#and i am actually the only person who does a specific task for them

[isenstar777]

I could do some filing for our sister company. But that will kill my ribs and I'm trying to be careful

It's 10:15am and I've run out of work until the post arrives

[tender-rosiey]

hiii this is my first time requesting so i dont know how specific or vague i should get :,) but maybe a scenario between sukuna and reader on how their wedding ceramony(and maybe afterparty) went? i saw an edit of sukuna with lana del rey’s margaret and immediately thought you could write this scenario since all of your husband!sukuna works are chef’s kiss “:D

true oath — ryomen sukuna x f!reader

a/n: so glad you like my husband!sukuna works anon and I hope you like this as well 🥹 ALSO special thanks to @lexiene and @camelnose for beta-reading BIG HUGS TO BOTH OF YOU SRSLY MWUAHHH

the servants scurry all around the room, trying to finish as much as possible in the time frame they have been given.

meanwhile, you are sat in front of your vanity with your personal maid who is putting the final touches to your makeup. you let out a soft giggle at the franticness of the others then look at the mirror to examine yourself.

the kimono had been handpicked by sukuna himself, something he believed was only logical—given that, according to him, nobody knows you as well as he does, and of course, that you’re getting married to him.

you thought he was being overconfident in his abilities, but to your surprise, he really did end up choosing something that—both—fit you well and you liked very much.

though, you wouldn’t tell him that. you wonder what his reaction would be to how you actually look in it, especially since you barely made him agree to not seeing you until the ceremony.

“no.”

“sukuna, come on,” you huffed, clinging onto his arms, “it’s a tradition!”

“I don’t care about traditions, you know that,” he replied simply and carried you in his arms.

you pouted and rested your head on his shoulder, looking up at him with your best puppy eyes, “please, honey?”

he looks at you for a few moments before clicking his tongue and looking away, “fine.”

“yay!”

you let out a chuckle at the memory and are interrupted by the door opening. the servant at the door is heavily panting as he speaks, “the l—lord demands to begin the ceremony right now.”

one of the maids looks at him incredulously, “what?! we still have much to prefer like the pathway to his highness and the food!”

the servant nods in understanding, “I know I swear,” he gulps, “but he is getting real impatient and has expressed the need to see her highness more than once.”

you roll your eyes and stand up, “well, tell him that we will be on our way.”

the main maid gasps, “but my lady—”

“don’t fret,” you smile, “if he asks about the unfinished tasks and preparations, I will tell him that you were working on it, but his insistence on speeding things up halted you from your duty, understood?”

they all nod hesitantly. you clap your hand and grin, “well then, lets go! I am excited to see my dear future husband.”

the maids smile nervously, still trying to come to terms with your marriage to sukuna. staying by his side as his lover is one thing, but to officially be declared his wife?

they have come to the conclusion that either you are as crazy as him underneath or you simply managed to tame him—to an extent at least.

you finally exit your room, and as you walk down the hallways, servants clear the way for you, bowing their heads as they offer you their blessings.

you look around the halls, finding them decorated with flowers already, so they are probably talking about the path in the main room.

the flowers are all of your choice, and it fills you with a sense of joy that each one that you pointed out on your outings with sukuna has been placed meticulously in the arrangement that litter the halls.

you slow down your pace, partially to soak in the view a bit more and partially to tease sukuna who is probably waiting with the last smidge of patience he can manage.

sukuna, who is sat on his throne, hand on his knee as he tapped it in waiting. he knows what you’re doing. you have always tried to test just how much you can get away with, which is admittedly a lot at this point.

for example, the first time you did something that he considered audacious is when you were strolling the gardens when you first came to the palace.

you were faced with sukuna who was stood in the place where you usually lounged.

it irked you cause he had the entire garden but chose the most secluded spot—which was usually where you sat so the servants can forget about doing any chores.

you frowned, “that is my spot.”

he quirked an eyebrow but didn’t look back at you. he let out a chuckle, “and this entire palace is mine.”

“nice try,” you quipped, “but I know the palace belongs to sukuna, the king of curses.”

at that, he turned to look at you. he leaned back against the tree, arms crossed and a cold stare on his face, “and who do you think I am, human?”

“oh—shit, okay,” you spluttered, “so you’re sukuna? you look more handsome than I thought.”

a smirked plays at the corner of his lips.

he didn’t reply to you, and you—rightfully—thought that you have dug your own grave. you started to shift your footing from your tip toes to your heel, and you looked away.

he stood up, an amused smile on his face, and he passed you, “I am expecting more from you, so don’t disappoint me.”

you tilted your head, watching his retreating figure. he had left one last comment, “but the next time I see you, I expect you to kneel at my presence.”

that was the moment that sukuna started wanting to see more of you, to see how far you could go. it was a new thing to amuse himself with, so it was more than welcome.

he just doesn’t know when it started being the other way around, because you, in fact, did not kneel.

instead, you started treating him like someone who you genuinely enjoyed their company, and it threw him off slightly; however, that is one of the reasons why he is currently waiting for you, his bride to appear.

the door finally opens, and it reveals you.

sukuna’s heart doesn’t skip a beat at how the kimono fit you exactly how he thought, how your make up was simply perfect, nor how the smile on your lips exuded both happiness and mischief.

what sukuna feels instead is booming pride.

you were always his, since the moment you entered the palace, before he even laid eyes on you. but this silly tradition simply solidifies it even more in the eyes of the others.

he smirks as you finally stand in front of him. you can barely contain your grin, “hello, future husband.”

he didn’t think that a tie to him would ever make somebody so joyed. he smirks at you, patting his lap, “you should know by now that I know you best, you silly woman.”

instantly, your expression falls, and you retort, “way to ruin the mood, king.”

amusement glints in his eyes, and he pulls you close to him, “don’t you ever get tired of giving me attitude? you ought to learn your place.”

“is it not by your side, my lord?” you hum, and he chuckles, content when you finally settle on his lap.

“damn audacious woman,” he looks up at the servants that fill the room.

they are all bowing, some trembling, others alienly still. then there is you who is swinging her feet as she sits on the lap of the king of curses.

he lets out a small breath then speaks loudly, “get the rings.”

in a moment, a servant comes in, carrying a cushion where two golden rings lay. your eyes widen at the sheer amount of patterns of gems on one of the rings.

the servant kneels in front of you two, and sukuna takes the ring decorated with gems in one hand and your hand in another. it slips perfectly onto your finger, and you raise your hand.

you feel your jaw slack a bit at how intricately made it is. and upon closer inspection, you see that one of the patterns is actually sukuna’s name.

you look up at him, and he is already looking at you with a small smirk and a confident look, “you should see the look on your face,” he muses.

he takes your hand into his and raises it slightly.

he examines it quietly before letting go. you blink confused but shrug the thought of your mind. you hold his hand in yours gently, and you put the ring on him.

his ring, contrary to yours, is a lot minimal. it’s a simple golden band, but what surprises you is that your name is etched on the surface.

“sukuna, my name…?”

he looks at the ring on his finger and flexes his hand. he looks at you simply says, “figured you would like something like this.”

you smile widely and giggle, “you know, people usually carve the name of the inside.”

“and I am not usual, am I?”

you nod gently and lean against his chest, “no, you’re not.”

you honestly didn’t know what to expect from a wedding ceremony in the ryomen sukuna “style”. however, sukuna was set on…standing out and making it a memorable event.

the room was flooded with servants carrying trays upon trays of food—all which you have noticed were your favorite—and dancers that put one of the most fascinating shows you’ve seen.

you gape at how they make their moves so effortless, which you can see through just how much practice was put into it.

you look at sukuna, and you seem him smirking down at you, clearly proud of the reaction the show has gotten out of you.

“how—how long have you been preparing for this?” you ask the man.

he glances at the dancers then replies, “6 months; I needed it to be perfect, and these humans take so long to learn things.”

“also, I know that the show I organized is great—“ he says before holding your chin and making you face him, “but that enamoured face should be directed at none other than me, got it?”

you nod frantically, not out of fear, but he is staring directly into your eyes in a way that simply is far too intense. he releases your chin, humming in satisfaction.

the dance finally comes to a close, and everybody in the room bows down to the both of you.

uraume speaks up from beside you—when did they get there—head held down humbly, “it is time for you to exchange vows, my lord and m’lady.”

vows? sukuna prepared vows?

tilting your head in confusion, you look at sukuna, and he is already looking at you. he rolls his eyes, “I didn’t prepare anything, brat; don’t get ahead of yourself.”

okay, that tracks. you give him a thumbs up.

but he is quiet for a moment before speaking up, “I have no need for that; all that you need to is that,” he leans closer to you, "you are mine, entirely and without exception, in every breath you take,” he spoke lowly against your lips, “I won’t let you forget that.”

he lets out a breath of amusement at the way your eyes widen and the glimmer behind them. he wastes no time in locking his lips with you, sealing your contract for life.

—

“wooo! I am married!” you say drunkenly, giggling and swaying slightly beside your now husband.

you whip your head back at him, almost falling in the process but his hand easily steadies you, “sukuna, I am married!”

“I know,” he replies, eyeing the empty cup that was full of sake. he hums, “uraume, what was the intensity in the sake?”

they both glance at you, standing on top of a table, babbling a kind of song about your marriage and being a queen now.

you nearly trip on the covers, but sukuna nods for uraume to stop your fall. they hold you up with one hand, maintaining a safe distance, so sukuna doesn’t get protective.

“high, my lord.”

you keep giggling and squealing, and he sighs, “certainly looks like it.”

he rests his chin on his palm, watching your figure run around and keeping an eye for you. however, in the corner of his eyes, he spots a couple of men staring at you, eyes full-blown and open.

it irks him that even after that display, they still dare to look at what belongs to him.

with minimal effort, he flicks his finger, and their heads go flying to the corner of the room. some of the blood splatters onto the floor, but he pays it no mind.

“ooo, red wine!”

“don’t you dare drink that, you stupid woman!”

after a while you find yourself laid down on the bed, head dazed as you try to make sense of your surroundings. you can hear a door closing, and some heavy footsteps getting closer and closer.

finally, your husband comes into view with his arms crossed. you pull on his sleeve gently, “what about the after-party?”

he sits down beside you, and you take the chance to lay your head on his lap. he allows it but grunts in response, “after-party with you all delirious like this?”

“I am fine!” you protest, huffing and giving him the most intimidating glare you can muster.

he simply flicks your forehead, and you yelp, shielding your face away from him, “you’re so rude!”

“pretty sure, you aren’t supposed to reply your king and husband like that,” he states. he squishes your face with one hand and quirks an eyebrow, “you’re testing your limits.”

“I don’t care!”

“oh?”

you note the change of tone almost instantly, and it is enough to sober you up.

you look up, wide-eyed at him, and on his face is a devious smirk, and behind his eyes are thoughts that are probably going to be the end of you tonight.

he leans down slightly, “I have a different kind of after-party in mind,” one of his hands trails to hold your wrist, “which I think you will quite like,” you try resisting for even a second, but you’re no match for him, “starting now.”

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[aardvaark]

Throughout leverage we see multiple different people driving the team/groups. Parker with the "I was taught to run from the cops", Sophie with the "taxi driver in Istanbul (citation needed)", Eliot with "I am getting us there in 5 minutes or less"... So what is your headcanon for how they decide who drives? Does Nate have a specific set of criteria where he picks who drives? Do they argue about who drives?

well, a lot of places they go, they need minimum two vehicles: hardison's van for tech (i think its only got two actual seats, though im sure people have had to sit in the back & get thrown around lol) and at least one car for other people/general driving. hardison tends to drive lucille so thats one down. if eliot's around to drive, he's probably driving the second car. if not, then nate, then sophie, then parker*. when hardison isn't driving lucille, he's probably as likely to drive as nate or sophie. and when tara's there, i doubt she has driving privileges lol.

in s1, i doubt they're carpooling much. like, they'd drive from their homes to the hq to the job themselves, and only go in the same car to do some quick task. later, they treat nate's apartment as home base and are frequently there for very little reason lmao, so thats when they actually have to plan more about who drives. obviously it heavily depends on how many cars are required and who's doing what. but. it seems like it's often nate driving with sophie as passenger, eliot driving himself or with parker as passenger, and hardison driving himself or with parker as passenger.

