting you most hours of the day (even when he probably should not be) because he's honestly clingy as hell.

If you don't like having a million notifications from someone blowing up your phone with random shit then you are not going to like being apart from him because he is chronically on his phone.

- Another thing is the gifts.

If you want a sugar daddy aa boyfriend? This is the man for you because my God will he shower you with the most expensive gifts you have ever received. New phones, cars, jewellery, clothes, so on so on.

It's bad if you don't like consumerism and want to keep devices even if newer ones come out because the second something new comes out he's getting it for you - even before it becomes publicly available to the rest of hell, it's in your hands. He wants the best stuff and only the best stuff for you. How would that make him look if his partner didn't have all the best stuff? To you and also others

- Also, the second you mention you actually want or need something? It's there right in front of you. Bro has personal delivery drones, and it will be there in under 15 minutes delivered to you or someone's getting shot.

- I've seen a few people imply gift giving is his primary love language, and it's certainly up there, but I personally think that it's more likely acts of service.

This man never does anything for anyone unless it's to keep things from being annoying to him, self gain, or damaging his image. So for him to do things for you that he knows you want from him even if he doesnt particularly want to? He is well and truly in love with you, and that would be how he'd let you know that even if he isn't self-aware of it, lmao.

He doesn't like being told to do things, but he's really good at picking up on what people want usually (unless he's being delulu) so if he notices something or you mention stuff off-hand? He'll try to do it/get it/whatever it is for you.

Material things are just material things. He's rich, it doesn't mean that much to drop thousands for him. Him actually doing things for you, though? Even if it doesn't benefit him at all? That's something else entirely.

Will be annoying asf if you don't thank him enough for it, though. Ie. "Well, you're welcome then." While pouting at you.

- As for spending time with him:

I believe he constantly wants to be alone with you and only with you when he actually has time to do so, so he only wants dates to be one-on-ond most of the time.

There aren't exactly limits upon that, though, like at all.

He's absolutely rich and has ridiculous privileges so you could be on comfy home dates where you two just stay in and cuddle after eating dinner, or seeing concerts/watching movies/etc exclusively where they are not available to just anyone, or something fucking ridiculous like eating a fancy dinner at a custom designed restaurant just for dates under a goddamn aquarium (very likely ngl)

The second he gets to show off his power, he's gonna do it with a smug grin.

- He's also extremely big on physical touch but would never admit it. I already go over this in another entry, but he's gonna have a hand on you at all times (hand on your waist, hip or shoulder, purposely brushing against you more then he logically has to be, etc)

Brief mentions of sexual stuff here

I feel like he'd love someone big on physical touch - both in a sexual way but also especially in a non-sexual way.

He's not used to getting someone cuddling him or holding his hands or literally just touching him at all without some underlying ulterior motive, so he'd probably just melt into your touch.

Also I'll link the post bc there's further takes on this in it but they are ✨️sus✨️

- He would be extremely protective of you- this can absolutely become one of the blue sections really easily- but if you're in a relationship he's gonna be constantly concerned about your safety and whether you are at risk.

I mean, you're in hell. Just about anyone could turn out to be some maniac (ironic he would think that 🤨)

Anyways, point is, you'd be safe from any other maniacs. He would give you the best security and protection probably in hell.

Another thing is that he's gonna be super paranoid at all times about whether you're safe or not. Which would probably get honestly annoying rather than endearing at a point. 💀

- Even though he's really against revealing his more vulnerable parts and what he doesn't think are desirable of himself, he's absolutely craving emotional security with someone.

So when you get him passed that? He's gonna be so goddamn clingy - even more then before lmao.

Ending note

He's an absolute nightmare who's high maintenance asf and could become extremely abusive emotionally, but he really also needs to be romanced properly for that to actually get better by a partner who won't take his bs and knows how to take him down a peg and put him in his place when he's being awful.

And definitely therapy.

The fact that I think all this and know how much an awful person he is and still love him this much as a character has gotta indicate some sort of insanity/j

[ Masterlist ]

[dellephone]

grill the grid + landoscar

Something about the way Oscar lights up when he wins Grill the Grid makes guilt curl itself around Lando’s throat. A snake, tightening and loosening with each breath, it’s head sitting at the juncture between his neck and collarbone.

Oscar’s a bit weird, sometimes, and likely would have been that much more excited to win Grill the Grid than his first race regardless. But Lando knows that he’s taken something from him.

They’ve gotten past it, talked it out after the race. But it almost makes him feel worse, how easily Oscar understood and accepted the outcome. He was barely even icy, only a bit distant— more reserved than he’s been since last year.

Lando almost wonders if it would have been better not to switch back at all, to make Oscar hate him for stealing his win. Instead he’s forgiven him for stealing the celebration. Turning his first win into a bitter memory.

