#and just had an art idea of six year old me being followed by all my favorite characters and holding hands with me kinda

[paula-in-dreamland]

Collecting fictional characters like imaginary friends since I was a young child.

[girltalkcollectives]

The Dark Side of ‘Boys Will Be Boys’

I still remember sitting in the principal’s office, knees scraped and uniform dirty, trying not to cry while explaining why I pushed Tommy back on the playground. For weeks, he’d been pulling my hair, chasing me during recess, and ruining my art projects. That day, he’d grabbed my favorite hair ribbon and thrown it in a puddle.

The principal’s response? A warm smile and those words I’ll never forget: “Oh sweetie, he’s only mean because he likes you! Boys don’t know how to show their feelings at this age.”

I was six. That was my first lesson that my discomfort was less important than a boy’s feelings.

And before anyone jumps in with “boys will be boys” or “it’s not that serious” — let me tell you how that lesson played out over the years.

By fourth grade, I stopped telling teachers when boys would snap my bra strap because I was tired of hearing “that means they think you’re pretty!” I learned to be flattered by harassment before I even knew what harassment was.

In middle school, when Jake wouldn’t stop following me between classes and grabbing my backpack, my own mom said, “He probably just doesn’t know how to tell you he has a crush!” So I stopped mentioning it, even when it escalated to him “accidentally” running into me at my locker every day.

“But they’re just boys!” people say. “Stop making everything so serious!”

Okay, let’s talk about how “just boys” grow up.

That same Jake who learned his harassment was “just showing affection”? By high school, he was the guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer at parties. But hey, he “just liked me,” right?

Tommy from first grade? Last I heard, he had multiple harassment complaints at his college. But I bet someone’s still saying “boys will be boys!”

And me? I spent years unlearning the idea that love is supposed to hurt. Years figuring out that someone making me uncomfortable isn’t a compliment. Years understanding that my instincts were right all along — I wasn’t being “too sensitive,” he wasn’t being “sweet,” it wasn’t “just a crush.”

To everyone saying “it’s not that deep” or “stop overthinking” — you’re part of the problem. Because while you’re dismissing these “little” incidents, girls are learning lessons that follow them into adulthood:

When my first boyfriend threw my phone because he was “passionate?” I heard: “He’s only mean because he likes you!”

When my college classmate wouldn’t stop asking me out after ten nos? I remembered: “He just doesn’t know how to show his feelings!”

These aren’t separate issues. They’re the same lesson playing out over years.

We’re teaching girls that love looks like discomfort.

That harassment means attraction.

That their boundaries matter less than boys’ feelings.

That being hurt means being loved.

And to those saying “not all boys are like that” — you’re missing the point. It’s not about all boys. It’s about what we teach ALL girls about what they should accept.

Because that six-year-old girl with scraped knees grew up to be a woman who had to relearn what love actually looks like. Who had to realize that real love doesn’t pull your hair, push you down, or make you cry.

So no, it’s not “just boys being boys.”

It’s not “making a big deal out of nothing.”

It’s not “too serious.”

It’s the first chapter in a book too many girls have to unwrite later.

And maybe if we stopped telling little girls that harassment means love, we’d have fewer women trying to convince themselves that abuse means passion.

[c0ld0utside]

Summer Camp Slasher

Shoutout to @foundfamyanderes for the idea in this post here

Keeping this short! Might go more in-detail if I make another part. 

Warnings: Mentions of bullying, Reader almost drowned, Character death, violence, Gore, Chasing, Reader gets injured, Rushed fic

You hated Summer Camp. Hated it since you were ten years old and was finally able to piece together that you were here because Mom and Dad didn't want to bother with you over the summer. Hated it since the girls in your group and the older ones started disliking you for being close with one of the popular boys; Travis. 

Travis was your rock through it all. He was the first person you met when you started going to camp at six years old. He was thirteen then- a fellow camper and one of the favorites. A natural leader. A nice kid who could befriend everyone. Nonjudgmental to the kids who had a rough time. A kid who loved summer camp so much he came back as one of the counselors. A rare find in times like these. Though there was a negative to his charm. 

You’ve seen it enough time at school; girls desperate for attention and popularity. The lows they’d go to over a boy. The shade and rumors that’d be thrown around. “It’s crazy,” you had told him when you were fourteen. “How did you deal with all of it? Or- well, deal with it. That Naomi chick practically froths at the mouth when she sees you.” Travis had snorted then. “To be honest…I don’t know. It makes me just as uncomfortable…remember that one year with that Deseray girl? Don’t get me wrong, I love taking care of kids but I have never been happier to know she wouldn’t be coming back.” He says, fiddling with the bracelet you gifted him when you were seven. You had made it during arts and crafts after learning one of his favorite animals were turtles- letter beads spelling out “U-R-A” with a star and turtle charm. 

Ugh, you remembered her- the girl who watched with her friends as your kayak tipped over and nearly let you drown. You had nightmares for weeks- hearing the muffled laughter under the water. Had it not been for Travis, you would’ve died. It was satisfying watching her burst into tears as he chewed her out (it was the first time you heard him yell, too) and wrap you up in a towel. It was a miracle you came back this year (It wasn’t, your parents made you come back anyway).

This year was the breaking point. Especially when one of your bullies, Layla, was found dead, an axe buried in her back and one of her legs chopped clean off. …The leg was found in her friend Isabella’s bed. All of you found that out when she woke up screaming. Which was joined by the rest of the girls in her cabin. Immediately the blame went to you- but Travis, ever the angel, shut those ideas down. “ [Name]’s group cabin is on the other side of the camp. The tool shed isn’t accessible to someone without a key and that key is kept in the office.” 

At first your torment got worse, the girls calling you a murderer and obviously following you around, trying to “catch you in the act.” They freaked out when you were at least eight feet away from them and left “gifts” on your bed. Landon, Isabella’s boyfriend, was found floating in the water, tied up, gagged, and thrown out into the lake the night after you came back to deer droppings. Arianna was found with the back of a hammer lodged into the side of her head after your clothes were dumped into the same lake. That was the last straw (for some reason. It should’ve been the last straw when Layla died) and the camp leader, Mr. Madden, told the rest of the kids to pack up their things. A bus would be coming to bring them all home. 

At least, that was the plan. Halfway through backing the driver was found with a stab wound and slumped against the driving wheel. The tires had been slashed as well- the loud noise drawing you and the other camper’s attention. The phone line had been cut in the office, so you and Naomi went to grab the mobile phones in the small office safe. 

You stuck the key into the lock, twisting as Naomi stood by the door. “Can you hurry up? This is freaking me out,” she says, a twinge of fear in her tone. “I am also freaking out in case you haven’t noticed,” you shot back. “Look- my hands are shaking.” Naomi scoffed. “So are mine, you’re not specia-” Her words turned into a scream when she was harshly pulled out of the room. 

“NAOMI!” Abandoning the phones and shifting the key around in your hand, you rushed out to the hall. It was all so quick- a masked man in a dark blue hoodie plunging a machete into Naomi’s stomach as she clawed at his shoulders, trying to push him away. Blood splattered onto the wooden floor and in an instant you were moving, stabbing the key into the attacker’s shoulder. 

With a grunt, he shoved you to the ground, masked face staring down at yours. A cartoony, toothy smile was drawn on it, black circles around the small eyeholes. Naomi whimpered and sobbed in pain on the floor, the stranger looking at her over his shoulder. You shoot upward for a messy takedown and instead he grabs you by the collar of your shirt. Your gaze flicks to his wrist and your heart sinks.

He’s wearing Travis’ bracelets. The ones you made for him over the years. All of them. Had he killed him and taken them to taunt you? Why you? What did you do to deserve this?!

“You weren’t supposed to see,” he murmurs softly, voice unrecognizable. Pushing you back, he opens the door to one of the closets and shoves you inside, slamming the door shut afterward. “NO!” You shout rushing over to the door and throwing it open. 