*detailed explanation of their individual driving under the cut:

parker is a genuinely great getaway driver, so her skills are useful in that type of situation... but i think 99% of the time, when they're not requiring a quick getaway, she is BANNED from driving. sophie even said so somewhere in s3, i dont remember exactly. canonically she can drive perfectly normally too (eg her driving with tara in the s2 finale) to be fair. she just doesnt want to lol. the stuff she has in her own car (both useful items and "decoration") is somewhat disturbing and very confusing. a lot of it is sharp. or a chemical hazard.

sophie drives sometimes but her driving can be... questionable, occasionally (ie big bang job). the (alleged) fact she learnt to drive from a taxi driver in istanbul seems to imply she didn't learnt to drive later than most, when she was traveling a lot? her attitude of "if i'm doing my job right, the mark just turns off the alarm for me" makes me think she'd apply the same logic here and would've done more hitchhiking & public transport than driving when she was first starting out, but over time got herself a car and learnt to drive because its kinda a safety thing in her line of work (need a getaway). all this to say, she can drive and she might have a nice car but its not her priority, you know?

nate drives sophie, some mix of her thinking its chivalrous and him having some ingrained ideas about male gender roles, but also just personal preferences. and a little bit because hes seen some of her questionable driving choices. once they're together, this changes to a more even split. also nate is def a backseat driver (like, regardless of who's driving/their skill level) and has been kicked out of a car at least once.

hardison is also mostly fine to drive or not drive like sophie. he'll bicker with eliot about who drives but mostly that's just an extension of their ongoing bickering saga. every time one of his lucilles gets exploded or whatever, he has a period of mourning and takes a couple weeks before he'll let other people drive the next incarnation of lucille - and to be fair thats usually because one of them was responsible for killing lucille.

eliot doesn't let other people drive his car (unless its absolutely necessary for a con - see: the boost job). he only begrudgingly lets people IN his car because SOMEONE spilled slushie all over it one time and yes he will continue to bring that up a decade later, hardison. i think being around the team has made him become one of those people who has strict rules for being in his car lol - no food/drink, no leaving anything in the car that doesnt have to be there. obviously the team break these rules all the time.

and the definition of what is a "necessity" and can therefore stay in the car is a BIG ongoing debate. some items of interest on the "necessity" list: gift wrapping paper, one (1) shiny thing, a gaming console, chloroform, a neatly packed bag of spare clothes, at least one dress hanging up with a dust cover, 3-5 CDs (which must be individually approved before being added to the car and only one of which can be christmas-related), spare reading glasses, cables that eliot annoyingly can't veto because he doesn't understand that stuff enough to argue, aluminium foil, and a pack of hair ties.

some things that have been BANNED: food & drink, glitter (there was an incident), nail polish (there was more than one incident), most tech stuff ("that's why you have lucille!"), secret money stashes, anything considered priceless by art experts, "surprises", and live animals.

i would love a road trip episode where most/all of them are taking turns driving and are stuck together in a vehicle for ages. also i now have the urge to go through the series and actually chart who drives.

lol thank you very much for the ask and ik the length is crazy but i hope this is a good answer haha.

[yuri-is-online]

Hi hi, Can you please to prompt 4 with Malleus,Vil, and Riddle?

4. You met someone really wonderful at the Masquerade Ball and have been ranting about how he was totally the love of your life to your abnormally quiet friend. Actually wasn't he invited too? Maybe you should ask him how that went.

Hello hello and of course I can, and I agree with the first ask you sent me. I was not really thinking of Malleus specifically when I wrote that prompt but it really does suit him doesn't it?

Oh also, welcome to the hell site. I noticed you're new from the few asks you sent me (I was so confused as to how a blank blog was talking to me), I hope you have fun with the content on here. New people are always welcome with me, I know all about being shy and uncertain of how to interact with people. I'll answer the other Malleus prompt you sent in after I have done some others, it was my bad for not realizing you were the same person haha.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, full shojo manga lack of self awareness here in Malleus's part (it is implied to take place before the Ch. 6 reveal), just don't think about it is Yuu's middle name. The rest of the requests can be found on my masterlist here.

Malleus

"Tsunotarou, you know a lot about gargoyles, right?" Such a foolish yet welcome question. Truly your unawareness of just who you are conversing with never ceases to amaze and infatuate him.

"Of course, I am something of an expert." He smiles, trying to keep it from showing the whites of his teeth.

"Oh well then you must be very happy to be in Diasomnia." Your eyes are sparkling, and he pauses. Yes he is very happy to be in Diasomnia, but not for the gargoyles. Briar Valley has long respected the legacy of the Thorn Fairy, and what better house could there be for the noblest of nobles than one that's very core is the spirit of nobility? But these are not exactly things he wishes to speak with you about, it would require detailed revelations he fears the consequences of.

"And what makes you think that, child of man?" Still there must be cause for your reasoning, and he does wish to hear it.

"Well your housewarden is one, isn't he?" You seem very pleased with yourself, but your mind is clearly very far away. Malleus stares at you, eyes wide in shock as he attempts to piece together what logic might have drawn you to such a conclusion. "I met him last night." Your dreamy sigh fills him with jealousy, just irrational enough that the thunder crack above you is quite small enough that he can convince you to remain outside of Ramshackle in conversation with him.

"Your mask is really impressive!" Your eyes always shone at the simplest displays of magic, it filled Malleus with a joy he could never quite find his fill of.

"Mask?!" Roars Sebek, his volume matching the pride rapidly feeling Malleus's chest. "Foolish human, this is more than a mere mask! This is a display of my lord's skill! A perfect recreation of old Briar Valley Masquerade tradition! His artistic talent has been woven though magic to bear his true face for the world to see-"

"That's quite enough Sebek." He does enjoy his retainers praise, but he has a task in mind that the over excited boy might- no will definitely endanger if he speaks further.

"But my lord!" Poor Sebek is torn between embarrassment, jelousy, and concern as he watches his precious lord observe you in the same manner one might a particularly expensive jewel.

"They have given me a most treasured compliment and I wish to reward them in turn." He bows, making sure to flourish his hand as he extends it, taking great pleasure in the little shudder that he only sees unaccompanied by fear in you. "May I have this dance, prefect?"

"Y-yes. You may." You seem in a daze as he takes you to the floor, just as unaware of the others around you as he is. It's wonderful, no matter how many times he visits you he has never had such a good excuse to hold you as this. Your scent, the weight of you in his arms, the way he can better familiarize himself with the subtle movements of your face is all much more real and overwhelming than he had ever imagined it being. It's all Lilia can do to drag him away, whispering teasing things about impropriety and duty to soothe the storm at his fingertips as he sees your friends scoop you up where he left off.

"He is a very handsome gargoyle. And so polite! But then I guess he is royalty so that makes sense..." The continued thunder has you inviting him in, mentioning something about tea he really can't be bothered to think about.

"No he isn't." Malleus pouts. "The nobility of Briar Valley has a reputation for being extremely dour and irrational."

"Oh. Well no wonder he seemed so happy I danced with him. Poor fellow must be very lonely." Oh if only you knew.

"Enough about my housewarden." Malleus declares without a hint of irony, bowing in a familiar fashion to prevent you from entering your kitchen. "He isn't the one you are talking to now is he? He isn't the one who you will be thinking about when you dream tonight." In a slight daze you take his hand, the living room fills with green fireflies as the storm outside slows to a halt as kinder, not softer emotions fill the young lord's heart. "He isn't the one your last dance is for, so focus on me, won't you?"

Vil

"This is why I told you to make sure whatever costume Crewel gave you came with a coat." Vil is beyond angry, with you certainly, but mostly at- life? The fact humans have an immune system that doesn't always work? You have no clue and your head is much too stuffed up to care. What you do care about is that Vil is here, and he really shouldn't be. Colds are contagious and Vil has so many things that he should be doing other than fussing over someone who is not in his dorm and not his responsibility.

"You could get sick." You say and he laughs, if you could see him, if he was not sat behind you on a bed in one of Pomefiore's empty rooms, you know the look he would have on his face. You would see his stupidly beautiful smug smile he has when he has something particularly cutting to say; instead you have to close your eyes and picture it as he pats your head dry just a bit more forcefully.

"Not my responsibility you say? You certainly seem to have a funny view of this." Vil has a word on the tip of his tongue. A word that's ambiguous, a word that would make his manager have a fit. If only she had been a fly on the wall during the Masquerade last night.

"My my, you seem a bit out of place." The tall stranger must be confused at your staring, but he seems more amused than offended. "Does my costume enchant you that much?"

"It reminded me of something." It would hard enough to explain to a friend what you are thinking of, harder still to a stranger. The scarlet costume could have been taken from a playbill, you find yourself looking him over for any sign of a folio. You highly doubt it's you the Red Death wants to capture tonight, but you cannot say you will protest too loudly if that's what he decides. "Sorry if I made you uncomfortable."

"Quite the opposite," the stranger does not ask you to dance, merely extends his hand and gracefully leads you off to the side when you take it, "so long as you praise me out loud you can look as long as you like."

"It's not like you got me sick." You sneeze into your tissue and Vil frowns, satisfied with your care but not with your answer. He had his suspicions that you may have made a... mistake in your assessment of your time at the Masquerade. But it did hurt him slightly to think that you did not know his essence well enough to have recognized him at once. "And I did get a costume with a cloak, I just gave it to the Red Death because it was too weird to see him without it."

"Mhmm I don't know." you say. It's such a shame Vil can only see your lips, he loves it when you tease him so much already it isn't fair he has to focus on something so tauntingly close and yet so far out of reach. "I think your costume is incomplete."

"Oh?" Vil makes sure to hold you close to him as the song ends, daring anyone to come close enough to try and steal your attention so he can laugh at the attempt. "What's your reasoning for that? Depending on what you have to say, I just might agree." You back out of his arms and make a frame with your fingers. "Kiss me." He begs silently. "Kiss me and leave a mark." But instead you unwind your cloak and fix it to his shoulder.

"Perfect. Now you really look like the portrait." And to his great despair you are gone.

Despite your earlier stated worries, you fall back into Vil's chest, tilting your back to look up at him. "When I'm not sick remind me to tell you about the Phantom of the Opera? I wanted to spend more time dancing with him, but I was feeling too much at home and got scared he'd vanish." Vil's eyes shine with a strangely familiar light, and he gently guides you under the bed's covers. Just before he leaves he kisses your forehead so gently it's all you can do not to cry.

"I think your phantom might be closer than you think." He murmurs against your skin and leaves you to sleep, tucking you under a mysteriously familiar red cloak as soon as your eyes are well and truly closed.

Riddle

"You will be too tired to do anything after the ball, so make sure to shower and go directly to bed."

It was good advice based off of a reasonable assumption, and technically you were not in fact physically doing anything. You were also quite tired, you had expected to spend most of the ball on the outskirts observing the display of feathers and paints but that was far from what actually happened. You don't think you had ever danced in your life as much as you had in the past six hours. It would be extremely reasonable to assume that after scrubbing yourself free of makeup and sweat you would be down for the count.

But you weren't. Your mind was running a mile a minute, eyes constantly glancing at your phone on your nightstand. It's an odd feeling, wanting to call someone and not being able to. It is also a feeling you have become deeply familiar with, the ache it produces might as well be permanently woven into your heart, you should be immune to the pain at this point.

This time though, this time the person you want to call could theoretically be within reach. This person was someone you could touch, someone you could hold, someone whose touch still lingered against your hands.

The little knight was just as awkward as you were, if he didn't immediately stutter out a protest you would have thought he was just as inexperienced with the whole formal party thing as you were.

"I know what I'm doing I just-"

"Then can you show me how to dance? I've been practicing but I'm not great at it." He stares at you, and you are worried you said something wrong until he laughs, it sounds smug you think but you can't be sure.

"That's the proper way to ask for a dance." He takes your hand in his as he bows, kissing it so gently you half think it was your imagination. "This is."

You pick up your phone before it buzzes, immediately sitting up in shock when you see just who is messaging you at 3:30 am on a Friday.

[Riddle] Are you still awake prefect?

[Yuu] Ace is that you.

[Yuu] I'm not covering for you if Riddle finds out you took his phone again (¬_¬)

[Riddle] What do you mean again?

The little knight's dance is stiff at first, but he relaxes as you continue. He has been guiding you to the center of the room, you belatedly realize. You must have looked frightened once you did. "It would be rude to stay in the corner during the slower songs." He squeezes your hand to bring your attention back to him. "It isn't against the rules to be bad at dancing, but it is to monopolize other people's space."

"Aren't you doing that right now?" You tease and he stops leading you, almost as if he hadn't even considered that.

"Are you not enjoying yourself?" He almost sounds afraid and you find yourself having to take over the direction of your movements.