He thinks of his collision with Max— the white hot anger that followed. Wonders how Oscar would react to a collision like that, if he’d forgive him before the race is even over. Wonders where the line lies, wonders when he’ll cross it.

It’s telling, maybe, that he’d prefer the anger.

[beegswaz]

holy shit Scuffed atlas art? real???? you cant even See the top of the hat but Once i make a finalised Design itll look Kinda like the ones in the Images :3

[possamble]

Thank you for writing the (messy but neccessary) farcille breakdown. You handled it so wonderfully aaaaaaaah!! Like the other anon I was wondering how far "rock bottom" could get (because chapter 4 already felt pretty rock bottom) but. Yeah. That's pretty rock bottom, huh. The tragedy of loving someone but the other person not understanding <- this applies to both of them.

I think it was really neat how you flipped the question on who's reaching out to who with the academy flashback and the final scene with Namari, because... Marcille clinging onto Falin really is just a reversal of their academy days, isn't it? To everyone who met them after they reunited, it was always Marcille chasing after Falin, but to those who were at the magic academy, it was Falin chasing after Marcille. From picking flowers and berries to eat together, inviting Marcille out to see a play, and generally monopolizing her free time... I'm sure any of them would say the same thing as Namari, but in reverse. No wonder everyone thinks Marcille is just another friend to Falin. They weren't there to witness her pining /j. Idk!! I was rereading the chapter and the academy flashback girl was like "why do you hang off of Marcille so much" and I screamed to myself, "hey wait. HEY WAIT."

[allastoredeer]

May I ask what this fic with Charlie putting Lucifer in his place is? I love Charlie losing her shit, it's so underused in fics

Dropped Shield by LeDiz

I just finished reading it and hhhhh it really scratched an itch.

I haven't found a lot of fics that kept my attention, but GOD this one did. It involves Charlie's relationship with Alastor, Alastor actually doing a fuck ton of stuff to keep the hotel running, Lucifer relying too much on his powers as a way to get in Charlie's good graces, and his dislike of Sinners actually having impact & repercussions.

It's not a radioapple fic, and Lucifer isn't painted in a particularly good light. He's actually a bit insufferable, which is what I liked about it. It was a refreshing change from him being all kind and benevolent (or just a sad UwU depressed boi the whole time). His depression does show up and it even brings up how it can/has affected his and Charlie's relationship!

IDK I might be gushing a little, but it really was a refreshing read. Not one person was made out to be the villain, all the characters were flawed, Charlie learns to stand up for herself and call out bad behavior, and I got a mean, egotistical Lucifer out of it.

I don't think I'd recommend it to anyone who wouldn't enjoy seeing Lucifer in a bad light, so tread lightly in the department, I suppose.

It was a good tho :3 It's definitely going into my reread pile.

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

hi. here's a little over 5k words for the modern human au! entirely unedited, as usual! you'd think this is a full oneshot... ha... no... i actually have some warnings for this one - hospitals, panic attacks, major character injury / discussion of death / clinical description of injury.

in short, my writing comfort zone <3

~

The dial tone plays, and Barnaby looks down at his phone. Call ended stares back at him under Wally’s cheerful profile picture.

“He hung up on me,” Barnaby states. His lips twist and he tosses the phone onto the couch with a snarl of, “That little bastard.”

“Hey now,” Howdy says sharply, frowning at him. “That’s our friend you’re talking about.”

“Like he doesn’t deserve it! All I do is be supportive, understanding, and worry about his damn well being. And then he goes and acts like my very much well-founded concern is an attack!”

Howdy’s frown softens as he watches Barnaby pace, gesturing wildly.

“I love that RV. Maybe not as much as Wally, obviously, but it pains me that it needs to go. And it does need to go! Thing’s becoming a damn deathtrap.” Barnaby pushes his hair back and huffs. He glances at Howdy. “Right? I’m making the right call, here?”

“Of course you are,” Howdy says. “But-”

Barnaby cuts him off. “I tried to be nice about it. I tried to warm him up to the idea of retiring Home, yaknow? And what does he do instead of handling it - he revs up the tin can and runs. Home shouldn’t be started, let alone driven. It’s dangerous.”

It’s extremely dangerous. Wally is skilled at driving it, but no amount of skill will save him if it breaks in the middle of the freeway. What if the engine catches fire? What if a tire pops, or comes loose? Home is old, and wasn’t made to crumple in a crash. Barnaby doesn’t even know if the airbag still works. It’s not safe. 

The thought of Wally bringing Home hurtling down the freeway at ten at night in a - quite honestly - not great mental state turns Barnaby’s stomach. 

“I just wanted him to come back so we could talk about it,” Barnaby says. “I let him keep worming his way out of a serious conversation and now - now he’s -”

“Running away,” Howdy finishes. The point of his pen taps a rhythm against his notepad. 