It’s too late. The killer has the blade stabbed through Naomi’s cheek and is kneeling over her. All she can do is scream as he pulls it out. “Quit. Moving.” He growls, stabbing it through her head. Blood flies and splatters everywhere, getting on his mask, clothes, the wall, and the floor. “Good girl…ah- I told you not to look!” The man snaps, voice muffled by the mask. 

…His voice…

“Travis?”  

“See? I told you. You’re smart.” He says sadly, getting up from his kneeling position. He lets the blade fall from his gloved hands- black latex gloves from the kitchen- and begins to walk over to you with his hands to his sides. He tsks when you back away. 

“You don’t need to be scared, [Name]. I’m doing this all for you!” He explains. “...And a little for myself. Whew, she was annoying. It’s okay, though. I’d never hurt you. After all,” He holds up his wrist, holding it out to you. The very first one is the one you made him recently. “B-I-G-B-R-O” in the largest letter beads you could find- a mix of cubes and spheres decorated with green, blue, and yellow beads. “I’m your older brother, am I not?”

“Why?” You choke out, taking another step back. “Oh come on, bud! You and I both know your parents don’t care about you. I do, though! Who kept in touch with you online? Who reminded you to drink water and eat? Who stayed up late with you on a call to help you fall asleep? Who helped you with your homework? I’m not complaining, by the way. I loved doing that with you and I still do because I love you!” Travis rambled, moving closer and closer. You reach the door and grab the handle.

“[Name], don’t do it.” He warns, tone dropping. “I’ll be disappointed if you do.” Travis sighs as you throw the door open and book it into the night. “Alright. We’re doing this, then.”

-

You don’t look back. If you look back you might see him and looking back will slow you down. The path is getting harder to follow, narrowing out as it reaches the end. Maybe you should go off of it? Maybe Travis got tired. You hope that’s the case. …Though it’s better to be safe than sorry.

Heading off of the path, you push your way into the trees and through the greenery. You hiss whenever a thorn or low hanging branch scrapes against your arms, leaving ugly red lines and small dots of blood. It goes on for a while- pushing, pulling snagged clothing free, stumbling on rocks or awkward dips in the ground…the grass is long and it gets harder to see the forest floor. What if you get lost-

CLANG!

You don’t want to look down. You can feel something warm and wet soaking your sock. Don’t look down. Your gaze shifts downward, anyway. A bear trap is snapped shut around your foot, blood already starting to stain your shoe. It clicks in your head and the pain is quick to come.

A choked scream leaves you as you try to kneel down, the pain worsening and flaring. Hot tears fill your eyes as you desperately try to open the trap, wincing and crying out in agony all the while. Your chest feels tight yet it heaves like it’s weightless. Someone’s screaming your name, heavy footsteps getting closer as they force themself through the greenery.

“[Name]?! Oh, shit!”

They hurry over to your front, pulling down their hood and throwing their mask off. “Hey, hey hey shh, shh you’re okay, you’re okay, I’m here now.” They soothe, hands hovering in the air. “Don’t look at it, bud. Look at me, please. Look at me.” You force your gaze up to the person.

Travis gives you a weak smile. “Hey, bud. There you are. What did I tell you about going off the trail?” Sniffling, you speak. “N-not to do it.” He nods. “Mhm. Not to do it. I didn’t mean to scare you so bad. Now look where we’re at, hm?” Travis lets out a sigh.

“I’m gonna pry it open, okay?” Travs says, frowning at the whimper you let out. “I know bud, I know. Hurts bad, doesn’t it? That’s why we gotta do this. Take a deep breath and breathe out on ‘three,’ okay?” You give him a small nod and he grabs the sides of the trap. “Breathe in.”

Travis watches you take in a deep breath. “Good. Ready? …One!” He roughly pulls the trap open, earning a startled cry from you. “Travis-” you sob out. “Sorry, sorry,” he mumbles, pulling your leg out of the trap and setting it aside. Pulling off his sweater, he rips off one of the sleeves and ties it around your bleeding ankle. “You’re lucky it wasn’t one of the bigger traps. We’d have to cut your foot off.” He grumbles, scooting closer to scoop you up into his arms. 

“It’s definitely broken,” Travis announces, “but no worries. We’ll get you all fixed up at home, okay?” Home? Was he seriously bringing you back to your actual home? Your parents would freak out! What was he-

“Not your home. Our home. The one I made for us. Well, I bought it and made some changes. I’m a little hurt you didn’t tell me this would be your last year,” Travis rambled. “I heard you telling Mr. McCarthy in the office when you arrived. Don’t worry, we’ll talk about it later. This is more important right now.”

“Oh- are you falling asleep? Don’t do that [Name], stay with me please…”

…

When you wake up, you’re in a new home, in a clean room with your big brother holding a breakfast tray. 

“Rise and shine,” He croons. “Welcome home.”

Aggh sorry everyone I hoped to get this done sooner and flesh it out better but alas school started and takes up the majority of my day. Maybe I'll rewrite it. Remember to drink water and be kind to yourselves!

[moviecritc]

dreamer ⋆ carlos sainz

pairing: carlos sainz x old friend!reader

summary: you leave the city searching a meaning to your life, founding an old friends instead

word count: 2K

warnings: carlos isn't a driver, just a really rich guy with hobbies

a/n: here's the first track of my bewitched department <33 i love reader and carlos so so much tbh

masterlist | wattpad | letterboxd

"I'm sick of all this, Natalie," Y/N declared, throwing her phone on the sofa. Her roommate diverted her gaze from the TV to her. "It's the fourth guy that ghosted me after I ask him out."

"Become a lesbian," said Natalie, turning her attention back to the movie.

Y/N let out a sigh. "I should. I'm tired of all men being assholes and manipulators."

She grimaced, thinking that maybe the problem wasn't men but her. She had studied Art History and had been the best in her class. Now, at 28, she was sharing an apartment and teaching preteens who called her 'ma'am.' Was she wasting her life?

"I need a change," she said to herself.

"The smell goes away with a shower, don't worry." Natalie looked at her, wrinkling her nose.

"No, damn it. A change in my routine," she explained. Nevertheless, she took a sniff at her armpit, regretting it. She'd shower later. "I need to get out of here."

She stood up, grabbed her phone, and headed to her room.

"Hey? And where are you going, if I may ask?" said Natalie, following her.

"Anywhere!" Y/N shrugged. She drank a glass of water and took out a couple of pieces of clothing. "I need to change the scenery as soon as possible, I'm stuck."

She pulled a small suitcase from her closet while her roommate rolled her eyes.

"Y/N, you can't just leave suddenly. Don't you have classes tomorrow?"

Y/N paused for a moment and then shrugged again. "I'll ask for the day off. The week, actually."

"The week!" exclaimed Natalie. Y/N was already looking at flights on her phone when Natalie covered her screen. "Y/N, you don't have the financial or mental stability for this!"

Y/N swatted Natalie's hand away to see her phone screen.

"Madrid is very cheap this time of year," she said, with a small smile.

"But you don't even speak Spanish!"

Y/N boarded a plane to Madrid with the idea of not talking to any men that week. This trip was for her, to reconnect with herself, the Y/N she had lost over the years.

She still didn't have a place to stay, but she would resolve that on the go. The journey from the airport to central Madrid was tedious; she didn't know how the metro worked and people ignored her like she was nothing. Frustrated, she sat in a café. She looked up things to do in Madrid on her phone, but soon the battery died, and she was sure she had forgotten her charger at the apartment.

She let out a long sigh and ran her hands over her face. As she opened her eyes, she heard a voice.

"Y/N?"

She looked up immediately, surprised that someone knew who she was in Madrid. When she met the gaze of the individual, she recognized him instantly.

"Carlos?"

She stood up immediately, greeting him. Was he a man? Yes but Carlos and she had gone to university together; they had been friends for several years. Probably best friends, though they never talked about it. He hadn't changed much; he looked older but in a positive way, with a more flattering haircut and surprisingly stronger.

"What are you doing here?" Carlos asked, leaning in for a short hug.