"I didn't say that." Your knight almost seems to grow ten feet tall at your praise before he becomes aware of himself again and gets a bit bashful. But he does not take over again, content to let you set the pace of your dancing for the rest of the night.

[Riddle] Actually disregard that. Since you are awake, would you mind coming to your window? I understand throwing rocks is considered romantic but breaking a window would be most unfitting behavior for a housewarden.

You are tempted to tell him you are waiting for a message from someone else, but the unusual behavior has you at your window before you can even full form the thought. You almost drop your phone at the sight you see below you.

Riddle expected to have difficulty making eye contact with you. He expected to be teased about his failure to follow his own good advice, his costume has got to be a mess between the dancing he did with you earlier and the pacing he did once he got back to Heartslabyul.

But neither of those happen. Neither matters, instead you see him and the familiar scrap of paper you had given him with your number and a heart and fly down the Ramshackle steps into his outstretched arms.

"I'm so glad it was you I danced with tonight."

[nemisuki]

᧔࿔᧓ || Thank you for checking out my work! I've been a bakugo fanatic since 2019 so majority of my page will be dedicated to him. I am only writing 'character x f!reader' content but this might change in the future ૮꒰ྀི > . < ꒱ྀིა

╰┈➤ check out some fandoms I'm in + my AO3 : suki info card

﹫currently not taking any requests, writing explicit smut and/or doing multi-ships!

--᧔࿔᧓ Bakugo Katsuki ᧔࿔᧓--

A Special Day - Celebrating your birthday with him! (fluff)

Just Smile - Who knew you could become so close with your favorite idol? (fluff)

Metal Love - When a half human-half robot joins class 3A on a mission, what does the blonde do? Catches feelings of course! (fluff)

Good soup - Up until now, Bakugo has grown accustomed to communicating with others in his native tongue. Yet he never expected meeting her would be the reason to learning a whole new language…. just to confess. (fluff)

Sunshine - A short oneshot of jealous bakugo and an oblivious girl who is unaware of a lot of things… including their romance (fluff)

Behind The Walls - The only thing keeping you sane throughout this sudden zombie apocalypse is a fiery blonde, so why did fate have to cruelly separate you two? (angst, happy ending)

Trick or Treat - Perhaps wearing matching costumes will give you the courage to confess to the blonde on halloween night (fluff)

A Simple Click - Online meeting friends never crossed her mind when gaming. Until a chibi blonde avatar started spamming her inbox to join his guild, refusing to give up (fluff)

Morning Routine - She never would’ve expected her life to revolve around waking up next to him, but who knew he was a secret softie at heart (fluff)

Racing Hearts - A small wholesome moment between a hot head and his girlfriend. Yet the hot head is actually shy of affection? (fluff)

--᧔࿔᧓ Shoto Todoroki ᧔࿔᧓--

Silence - A small snippet of class 3A being dorks and finding out the truth of the hidden couple among them (fluff)

--᧔࿔᧓ Eijirou Kirishima ᧔࿔᧓--

Falling For You - Crushing on your friendly classmate, led to sparks of jealousy (fluff)

--᧔࿔᧓ Sanemi Shinazugawa ᧔࿔᧓--

Welcome Home - The new medics at the butterfly mansion weren't aware of the number one rule, never help the wind hashira. Only one person is allowed to do a dangerous task like that (fluff)

--᧔࿔᧓ Choso Kamo ᧔࿔᧓--

Dimples - He was a punk and she did ballet... literally. When two people of opposite worlds meet, love is sure to bloom (fluff)

--᧔࿔᧓ Gojo Satoru ᧔࿔᧓--

Winter Breeze - Always running late for school was something you faced in the mornings. Perhaps this time, spotting a specific guy in the train station might make you arrive early from now on (fluff)

[iraprince]

do u have any advice for those that want to run a quest?

it feels a LEETLE silly answering this when all my own are currently on hiatus bc i got busy (SORRY TO CALLIST0 READERS LOL) BUT!!! yes i do. i have only ever run quests/interactive comics on the site questden, so i guess as a baseline this will kind of all be geared towards that, but i think most of this should translate to any hosting situation

you have to be cool with your plots branching and mutating in unexpected ways, and you have to be willing to play ball with your readers. quests are a collaboration between the author and the audience. it often feels a lot like gming a tabletop campaign (and that's the origin!! questden, specifically, was originally an offshoot of /tg/.) -- we've all had or heard about bad GMs who view their position as that of a narrative dictator who exists to punish and prod a captive group of players thru their own personal novel, but a good GM is interested in telling stories as a group. u have final say and have to stay true to the important stuff abt ur story, but if u get mad or frustrated when ur readers want to explore something "off topic" or aren't following the threads of ur narrative the way u expected them to, u don't actually want to run a quest, u just want to make a webcomic w mandatory comments. (the flip side of this is: consider if the story u want to make is the right one for an interactive quest. if it is REALLY important to u that the plot beats of a story go a certain way, maybe save it for a medium where u have more control!)

keep it loose and fast. the art does not matter. i am rly guilty of not following this one, but i still think it's really important! one of the things i like best about quests is the barrier to entry is very low and you SHOULD be able to start and maintain one very quickly. if i were better at keeping my art scrabbly and sketchy and loose, my stuff would not go on hiatus as often as it does. draw fast! it's NICE if the art is gorgeous to look at and definitely will draw readers, but it's way better if the art is simple enough that you can update frequently and without much stress. the quality of ur writing + character building, and whether u are telling a story that's engaging and that ur readers feel meaningfully involved in, is 100000x more important than the art.

on the more nitty gritty side: try to have a hook in each update. one of the most common reasons suggestions die off is readers being unsure of what they're supposed to do next. sure, too much spoonfeeding could end up feeling like railroading, and you don't have to end every single update by getting right in their faces and yelling "WHAT DO YOU DO NEXT??", but when you finish an update try to take a second to put yourself in a reader's shoes and see if there's an obvious next step. is there a course of action to decide on/debate, are there clear questions they can ask an npc, etc -- i can't think of a great way to describe it, but you want to avoid ending an update on a note where the player character and readers are basically sitting there looking at each other like "um... okay. that's that, then." some ppl even just end all their updates w multiple choice options, which is a super simple way to keep things moving if it fits the style of what ur doing. if you don't want it to be that overt but you still can't think of a way for there to be a clear hook, you can at least try to leave a little nudge in the narration that invites the readers to try to tie whatever they've just done/learned back into the pc's main goals/motivations or current tasks. (on this subject, VERY useful for your main character to have a very specific goal or end destination that everyone is on the same page abt. it's harder for your plot to lose momentum if you can always point at what your readers are supposed to be moving toward!)

finally: KEEP UPDATING EVEN IF YOU GET VERY FEW/NO SUGGESTIONS. it's a niche genre. questden is a small website. it's hard to get people to read something new, especially if it's in a new and unfamiliar format (and especially especially when it's on a website that looks like a chanboard lmao). picking up readers takes a long time, and a lot of people lurk without suggesting (ESPECIALLY if it's a difficult/plot-important decision, and also especially in the opposite, if it's a very obvious next step and someone else has already commented what most ppl would say). it's very tempting to want to wait for more suggestions bc u "only" have one or two, and then that wait becomes stagnation, and then you're frustrated and u end up dropping the quest bc "nobody cares." instead u just have to push thru!!!! u only have two suggestions and u wish u had more? maybe next update u'll get more. u have NO suggestions and u feel like that means ur quest is dead in the water? NOPE! the solution is to update again, bc maybe ppl with latch on more and have something to say in the next scene. the more u update ur quest, the more u'll be able to talk abt it (and maybe get more readers), and specifically in the case of questden the more ur thread will be bumped to the front page. think abt how many times you've seen ppl talking abt a webcomic or a book and thought "i need to check that out eventually...." but it takes months for you to actually do it. 99.9999% of the time, ppl need to see something MULTIPLE TIMES before they check it out!! most readers do not come from clicking something the very first time they see it!! i know it can feel lonely and discouraging, but u owe it to ur art and the stories u want to tell to keep trying, even if engagement is very low at first, otherwise you're killing it before it's even had a chance. like, get shameless about it. ask your buddies to comment on your quest. but give that horse a few really good whacks before you decide it's dead!! i think that's my main thoughts. if you have any more specific questions i'm happy to help if i can! but also i think you'll learn the most by just jumping in and fucking around. quests are easy to pick up and easy to drop, and imo do really well as a playground where u test different ways to draw and tell stories, so might as well just get messy.

[steddieas-shegoes]

The top of your blog says you're still taking requests,no pressure though of course: Eddie lives through the events of s4 and heals in the hospital, his name is cleared, Eddie spends his time with his uncle and his friends, plays games. He notices that Steve sort of remains on the back burner, shows up to little gatherings but keeps himself at a distance, busies himself with small tasks. Keeps the focus on Eddie, and is content to sort of stare at everyone, and not join in. Eddie gets worried and asks Robin whats up with Steve, why does he keep just standing in the corner or the kitchen smiling instead of joining in, I think he's bumming the kids out, Robin. And she has to calmly, and frightfully, remind him that Steve died over spring break. What are you talking about he's right there! I'd love a Ghost Steve who doesn't want to move on, wants to stay with his family. Doesn't want to be alone. Eddie is the only one who can see him at first(?)

OKAY SO THIS WAS SAD AS SHIT AND I LOVE THIS PREMISE. I especially love it because I have read A LOT of ghost Eddie fics, some where he was actually dead and some where it was a weird Upside Down thing and he was alive. I'm a big believer in happy endings so I went full speed ahead with the latter option for Steve. But since you requested ghost Steve not wanting to move on, I had to switch it up a bit to where Eddie couldn't just let it go. Still plenty of sad, but I had to make it hopeful and happy at the end because I am me. - Mickala ❤️

----------------------------------------------

While Eddie was in the hospital, it felt like he was in a bubble. His uncle was the only one allowed to visit for the first week, and then the kids were able to come by when his name was cleared.

They weren’t themselves, a cloud of sadness around them, but that was to be expected with everything that had happened.

Dustin, especially, clung to him more than he expected.

He figured it would be rough, he did almost die, after all, but this was on another level.

Dustin was with him every day for hours, sometimes had to be dragged out by his mom who understood, but only in the way a person who doesn’t know about the Upside Down could.

Robin came by sometimes, a haunted look on her face, none of her usual energy anywhere to be seen.

He managed to get her to crack a small smile twice.

When he left the hospital, things somehow felt worse.

The government had provided him and Wayne a new trailer, nowhere near the trailer park, even managed to get Wayne a new truck since Eddie’s van had been destroyed and Wayne’s truck was on its last leg for the last year.

His name was cleared, but that didn’t mean people changed their mind about him.

He mostly stayed at home, didn’t even attempt to go to the store with Wayne or anywhere but Dustin’s house or the Byers’.

The kids started begging for normalcy in whatever ways they could: meeting up for movie night, bringing Hellfire back, dinner at the Byers’ house.

Eddie was on board with it, wanted to put everything in the past just as much as they did.

He went to movie night, at Robin’s house while her parents were out of town instead of at Steve’s.

Steve, who hadn’t visited him once while he was in the hospital, hadn’t made it to any hangouts with the kids, apparently was coping with everything by ignoring everyone.

Eddie would have to do something about it soon because the kids were clearly missing him.

Movie night was okay, but he decided to have the next one at his house.

He told Dustin to let everyone know, didn’t think he had to be specific about everyone.

Steve didn’t show up on time, which was unusual since he was usually Dustin and Lucas’ ride. They rode with Nancy and Mike.

Everyone settled in, Eddie started the movie and passed out popcorn, waved goodbye to Wayne on his way out the door to his night shift.

Everything felt okay, but without Steve, it didn’t feel right.

Eddie could admit to himself he had a crush on him. He had one on him in high school, but that was easy to ignore when he was an asshole.

Now, he knew Steve was a good guy, protected these kids and Robin and Nancy with his life and didn’t hesitate even when he should.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore, he realized that while he was in the hospital. It was full blown feelings. Love.

Eddie sat in Wayne’s recliner in the corner, keeping an eye on everyone through the movie. He glanced over to the kitchen and saw movement, but didn’t think anything of it.

They paused the movie halfway through for bathroom breaks and refills on snacks and drinks, and Eddie followed all the kids into the kitchen to get his own beer.

He was startled when he turned the corner and saw Steve smiling at him from the corner.

He didn’t want to say anything, figured the kids had already said hello and he was just letting them get their stuff first.