Barnaby jabs a finger at him. “Exactly. One tough, necessary decision and he turns tail. This isn’t gonna go away if he skips town! Not to mention how he isn’t giving a thought to how this might affect the rest of us.”

“Especially you.”

Barnaby throws his hands up with an indignant look. “Now not only do I have to hunt him down-”

“That would be a we scenario, Barn.”

“But we,” Barnaby concedes, “gotta try to knock some sense into that thick skull ‘a his, and drag him back home - kicking and screaming if we hafta.” 

Howdy’s pen taps faster. “What if he doesn’t want to come back?”

“What if he-” Barnaby stops short and stares at him, wide eyed. 

That’s not. 

That wouldn’t happen, right? Wally would come back in the end. He wouldn’t decide to up and leave entirely, would he? He is in Home… all the essentials he needs are in that RV. Barnaby sits down heavily on Howdy’s threadbare couch. “What if he doesn’t want to come back.”

Wally would have to come back to clear out his studio - he’d never abandon his art. Then they’d have to go through everything inside the house and see what he wants to take, since not all of it is Barnaby’s. A lot of it is shared, so they might have to bargain on who gets what. 

Then they’d all have to watch Wally get into his motorhome and drive away. Possibly for good. 

Barnaby would be alone in that big house with Welcome, knowing that his closest companion is out of his life. Living somewhere else. It's sickening. 

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, Barn,” Howdy says, watching him with furrowed brows and a deep frown - if Barnaby were feeling like himself, he’d crack a joke about him emulating Frank. “I can confidently say that Wally loves you more than that old RV.”

Barnaby snorts. “You sure about that?”

“Unflinchingly. Believe you me, he’s going to wallow for a day or so, and then Home will come rumbling back down your driveway like it never left.”

“I wish I could have your faith,” Barnaby mumbles. He exhales and picks up his phone. No missed calls, no messages. “Maybe if I call him and ask him to just come back, no strings attached, he will.”

“That’s the spirit! Save the talk for another day - tell you what, I’ll help you corrall him so he can’t escape the conversation. I’ll tie him to a chair and bar the door if needed!”

“Good luck with that. Kid’s slippery.” Still, Barnaby hits call again. It rings only a couple of times before a robotic automated message states the caller as unavailable. Barnaby doesn’t enjoy being upset with Wally. However, it feels like his blood is simmering, and the wall is starting to look like great target practice for his phone. He grits his teeth. “He turned off his phone.”

From the corner of his eye he sees Howdy’s eyebrows shoot up as the man turns back to his paperwork. He exhales a controlled breath and writes something down. “I have to say, I’ve never known him to be such a-”

“Pain in the neck?” Barnaby offers.

Howdy clicks his tongue. “You said it, not me.”

“Yeah, well, he’s full of surprises.” Barnaby lets out a frustrated huff. He’s half tempted to run Wally down right now, but he wouldn’t even know where to start. There’s only one freeway out of town, but it goes both ways, and it branches. Wally would have hit one of those branches by now, and who knows which he took. North, south, east, west. Deeper into the woods, or towards the city? To the coast? Somewhere else entirely?

He has to face the facts - there’s nothing to do. He just has to wait until Wally pulls his head out of his ass and realizes how stupid and insensitive he’s being. Those are two words Barnaby would never normally use to describe Wally, but after tonight? They seem fitting. 

Barnaby can’t even muster up guilt for thinking such harsh things. He tried to be nice. He was patient. He’s always kept a lid on it whenever Wally frustrated him, which doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. And what does he get for caring? For being tactful and careful about a shitty situation? 

Avoidance, a shove, and a cut call. Wally left Barnaby’s been left to stew in his own anger and worry. Right now, he’s inclined to lock up that worry in a tiny box in the back of his mind. 

Barnaby pushes himself up with a grumbled, “I’m makin’ some coffee, want some?”

“If you’re offering then I will not decline.”

Barnaby pretends not to feel Howdy’s eyes following him to the apartment’s tiny kitchen. It’s hell to maneuver around in, and the frustration of bumping into something every five seconds only makes Barnaby’s mood worse. By the time the coffee is brewing, he’s ready to punch the cabinets. He won’t, but he wants to. He’d regret it immediately, but he stares at the chipped paint and fantasizes. 

The coffee machine breaks after brewing a whopping single mug. Barnaby stares at it for a long moment, and tallies up the consequences of taking a hammer to it. In the end, he just clenches his fists for a long moment and counts to ten. He takes the mug and sets it in front of Howdy, then goes to the window to brood. Thankfully Howdy is too reabsorbed in his work to notice beyond a mumbled thanks.

For the next hour, Barnaby’s thoughts are entirely composed of Wally. Different scenarios of what might happen next, how Barnaby might handle those situations without shaking Wally for doing something so needlessly reckless, and cruel daydreams of setting Home on fire. Barnaby wants to feel bad about that. He doesn’t. That damn RV has caused two different rifts between Barnaby and Wally - and Barnaby was the one to fix both of them, because both times Wally just left. 