"On vacation," Y/N nodded. Running into him had instantly lifted her spirits.

"Damn, I haven't seen you in… six years?" Carlos tilted his head a bit.

"Since graduation, right?"

They both nodded; it had been quite a while. Long enough to realize they had lost contact too soon.

"I didn't expect to see you in Madrid," commented Carlos, with a smile.

"It was a last-minute decision," explained Y/N, wrinkling her nose a bit. She formed a smile. "I'm glad to see you, really. Do you want to sit for a bit?" she suggested, pointing to the empty chair.

"I'd love to," Carlos accepted the invitation immediately, sitting down.

A waiter approached, and Carlos ordered a coffee to accompany Y/N's.

"Well, tell me, what have you been up to all these years?" Carlos asked, crossing one leg.

Y/N told him a bit of everything, very sweetened. That she was teaching Geography and History at a public school, that her family was fine, and they reminisced about the time Carlos practically crashed her Christmas party because Carlos Sainz Senior was mad at him for his grades and that she was happy living in her city.

Carlos told her that he now worked at his father's company as an executive.

"Oh, I thought you’d be doing something related to what we studied," Y/N pressed her lips a bit, somewhat disappointed that Carlos hadn't continued doing what they both loved.

"I would have loved to… but there were very few job opportunities. And I didn't want to be a teacher, so I played it safe," admitted Carlos, shrugging a bit. For a moment, he thought Y/N would judge him for it, but her sweet and calm expression told him otherwise.

"Understandable not wanting to be a teacher," agreed Y/N, before sipping her coffee.

"Is it tough?" Carlos mimicked her, lifting his cup too.

Y/N shook her head a bit. "I'm sure there are worse things. But having a twelve-year-old try to cut your hair because his dad is bald is rather curious."

Carlos almost choked on his coffee from the sudden laughter. "Really?" He tried to stifle the laughter as best as he could, but Y/N was already glaring at him.

"No, no. It's not funny, it happens every damn day," she nodded vigorously. Carlos let out a laugh that ended up being contagious for Y/N too.

The conversation continued for the rest of the afternoon. It was like going back to university for a few hours, a time she missed a lot. When they decided to get up from the table, they had finished four coffees and at least one glass of wine. It was even starting to get cold outside.

"Shall I walk you to your hotel?" Carlos asked with a smirk.

Y/N grimaced, remembering she still hadn't sorted that out. She bit the inside of her cheek, embarrassed. "I haven't booked a hotel room yet."

"Oh," he pursed his lips and quickly said, "You can stay at my place, I have a spare room."

Y/N, hearing him speak, was already shaking her head. "No, no, no. I don't want to bother you."

Carlos clicked his tongue, looking away for a moment.

"How are you going to bother me? Come on, bring your suitcase. My car is parked nearby."

Y/N was intrigued by Carlos's initiative but kept shaking her head.

"Really, it's not necessary, Carlos," Y/N extended her arms a bit for Carlos to return her suitcase, but he even moved it away from her hands. "I'll manage."

She said that last part to ease him a bit, but it only sounded like she needed more help.

"Y/N, I'm not going to leave you out on the street," Carlos put his hands on his hips and she let out a sigh. "That's not very gentlemanly of me."

"You were never a gentleman, you idiot," noted Y/N. Carlos smiled, knowing that if Y/N started to insult you, she was about to agree with you. "Alright, but just for one night. Then I'll find a hotel."

"Whatever you say, cariño," Carlos smiled triumphantly, and Y/N tried to hide her smile while he put her suitcase in the trunk.

His apartment was huge, truly huge. A dream kitchen, a large living room, and definitely more than one spare room. As they entered, a beautiful brown and white dog greeted them, heading straight for Carlos's legs.

"And who is this?" said Y/N, petting his head a bit, enough for the animal to focus all its attention on her. He sniffed Y/N's shoes and licked the hems of her pants.

"His name is Piñón," said Carlos with a smile, surprised that Piñón hadn't started barking because of a stranger's presence. "I adopted him almost after we graduated."

Y/N crouched, petting Piñón's neck and behind his ears. "Hi, Piñón. You're so pretty."

"I'll show you the room," Carlos said.

Y/N got up, giving Piñon one last pet. "Thank you, really. I feel like an abandoned cat, but thank you."

They both chuckled softly.

"It's nothing," Carlos said as they went to the room.

Y/N left her suitcase in a corner and turned to Carlos. "Do you have a charger?"

She felt like she was taking advantage of him too much, even if it was just for a charger, she felt bad.

"Of course, here," Carlos handed her the charger, their hands touched for a millisecond. She tried so hard not to feel anything. He kept a flirty smile. "Are you hungry?"

"Well, yes," Y/N nodded. "But give me a few minutes and I'll help you cook."

Y/N took a couple of things out of her suitcase and went back to the kitchen to help Carlos. They quickly cooked some pasta with burrata. Y/N noticed how Carlos would get close to her or brush his hands against hers casually.

While cutting some tomatoes, the knife slipped from Carlos’s hand. "Shit!" Carlos looked at the cut and put his finger in his mouth, letting out several whimpers.

"Did you cut yourself?" Y/N went over to him, Carlos took his finger out of his mouth, showing her a small cut. Y/N pursed her lips, remembering how dramatic he could be. "It's nothing, Carlos. It's barely bleeding."

Y/N cradled his hand, gently caressing his fingers almost unconsciously. The room went silent, Carlos looked into her eyes, he adored that look. Y/N lifted her eyes, connecting them with Carlos’s. He leaned toward her, listening to her breathing and matching his to it.

"Can I kiss you?"

The question hung in the air. Y/N held her breath. This was the opposite of what she wanted. She blinked and slightly opened her mouth. To Carlos, it felt like an eternity.

"I'm sorry," Y/N said in a faint voice. She looked at him with pity and Carlos stepped back, feeling more embarrassed than ever. "It's just… it's not the right time. I'm in a bit of a strange phase and things aren't going well for me, I don't want to mess things up for you." Y/N fidgeted with her rings as she said it.

"I understand," Carlos said, nodding slowly. "I shouldn't have asked you that, it was out of place."

"No, I should have told you before," she contradicted, with a grimace.

"Don't worry," he said. "It's just that…," Carlos hesitated a bit. "In college I had a huge crush on you and seeing you again brought everything back."

Y/N blinked, absorbing those words. She had always wondered why Carlos barely dated any girls during their time in college, it never crossed her mind it could be because of her.

"You had a crush on me?"

"You didn't know?"

"No…"

"Damn, we spent so much time together,"

"Because we were friends! That's what friends do!"

They both laughed and Carlos leaned against the counter, crossing his arms.

"So, you're not having a good time?" he inquired, with a calm look.

Y/N lowered her gaze. "I'm trying to sort out my life."

"I understand," he bit the inside of his cheek. "Anyway, if once you sort out your life you feel like going on a date, I haven't changed my number."

That felt so good in Y/N's chest, as if her heart expanded a little. She laughed like a fool, taking a few steps back.

"I'm going to go to sleep,"

"You're not having dinner with me?" Carlos extended his arms, with a sad look.

"Maybe tomorrow," Y/N turned around and smiled over her shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

taglist; @theseerbetweenus

[magicthatmustbelove]

The Interview

From: "Reverie" drafts

A follow-up to the "Meant To Be" imagine in which Y/N and Michael, now married, give Diane Sawyer an exclusive about the origins of their love story.

Note: I know Diane is an incredibly condescending, untactful, and unethical journalist but I honestly couldn't think of anyone else to use. Don't worry, she's not on any b.s. here.

BOTDF Era

Link to original imagine: https://www.wattpad.com/959232865-reverie-michael-jackson-imagines-meant-to-be%E2%9C%A8

Sometimes love can be found in the most unconventional places and this is certainly the love story of pop superstar Michael Jackson and his wife Y/N Jackson. 

What started out as a business arrangement soon blossomed into a close friendship and ultimately a whirl-wind romance. On the eve of their first anniversary,  Michael and Y/N sit down with us and unfold their love story publicly for the very first time. 