But it was kind of weird that he’d come in the backdoor of a trailer he’d never visited when he easily could have come in the front door. Eddie watched as Steve leaned against the wall of the kitchen, watching everyone move around without saying anything.

It was weird, especially because the smile seemed to transform from a genuine one to a sad one quickly.

He didn’t want to draw attention to it, didn’t know how much Steve let the kids see usually, so he turned to grab his own snack from the counter.

Robin was standing there, staring at him, eyebrows pinched together.

“What were you looking at?”

“Uh,” Eddie glanced back over and saw Steve frowning now. “Steve? Looking like a kicked puppy in the corner?”

Robin’s face went from confused to worried in a millisecond.

“What? What do you mean?”

“Steve.” Eddie gestured towards where Steve was still standing, but now he looked panicked, like he wanted to interrupt. “Please feel free to make me not look insane, Steve.”

Robin glanced over to the corner, then back at Eddie, tears in her eyes.

“Eddie,” she said, voice sad, like she was about to break the worst news in the world to him. Then, she did. “Steve died. Remember? We had to leave him.”

That can’t be right. He could’ve sworn Steve was there when he was being pushed through the gate, when he gained just enough consciousness to look around and take inventory of the people around him. Steve was there.

“When did he die? He was at the…with the bats…he was at the trailer…right?”

Eddie looked back in the corner and saw Steve looking down at the floor.

And then Robin was pulling him into a hug.

“Nobody told you. They were supposed to tell you. And we-” she let out a sob. “We just haven’t talked about it. It’s hard to. Last time we tried, Dustin had to be given anxiety meds. I’m sorry, Eddie. He’s gone.”

She was crying through the explanation, almost too much for him to understand what she was saying.

But he watched as Steve wiped at his eyes in the corner.

Like he was crying. Like he was there.

He knew Robin wasn’t lying, she would never lie about something like this, and it would explain a lot of the behavior of everyone and Steve’s absence up until this point.

“Robbie, I-” Eddie didn’t know if it would help or hurt her to know he could see Steve right now. He made a decision based on the way Steve was watching them now, his eyes wide and sad, like he would be crying if he could. “I can see him right now.”

Robin pulled away, looked at him, then over at the corner.

“Right now? He’s there right now?”

Eddie nodded.

“Can you hear him say anything?”

“No, he hasn’t said anything. I don’t think he can.”

Steve was still just staring at them, and Eddie knew he was stuck.

If he was truly dead, he wasn’t moving on the way people do. If he wasn’t dead, then something super weird was happening and he would have to get help from everyone.

But he didn’t want to involve the kids, not for this. Because if Steve was dead, like they thought, and they went through the trouble of trying to find him, they’d be hurting all over again.

But if he wasn’t.

“Robin, were you sure he was dead? No pulse or breathing, no movement?”

Robin’s eyes widened.

“I mean, I guess as sure as we could be with how rushed and emotional we were? Nancy couldn’t find a heartbeat and he wasn’t moving, and we waited as long as we could, but he didn’t wake up. Do you think he isn’t dead?”

Steve was watching them, his fingers tapping against his arms that were crossed over his chest.

“How long can someone survive down there?”

“Eddie, look. I already talked to Hopper about it. He said even if somehow Steve managed to survive his injuries, they were bad enough that he would have probably been found by something and attacked. And even if he survived that, he’s been down there without food and water and clean oxygen for a month. The fact that Will survived a week was a miracle.”

He didn’t push. He could hear it in Robin’s voice that she’d already thought of every possible outcome, probably even tried to plan a rescue mission at some point.

She couldn’t take the disappointment either.

Eddie dropped it for now, but he watched as Steve watched him.

He just had a feeling that this was more complicated than Steve being dead.

—-----------------------

He let himself mourn that night.

While he didn’t feel like Steve was dead, he knew that no matter what, Steve had been missing from all their lives for a month.

He cried for hours, he cried for Steve, for Dustin, for Robin, for Max, for everyone who Steve loved so much that he died for them.

Himself included.

Because that’s what it came down to: Steve died protecting them.

They all took a risk, but Steve paid the price.

It wasn’t fair. The guy who put everyone first was the first one gone.

Eddie finally fell asleep, but it was restless. He kept getting flashes of Steve in his dreams, his face bloody, his body bloody, his screams loud.

Which was weird for a lot of reasons, one of them being that he didn’t know what injuries Steve even had when he died. The ghost he saw in his kitchen earlier had just been Steve, not bloodied or broken or scared.

When he managed to get up, he went through the motions of his day: brush his teeth, shower, eat breakfast, do his stretches, play guitar, eat lunch, clean up, talk to Wayne.

But by dinner, he felt like he had to do something. He had to figure out why he felt this buzzing energy around him.

He waited until Wayne left to get their dinner at the diner and bring it home, then he called Robin.

“Robin, is there a gate open somewhere?”

“Seriously, Eddie.”

“I just need to know! Maybe you’re right, in fact, you probably are. But what if you aren’t? What if he’s stuck down there? What if he’s too hurt to find a way back here?”

Robin was silent, but Eddie didn’t let that deter him.

“I know you guys were pretty sure. And I know you wouldn’t have left if you didn’t believe he was dead. But you said yourself you were emotional and overwhelmed and feeling rushed because of everything happening. It’s not that far of a stretch to believe that he could be alive.”

“Eddie.”

Her voice was broken.

She didn’t want to believe him.

“Okay,” he sighed. “Okay.”

“I know it’s hard. It’ll get easier, I hope. His parents just sold the house, and his car, so. He’s gone. We have to accept that.”

“Okay.”

But it wasn’t okay.

He hung up with Robin, promised he would try to get some sleep, take care of himself. It was a lie.

He ate dinner with Wayne, pretended he was doing alright, pretended he didn’t still hear the echoes of Steve’s screams in his head.

Wayne left early for work, claimed he was picking up some overtime due to them being short staffed still after the quake. He said he wouldn’t be home until nine the next morning.

Eddie nodded and pretended to head to his room for the night.

He did a lot of pretending until he was alone.

Then, he got on the phone with El.

El had gotten attached to him while Max was in a coma, stopping by to talk to him after she’d spent an hour or so with Max. She saw him as a cool older brother, especially when she realized Hopper wasn’t his biggest fan.

“I need to know if there’s a gate open.”

“Eddie, I do not know if I can help with that,” El responded slowly, carefully.

“What if I say it’s for a really good reason?”

“I am sure it is, but I promised Dad I would not open one.”

“But what if there’s one already open?”

“There is not. I would feel it.”

Eddie sighed. He didn’t want to make El break a promise, but this was worth it.

He knew Hopper would forgive her and him if he was right.

“Has Will mentioned feeling anything weird?”

Sometimes Will felt things that even El couldn’t, usually things happening only in the Upside Down. Everyone’s running theory was that it was because of the time he spent down there.

“No, he just feels the usual.”

“What’s the usual?”

“It is just there. Sometimes it is more there than other times.”

“And right now? It isn’t more than other times?”

“I think it is just always more than other times since Vecna.”

Hm. That could be something.

“Why does it feel like more sometimes?”

“It is hard to say. Sometimes it is nothing, sometimes it is because something is moving and trying to get out.”

“Is it always a creature?”

“It always was before.”

“El, I think Steve’s alive.”

There, he said it. He said it to someone who could probably actually help him, who would would help him if she believed him.

“Why do you think that? They said he was not breathing.”

“I know, but, look. Robin even said that they were being rushed and were crying and could have missed something.”

“But it has been a month.”

“I saw him. In the kitchen.” He hated saying this to one of the kids. They all loved Steve so much and if he was wrong, he really didn’t want this to hurt her. “At movie night. He was there, but only I could see him. Robin said maybe it was a ghost, but it seemed too real.”

“It was Steve?”

“Even if he’s de-,” Eddie stopped. “Gone. If his body is where it was left, it should be put to rest here. And if it isn’t, and he’s alive, then we can save him.”

“But we will get caught.”

“Not if we do it tonight. Hopper works nights this week, right?”

“Yes.”

“So he won’t be home to know you’re gone. Will is over at Dustin’s. Jonathan is so high, he won’t notice you’re gone. Joyce will be asleep by ten. You can sneak out.”

“What if you get hurt? I cannot go down there.”

That was a valid concern.

They defeated Vecna, and the Mindflayer hadn’t been a problem since, but that didn’t mean the other creatures weren’t still prowling around down there.

Out of all of them, he had the least experience with them, and she had every right to be worried.

“I can handle it. I’ll bring Steve’s bat.”

—------------------------

He met El in the woods behind the cabin they were staying in. Hopper had redone it, adding two bedrooms and a bathroom so they could all fit more comfortably.

They silently hugged and kept walking further, away from any chance of being seen or heard.

El warned him that opening the gate was risky in other ways too. She had a lot of control over her powers, but sometimes using this much strength would leave her too tired to close it again, and they couldn’t leave a gate open for longer than it took for Eddie to get in, check for Steve, and get out.

They also ran the risk of her using a little too much power and making a gate that was too big for her to close at all.

But these were risks Eddie deemed worth it, and with some convincing, El did too.

They found a small clearing, big enough to make a gate that Eddie could fit through.

He didn’t let himself stop to think about the last time he was being pushed through a gate, how he was bleeding out and barely breathing. He only thought about how Steve was down there, dead or alive, and didn’t deserve to be.

“Are you ready?” El asked him, her hands digging into the earth below her.

“Ready.”

“Two hours. If you are not back in two hours, I call Hopper.”

That was the deal. That was the only way she agreed to do this.

He knew if it came down to him being gone for more than two hours, he’d probably be grateful to see Hopper.

“Got it.”

El nodded and closed her eyes.

The ground started shaking, Eddie held back the panic, and suddenly El was staring up at him, blood dripping from her nose, smiling.

The ground had opened between them, just big enough for Eddie to slip through, small enough for El to cover with sticks and leaves if someone came looking before their time was up.

“You will come back in two hours.”

“Sure thing, supergirl. With Steve, hopefully.”

“With Steve,” she added with a small smile.

Eddie didn’t think anymore.

He dropped himself down, ignoring the sinking feeling in his stomach when everything turned upside down on him.

He didn’t let himself hesitate, even though he wanted to.

He had a lot of ground to cover in a short amount of time, and if Steve was alive, he could be anywhere.

But he walked towards where Robin and Nancy had left him. It would at least confirm if he was dead, his body hopefully would still be there if so.

It was only two miles, but Eddie was never a very fast runner. The first mile went surprisingly well, much faster than he expected to be able to do it. But during mile two, he felt his legs shaking.

He was still technically healing, the physical therapy stretches he did every morning further proof that he still had a long way to go before he was completely recovered.

But he pushed through it, knowing that the way back would be worse and he couldn’t waste time now.

But when he got to the area between the Creel house and the trailer park, he saw no sign of Steve, or anything for that matter.

There weren’t even vines or dead creatures around.

He tried to remain calm.

Steve had been alive when they left him here.

He may not be now, but he had been.

That felt worse.

He pushed that aside and decided to run to the trailer park.

Steve wouldn’t have gone in the direction of the Creel house, and he wouldn’t have wandered aimlessly no matter how much blood he’d lost.

He would have gone to the place he knew they would be in hopes the gate was still open.

The trailer park had always been kind of eerie, even in broad daylight, so the Upside Down version was downright horrific.

Eddie ran directly to his old trailer, hoped that somehow Steve found shelter here.

It looked worse than what he remembered, blood on the floor from when they were half dragging, half carrying him after being a meal for the bats.

The door had been kicked in at some point, and he wasn’t sure how or when that could have happened after they left.

He almost didn’t want to know unless-

He could hear movement in the back bedroom. His bedroom.

It could be anything. Wind blowing through a broken window, a creature he wasn’t entirely prepared to kill, Steve.

God, he hoped it was Steve.

He slowly walked towards the bedroom, his hands shaking where they were holding on tight to the bat.

The door was open a few inches, and he could hear the movement more clearly.

It sounded like someone was in bed, shifting in the sheets.

Holy shit.

He pushed the door open.

Holy shit.

“Steve!”

Eddie dropped the bat and ran to the bed, only stopping himself from jumping onto it when he saw the blood.

There was a lot, though most of it looked old, like maybe Steve had crawled here and then couldn’t quite find his way back out.

Steve was pale. It was dark, and hard to make out a lot of details, but he could see that he was deathly pale.

“Steve?”

“Eddie?”

“Holy shit, Jesus Christ, Steve. Where are you bleeding from?”

“Um, I think my leg? And my stomach.”