He gets it. He really does - for a time Home was all that Wally had. It’s been with him since Wally was thirteen, and if the thought of retiring it to a dump makes Barnaby sad, he can only imagine how much it distresses Wally. Well, he can do more than make an educated guess. Wally practically told him tonight, if not with words than with actions.

Still. They’re adults - Wally is older than him, if only by a handful of months. When does Barnaby ever ask something of him? When does Barnaby ever push? Why can’t Wally see that Home is becoming a liability, and why won’t he listen? Barnaby can’t make it make sense. 

Wally has always been more inclined to avoid conflict, but this is too far. Barnaby swears, when he tracks Wally down he’s going wring that scrawny little-

His phone is ringing. 

Barnaby lunges for it, relief dousing his anger. He picks it up, ready to give Wally a piece of his mind and then beg him to come back-

“It’s an unknown number,” he says, shoulders slumping. Of course it’s an unknown number. Wally wouldn’t change on a dime and decide to be considerate for once. He exchanges an exasperated look with Howdy and declines. He goes to set the phone down - the number calls back.

“That’s one determined scammer,” Howdy says. He leans back in his chair and holds out a hand. “I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Barnaby is all too happy to hand it over. Let the poor sap on the other end of the line deal with a master swindler. 

“Howdy-hi, how can I help?” Howdy starts with a mischievous grin thrown Barnaby’s way? He leans back in the chair and hums. “Who, may I query, is asking?”

All at once, the ease drains out of Howdy and he stops fidgeting. He sits up, already looking at Barnaby with a paled expression that has something cold slithering down Barnaby’s spine. Something is wrong.

“He’s right here.” Howdy holds out the phone. His throat works uselessly for a moment before he plainly states the obvious, “It’s for you.”

Barnaby takes it, his mouth abruptly dry. Howdy is already up and moving - grabbing his coat, his keys. “Hello?”

“Is this Barnaby Beagle?” a professional feminine voice asks, tinny through the phone.

“B. Beagle, yeah.”

The woman introduces herself as the nearest city’s hospital, and Barnaby’s heart drops through the floor. She asks him to confirm that he’s Wally Darling’s emergency contact. He confirms, his voice sounding distant to his own ears. Howdy takes his arm and gestures to his shoes by the door, spurring Barnaby into motion.

“Is he okay?” Barnaby manages to say. He puts the wrong shoe on the wrong foot and almost curses aloud as he switches it. 

“Mr. Darling was involved in an automobile accident,” is all the hospital employee says. “He was brought in a few minutes ago.”

Barnaby steadies himself against the doorjamb, choking on a whispered, “Oh, god.” 

Keys jingle as Howdy opens the door and pulls Barnaby through, then locks the door behind them.

“But is he okay?” Barnaby asks again as they hurry down the short hallway to the stairs. 

“I’m not at liberty to disclose that information at present.”

It’s bad. It has to be bad if they won’t say anything over the phone. He must be silent for too long, because Howdy takes the phone, tells her they’ll be there soon, and hangs up. He tucks the phone into Barnaby’s pocket before opening the door to the store’s back lot. 

The frigid air slaps the shock out of Barnaby, and sensation comes flooding back in. He grabs the keys out of Howdy’s hand and strides to the car with long, powerful strides that would leave anyone shorter than Howdy in the dust.

“Are you sure-”

“I’m driving,” Barnaby growls, cutting Howdy off.

Howdy makes a disapproving noise, but relents. They get in and Barnaby adjusts his seat with harsh movements, jabs the key into the ignition because Howdy’s car is a dated hunk of junk, and peels out of the parking space before Howdy even has his seatbelt all the way on. 

Howdy clings to the ceiling handle as the car tears down the mostly empty street, going at least ten miles over the speed limit. Barnaby doesn’t know exactly where the hospital is, but he knows how to get to the city. They can figure it out from there. Several people honk as Barnaby brings them flying onto the freeway. 

“Holy Marilyn marmalade!” Howdy screeches as they narrowly avoid side-swiping a minivan. 

Barnaby ignores him and cuts off a pickup to get into the right lane for the interchange. Howdy whispers a string of something high pitched and strained and clings to the handle with both hands. 

It takes him a moment to parse out the constant ramble as, “-pull over pull over pull over pull over-” Two honks and a squeal of tires as Barnaby almost causes an accident, and Howdy yells in a louder and deeper tone than Barnaby has ever heard from him, “PULL OVER!”

Barnaby clenches his jaw and cuts across the carpool lane’s double whites. It only takes a moment to reach the shoulder. Howdy leaps out of the passenger seat as soon as the car stops, marches to Barnaby’s side, and wrenches the door open.