You folded your legs in the creme-colored chair smiling at Michael as he reached the space between you before grabbing your hand. The bright stage lights felt bright on your skin but it wasn't bothersome.

Across the room, Diane Sawyer smiles at the two of you admiringly from a matching sofa. 

"So Michael, Y/N, how's married life treating you?" Diane asks, resting a hand under her chin. 

You glance over at Michael, sharing a loving smile. The blush creeping across his cheeks makes you giggle. 

"It's been wonderful," your husband answers proudly. "Life has been so good to me in a way I've never experienced before," 

You feel your stomach erupt with butterflies from his sweet words.

"And Y/N, do you share the same feelings?"

"Absolutely,"

Diane leans back against the soft sofa, taking a deep breath before she starts her full session of questions. The stack of index cards clutched in her fist suddenly makes you nervous. This was your very first time talking to the press. Michael had given you pointers the night before but nothing could truly prepare you for the real thing. 

"Before you two got together, Y/N was a surrogate mother to your now six-year-old son, Liam, is that true?"

Michael shifted uncomfortably in his seat, seeming unprepared for such a straightforward question. 

"Yes, that is true," He replied. 

"Tell me how it started, Michael," Diane urged. 

Your husband chuckled lightly. 

"Oh boy," he smiled. "Well in '93 I was 35 and I didn't have the family I always dreamed of. I was always traveling on tour and always working and while I found my art very fulfilling, something was missing from my life. I wanted someone to live for and dating has always been kinda hard being who I am so I decided to skip a couple steps and go with surrogacy," 

"And then comes Y/N," Diane speaks.

You both chuckle and Michael nods. 

"Then came Y/N," 

"Y/N how did you decide to become a surrogate? And for Michael Jackson at that?!" 

You smile, trying to relax as you formulate your response in your head. 

"Well to be quite honest, I was a little down on my luck and I needed the money," you respond slowly. " In the beginning things were completely private. I had no idea I was to carry the child of a superstar,"

Diane nods.

"Michael, what made you choose Y/N out of all the other women who were candidates? Did you like what you saw?" 

The question makes you giggle. 

"I like what I see very much," Michael chuckles. " I don't know, there was just this force that made me gravitate towards her file. It was destiny. And she was perfectly healthy.  I wanted a healthy child," 

You weave your fingers through your husband's hand, squeezing it gently. 

"Y/N how did you react when you found out that you were going to be carrying Michael Jackson's baby? Was this something you dreamed about in your childhood?"

You grin. 

"Well I actually dreamed about having Shaun Cassidy's baby as a kid," you chuckle, tossing your hair over your shoulder.

Beside you, Michael scoffs in faux outrage and Diane laughs.

"You never told me that," 

You giggle and shift to face him. 

"Well that's not a very nice thing to say when you're doing such a big favor," You retorted, patting his knee sweetly. "Anyway, I honestly had second thoughts when I found out it'd be Michael. I wasn't sure how he'd treat me. I was afraid he'd be a diva and have all these demands and I wanted this process to be as stress-free as possible," 

"And is Michael Jackson a diva?" Diane pressed. 

You smile at your husband. 

"He's the kindest, sweetest man I've ever known. He was so caring during the entire pregnancy. I don't think I would have had such an amazing experience carrying someone else's child and I knew he'd be the most amazing father. He waited on me hand and foot,"

Michael brushes his thumb over your knuckles while glancing at you lovingly. If the cameras weren't rolling you'd kiss him. 

"So you moved into Neverland?" 

"At the very end of my pregnancy, I did," You reply. "I gave birth there. I love that place," 

Diane smiles. 

"Was there ever a sense of awkwardness between the two of you? It must be weird to have a stranger carry your child and vice versa,"

Michael shook his head. 

"Not for me," he responded without hesitation.  "Had it been anyone else I'd have provided the same accommodation.  But getting to know Y/N made it special. She has a beautiful spirit. I was willing to do anything for her,"  

You smile. 

"For me, it was a bit weird," You answer honestly.  "Not because we were strangers but because we grew so close. I had no intention of being a part of Liam's life but it felt weird just giving birth and never getting to see Michael again. He's such a special person and it would have been cruel to just drop out of his life. But it also felt cruel to be in and out of the baby's life,"

"So what happens after you give birth?" Diane asks. 

Michael sighs.

"We got separated for a bit," 

You place a hand on his knee and nod in agreement. 

"I needed a little time to get my emotions together after giving birth and truly decide if I wanted to be a part of our son's life," you explain " And I wanted to give Michael time to bond with the baby. The invitation was always there but it just didn't feel right," 

"So is this the moment where the romantic feelings started? Michael, did you think Y/N had gotten away from you?" 

Your husband smiled softly. 

"Not exactly," he started slowly. "I really cherished my friendship with Y/N and I missed her but I respected her decision. But then she kept calling in to check in on how Liam was growing and again the invitation was open,"

You smile as you cross your legs again. 

"That baby boy was the most beautiful thing I'd ever laid eyes on and I knew letting them both into my life could only enhance it. I took the invitation, moved closer to Los Olivos and spent as much time with them as I thought would be appropriate. I still didn't want to confuse Liam," 

Diane's eyebrows raise. 

"And still no romance?" 

You chuckle. 

"That was a few more years into the making," Michael replied. 

"We made this arrangement where we could co-parent Liam without feeling pigeonholed into a traditional family dynamic. We decided we could see other people and have our own lives apart from each other and still raise Liam. In fact, he proposed to another woman the night we realized our feelings for each other," You respond.  

Diane's eyes grew wide. 

"Did you really?" She asked incredulously.  

Michael chuckled bashfully. 

"Yes, it's true," 

"It's obvious this woman said no, so then you go to Y/N? Was she your second choice? Did you ever think 'If things didn't work out with someone else then I'll go get with Y/N?' "

You frown slightly,  finding the question annoying. 

"Not at all," your husband responds. "Y/N was always my first choice. She was the most important person in my life apart from Liam. My girlfriend at the time felt threatened by the bond Y/N and I had and she would only agree to marry me if I cut Y/N out of my life. That wasn't an option for me. I couldn't imagine life without Y/N and that's when I realized I was madly in love with her," 

Diane smiles. 

"And Y/N, did you agree with him getting engaged?" 

"I was a little worried that him getting married would ruin my chances of staying in Liam's life but I did want to see him happy," 

Michael smiled. 

"So how did you get it out?" Diane asked. "How was the big confession?" 

A big grin spreads across your lips as you reminisce about that magical night.  

"I'd stayed over to be with Liam that night and when he came home he came into my room. I was very anxious thinking maybe he got engaged and that I'd be out of their lives. But then he explained it all to me. I thought he was insane at the time; we'd never said I love you or expressed our feelings for each other that way at the time. He even put the ring he'd proposed to her on my hand,” 

Diane clicked her tongue in disapproval. 

“Shame, shame,” she spoke playfully. “Please tell me you got her another ring?” 

Michael bashfully pinched his bottom lip. 

“Of course, I did,” 

You held your left hand up to the interviewer, showing off the very large, emerald-cut yellow diamond ring Michael had eventually proposed to you with. He'd taken extra care in picking it out after making the first impulsive mistake. 

“Wow!” Diane exclaims, pushing her reading glasses up on her nose to get a clearer view of the scintillating diamond. “Well, I think we all know that you don't wash any dishes or windows,” 

You chuckle. 

“So tell me about Liam,” she continues. “What are his interests? Do you ever think he'd go into show business like dear old dad?” 

Michael instantly shakes his head. 

“Noooo,” He responds. “If he decides that's the life path he wants to take when he becomes an adult, I'll support him but for now I want him to have the childhood I didn't,” 

You squeeze your husband's hand. 

“He's so much like Michael,” you smile. “Very bright and inquisitive. He loves drawing and reading and he's going through a dinosaur phase right now” 

Diame smiles. 