His voice was raspy, sort of nasally like he was coming down with a cold. Could you catch a cold from being down here? Probably.

Eddie’s hands hovered over the sheets, ready to move them so he could try to help, when Steve suddenly turned on his side and threw up.

“Shit. Hold on, let me help you sit up.”

“Sorry. Sorry.”

Steve was crying, and Eddie didn’t know what to do.

He took a deep breath.

“You don’t have to apologize, Stevie. I’m sorry you’ve been stuck here. Can I check your heartbeat?”

Eddie needed to see if it was ridiculously fast or slow, needed to determine how quickly he had to move them out of here, if he could take a few extra minutes to try to patch him up or if he just had to put him on his back and run.

Steve held his wrist towards him and Eddie quickly found his pulse.

He counted like a kind nurse showed him while he was in the hospital, filed away for future emergencies so he could be useful.

“It’s a little fast, but I think that’s normal for the situation. Let’s get you up and we can go.”

“Go how?”

“You can hop on my back.”

“I-”

“Steve, it’s not up for debate. You’re coming back with me and I don’t care if it means I break my back.”

Steve nodded once, his eyes closing as if he was just too exhausted to fight.

Eddie was sure he was.

Even if he managed to sleep here, it couldn’t have been well. It’s hard to rest when you know scary monsters are just outside the door.

“Tired,” Steve said, almost like he could read Eddie’s mind.

Hell, maybe he could after spending so much time down here.

Something to test later.

He checked his clock. Still had almost an hour and a half to get back to the gate.

“Have you had anything to eat or drink lately?”

“Found some water four days ago I think? Maybe five. Managed to stretch it until yesterday. Food’s been gone for days.”

How was he not passed out?

“How much of this blood is yours?”

“All of it.”

Awesome.

Eddie felt his forehead. He had a fever.

Even more awesome.

He probably had infections, which can be treated if you get them taken care of quickly, but he could have had them for weeks by now.

Cool.

“Alright, on three, wrap your arms around my neck and your legs around my waist. I’m gonna lift, and I just need you to try to keep leaning forward while I get you on my back.”

“Mkay.”

“And you cannot close your eyes. You hear me, Steve?”

Steve didn’t answer.

“Sweetheart, I need you to talk to me.”

“Mhm. Eyes stay open.”

“And mouth keeps moving. Alright,” Eddie helped him out a bit by placing his arms around his neck. “One…two…three.”

He lifted, and huffed out a sharp breath when his ribs started aching almost immediately.

“Okay?” Steve whispered against his neck.

“I’m okay. You?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Eddie let himself take one calming breath, just enough to get himself back on track. “Talk to me.”

“Hurts.”

“I know, love, but I need to know you haven’t passed out,” Eddie said sympathetically.

“Wanna hold your hand.”

God, okay. He could handle that.

He could.

“Okay, one hand for a minute. I need them both to hold you up though.”

He moved one hand up to his chest, where Steve���s hands were sort of dangling. He let his thumb run along the side of Steve’s hands, then Steve grabbed it and squeezed, surprising strength behind it.

“Is Dustin okay?”

Jesus Christ, this guy was half dead and still asking if others were okay.

“Yeah, he’s doing okay. Misses you, though.”

“Miss him.”

“Max is gonna be mad you came back from the dead in a more impressive way than her.”

“She can win.”

Eddie let out a laugh and tugged his hand back to adjust Steve on his back.

They had barely made it out of the trailer park and Eddie’s legs were shaking. He could do it though, he had no choice.

“How long?” Steve asked.

“A month.”

“Robin?”

“She’s hurting. She thought I was crazy. Didn’t wanna come because she didn’t wanna see you like she left you.”

“Not dead though.”

“Nope, not unless dead people can talk down here.”

Steve’s breath was hot against his neck, tickling him and sending chills down his back.

“You?”

“What about me?”

“Hurt?”

Steve’s voice was getting more strained, like he was doing his best to still talk but it was causing a lot of pain for him to do so.

“I was really hurt, yeah.”

“Still?”

“Not as much. Just a little.”

“Love me?”

Eddie knew he was losing it. The pain, the dehydration and hunger, the deliriousness. Steve didn’t have a clue what he was saying.

“What?”

“You love me?”

“Um.”

Steve squeezed his legs around Eddie’s hips.

“Came back. Love me.”

When it was put like that, yeah, Eddie guessed it seemed kind of obvious.

“Just a little.”

He could sense the eyeroll Steve wanted to give, but didn’t quite have the energy.

“I saw you. In my kitchen. Were you there?”

“Dunno.”

“Did you dream about it?”

“Just you. Kids. Robin. Missed you.”

“We all missed you.”

Eddie was making more progress, his determination to get Steve medical attention far outweighing any weakness or pain he was feeling.

“Ow.”

“What hurts, sweetheart?”

“Stomach.”

“Bites?”

“Mhm.”

Eddie could feel where the blood was soaking through his shirt, but he knew it wasn’t so much that he couldn’t at least make it through the gate before bandaging it up. He’d made it this long with them out, another 30 minutes wouldn’t kill him.

Hopefully.

Steve was quiet again, but he was breathing against Eddie’s neck steadily, so he didn’t push.

“Man, you won’t believe the place they gave me and Wayne. It’s got two bedrooms. And we have a whole kitchen instead of just a small counter area with a stove and fridge. Maybe you can cook us dinner when you’re better, you know, as a thanks for rescuing you.”

“Not a good cook.”

“I don’t believe that. Robin said you made her chicken parmesan from scratch for her birthday.”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, so chicken parmesan, my kitchen, soon.”

“Soon.”

They were close, creeping into the edge of the woods, and Eddie was trying not to panic at Steve’s silence.

“Stevie, just a few more minutes. Tell me about the first thing you wanna do when you’re back.”

“Mmm.” Steve’s head rolled back and forth like he was trying to focus. “Kiss you.”

“That can be arranged. What else?”

“Hug Dustin. Love him.”

“Yeah, he could use that.”

“Hug Robin. Love her.”

“She could use that, too.”

“Hug you, love you.”

He wouldn’t hold Steve to this, he wouldn’t. But it would hurt so much when Steve forgot about this whole conversation.

He bit his lip and nodded.

“Yeah, I could use that.”

Steve’s lips were pressed against his neck, most likely accidental, but Eddie let himself pretend for a moment it was a kiss.

When he reached the gate, he whistled to get El’s attention.

“Oh! Eddie, is that…”

“He’s alive. Really hurt and needs water and food. I need to get him through.”

El was prepared with everything and it only took a couple of minutes for them to get through the gate, Steve whimpering slightly as they moved him around.

“You were right.”

El seemed surprised, like she had only done this to give Eddie closure. She hadn’t expected Steve to be alive.

“He loves me,” Steve said.

El looked at Eddie, then at Steve, then back to Eddie.

“You love him?”

“I do. And I’ll love him a lot more if he stays alive. We have to get him to the hospital.”

“I can call Hopper?”

“Tell him to meet us at the cabin with an ambulance.”

“Jus’ need sleep.”

Eddie looked at Steve, mouth open in disbelief.

“You’re going to the hospital.”

“Sleep.”

“I’m not arguing with you. You can barely form a sentence. You’re going to the hospital.”

“You come?”

“I won’t leave your side.”

Eddie put him on his back again so he could walk towards the cabin, hopeful that Hopper wouldn’t ask a lot of questions until they got Steve taken care of.

“He is on his way!” El yelled from the porch, Joyce coming up behind her, hair a mess from being asleep.

When she saw Steve, her eyes widened and she nearly tripped running down the stairs.

“Oh God, Steve! Honey, are you okay? Of course not, you can’t even walk. You’re bleeding!”

“Mrs. Byers, can you get him some water maybe please?”

“Yes! Oh my God!”

She was running back up the stairs, mumbling to herself the whole way.

El giggled as she watched.

Eddie loved her.

He could hear sirens in the distance, and he hoped he would be able to ride with Steve.

He shouldn’t have to be alone anymore.

Steve’s eyes were closed, but Eddie kept his fingers on his pulse, making sure he didn’t have any changes while the sirens got closer.

Hopper’s patrol car arrived first, barely in park before Hopper was jumping out and running to where Eddie was cradling Steve.

Joyce came out with the water and handed it to Eddie.

“Dammit, why would you go down there alone? You know the rules.”

Eddie ignored him, just focused on getting some water past Steve’s lips.

“C’mon, sweetheart. Just a few sips.”

Steve’s lips moved, then he swallowed some of the water.

“There ya go. Good job.”

Hopper was watching in silence now, Joyce with her arm around him.

Eddie knew they were wondering how the hell they would ever get over leaving Steve behind.

The ambulance pulled up next, EMTs rushing out and asking Eddie question after question.

He had to keep it simple: found him in the woods, must’ve been out there since the quake with the injuries and level of dehydration. They took him at his word.

When they loaded Steve up, they let Eddie in only because Hopper insisted.

“I’ll be right behind you.”

And he was.

Eddie kept his eyes on Steve the whole time, but he could see the lights of Hopper’s police car in the window next to him.

Steve’s eyes fluttered open a few times as they hooked him up to oxygen and an IV, kept checking his vitals.

Eddie smiled at him each time, made sure he knew he was there and he loved him.

—---------------------------

It was two days before Steve woke up again.

The wounds weren’t bad, but they were infected, which was why they kept randomly bleeding despite not being very deep.

The infection was actually the worst of it, but it had potential to be life threatening if they couldn’t get it under control.

They pumped him full of pain relievers and antibiotics, fluids and nutrients.

Eddie sat by his bed the whole time.

None of the kids were allowed in yet, doctor’s and Hopper’s orders, but he heard Dustin in the hall multiple times a day giving it his best shot.

Robin hadn’t come by yet. Eddie knew she felt guilty, immensely so. She left her best friend down there, suffering, and didn’t even think to double check when it was safe to do so.

Eddie didn’t blame her, and he knew Steve wouldn’t either, but Robin would.

But when Steve’s eyes finally opened, bloodshot and glassy from his IV concoction, he smiled at Eddie.

“Love me?”

“Just a little.”

He fell back asleep a few minutes later, holding Eddie’s hand like a lifeline.

—------------------------

It took another four days before the doctors said he could be around others. His infection symptoms had gotten better and they believed the worst was over.

Eddie called Robin and told her to bring Dustin, no arguing. Steve was asking for them.

It wasn’t a lie, but he may have exaggerated it slightly just to get them here.

And when they did show up, everyone cried.

Robin collapsed next to the bed while Dustin folded himself against Steve the moment he was given permission to.

Eddie just watched from his chair, took in the way Steve comforted them despite the fact he was still in the hospital after spending a month alone in the Upside Down.

That was just who Steve was.

It probably wasn’t healthy, but it’s why Eddie loved him. Just a little.

[verinarin]

Uh, would Veritas like housework?

I just had this question, I mean, I'm sure you enjoy having everything clean and shiny, organized and without bad smells... But do you like the task itself? For example, there are people who only like the result, others who like the process, and some who enjoy both...