“Out,” he snaps, breathing hard. “Barnaby, I swear to all things priceless, get out. “

Barnaby meets his steely gaze for all of a second before unbuckling and getting out. Cars whip by. Howdy huffs at him and slips into the driver’s seat, muttering about recklessness and disasters and if you would wait to try and kill us until we’re right outside the hospital, if only to save us the ambulance fee-

When Barnaby gets into the passenger seat, Howdy waits for him to buckle in with fingertips drumming on the steering wheel. He merges onto the freeway smoothly and carefully. They go slower than the speed Barnaby had them flying down the asphalt at, and it makes something deeply impatient itch in him, but it’s safer. 

“I know you’re upset,” Howdy says, eyes still fixed on the road, “and I know that you’re scared. But what in hell’s bells was that, Barn?”

Barnaby side eyes him and grimaces, folding his arms. “I don’t know. I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have put you in danger like that.”

“You put yourself in danger too, you know.” Howdy sighs and relaxes his grip on the steering wheel. “We’re of no use to Wally if we get ourselves in a crash. What would he say?”

“Whatever he’d say would be hypocritical,” Barnaby says before he can think better of it.

Howdy glances sharply at him. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“He..” Barnaby’s voice fails on him, and he swallows hard. “He was in an accident.”

Howdy is silent for a full few seconds before he exhales a thin, pained sound. “Oh, Walls…”

He must not know what else to say, which is good and well, because Barnaby doesn’t either. A long few minutes pass of silence. Headlights of passing cars on the other side of the freeway flash over them before plunging back into darkness. The dials on the dash glow. The check engine light is on. They’ll need to get gas in order to make it home. 

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as you’re thinking,” Howdy says. He’s tapping the steering wheel again. “It’s likely just a few scrapes and bruises, at worst a broken bone. Nothing Wally can’t handle, and certainly nothing to be concerned over.”

Barnaby can’t bring himself to agree. Maybe… maybe if Wally was driving slowly… but that wouldn’t matter if someone crashed into him with enough force. Home is a large, sturdy vehicle, but it isn’t invulnerable. Wally certainly isn’t.

Without the distraction of driving, all Barnaby can think about is the what ifs. Yeah, what if he’s only a little bit hurt, but what if it’s worse? All of the worst images Barnaby can think of roll through his mind like a messed up movie reel.

Wally dead on the scene, caught in a hunk of twisted metal. 

Wally, choking on his own blood in an ambulance, dying en route to the hospital.

Wally flatlining on a metal table. 

Wally’s small body covered with a sheet-

“Almost there,” Howdy says, slowing at a stoplight. It bathes them both in red. Barnaby didn’t notice when they got off the freeway. 

Barnaby squeezes his eyes shut and presses his forehead to the cold window. After a moment, a slender hand rests on his thigh and squeezes. It’s such a small, stupid thing, but Barnaby breathes a little easier. 

Despite the drive down the freeway feeling like it took hours, the drive through city streets to the hospital passes in a blink. Before Barnaby knows it the car is spiraling up to an upper floor of the parking garage. The floor is mostly empty - Howdy pulls into a spot right by glass double doors. 

Barnaby gets out a split seconds before Howdy, staring at the pristine white walls just inside the doors. In a moment he’ll find out if it’s not that bad, or if he’s about to have the worst night of his life. He’s been to a hospital twice. The last time was for Howdy, but he went with the knowledge that it was only a precaution. The other time was for Mama’s health scare. 

That had been terrifying. The waiting, the wondering, the too-bright hallways and the staff’s rigid smiles. It ended well, but it had still been horrible, and hospitals took center stage in some of his recurring nightmares. Barnaby never wanted to see another loved one in a hospital bed again.

Looks like he doesn’t have a choice. 

Howdy comes around from the driver’s side and lays a hand on Barnaby’s shoulder. “If you need a moment to-”

“Nah,” Barnaby says, his voice rough. He nods and adjusts his sleeves. “Better rip the bandaid off.”

They go into the sterile maze. The bright overhead lights dazzle Barnaby’s eyes after being in the dim parking garage, and he grimaces at the strong odor of antiseptic and floor polish. Howdy makes a beeline for the nearest receptionist and talks to her in rushed, low tones. 

Barnaby shuffles after him, rubbing his shaking hands together and eyeing every person in scrubs that walks past. Something beeps somewhere. He thinks he hears someone crying. This is a place without color, art, or happiness. 

“This way,” Howdy says, walking past him and tilting his head at the elevator. Barnaby follows, feeling like a lost puppy dropped at the side of the road. 

A nurse gets into the elevator with them and politely smiles before staring at the floor counter and pretending they don’t exist. It’s fine with Barnaby. If he has to make small talk right now, he might actually snap. The man’s pink scrubs are almost an eyesore in the harsh lighting. 

The elevator dings, and they all get out on the same floor. Howdy reads door plaques and wall signs like a hawk, his head turning on a swivel as he reads everything at lightning speed. Barnaby nearly has to jog to keep up with his hurried pace. 