“Does he call you Mommy?” She asks.

You chuckle. 

“He's always called me Lolly. I really didn't want him to call me mommy in the beginning because I wasn't sure if I'd be around like that and I didn't want to confuse him. I told him he could after Mike and I married but he likes Lolly. I like Lolly too,” 

“Is he aware that you're his birth mother or how you and his father met?” 

You frown a little. So far the questions had been easy but this was a tough one. 

“It is something that we plan to explain to him when he's much older and can understand, “ Michael interjects. “But he's always had a maternal bond with Y/N, I'm not sure it totally matters,”

You fiddle with Michael’s fingers, hoping to find an appropriate follow- up to the question. 

“If anything, I hope that when he's old enough to understand, our son can learn from our story that sometimes love can come from the most unconventional situations whether it's romantic or otherwise,” You respond. 

Michael grins at you, proud of your answer. 

“So what do you say to those who might think that your relationship dynamic is weird or unethical?” 

Another hardball question but you were feeling surprisingly confident enough after your previous answer. 

“I think those people should mind their business,” you retort.

“Yeah!” Michael quietly cheers beside you. 

There is a beat of silence between the three of you and you're not quite sure if the interview is over until Diane speaks, a wide grin stretching across her lips

“Last question,”

You feel your cheeks burning with a blush and Michael fidgets nervously in his seat. You were suspicious about what this last question would be. If it was what you suspected, it would certainly be the main thing people would be buzzing about. 

“Uh-oh,” he sighs. 

“I have word on very good authority that you and Y/N are expecting another baby. Is it true?” 

You bite your lip as Michael nervously chuckles. 

“We don't wanna say too much. We've already revealed so much about ourselves,” he responds. “But... yes,” 

You glance lovingly at your husband, nodding happily. 

“Yes, it's true,” you grin. 

Diane smiles while leaning back in her seat. 

“I can always tell that glow. Well, congratulations to you and Michael.  And to Liam on becoming a big brother. I hope everyone will be very happy,”

All those years ago when Liam was born, you'd never envisioned your future would be like this but you were terribly, utterly, and blissfully happy with the life you'd created with the man you loved.

✨

[cleolinda]

Weekend links, June 9, 2024

My posts

MY ABELIAS HAVE POWDERY MILDEW. We have now acquired a fungicide and sprayed down everything in a six-foot radius of Patient Zero, a crape myrtle that had “mysteriously” not grown much foliage back this year. Thrilling, I know.

If you want to know what post-exertion malaise is, it’s me cleaning for an hour and then being laid out for three days. Coincidentally, I had someone else’s post about chronic fatigue and taking constant breaks in my queue. To round it off, here’s an old post of mine about giving yourself and your fatigue the same grace you’d give other people’s.

Side note, I have realized that mobile now cuts off my profile bio to 

She/her. Classy dame, sparkle consultant, vampire

New followers, I have some very disappointing news for you. 

Reblogs of interest

Pride Month: Spotlight on activist/drag queen Marsha P. Johnson

Related: I think the Pride Moth should become the next Tumblr Animal Mascot.

Great Uncles Angelo and Bill, a love story

The Hot Vintage Lady to Rule Them All: Eartha Kitt. 

Hozier Watch 2024: Here’s “Too Sweet” on--I nearly said “The Colbert Report” and I kind of wish it was. 

Dante inventing the circles of hell: It’s the “Thank you king I am commissioning fan art of you” that always sends me.

The flowered houses of Zalipie, Poland

I have had to get a few crowns because I grind my teeth, and I am very excited about the idea of this tooth regeneration therapy, which my dental insurance won’t cover either. 

Come for the five things food banks want most (money), and stay for the tale of the chaos penny drive.

“One of the most dangerous things we tend to do is treat insights as rules”

Translating Sappho is more complex than you might think

The more you know: a breakdown of the differences between “Rromani,” “Romany,” “Ro[u]manian,” and ethnic slurs in Dracula

Vampire Therapist, available to wishlist on Steam

1000 Books You May Have Actually Read: The implied “you” here is “U.S. readers,” I think. I hit 200 (”better than 86% of users on this list”) because I have read a lot of Shakespeare, “I’m Bella Swan and my hobbies are English class” books, and Stephen King. If you have read YA of the last 20 years, James Patterson, or Colleen Hoover, you will blow past me. 

Video

“The Golden Sandwich, made 95% out of aid package contents, 5% with love and resilience 🍉🚨” 

Hey, so, Adobe is forcing you to agree to let them go through all your shit. Adobe responds, and I don’t believe them. 

Philadelphia Flyers mascot Gritty raising the Progress Pride flag

A guy playing piano and the cat who loves him

“cut to me, playing my horror instrument at 4 am” Okay, but now imagine a hellhound nestled up lovingly against the player of this instrument. 

A roan, a rider, a pride flag, and no tack

The sacred texts

The duality of bun

“Poob has it for you” is probably too new to be a sacred text, but I’m investing

“why are you microwaving carbonated drinks” is not the shocking part

Personal tags of the week

Dune, for some reason, bunnying, and tumblr therapy, a tag that will just body you over and over. 

[skepsiss]

Master Writing List of My Works

I've seen other people do this and it seems like a good idea. You can follow my Ao3 where more of my works are posted, but for the ones available on Tumblr I will list them below.

Skepsis_Ree on Ao3

Art, Photos, and Moodboards

Stranger Things

Steddie

Mini Fics. These are asks that people have sent me. You can send me a prompt and I'll write you Steddie stuff.

Senior Year [18+ explicit. Slow Burn] Adjoining Art Chapters 14/30 [in progress] // What happened in Steve’s senior year of high school? We know that he almost failed grade 12, and we know he had ‘lost his groove’ by mid-summer of 1985, but what happened between November 1984 and July 1985? And what if Steve actually made friends with Eddie Munson during that time instead of being alone? Senior Year is a fic about Steve struggling with PTSD and depression through his final months of high school, and how he slowly spiralled downward, making it impossible for him to get into college, and damaging his confidence so badly he couldn’t get a date if he begged. During senior year, Steve does make a connection with Eddie though, and their odd on-again, off-again ‘friendship’ becomes a staple in both their lives. This is a story about coping, the struggles of a broken heart, and making connections. There are genuine, raw moments, but in the end, the connection these two boys have is strong enough to see them through it all—even if it takes them both a long time to realize that they have feelings for one another.

The Last Strange Thing [Monster reference guide] [The art for the fic!] Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16 [FINISHED] // Welcome to the apocalypse. The demo-infection has taken hold of the world, and humans are a rare thing these days. Still, people hang on to civilization in pockets across North America and beyond. Hawkins is one such place.  Steve Harrington is a scout who runs missions for Hawkins, and on one of those missions, he becomes separated from his scouting partner, Robin. He has to find his way across Indianapolis in an infected world, meeting one very important individual on the way, Eddie. The two of them must trust one another in order to journey across Indiana, while perhaps finding something softer to nurture with one another along the way.

Long Road Ahead Pt1  Pt1.2   Pt2    Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 // A Five part (maybe six?) series about Steve and Eddie getting together. Steve really struggles with the possibility of him being queer and doesn't know how to deal with it. Each part alternates between Eddie's POV and Steve's POV; lots of yearning, miscommunication, a pining with a happy ending.

Join the Party // One Shot, AU Where Steve and Eddie have been friends since childhood and I guess no Upside Down shenanigans (yet?). Hurt/comfort with confessions. Written from the period of them at 10 (ish) to 18 (ish).

Heart Beat City // One shot. A character piece on Eddie as he has some of his faith in happiness returned to him. Eddie thinks pretty firmly that love and kindness are not a real thing--at least not for him, but that changes when he meets Steve. Poetic and moody, optimistic ending.

House to Ourselves // Series of one-shots. Steve and Eddie are finally living together after a long courtship. They get every other weekend to themselves when Steve’s ex-wife takes the kids for 2.5 days. That means sex… definitely sex.