People like Veritas don't seem to me to enjoy the task, just the end result. Maybe it's a very personal perspective, but I've never seen people similar to Ratio's personality enjoy the task

How will they do it? I can't do something if I don't enjoy the process, it feels like hell... Talking about this makes me want to clean my kitchen

Personally I myself is a messy organised person, like my room is messy but I definitely know where each of my papers and books are and why I specifically put them there, but seeing as Veritas is probably busy most of the time I have a feeling that he’ll hire someone to clean his place

He doesn’t have the time to clean but I do agree that he likes the end result but I don’t see that he would actually enjoy washing the dishes or sweeping the floor just to clean the house, he could hire someone else to do it and to not waste his time he prefers using those precious hours to do something else like researching or work

But with that being said it could be different if there’s a different reason to do those chores, I am a firm believer that he’s annoyingly attentive (he will help people but he will complains and scold them while doing so)

In a scenario where he lives with the person he loves, if they ask them to help out he would mostly likely do so with or without them asking, because now at least he has a concrete reason why doing such meaningless task becomes more meaningful, I firmly believe he doesn’t like to verbally tell the person he loves about his adoration for them, he would most likely do these small little things to signify that he does care, more than that person would ever know

[mettywiththenotes]

Okay okay okay

So Hawks clearly isn’t giving up, right? He’s just not. That’s not who he is, so of course he’s going to keep fighting. With the panel of Hawks holding the sword, with the sounds of the Twice rampage in the background, it really seems like he’s not going to go down that easy

Hawks saw “Twice” come out of the portal and his reaction was this

Total panic, right? He killed Twice for a reason - to prevent mass destruction from happening because, knowing Twice’s quirk and what side he was on (what side he was sticking to), he knew how chaotic the war could get. So seeing Twice come back? You can see the panic inside of him. This is not what he wants. We know he’s willing to kill “Twice” again

Fast forward to this chapter

All other threats are gone. AFO is gone. There are no Villains or Noumu in front of him. Dabi has been taken care of. Yet Hawks still stands because there’s one more Villain that hasn’t been taken care of, and that’s “Twice”/Toga

While we could say he’s only standing here to protect Tokoyami from the oncoming Twice’s that will surely attack them once they spread further, there’s no way he’s not going to be involved with the Twice clones anyway. And I don’t think Hawks would just stand there and wait for someone to take down Toga - he’d probably try to do it himself

So I think there’s a possibility that Hawks could go after Toga and try to kill her before the clones can spread further. I also think there’s evidence to Hawks joining the fight and attempting to repeat history

Hawks has already been through killing Twice. There’s a chance he’s willing to do it again based on the fact that he’s done it before. Something along the lines of “I’ve done it once, I can do it again. Only I will bear the burden of it”. It’s not farfetched at all for Hawks to do so because he wants to spare anyone else from having to kill. “I am willing to be corrupted” and all that

(He’s probably ready to face Twice, to deal with the image of taking him down again, but could he do the same with Toga? With the reality that he wouldn’t just be taking down the image of Twice, but a young girl too?)

Also, the narration says that the Heroes cannot falter

Who’s someone who won’t falter, no matter what the task? Who is willing to corrupt himself, willing to cover himself in blood for a brighter future? Hawks. I feel that the text is practically calling his name for him to enter. Also, the Todoroki’s are out for the count, Iida looks like he’s done too. The only Hero shown here willing to stand up and not falter is Hawks

There’s evidence for this Toga-Ochako fight paralleling with the Twice-Hawks fight

Firstly, Toga is on Twice’s side. She is quite literally Twice in this parallel. Someone who looks like him right now, someone who activated Sad Man’s Parade, someone who has shown care for members of the League in these moments

Someone who, as chocolate-biscuit has pointed out here, has the same hole in her mask just like Twice did

And what does this fight also have in common with the Raid one? A third person is shown ready to fight

Dabi was the only one shown running towards the fight, and Hawks is the only one shown so far who is actually up and still willing to fight

The red sparrow dream

That dream has always reminded me of Hawks, because of the specificity of the animal. It’s not just a bird, it’s a red bird. Red like Hawks’ wings. We know Hawks doesn’t have his wings right now, but also notice that the wings aren’t important to the dream - the type of bird is mentioned specifically, but the bird specifically uses its feet and its beak. Also notice that birds can represent the freedom to fly away, to escape, but this bird doesn’t use its wings and do that. Instead, it chooses to stay and inflict harm

I know this may just be a small coincidental thing, but still, I think there’s a potential for it to be connected to Hawks somehow

Finally, Horikoshi has said Ochako and Hawks are both “beacons of hope” in the final war arc. Hawks, who didn’t give up fighting against AFO and protected Tokoyami from getting his quirk stolen, and still refuses to lay down. Ochako, who won’t give up on Toga. She wants to save people from the Villains and the war but she can’t ignore a Villain’s cries either

How interesting would it be if we had both “beacons of hope” clash in their fights to protect and save people?

Of course, this is only a possibility, though I think it does have the potential to happen. I would personally love to see Hori dive into Hawks’ character involving Twice again, and putting him up close and personal with someone Ochako wants to save would be so interesting to watch

But, let’s remember that I’m theorizing based on 2 panels of Hawks lol. We’ll have to see what happens next, but again, it’d be really cool to see them all come together this way and fight against ideals and saving vs killing

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

ok so when sitd came out you said you weren't expecting much anyways because riddler works better as a side character than a protagonist, but since he apparently isn't in the new season and it's instead focusing on bruce and harvey....is there anything you expect from it? do you expect it to be better than sitd now that bruce is the protag again or are you keeping expectations low?

maaaaan okay so

SITD failed for me for a LOT of reasons. making Eddie the sole POV character was a big issue but definitely not the only one. a lot of what made Unburied really sparkle for me was the strength of the story being split into Bruce's protagonist storyline with Barbara as the deuteragonist (and dragging Eddie along with her) until their investigations converged and brought the whole gang together. the dynamic between all three of them was really strong, and I thought certain unresolved plot points - Barbara investigating Flass framing Eddie for stabbing her dad, the lingering question around Eddie's (possible) mental deterioration, part of Bruce's Moral of the Story being that he needs to let people in and stop being so alone in his crusade - was laying the groundwork for an ongoing collaboration in any future installments.

which SORT OF happened in SITD! kind of! but there was also a really dramatic tonal shift between the two series, and a really crucial lack of my best girl Barbara Gordon, and a plot that felt sloppy as hell building up to a big bad reveal that was neither hard to predict nor particularly satisfying, the very literal execution of the Flass storyline in a way that was clownishly abrupt and didn't involve ANY narrative payoff for Babs at all, a super off base adaptation of Jean Paul Valley (I will admit that one's personal! that's my own fault for being invested in Jean Paul Valley! I'm the clown for that one!), and Bruce's recasting, which is...

man.

one of the biggest preemptive turnoffs for me about the newest installation is that Colman Domingo is still in the role. I probably wouldn't have been able to really love anybody who had the unenviable task of taking over for Winston Duke; he infused Bruce with a warmth and vulnerability that was totally unique and so engrossing to listen to. losing him for the sequels was a tremendous L for the sequels, and I unfortunately found Domingo's performance in SITD very uninspired and generic in tandem with much weaker writing that made Bruce come across as a much asshole than he was in Unburied.

... so tl;dr I am extremely dubious that the very specific vibes on Unburied that made my brain go "WOOOOOOO" are every coming back.

I am expecting. not much. probably a reveal that Morena Baccarin's character, credited as "Allie," is actually a more important existing DC character, similar to Emmy Raver Lampman being credited as Kel to obscure her role as Poison Ivy. also I hope to god they're not going to try to pull of ANOTHER elaborate triple villain reveal after Azrael > Flass > Nadira fell completely flat in comparison to Stirk > Strange > Ivy, but god. I would not be surprised.

also considering the two prior series have ended with something surprisingly tender and homoerotic happening (Bruce and Eddie on a dinner date, Eddie about to get railed by Killer Croc) I'm fully expecting an anguished softboy moment between Bruce and Harvey for the big finale. which I will be unmoved by because Bruharvey does nothing for me.

[kyra45]

Yeah I'm jerk if you're going to be a jerk. I call scammers beggars because that's basically what they do in my opinion. You've been asked nicely for help and you got very defensive and offended that they didn't research them. That person looked up to you by the way, was trying to help catching scammers since we have to deal with them on a regular basis on many platforms and in reality. Wanted your opinion but once again she lost trust to people and thinks that she did something wrong. Well have fun on Tumblr guys and I hope that you stop as many scammers as you can

Funny how your mood changed real quick after calling me sketchy. Scammers aren’t beggars, you wasn’t calling them beggars. You was saying everyone asking for help is a beggar:

“And no I'm not reading blogs of every single beggar out there.”

Secondly, I was offended that you didn’t look at the OP of the post you likely saw to figure out was my own account which only posts verified charities and you, as quoted, asked me if i was butthurt:

“Damn you seem really butt hurt don't you? “

Lastly, you asked me to check if someone was a scammer and I told you, very simply:

“Anon did you even try to contact the person before asking me or did you see them share the post from my own blog. Because I only got this ask when someone shared their reblog from my other account and I personally feel like your just assuming it’s a scammer right off the bat without bothering to look at the account the GoFundMe is posted from. Otherwise I’ve verified it’s a legitimate account. But you could have just asked them. Nicely.”

And your response to that was, as quoted:

“Do you expect me to nicely ask a potential scammer if they're scammer? The answer is obvious.”

And

“I will only trust someone by approving that the person they claim to be really exist, maybe through social media or other ways that can officially confirm them.”

Implying that you could have actually looked up the information yourself but you opted to ask me instead of asking the person who would have been able to tell you what you wanted to know better than I would have been able to elaborate.

Also:

“Your "instructions on how to spot a scammer" show some basic schemes which every dumbass can copy and paste. They do much more than that. Although most of them just like you get angry easily when confronted :D”

Scammers don’t change their tactics all that often and basic isn’t bad it just makes it easier to understand and I am not claiming I’m the best as making guides. I know what scammers do. Also you wasn’t confronting me. You just called by behavior sketchy just because I was annoyed. There’s a difference between a scammer being sketchy when confronted and someone being annoyed when people don’t do a simple task.

I wasn’t being a jerk. I called you one for how you was acting. The rudeness of saying ‘dumbasses’ can do this and that people who ask for mutual aid are all ‘beggar scammers’.

Scam busters are trying their best but it’s difficult when people don’t want to do their own stuff before asking someone else. If you had done what I said you would have know the account was legitimate but instead this mess happened.

It’s a shame you call yourself a scam buster and this is how you’re treating me. Just because you didn’t like my reply.

Also my fanbase? Going after you? Do you think I just sick my followers on anyone who pisses me off. No, I don’t. I specifically tell people don’t harass anyone I mention here and make it clear that anyone who does so are doing it themselves.

[museofthepyre]

Did a fun Q&A thing on insta about my ocs, here are the highlights, lore and shit! For context I am writing this into a horror-ish book as we speak. Brewing my dastardly schemes (gay tragedy).

Q: Is Eden also a cannibal?

A: Eden isn't a cannibal in the way Harlow is. I mean he eats people but only because Harlow's cooking is too good to turn down /hj. Eden's thing is... kinda the opposite.

He's slowly being consumed by the rot that's festering within him, a manifestation of hatred and shame. To him love is consumption, and he is inedible. Insert vulture metaphor here w Harlow. For every rotting corpse there is a very greatful vulture who will look past the decay, and see your worth. Eden is ultimately finished off by something that loves him, a consumptive love, unconditional and indiscriminate.

Q: ABOUT THE ROT, HOW DOES IT WORK? HOW IS IT AFFECTING HIM??

A: This rot is really the only story element that isn't totally grounded in reality. It's an illness that's a manifestation of his self hatred/ repression/ internalized shame- not an actual condition.

It appears at first like it just affects his chest- but it’s been slowly burrowing deep into his body. Its spreading like roots/ mycillium through his flesh and will finish him off in one foul swoop once it's finished spreading.

In the meantime, it manifests like a chronic illness- his muscles are all atrophied and he feels constantly drained of life. It's taking small pieces of flesh to sustain itself while it spreads (the chest cavity is the result of that-though the REAL damage is invisible. It's the ticking time bomb roots beneath the seemingly unaffected surface). It functions like a slow acting Chronic Wasting Disease (aka zombie deer disease, humans can't get it in reality, but it was the inspiration)

Q: What happened when Harlow discovered Eden was a guy

A: Eden is trans, and closeted in his life. Harlow is the first person he ever discusses his truth with.

At first, Harlow was just kinda... confused? Transness is not a concept he was familiar with. At ALL. The idea alone was completely unheard of to him. Again this is the Bible Belt in the 8os, the area so rarely encountered visible transness- trans people existed of course, but so many stayed hidden to survive. The roaring tre of bigotry did not have much tuel in that regard... no trans people to propagandize against. It was not on the public's vitriolic radar. In that way, Harlow hadn't developed the knee-jerk reaction of hatred... he was more fascinated than anything, but it did challenge him to understand at first.

Unlike his journey with accepting homosexuality this was not so much a task of unlearning as it was just... learning.

Also Eden's whole rotting thing adds another layer to this Harlow is stupid and takes everything VERY literally- he thought Eden's condition must be divinely brought.

Harlow saw a gift from God, a rare flower planted in inhospitable soil, wilting before it ever got the chance to bloom. Like the angels sent to Sodom and Gamorrah in human disguises, to test the townspeople's virtue. To present them with something foreign yet beautiful, to judge their inherent goodness based on how they treat it. Like in the biblical story, the townspeople were so vile and inhospitable that it endangered the angels and forced them to leave, burning down the town behind them. Harlow saw this as prophecy. He was eager to get to the “burning down the town” part.

Part of my motivation for incorporating that specific biblical story is SPITE btw since so many people use it to justify homophobia. Reverse uno idiots. I'm putting you in my GAY BOOK as a metaphor for hateful queerphobic societies.HA!