Howdy changes direction without warning and heads straight for a door at the end of a short offshoot hallway. Barnaby reads the sign next to the door.

[can’t remember if it’s icu or the other thing, research later]

It’s bad.

The waiting room is small - longer than it is wide, and there’s a woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. It looks nicer than the emergency room, or where Barnaby waited to see his mama. The benches have colorful cushions, and the walls are a pastel green instead of white. There’s an abstract geometric painting on the wall next to the woman. 

Barnaby slowly takes a seat on stiff cushions, watching Howdy talk to the receptionist from afar. He nods and pats the counter before joining Barnaby. He sits close enough that their legs press together.

“Someone will get us up to speed as soon as there’s news,” Howdy says. “I tried to pry some more out of him, but he wouldn’t give up another word.”

Barnaby nods, staring down at his hands. His nail polish is already chipping, despite Julie painting them only last weekend. Barnaby picks at the bright red on his pinkie until Howdy pulls his hand away and enfolds it in both of his own. 

When Howdy takes a deep breath, Barnaby finds himself mimicking him. Their gazes meet - Howdy’s is unflinching, and steady. He smiles and runs his thumb over Barnaby’s knuckles, soothing the nervous trembling, and Barnaby is struck by how darn grateful he is to have Howdy with him. 

If he had to do all of this alone… Barnaby doesn’t think he could. Either he’d have gotten himself into a crash to join Wally, or he would still be sitting in his car, staring at the hospital doors. He doesn’t have the courage. But Howdy does, and Barnaby loves him for it. 

For once, Howdy lets the time pass in silence, though after a long stretch of indeterminable time he gets up to pace. The bench cushions are high quality, but they start to feel uncomfortable. Barnaby doesn’t dare go for a walk. At least they’re not the usual waiting room chairs - he’d rather stand than try to fit into those plastic, narrow things. 

At some point the woman in the corner wakes up. She startles seeing two strangers in the room with her, but quickly ignores them. Barely a few minutes pass before she leaves, mumbling something about coffee. She doesn’t come back. Barnaby spends a while wondering why - did she go home, or wait somewhere else, or did she receive news in the halls?

Howdy sits down again and starts typing furiously on his phone. When Barnaby gives him a curious nudge, he quietly explains that he’s texting the group chat. Barnaby feels a twinge of guilt at that. He completely forgot to let everyone know that there’s a… situation. Who knows if any of them will see it until morning. 

Message sent, Howdy gets up to pace some more. His rhythmic gait gives Barnaby something to focus on, seeing as the clock on the wall is silent, and the receptionist seems to be sleeping. Barnaby could probably pass time on his own phone, but every second spent distracted is a second he might miss someone coming to tell them…

What? Tell them what, exactly? That Wally is okay? That he can receive visitors? 

That he didn’t make it?

The door opens, startling Barnaby to his feet. Howdy scurries over from the far side of the room and rests a steadying hand on Barnaby’s lower back. A woman clad in blue scrubs enters, reading something on a clipboard. There are shadows under her eyes, and she looks beyond exhausted. Barnaby can sympathize.

“Mr. Beagle?” the doctor asks, looking between them. When Barnaby nods, she smiles thinly, gaze flicking briefly to Howdy. “Hi. I’m Dr. Allen. Before I disclose any sensitive information, I’d like to confirm what your relation to the patient is.”

The question gives Barnaby pause. He’s always had a difficult time putting his and Wally’s relationship into simple terms, because it’s anything but. Wally is his best friend, his dearest companion, the man he lives with and can’t imagine being without. 

“He’s my partner,” Barnaby settles on, because it’s a good umbrella term. Partner can mean a lot of things, and people don’t usually pry for specifics. “We’re as good as family.”

Dr. Allen writes something down on her clipboard. “No worries, I’m not going to kick you out if you’re not - you’re his emergency contact for a reason, after all. It’s just basic information that I’d like to have on hand.”

“Course - so how is he?” Barnaby cuts straight to the chase. He’s not in the mood for niceties. 

“Well, Mr. Darling is certainly giving us a run for our money,” Allen sighs. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but I believe he’s gotten through the worst of it.”

“He’ll make it?”

Allen offers another tight lipped smile. “We’re doing our best.”

Barnaby has seen enough hospital dramas to know that we’re doing our best means no promises, prepare for the worst. Howdy must feel the tension gripping him like a vice, because his hand slips from Barnaby’s back to his hand. 

“What are his injuries, if I may?” Howdy asks. 

“I’m not sure-”

“Please. We’d rather know than wonder.” 

Allen looks between them and sighs again. She flips a page on her clipboard. “Unfortunately, there was a bit of time between the crash and when emergency services were called. Between blood loss and the near-freezing temperatures, Mr. Darling developed mild hypothermia.”