Because I Want You // Part of the adult AU, one-shot series. Steve and Eddie have been broken up for 9 years. It just so happens that they both have 3-year-olds, and they end up in the same daycare, allowing them to reunite. It’s bittersweet in a lot of ways, mostly because Eddie feels so guilty for how things ended with Steve in their previous relationship. This story is about them trying to get back together.

Modern Problems, Modern Solutions Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 Pt5 Pt6 Pt7 [FINISHED] // Modern AU. Eddie's POV and his judgy, budgie, anxiety-filled self-denying for a long time that he has a crush on Steve. I wanted to explore what being an awkward teen was like (again) and how the personality dynamics would work between Steve and Eddie if they were in more modern times. A story full of miscommunications set in 2015 ish. This mini-series is finished, and it has a happy ending. Enjoy the very soft end for the boys.

Basketball Shorts // PWP. Explicit, 18+. Eddie and Steve are in an established relationship, and Eddie asks Steve to wear his old basketball uniform. They fantasize together about what it would have been like to date in high school (and how hard it would have been not to sneak off to bone).

Tooth and Nail Pt1 Pt2 Pt3 Pt4 // Uuhh, it's kinda sad guys. Prompt was to write something where Eddie is the one that is in denial about his queer-ness and Steve is the one who makes him question his sexual identity. Full request here. This is hurt comfort and miscommunication riddled; read some realness and slowburn towards romance. Part 4 onward is pining time with Eddie trying to figure out his feelings.

Stories of Youth (microfic) // A short (480 words) fic written for the steddie microfic month with the prompt "Suck." This is fluff and just a little window into the sweetness (and eternal horiness) that is Steve and Eddie in a relationship.

His People Chapter 1: His People // This story is more about Eddie than anything. Exploring the idea of Eddie coming back very "monstrous" from the Upside Down, and he doesn't have a lot of memories on how to be human. He does learn quickly though that the people around him do love him no matter what. This was written for Eddie Month with the Oct 13 prompt "Monster."

Chapter 2: Like. Lust. Love. // Eddie relearns what attraction is, and acts on the memories he has of himself and Steve... or what he thinks are his memories of him and Steve.... (angst, drama).

The Audacity - Corroded Coffin Lyrics only Written in Sung/Spoken form // A limerick that I wrote as if it were a song written and performed by Corroded Coffin. Angry, but also very f*ck the establishment.

The King - A Corrded Coffin Song (Accompanying art) // An imagined metal ballad written by Eddie Munson. (Think Iron Maiden's "Run to the Hills"). It's about Steve and his father, but also Vecna, and Eddie vs Hawkins. It's multi-layered and I thought it felt equally tragic and love-filled.

Time // Just a one-shot of them maturing and being in a 2-3 decade relationship. Romantic and fluffy, less than 700 words.

Through Leagues and Miles Pt1 // Eddie and Steve meet up again after 7 years. They're proper adults now and Eddie is living his dream of being a rockstar, while Steve has just started to go back to school to become a teacher. They were only supposed to be meeting up for a reunion with The Party, but one thing leads to another, and well... maybe acting on that crush from 7 years ago is worth it.

"Newly-wed Game" // Just this silly little "Newly-wed Game" post I added to. For some reason, it has 4,000 notes.

Reflection Steve's Part Robin's Part Nancy's Part Eddie's Part [FINISHED] // This is a 4 part mini-series about the Fruity Four. It's 1989 and Steve, Eddie, and Robin are visiting Hawkins over winter break. Nancy has invited them all over for a little Christmas get-together, and we read from the point of view of each member of the crew across 1 event. I wrote these pieces to be read in any order, so... enjoy some Steddie, vague Ronance, Vickie x Robin, and just the Fruity Four being... fruity. Dialogue prompt "You Remember That?" for Spicy Six Winter Fanworks Challenge.

It's Snowing In Hawkins // This is all fluff. Steve goes over to visit Eddie during a heavy snow in Hawkins and gets roped into helping him build a snow fort. Both of them have been inching toward a romance for months now, and Steve adores how innocent and young their relationship feels. It’s the start of something real tonight, and it makes Steve feel brilliantly happy. 

Before the Fire - Steddie Microfic // Wrote for December's prompt "pine" (508 words). Steve and Eddie are around a fire and Eddie is trying to cheer Steve's up because 'someone' is missing and Steve is beside himself with worry. Eddie is pining, but Steve seeks him out for comfort.

The Cock Tail Club [18+ explicit] // Society thinks poorly of Alphas who prefer to be with other Alphas. That is why underground bars like The Cock Tail Club exist. Where one lonely Alpha can meet another and hit it off for the night. Eddie is doing just that, and of course, he finds wild, satisfying release… and maybe a bit more than what he bargained for.

Batter Up [18+ explicit] Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 // This fluffy story is about Baseball Player Steve Harrington, meeting Rock Star Eddie Munson and the whirlwind 1-week romance turned committed relationship. They're instantly obsessed with one another, but neither knows how to take things to the next level. Enjoy Steve being a love-sick idiot! (The story turns explicit in Chapter 4, other chapters are all fluff).

Momento Mori Chapter 1 to 15 Adjoining Art! // Steve gradually falls in love with the memory of Eddie Munson, while creating a deep bond with the uncle Eddie left behind. Eddie Munson has died. He died and left behind people who care for him—more people than he knew. Despite his reputation, and the slander thrown at him, Eddie is deeply and fiercely loved by the people in his life. Wayne is one such person, and the hole his nephew left in his heart is something he didn’t think could ever be filled. Surprisingly—to all involved—Steve Harrington is another person who cannot shake Eddie’s death from his mind. Gradually, Steve and Wayne bond over their mutual loss, and share their fond memories of Eddie with one another. The living must move on after all… even if the dead don’t remain gone for long.

Stranger Things

Not steddie. Things like stobin etc.

Survival of the Sister [Link to art] // Max is a young knight who has lost everything to the darkness of the Upside Down. The last thing she can lose is her life. She puts it all on the line to save her family, friends, and Hawkins. Fate has another idea for her as she struggles to recall her happiest memories that will bring her back to life and toward Lucas, who is desperately searching for her. Overall, it is a short, emotional piece about Max fighting back death with sheer willpower and then getting to relish in being reunited with Lucas.

We the Youth (1987) [Link to art] Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five [FINISHED] // A five-part, mini-series that is 100% complete and being posted during the Stranger Things Reverse Big Bang 2024. This Stobin-centric story is about Robin learning how to love herself (with the help of her very queer life)! The first part of the story focuses on Robin losing her job and seeking comfort from her best friend, Steve. After moving to New York after graduation to work for a year before college, Robin has "lost her path" and isn't sure what she wants anymore.

Each chapter focuses on a different kind of love, and how difficult it is to find a place to belong when you're a young adult. (Especially when you're a young, queer adult in the 80s). The story has a happy ending though! So please enjoy this lovely platonic Stobin tale and the importance of having people in your life who love and support you.

Momento Mori [complete story 15/15] [Accompany Art] // Steve gradually falls in love with the memory of Eddie Munson, while creating a deep bond with the uncle Eddie left behind. Eddie Munson has died. He died and left behind people who care for him—more people than he knew. Despite his reputation, and the slander thrown at him, Eddie is deeply and fiercely loved by the people in his life. Wayne is one such person, and the hole his nephew left in his heart is something he didn’t think could ever be filled. Surprisingly—to all involved—Steve Harrington is another person who cannot shake Eddie’s death from his mind. Gradually, Steve and Wayne bond over their mutual loss, and share their fond memories of Eddie with one another. The living must move on after all… even if the dead don’t remain gone for long.

[searchingwardrobes]

Scarborough Fair: 8/?