Q: Describe the rot in Eden's chest in sensory detail (texture smell “cause" etc) I want rot details!!

A: I used CWD and necrotizing fasciitis as building blocks for this thing... starts in the brain, spreads like roots through the body, eating away at muscle and skin as it does. Once it's fully spread, it'd rapidly worsten and bring death within a matter of hours.

In the meantime it sustains itself off of non-fatal bits of flesh (his chest here, since it's a manifestation of self hatred and all, and dysphoria is a bitch). It is an open wound so it'd feel scabby and it is perpetually weeping... which is how Harlow finds out about it so quickly (seeps through white nightgown after being left unbandaged for a few nights). He would also have to take care to hide the smell of decay

It advances throughout the story and by the end there's barely any soft tissue left on his chest, nothing alive anyways. The final overtake begins, and his organs enter the early stages of consumption (which happens very rapidly in one foul swoop). That's when they decide it's time for boy dinner!

Q: How smart are they

A: GREAT QUESTION! HARLOW IS FUCKING STUPID. LIKE not only does he lack emotional intelligence entirely, but he's also very impulsive and reckless. The ONLY reason he's getting away with his murders is because the society around him has shot itself in the foot with its homophobia. Noooobody is suspicious of him for the string of missing attractive dudes. They're looking for a "vengeful woman" profile, or possibly a "debt collector with many social connections" or something. Not some solitary redneck who barely shows his face in town and is very polite and quiet when he does. He appears, in all respects, like a normal guy in public.

Once they have mutual blackmail (and also start caring about each other)... Eden realizes that if Harlow gets caught, he's fucked too. So partially for the sake of self-preservation, and... partially out of pity for this stupid stupid man... Eden starts to help him cover up.

Harlow is pretty disillusioned as to how society functions as a whole, since he grew up pretty far from it. Eden is the opposite, he was suffocated by it and learned how to be sneaky as a result. Eden is very good at getting people to trust him, he's good at lying, he's good at acting. Thing is, he's overly trusting to his own detriment. He's desperate for genuine connection and easily deceived himself. He's bad at reading people.

Q: What happened to Harlow's mom?

A: Harlow's mother died due to complications during childbirth. He never had a maternal figure in his life, he was raised as an only child by his father, who had become calloused and would never remarry. Harlow dropped out of high school and kept to himself at his house/ in nature after that very isolated from society. Considering all this... he not only lacked a maternal figure, but any female influence... at all. Which manifested as this warped and idolized understanding of women as a whole

He thought of women in a very high and almost mystified regard- like how a child would imagine a mythical creature. One massive blank filled in by a clueless imagination. He respected them greatly, he feared them like gods, and he felt a need to repent to them as such. He never properly processed the guilt he felt over his mothers death-largely thanks to his father's handling of it. This guilt left him feeling indebted, like he owed the world for what he “took", like if he ever so much as inconvenienced another woman it would be an irredeemable sin.

This all sounds like it comes from a good place, but it's really all just deluded naivety this is not a positive trait of Harlow's. It contributed a lot to his toxic masculinity, the pressure he put on himself to "be a man", etc.

He's not a white knight, he's a cowardly dog.

This is why he didn't just kill Eden on the spot after being caught, he needed to make sure...)

MORE TO COME IM SURE I LOVE GETTING QUESTIONS ABOUT THESE FREAKS IF ANYONE HERE HAS ANY

[onewomancitadel]

A polemic

So NaNoWriMo (the event in November where you try to write 50,000 words in a month) has announced its position on the usage of machine generation, which is that to ban it would be ableist and classist.

The really interesting thing here to me, is that this is the thing that does your thinking for you and removes your actual participation in generating writing and generating ideas. It is not in my view an actual assistive device in the sense that it enables a disabled person to complete the same task with or near the ability as an abled person and in my view condescending to pretend that it is so.

There was a real worry about the keyboard (or indeed the typewriter) interfering with the creative process of meditating on each word you must write by hand. And then way back when, the idea of writing words down as opposed to oral performance had the same sort of fear shroud it (this is what makes Plato's dialogues so interesting from a perspective of form, because it is intended to mimic those conversational forms in writing. I'm not a classicist please be nice to me). Understandably the argument here is that the influence of technological evolution on the creative process - where the process is the craft - is something we can easily draw parallel from to argue machine generation is perfectly fine.

To circle back to the most recent change, the keyboard, for instance, lets me write basically as quickly as I can think. It is superior for creative writing because I can be fully immersed in my prose work to the point I forget everything else because I am so in tune with it. I forget to meet my human bodily needs - I forget to eat and drink, I lose all sense of time. Essays written on the computer are my preference by far. Meanwhile, I prefer taking notes by hand for uni lectures and classes: I remember things better that way; I can write very fast and take only what I know I need; I don't dither, and most importantly I don't divert my attention from a lecture or discussion to the pure focus of writing on a keyboard. I also keep a notebook for brainstorming, drafting, that sort of thing. My process here resists the idea that keyboard = new = good = supplanting all else, but keyboard also very good sometimes.

But a disabled person who cannot use a keyboard is not going to have an easy time as me - so what are the ways that enable them to transcribe their thoughts? Making it fit for an individual person's disability is going to be a case-by-case basis, but there are ways of tailoring keyboards to the specific limbs or fingers that a disabled person may be able to use, or to fit their comfort needs - it will cost more than a regular keyboard, but there are more programs to support accessibility for disabled people than there were before (sometimes also for trialling the use of these technologies, like with game controllers, I've seen a lot of those in recent times) - which in part is a complicated process because lots of people have different types of disabilities. Somebody who is blind will require very diffierent support from somebody who has sight.

Machine generation doesn't transcribe your thoughts. Machine generation does the thinking and execution. It doesn't matter how you change it or edit it, you have to be totally honest about what you're doing: you're outsourcing your thinking. It is condescending to say that disabled people do not deserve to think. This includes people who struggle with thinking, or struggle with focus, or struggle with mental illness which stymies that actual motivation to write. Thinking, dreaming, and writing are themselves sources of and motivation for existence, and to outsource that, to me, is grossly offensive. (I am not going to introduce my personal background in here, but if you try to dispute that MG should help mentally ill people to write... if there is one thing which alleviates my existence in any way, it's writing).

The stylus on clay tablet, the pen, the typewriter, the keyboard, never did your thinking for you.

The classist dispute is interesting.

I see. (I checked Big W and JB Hi-Fi. Big W has the better deals I think with mouse included. Also, my most beloved keyboard I used to write for several years was $12 originally but my brother got it for free where he worked. Don't knock a cheap keyboard 'til you try it. You don't need a fancy gaming keyboard).

Most people probably have smart phones they can write on (the cheapest you can find are around ~$200AUD), but you generally want to be writing on a computer. Laptops aren't good investments in the long run and are fairly expensive, so let's say you want a desktop PC, in which case I would say get a refurbished computer like me. For the screen, the computer itself, and all the cables needed, I paid $200 including shipping, and it came with a free keyboard and mouse as well as year's warranty. Of course you might have the issue of a desk and chair as well, in which case I suggest op-shops, but if you are Australian don't write off the non-Ikeas; sometimes local furniture shops having sales are actually cheaper.

But if you are really working within limited means with absolutely nothing spare, there are library computers you may be able to access off the top of my head, and if you are a uni student, there are going to be computers available there. If the angle we're arguing is that it's limiting to people living in poverty to bar their use of machine generation, you're basically saying that if you're poor enough, then you shouldn't be allowed to dream and write yourself. Nuh uh.

This is actually so fucking obtuse lol.

In the case of a writing marathon, there is nothing weird about using the library or school or whatever to do your writing. 50,000 words spread across a month means you want to hit a little over 10,000 words a week, so let's say you ideally want 2,000 words a day, and if you're anxious about using a public space that much, let's say you want to go there five days a week so you need probably more in the realm of 3-5,000. But I think it would be fully doable if it's the event you've signed up to, and maybe you'd end up focussing better in a study-oriented space like that...

Critically the argument is founded on the idea that machine generation constitutes assistance and does not constitute the outsourcing of your own thinking. The argument normally launched against machine generation is from the repurposing of original creative material; the usage of machine generation is posited as 'sticking it to the man' punkish rebellion against copyright infringement, e.g.

this refrain was actually was the impetus for writing this post altogether, because it is so disingenuous as well as cruel and embarrassing, but I thought it was really interesting as well. Obviously that's not the angle I've taken throughout this post because I think that there is a weakness to this argument for a reason: yes, machine generation doesn't 'genuinely' remix material in the way the human alchemist imagination does, but the black box processes are kind of an ambiguous grey area. The real heart of this here is the allegation that legal enforcement of something is fundamentally heartless, not that laws and regulations in society are meant to actually service that society. It's concerning when they don't.

So it's really an anarchist sort of punk view versus my own which is that the hope would be that copyright laws protect artists (in the case of Disney it's clearly not so; that is neither here nor there), but that's really why I'm not arguing against that idea. I'm arguing against the idea that machine generation constitutes an assistive device, which it doesn't, because it supplants the person involved. Even if the way you feed an idea to machine generation is the way you've thought of it, its generated text is not yours; the machine generated it, irrespective of how that machine is trained off other texts. Even if you use it to merely brainstorm - and let's be real, that's not what's being argued here - it's offering ideas back at you the way a keyboard wouldn't.

Yes, I hate autofill text too. It should be turned off in word processing documents because it's disruptive.

The insistence is that machine generation is trained off other texts, and when you generate using those texts, you now have text that is some other author's work (because the machine generation is not thinking-feeling). The refutation to this from the pro-MG side is that this is what all authors naturally do, and then the refutation here follows that MG does not naturally transform a text the way a human would, always adding their own spin, always iterating. The pro-MG side then disputes that this difference is minimal and by the time a human involved edits the text - which is necessary at this point - it becomes something else. (That few people seemingly edit the text is beside the point).

I am rejecting this entire argument. I am also rejecting the idea that disabled people and poorer people should have to sit out NaNoWriMo because it may not be within their means, and I'm not going to dispute that at all; actually they should get to do whatever writing challenges they want, within whatever means that they require or desire, the same as any other person. That they meet those goals with different means because they can't do everything the same as an abled person is not in question.

Let's say an abled person chooses to attempt NaNoWriMo writing by hand. It's not roleplaying at making life difficult; let's say the individual has real difficulty with keyboards - or they can't afford a computer! I can handwrite several thousand words in a day and it would be fully possible, though with a lot of handcramping; it would require lots of pausing and stretching. I would get sick of it by Day 2. But it would be no less a legitimate attempt compared to other abled people who choose to attempt the marathon with a keyboard, or vice versa.

But I really wanted to square out my problems with people who launch criticism against MG and people who launch defenses at MG, because it goes around and around in circles. My issue with it is not necessarily an issue of copyright, though no doubt from a legalistic perspective that is in which the defense will be made; my view is one grounded in what the actual activity of writing is, and who deserves to have access to that (everybody) and where MG supplants that (fundamentally). Where writing begins is in your head. It is dreaming, brainstorming, thinking, and then executing that in constructed prose. When you don't do that, you're not writing at all.

[memberment]

DOES ANYONE WANNA PLAY A GAME??? (This is the post I was just yapping about.)

So we’re playing a game! Perhaps, if anyone wants to play! 

For reference, we have all gotten pretty used to me having one fic per day of the week, with exclusion of Sundays, bc I gen hate posting on Sundays. (I don’t wanna talk about it!<3) 

But. As of more recent months, I’ve shackled myself to behemoth fics that realistically, y’all would be waiting for new shit for millennia if I start posting shit in the order I’m writing it. So that’s just not gonna work! (I also do not want to be shackled to ao3 forever, but I cannot just write shit and leave it to rot in my google docs because I am not evil. Sharing is caring.) 

So without saying any more than that (bc I gotta leave y’all with some mystery), I would like y’all to help me narrow down this list of twenty to ten. (These are all of my open concepts that I’m willing to touch at the moment. There are a few more sprinkled about, but I don’t even wanna think about them rn.) I have listed titles, if I have them (if not, it's noted) and brief either descriptions or yaps. Literally just throw numbers of shit you wanna see or specifically think I should not be working on first at me. Do not care. Whatever floats your boat. <3

-

A Girl and Her Dog - Bebe runs into a lunatic and a dog while trying to complete a task (there’s actually a leak for this in my test fic).

Ca$h4Cultz - The main four accidentally manifest a god after starting a cult. (Again, leaks are in my test fic. This one might not be super long, but whenever I think about it, it makes me laugh really hard.)