Wally was dying, cold and alone in the wreckage of his home for who knows how long before anyone came to help. Barnaby sways in place, and Howdy helps him sit down on a bench instead of the floor. Allen looks apprehensive.

“Keep going,” Barnaby rasps. He needs to know.

Allen doesn’t look happy about it, but she continues. “Mr. Darling also suffered several low-grade lacerations from shrapnel, some fractured ribs, a compound fracture in his left tibia, and currently unidentified damage to his right hand and lower arm.”

Barnaby swallows a mournful sound. That’s fine, it’s fine. Broken bones heal - Wally will be painting again in no time. 

“He also developed an intracranial hematoma. It’s been treated, but we won’t know the extent of the damage until Mr. Darling wakes up.”

“What is that?” Howdy asks before Barnaby can figure out how to speak again. “Intracranial hematoma - tell me if I’m wrong, but that sounds like a head injury.”

“It is - in layman’s terms, it’s a brain bleed. Head trauma can cause bleeding inside the skull, which puts pressure on the brain. We caught it as quickly as feasibly possible, which should raise his chance of a full recovery.” Allen flips the clipped page back into place. “There may still be lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet. I’ll be forward with you - this is one of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive.”

Allen goes on to offer platitudes that Wally is a fighter, and easily answers the flood of questions Howdy has about the mentioned injuries. It all sounds distant. Underwater. The room is too small and the air is stale - are the vents working? Is there a window they can open?

In a blink - and yet the conversation lasts ages - Allen promises to come back with more information as soon as she has it. She smiles one last time and leaves. 

“Barn?” Howdy sounds muffled. “Barn, are you alright?”

What kind of question is that? Of course Barnaby isn’t alright - his best friend is dying, likely on this very floor. There’s a chance he’s already dead. Barnaby might have already lost him, he just doesn’t know it yet. 

Mr. Darling was lucky to be found alive. 

One of the worst crash cases I’ve seen in some time. 

Mild hypothermia - brain bleed - lacerations - fractures.

Lesser complications and injuries we haven’t been able to diagnose or address yet.

We’re doing our best.

“He hung up on me, the little bastard-”

Barnaby is up and out the door before he registers moving. He staggers down the hallways in a blur, everything swirling together into a mess of sight and sound as his lungs struggle to get a full breath. He bypasses the elevator and takes the stairs down to the level they parked on. 

The cold air does nothing to help him breathe. Barnaby chokes on it as he leans against the rough wall grasping at his chest. Howdy is there immediately - he must have been on Barnaby’s heels the whole time. 

“Talk to me, Barn,” Howdy pleads, a hand on the back of his neck and the other over the one Barnaby has on his chest. “What is it - you’re not having a heart attack, are you? Tell me you aren’t, I can’t handle that right now.”

Barnaby doesn’t know. Maybe? He feels like he is. He can’t breathe. He tries to say so, but the ragged gasps his breathing has devolved into doesn’t allow it. Howdy must know something he doesn’t, because he doesn’t run to get a doctor.

“How can I help?” he asks instead.

“Don’t - don’t - know,” Barnaby wheezes. 

“Okay, alright, don’t worry, Barn, I’m here, I’m not going anywhere. Let’s try, ah - what were the steps? I didn’t exactly write them down, though in hindsight I should’ve - that’s not the point! It was… what a time to take after Eddie’s memory-”

It shouldn’t be helping, but Howdy’s constant stream of words grabs Barnaby’s attention. He manages to inhale nearly a full breath before it stutters back out and he’s struggling again.

“Breathing!” Howdy says. “Yes, that was it - Barnaby, I need you to focus on me. Copy my breathing.”

He sucks in a slow, dramatic breath through his nose and exhales just as slowly through his mouth. Barnaby catches on and tries to mimic him, but-

“Can’t, I ca-an’t,” Barnaby says. His chest hurts. 

Howdy presses their foreheads together. “Yes, you can. Come now, Barn, in… out. Simplest thing in the world.”

It doesn’t feel simple, but Barnaby tries. It feels like forever before he manages a full inhale. He butchers the exhale, but Howdy praises the minor win before launching right back into measured breathing. 

Barnaby finally manages a slow inhale and exhale, and suddenly it feels like the pressure filling his chest has vanished. He slumps against the wall, worn out. He puts his hand over Howdy’s mouth in the middle of another dramatic demonstration.

“You’re alright now?” Howdy says, peeling his hand off. Barnaby nods, and Howdy leans next to him with a whoosh. “Thank the stock market - I was starting to get light headed.”

It takes another few minutes for them to catch their breath. Barnaby straightens enough to rest his head on Howdy’s shoulder, breathing in his cheap cologne and homemade laundry detergent. Howdy cups the back of his neck and massages the tense muscle there. 

“This will all turn out okay,” Howdy promises. “Wally is stubborn - I think we both know that well enough. By this time tomorrow we’ll be moving forward.”