I apologize for the long wait for this chapter! We just moved into a new house, and at first we didn't have internet. I also felt that every spare moment needed to be spent unpacking and getting the house all set up. I finally escaped to Barnes and Noble to write because I just can't do it at home right now! Anyways, I hope the contents of this chapter make it up to you. We're getting to the good stuff ;)

Is the situation Emma is in as a pregnant foster teen accurate? I really have no idea, but it's in the book Impossible that this is based on. I also have no idea if you can make a shirt like that. Again, I'm going by the book Impossible. I'm not following it exactly, but those two plot points were kind of important, so I left them in. Anyways, things are going to keep getting steamier from here on out, though our lovers are far from out of danger. Plus, we've still got Snow, David, and their kingdom out there somewhere, so hang on, folks! It's gonna be a romantic yet bumpy ride.

Summary: Seventeen-year-old Emma Swan has had a charmed life, despite being a foster child. She has a wonderful family who loves her, and the best friends in the world. The only thing that mars her idyllic existence is her birth mother: a homeless woman who mutters nonsensical rhymes and claims to be Snow White. One fateful night, however, Emma’s world is shattered. Perhaps her mother’s rhymes aren’t nonsense after all.

Rated: M for date rape, dubious consent, teen pregnancy, and sexy times (the good kind!)

Words: Over 3k in this chapter

Chapter One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

Also on Ao3

Tagging:  (let me know if you wish to be removed or added):  @snowbellewells @teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @xhookswenchx-reads-blog @thisonesatellite @welllpthisishappening @spartanguard @ohmakemeahercules @tiganasummertree @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jamif @undercaffinatednightmare @onceratheart18 @sparlecorn93 @sals86 @pirateprincessofpizza @xarandomdreamx @zaharadessert @huntressandlioness1 @jonesfandomfanatic​ @hollyethecurious​

Chapter Eight:

The entire family jumped right in to help Emma solve the riddle that had defeated her mother. Liam dove back into every bit of research he had accumulated about the song Scarborough Fair. He and Ingrid met with the art professor he had mentioned who had done her dissertation on textiles. Elsa talked to the scientists on board ship and zoomed with the family every single day. Even Anna found her niche, taking Emma to the library and helping her check out every book available about pregnancy and childbirth. 

And Killian? He was the rock she could lean on. The one who made her smile or laugh just when things got too heavy. He also ran whatever errands he needed to: taking Emma to her first prenatal appointment, shopping for a long list of different types of fabrics at the craft store to make this impossible shirt, and going for a late night ice cream run when Emma’s cravings started. In some ways, nothing changed.

Yet his declaration of love still hung in the air. He hadn’t brought it up again, hadn’t treated her any differently, hadn’t asked her on a date or tried to get physical. He was giving her space to decide what she wanted, and it honestly was the sweetest thing anyone had ever done for her. 

At the same time, Emma was confused. She had always loved Killian, of course. But was it romantic love? She could even admit she had been physically attracted to him at times, but did that mean she was in love with him? Did she even want something like that right now, when she was processing having a kid of all things and still healing from a violent rape? Did Killian fully understand what he would be getting himself into? Did she want to burden him with all her crap? 

She was just completely and utterly confused. 

Then, as if she didn’t have enough to worry about, Ingrid came home one day from work visibly shaken. The entire family stilled in the process of getting dinner on the table when they saw her standing in the kitchen, her face ashen. 

“What is it?” Liam asked, his voice filled with dread.

“Emma,” she said, her voice choking on her foster daughter’s name, “Liam and I need to talk to you. Immediately.”

Killian found Emma later, sobbing in her bed. When she poured it all out to him, he was livid. 

“This is absolute shit! I can’t believe they would do that!”

“They would, and they can,” Emma explained as she hugged her pillow to her torso. “Because I’m still technically in foster care, my baby automatically is, too.”

“They can’t just take it away from you!”

Emma shrugged. “Ingrid and Liam are no longer licensed to take in infants. I either have to find somewhere else to live, or my baby will be put in a different foster home.”

“Can’t they just get licensed?”

Emma shook her head. “It’s a year-long process of paperwork and visitations from social workers. I’m due in five months! Killian, what am I going to do? Where am I going to go?”

She began to sob again, and when Killian eased into the bed next to her and put his arms around her, he could feel the small swell at her abdomen where her baby was growing. He felt a strong desire to protect them both. 

“We won’t let them take you or the baby away from us. We’re a family.”

“That’s what your brother said. Exactly.”

Killian chuckled. “Of course he did.”

“But Killian,” she choked out, “what happens if I don’t solve the riddle? I was comforted at least knowing my baby would be safe and raised by Ingrid and Liam, but now . . .”

She sobbed again against his chest, and he held her tight. “I won’t let that happen,” he vowed. “You aren’t going to go mad, Emma, you won’t. We’ll solve this. All of it. Together.”

*************************************************************************

The only time Emma’s family ever used the formal dining room was on Thanksgiving. Someone always had to actually dust the table and air out the room, but Ingrid always insisted they “do Thanksgiving right,” even down to the old chipped china plates with the maple leaf border. 

So it felt odd to be in here now with the warm summer sun spilling through the window and shining on the ancient area rug. Assorted fabrics littered the table and a sewing mannequin stood in the corner, the headless and limbless torso sending an ominous shiver down Emma’s spine. 

“So this one is probably our best bet,” Ingrid explained. 

She cradled the bundle of scratchy, thick fabric and held it out to Emma who reached out and ran her hand over the coarse woolen felt. 

“That feels like it would make the most uncomfortable shirt in the history of the world.”

Ingrid shrugged. “Does it really matter? You wet this fabric, mold it to that torso over there, and according to Dr. Freemont, when it dries, it will hold together.”

Emma took the fabric and nodded. “So then we have it. A shirt made without needle or seam.”

“Who’s gonna wear it, though?”

Ingrid and Emma whirled around at the sound of Killian’s voice. Emma’s mouth went dry immediately. He stood there, his hair wet with sweat, and his chest bare. Emma couldn’t stop staring at it. She used to think chest hair was gross. She was wrong. Killian’s was thick and dark, and it set her pulse pounding. Realizing just how long she’d been ogling him, she dragged her gaze up to his face. He gave her a knowing grin as he lifted a carton of milk to his mouth and took a swig. 

“Where the hell is your shirt?” Emma snapped.

“Where the hell is your glass,” Ingrid added drily. “You’re not the only one who might like some milk, you know.”

“I just got home from work, and I’m hot,” Killian responded, as if that explained everything.

Emma tried really, really hard not to think of the other connotation of the word hot, but she was failing. Killian hadn’t brought up his declaration since that fateful dinner last week, and Emma was still trying to process it. Yet ever since, she was hyper aware of Killian’s presence. 

His lack of a shirt didn’t help, either. 

“Pour that milk in a glass, Killian, I’m not kidding,” Ingrid said in her rarely used mom voice. 

“Sure,” Killian said, sauntering back towards the kitchen. He gave Emma one more backwards glance with a delighted smirk on his face. Emma’s face heated several degrees. 

“I think I know what he means, though,” Ingrid sighed.

“What?” Emma asked, her head still a little fuzzy.

“Is it really a shirt unless someone actually wears it?” 

Emma sighed in exasperation. “So have someone wear it.”

“I’ll do it.”

They whirled back around to find Killian standing in the doorway again. He had a glass of milk in one hand and a stack of Oreos in the other. He still hadn’t donned a shirt. Emma found herself staring again, admiring the way a summer working in construction had toned his muscles. She dropped the fabric she’d been clutching in her hands and swore under her breath as it rolled across the floor. Killian smirked at her, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to slap it off his face or kiss him senseless. 

“Well,” Ingrid said, seemingly oblivious to the sexual tension in the room, “if Killian’s going to wear it, then that makes things a little more complicated.”

“Why?” Emma and Killian asked simultaneously. He had stepped further into the room, and his close proximity almost made Emma lose hold of the fabric she’d just stooped to pick up. 

“Well, if we mold the shirt to that torso over there, and it dries, I don’t think it will fit him.”

“So measure me,” Killian said, taking a bite of a cookie. His back was to Emma now as he addressed Ingrid, and it was just as distracting as the front of him. He had freckles across his shoulders, and a few along the small of his back. 