Tweek’s Eclipse?? - I don’t have a title for this yet. It is literally Tweek’s story from Eclipse. Including the shit before. I’m not super invested in it yet, but the first chapter I did write kinda hits. There’s leaks for it somewhere in my slew of posts on here.

What Are You? (not sold on this title) - Tweek meets an imp after spending his whole life alone. He doesn’t really care if the imp takes his soul, but for some reason, he can’t. This aggravates the imp to no end so now he’s just dragging Tweek along to figure out exactly why he can’t take Tweek’s soul. (The imp is Craig. I personally think what I have written so far is fucking funny. It’s not gonna be good, but I stand by it.) 

Son Of Satan - Craig meets an imp. Or at least, that’s what the imp’s calling himself. (This is probably gonna be a fun nonsense piece with no legitimate plot and will probably get thrown on the trashfic pseud, but it will be fun. The entire fic is concepted off of one single piece of fanart I saw, if I can find it again, I will gladly share.) 

Untitled mind reader fic - I do not have a set title for this because I’m only two chapters deep. Basically, Tweek has to deal with some shit after someone starts reading his mind and decides to speak up. 

Untitled Horror Duo- Okay, so neither of these have titles yet, but basically, it’s two fics. There is the main story and the prequel. They both line up though in the way that I have the guides structured. These are so old, but I have like 30k between the two of them and I kinda don’t want to just leave that to rot, y’know? The main storyline follows Tweek who just entered high school after being locked away his entire life. He’s possessed by something, making adjusting to normal human life ten times more difficult. But still, he manages to find friends that care about him and want to help him, despite everything. And the prequel actually follows Kenny who’s had some close encounters with the something that’s possessing Tweek in the main story. I think this could be really fun. I remember being very deliberate about weaving these stories together when I was working on it and it was fucking ANNOYING!!! But it might also be really bad (I haven’t touched what I have since around March so I gen don’t know???), so I may assign it to  the trash psued. BUT IT’S AN OPTION!!! 

Three Kings Of Chaos - Chaos Inc. has three leaders. General Disarray, Major Mayhem, and Professor Chaos (of course). But being super villains can be complicated. Especially when their angel donor decides he wants to join in on the fun. (This will realistically probably not be very good. But, I find the concept to be very entertaining.) 

Then We Won’t (I’m not sold on the title) - When a kid gets outcasted for his powers, he makes an unlikely alliance. (This entire fic got concepted around the saying ‘The child who is not embraced by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.’) 

Untitled Civil War Fic - Basically, C&F are all evil. The Freedom Pals are just trying to get their friends back. Just about every ship in this winds up getting thrown in enemies to lovers territory. Except for Butters and Bebe (and I personally think their storyline is fucking hilarious). 

New Beginnings Rewrite - I HAVE VERY LARGE IDEAS FOR THIS. THE OLD ONE IS STILL UP SO I WILL NOT BE ELABORATING.  

Human Island - (no set title) After the world is destroyed, humans are limited to a small chain of islands. But what happens when a scientist threatens to destroy the harmony they’d worked so hard to build? (This is loosely based on something and if someone were to catch it if I were to write and post this, I would lose my fucking shit. Like, I think I would be so happy I would, like, throw up.) 

Vents - (no set title) SOMEONE gets thrown into a psychiatric facility. Involuntarily, of course. They assume they’re just abandoned there to die until someone starts calling out to them through the vents. 

I might actually finish Stalkers (this is not the title but I’ve been referring to it as such since it got concepted). Heads up though. This one is trash. Like out of everything I’ve ever written, this is thee trash. It was actually the precursor for Leap Year in the sense that I wanted to write something problematic for the sake of being problematic. It will be on the trash fic psued. Like, I genuinely find it funny because of how bad it is. But I can’t recommend telling me to work on this, because it genuinely isn’t good and I stand by that. 

My Love Letter To You - There are not one, but two Professor Chaos’ in this story. How fucking wild. Wonder how that happened. This story is basically the set up to them fighting it out and what led them there. (I’ve been eyeing and fiddling with this for a while and if you read my end notes you can prob figure out when I started messing with this concept). 

Untitled Cartman and Kenny FP fic. - Okay, so this was actually one of my first fanfic concepts. Basically, Cartman spends a good amount of time blacked out. When the other Freedom Pals find out, they try to intervene. And of course, Kenny has something to do with it. 

Cntrl: Escape - I think this might genuinely be my favorite out of all of these. A group of people get elected to escape their “perfect” world. (There is a tyrannical ruler and AI involved. Also the opening scene rn is artist Tweek trying not to lose his shit over the AI art contests surrounding his block. I love it. This one’s prob Tweek centric, but there are six(?? I’m not checking my notes. Approximately six???) mains in this.) (There is also a tiny leak of this on my test fic.) 

Untitled Kyle Supersomething Fic - As states. Human Kite’s either gonna be a supervillain or a vigilante who does not fuck with the rules of hero society and does things his own way. Could be fun. Oh also, from the jump I have decided the bad guys (Kyle) win in this. Like, I feel like villains winning is severely lacking and I need to contribute to what I want to read because that is the entire reason I started writing fanfic. 

Untitled Evil Shed Fic - And our favorite gadgeteer superhero is not a superhero anymore. He’s much worse. Stan is irredeemable in this, or at least that’s where it’s taking shape in my head right now. This is prob gonna border on horror if not be straight up horror. I do have plans to make all of the people I really focus on character wise (that isn’t Butters, obviously) have their own villain fic at some point, but rn all I have buzzing around my little idiot brain are Kenny (which is done), Stan, and Kyle’s. (Wendy’s is also starting to take shape in my head, but not enough to concept it out yet.)

New Kid - A small town (South Park, obviously) falls into chaos when an alien stumbles upon them. This is New Kid centric without it actually being New Kid centric. I have been giggling about this concept since the idea graced me back in March when the warm weather first popped around and I heard the song ‘Trailer Park Alien’ for the first time. Which is exactly what this fic is based on. 

[dolphin1812]

Although Marius’ speech is embarrassing (both because of the Napoleon content and because of how quickly he’s taken down), it’s also fascinating in that it reveals so much about his character through his politics. 

“I am a newcomer among you, but I will confess that you amaze me. Where do we stand? Who are we? Who are you? Who am I?”

Marius starts with “we!” He’s including himself in this organization, even if he’s confused about their ideas and his position within this group. His own beliefs may be against those of Les Amis, but this is a major change from his earlier isolation. He’s not only surrounded by people, but viewing himself as part of them, and not just in an abstract sense (he started to think of France as his community after reading about his father, but Les Amis is a more concrete group). 

“I hear you say Buonaparte, accenting the u like the Royalists. I warn you that my grandfather does better still; he says Buonaparté’. I thought you were young men.”

I’ll talk more about the focus on “great men” as a way of determining one’s politics in the next line, but I think this is also suggestive of Marius’ lack of exposure to other ideologies. Not having met many republicans outside of Les Amis, he sees Bonapartism as the most legitimate alternative to monarchism, and he associates criticisms of Bonaparte with royalism because that’s the main context in which he heard them. Gillenormand’s “ultra” politics also factor into this, as Marius lambasts them for saying “Buonaparte.” He implies that, if they’re already royalists who despise Napoleon to the point that they pronounce his name like that, they may as well accent the final “e” as well, thus assuming that the most extreme stance possible is the goal. In reality (as stated in the last chapter), Enjolras is the only Ami who says “Buonaparte;” the rest say “Bonaparte,” and Jean Prouvaire sometimes says “Napoleon.” None of them are pro-Napoleon, but they dislike or disagree with him to different extents, and they respect their differences instead of trying to reach the most intense position possible. 

Moreover, Marius’ objection to their hatred of Napoleon on the grounds that they’re “young men” implies that he too believes in a form of “progress,” only his form of progress has Napoleon as the ideal instead of the Republic. It’s one thing for an old man “stuck in the past” like his grandfather to disavow Napoleon in favor of the monarchy, but he can’t see why men his age would hold a similar distaste for the man because he thinks Napoleon is the “next step” in governance. 

“Whom do you admire, if you do not admire the Emperor? And what more do you want? If you will have none of that great man, what great men would you like?”

Marius is very prone to idolizing people. His Bonapartism came from idolizing his father, and he now idolizes Napoleon as well. That Les Amis don’t have one figure that all their politics revolve around, then, is bizarre to him. Of course, they have figures that they admire; they just don’t all agree on them, and their meetings don’t center around a single historical character. Enjolras, for instance, admires Rousseau, but Courfeyrac does not. 

The “great man” discussion goes back to the Waterloo digression. It’s quite possible that Hugo wouldn’t object to Marius’ specific praises of Napoleon here, actually (even if personally I find his conquests awful and think it’s impossible for anyone’s bulletins to be “Iliads”). The Waterloo digression was full of compliments for Napoleon’s intelligence and skill, especially as a military strategist. The issue was that even if Napoleon was a “great man,” the age of “great men” was over; it was time for the people to rule themselves (”The disappearance of the great man was necessary for the advent of the great age, and He who cannot be answered undertook the task” - LM 2.1.13). In a way, the “to be free” scene more dramatically and succinctly reiterates the theme of that digression. Les Amis could challenge Marius on the specifics of Napoleon’s “greatness,” but they’re not actually relevant. What does matter is that being ruled by an Emperor is bad in itself. 

Most of this discussion (or rather, brief responses to long rambles about how cool Napoleon was) takes place between Marius and Enjolras, which makes sense, given that Enjolras is the most intense politically and thus seems more provocative to Marius. Still, it’s interesting that Combeferre is the one who rebukes Marius. In the last chapter, he attempted to defend the Charter before Courfeyrac burned it, suggesting that he might play “devil’s advocate” and defend unpopular positions to sharpen his friends’ ideas or that, as he believes in gradual progress as well, he’s a little more open to compromise. His comment reminds us that, even if Combeferre seems “moderate” in relation to his friends at times, he’s still very much a republican, and he’s not going to accept tyranny for the sake of keeping the peace. Again, this is a callback to his introduction, which stressed that he abhors violence - even revolutionary violence - but prefers it to “stagnation.” Going back to Bonaparte, then, would be another form of “stagnation” that Combeferre, even with his hope in gradual progress without interference, has to reject. (And given that there was another Napoleon in power when Hugo was writing, it feels especially significant that Bonapartism is seen as so unacceptable that even Combeferre has to intervene). 

[workingtowardsthatphd]

how i use AI in my research and essays

Creating a plan: Sometimes, I get an essay question and I just have no idea where to start with it, so I'll put it into chatgpt and ask it to generate a plan for an essay. The plan it then gives me provides me with some starter topics for research and some key words that I can use to search databases such as JSTOR. It's important to remember here that the plan it gives you may not be accurate and will be only based on what already exists on the internet, so research is required, especially to get further research or add something new to the topic. This plan also tends to be very simplistic, requiring a lot of development to get it up to a good standard.

Clarity and breaking down sentences: I love a run on sentence. It is the one thing that people point out to me when reading my work, and I often struggle to realise when I'm using them. Chatgpt comes in handy here, I can put in one paragraph and ask it to identify any run on sentences that are present. Once those are identified, I can go back and shorten them - sometimes I struggle to do this, and chatgpt can be helpful here as well to suggest how to break it down. Obviously don't just take the shorter sentences it gives you at face value, sometimes the way it rewords the sentence changes the meaning.

Suggestions for feedback: The best place to get feedback is from the people who will be marking your work. However during deadline season especially, it can be hard to get in contact with those people, and it tends to take a while for them to get back to you. Instead, when I think I can't work out any more improvements myself, I'll put a section of the draft into chatgpt and ask for feedback. Normally I ask specifically for what I need to do to bring my grade up to a first. Generally it will provide a list of things such as further analysis, grammar, strengthening the thesis statement, etc. I find this really useful when I've been reading the same thing over and over again to have some actual points to look for.

Breaking things down into smaller tasks: I can get really overwhelmed sometimes, and having adhd does not help with that. A lot of the time, I am able to break things down into step-by-step myself, but when I'm not, I can put the list of tasks into chatgpt. It will then break these down for me into smaller tasks and I can work through that list one at a time.

I don't use AI to write my essays, I did try once just out of curiosity and it was honestly one of the worst essays I have ever read. AI does not have the ability to analyse sources in the same way a person does, and it does not have access to all the research materials that you do.

Hope this was helpful! Feel free to add on how you use AI at uni.