Barnaby wants to be that optimistic, but this is real life. For all they know, moving forward means making funeral arrangements. His breathing stutters and he forces it to even out before he can start hyperventilating again. 

A car pulls into a parking space with a gravelly sound. Barnaby pays it no mind until Howdy makes a surprised noise - Barnaby looks up, and his stomach churns.

Frank, Eddie, and Julie are all getting out of Frank’s car. They’re all in various states of dishevelment. Frank’s hair is a mess, and he has what looks like Eddie’s company jacket thrown on over his pajamas. Eddie is in little more than a shirt that says male? lol, more like mail! and boxers - he’s even wearing slippers instead of shoes, and his hair flops over his forehead in soft tufts. Julie’s hair is still in curlers, and though she’s wearing shoes, she’s in a too-long shirt over sweats that don’t belong to her. They’re paint-stained. 

They rush across the parking lot, all worried faces and tired eyes. They’re already asking what happened, is Wally okay, Sally is getting Poppy, they should be here soon, has there been any news-

Barnaby lunges at the nearest trash can and vomits.

[fyodior]

.

[weltraum-vaquero]

X reader fics are getting tiring. If they’re nsfw they always have reader doubt he can dominate them because he’s disabled and then he needs to prove himself it’s TIRING.

I’m glad this felt like a safe space to come out and say this. I do my best to make sure that isn’t a sentiment that readers come across in my fics. Even though my specialty and favored NSFW topic are submissive men, I’ve found myself really enjoying dom Viktor, so I feel like I can kind of speak from both perspectives.

I agree with the sentiment that many (not just x reader) fics that portray him as submissive often approach it from the angle of his insecurity which some writers assume would stem from his disability. The thing is, though, that doesn’t really… seem to be a source of insecurity for him, so it feels both out of character and at the very least vaguely ableist.

I also agree that the inclusion of the reader doubting him just because he uses a cane/crutch is… not great, to say the least. I think something like that is a telling sign of ableism that goes beyond just internalized. And is probably something the author should take a hot second to work through.

Of course there’s bodily limitations that come with a physical disability, but I really don’t think Viktor would approach them from a place of feeling broken or incapable. That’s not how he approaches anything in his life. It feels much more healthy and in character (and engaging as a writer) to include workarounds, or even just make him dominant in a power bottom and/or pillow princess kind of way. There’s a lot you can do with Viktor and his disability in NSFW contexts, as long as you take the time, patience, and care to stay true to his character and have fun with it.

[monimolimnion]

suncatcher [powershoe; zine fic]

GUESS WHAT my darling precious little fic Suncatcher is FINALLY OUT because it's leftovers time for @aaweddingzine 💐💍

name: suncatcher fandom: Ace Attorney | Gyakuten Saiban relationship: Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe/Niboshi Saburou | Will Powers wordcount/chapters: 1/1, 2k additional tags: hi here is a fic in which gummy and will powers help organise nrmt's wedding And Things Occur, bear4bear fluff in a church. oooo you wanna read it so bad, these two are the most literal bear characters, in that both of them are sort of like winnie the pooh but in the shape of a large gay man, and in slightly different directions, written for the aa wedding zine btw!! i had a blast!

summary:

The unholiness of the two of them, human as they are and gossiping like fishwives, and yet the coming together between the pews… there is something about it. They are running a little too close to the venue’s intended purpose; a meeting across the aisle of two kindred spirits, united in purpose. …Gumshoe has got to stop looking at him like that.

Detective Gumshoe and Will Powers scope out a wedding venue.

Read it now on Ao3!

[septembermonologues]

how did dorym nation go from winning so hard to losing so hard in the span of 2 episodes....MAKE IT MAKE SENSE 😭😭😭

I. KNOW. i just keep thinking about how things would be different if dorian had been able to stay or pop in or even just if the sending stones worked. i think there's going to be so much pain and frustration and anger from dorian not necessarily with orym but like. i keep thinking about "no debts between us". and how whether it's internal and how orym is built or because watching the hells lately has put so much weight and responsibility on his shoulders, he's gotten to feel so indebted or something like that so as to make a deal essentially signing away his future with a hag to make up for it. but then there's an empathy there that i don't know the rest of the hells will quite have because dorian made a deal with a betrayer god to keep the crown keepers safe. they're cut from such a similar cloth in that way that i just wonder what kind of... warnings? dorian might have been able to pick up on that have slipped through the cracks without him because orym's been written off as the most stable one of the hells. i just. need to know how dorian is going to react.

[mellotronmkll]

Wverytime I sit down at a computer to make music I get so scared

[foulfeast]

Ohhhh i now remember why i got shy about talking abt ocs

24/7 fear that someone will tell me my ideas are cliche/stupid/bad in some other and it will hurt more bc these are my own creations and not just fun and play