“That won’t work.” Ingrid shook her head. “The fabric doesn’t work that way. Not if we’re trying to make it without needle or seam. We’ll have to mold it to your body.”

Emma gave a little squeak at Ingrid’s words and nearly dropped the fabric all over again. To Killian’s credit, he didn’t acknowledge her reaction.

“What would that entail?” he asked casually, taking a sip of his milk. 

“I’m not sure,” Ingrid mused, tapping her finger on her chin. 

Silence fell for a moment, the only sounds from Killian snacking on his milk and cookies. Then Ingrid suddenly clapped her hands together. 

“I’ve got it! Duct tape!”

Killian’s eyes widened. “If you wrap me in duct tape, you’ll never get it off. Not without taking my skin with it.”

“You could wear a shirt,” Emma said. 

“You made that clear already,” Killian smirked at her. “I told you, I’m hot.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I mean for the duct tape. You wear a white undershirt, I wrap it in tape, then I can put the shirt, molded to your torso, on the mannequin. Then I make the shirt.”

“You’d need to be wearing the shirt when she tapes it,” Ingrid clarified. 

“I figured that,” Killian nodded.

Emma’s throat went suddenly dry. She’d have to put her hands on his body. She’d have to be in extremely close proximity to him. She was equal parts giddy at the thought and terrified. She was light-headed just thinking about it. 

“Perfect,” Killian announced with a grin. “When do we start?”

Emma wanted to ask Ingrid if she would do it for her, but she couldn’t risk that. The riddle implied that Emma had to make the shirt herself. She steeled herself and turned to Killian. 

“Shower so you don’t stink, and then we’ll get to work.”

“As you wish,” he told her with a mock bow before he turned from the room.

Ingrid, still oblivious to the fact that Emma was practically swooning and trembling simultaneously, turned away from the dining room table and grabbed her purse from a nearby chair. 

“Since you’ve got this under control, I’ll head to the supermarket. Anything you need?”

Slightly dazed, Emma managed to shake her head “no.”

“Great, I’ll see you kids later.”

In the kitchen, Killian rinsed his dirty glass and put it in the dishwasher. He smiled to himself as he headed up the stairs. He hadn’t pressed Emma in any way since his declaration. Whether she shared his feelings or not, he’d told himself, he would still be there for her. Yet the way she’d reacted to him just now gave him hope. Maybe he would win her heart after all. 

*******************************************************************************************

“Sit right here,” Emma instructed, pointing to the dinner room chair directly in front of her. Killian obeyed, and when he looked up at her, his eyes didn’t hold teasing as she’d expected. They were tender and vulnerable. Emma swallowed nervously.

“Don’t be nervous,” he told her.

“I’m not,” she scoffed.

“You’re holding that roll of tape so hard, your knuckles are turning white.”

Emma scowled at him and pulled a long strip of tape from the roll. He blanched, and she laughed.

“Don’t worry, I won’t hurt you,” she told him. 

He swallowed, and she followed the motion of his adam’s apple. She licked her lips as she drew closer, touching his arm gently as she raised it.

 “I’ll start with the sleeves,” she explained unnecessarily. 

She had to slip her fingers beneath the fabric to make sure she didn’t accidentally tape his skin. She thought she heard an intake of breath from his throat as her fingers skimmed his bicep, but maybe she’d imagined it. She wound the tape around and around the sleeve of his shirt, but when she began to wrap it around his shoulder blade, she had to step closer to him. He spread his legs to allow it, and she leaned over him, her breasts pressing against his collarbone. The sharpness of breath this time was impossible to ignore. She paused and locked eyes with him - he face was so close to hers . . . 

“Did I hurt you?”

He pressed his lips together and shook his head, so she continued. Was his breathing becoming shallow, or was that her? Was that his heart thumping so fast, or her own? When she wrapped the tape around his chest, she could feel a “thump, thump” beneath her palm. 

“Um, Emma, give me a second.”

Killian grabbed a throw pillow from the wingback chair in the corner of the dining room then resumed his seat. He clutched the pillow in his lap, and his face flamed all the way to the tips of his ears. 

“Oh,” Emma breathed softly. 

Killian swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Emma said, her own cheeks warm. 

“I just don’t want to freak you out . . . or scare you or anything. You know, because . . . because of him.”

Emma shook her head, tendrils of hair brushing her cheeks where they fell from the messy bun on the top of her head. She bit her lip as she got lost in his eyes; darker than usual and stormy. She stepped close again, between his legs, and she almost laughed when he clutched the pillow tighter. 

  “Emma,” he groaned, his eyes falling shut. 

“I’m glad,” she said, her own voice deep and trembling, “that I have that effect on you.”

“You do?” 

He opened his eyes, and she nodded. Her hands shook as she lifted them and rested them upon his temples. She threaded her fingers through his hair. It was softer than she had imagined. He tipped his head back and watched her intently. She thought of him the other night, stating so matter-of-factly that he loved her. He had said it as something unshakable and infallible. Something as predictable and steady as the seasons. Then they had gone on as they always had, with no demands that she respond to his declaration in any way. 

“And you could never scare me, Killian,” she clarified. 

Then, suddenly, she was kissing him. She was kissing Killian in the middle of the dining room. His torso was half wrapped in duct tape, he was helping her make this crazy, ridiculous, magical shirt . . . 

And she was kissing him. He was kissing her back. He was kissing her back after declaring his love for her at the kitchen table. He was kissing her thoroughly, his tongue exploring her mouth, even though she hadn’t said it back.  Or maybe it didn’t matter, she wasn’t sure. After all, this was only the second boy she’d ever kissed. But no, she wasn’t going to think about that or him. Not when Killian was kissing her within an inch of her life.

The pillow he was clutching fell to the floor when he wrapped his arms around her, and Emma could feel his arousal through his jeans and pressing into her. For a split second, fear tried to grab hold of her, but it was banished quickly. He wouldn’t just take her; he wasn’t like that. 

Killian pulled away, and Emma was shocked to hear a whimper slip past her lips, especially when he stood up from the chair and took a step back. Why was he pulling away, when they - oh.

He was sinking down on one knee, and she suddenly wondered if she were dreaming. It all felt so surreal, and he was still half wrapped in duct tape. Maybe Snow had whacked her in the head with one of those bottles after all, and all this time she’d been in a coma at the hospital. It would explain so much, honestly. 

“Emma,” he said, (and were those tears gathering in his eyes?), “I know this is a lot to ask of you, since you haven’t even told me yet how you feel about me. And this is something I think I always knew I would do eventually, just not now.” 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them and continuing. His words reverberated in her soul, and she knew he was right, they were always going to arrive here, somehow. She knew it the same way she knew her own reflection. 

“But with everything going on, I don’t want to wait. I know you face an uncertain future, Emma, but I always want to be by your side. So, will you marry me?” He didn’t even pause for her answer, but plunged ahead. “It makes so much sense, if you think about it. I mean, we’re going to break this curse, Emma, we will. We won’t give up, ever. But, I know you worry, and if I’m your husband, you won’t have to. You’ll know I’ll be there for the baby. It will be mine, legally. It won’t end up in foster care. Not that anything’s going to happen to you, I swear to you it won’t, but if I can ease your burden . . .”

He trailed off, and Emma sank to her knees right along with him, reaching out to cup his face in her hands. 

“And if I do go insane -”

“You won’t!”

“But if we don’t break the curse . . .”

“I’ll take care of you,” he said solemnly, “always and forever.”

It would be selfish of her, she knew that it would, to ask that of him. Nevertheless, his vow felt like the sun breaking through the darkest of clouds, and she knew she couldn’t refuse his gift. Her hands slipped down his shoulders, then his arms, and she clasped his hands tightly in hers. 

“I love you.”

It wasn’t, she discovered, difficult to say. It was just so true, so undeniable, like how she knew the sun would come up each morning. His smile was bright and blinding, and she smiled too at the sight of his dimples. They had been so rare lately. 

“Does that mean yes?” he asked her teasingly. 

A tear slipped down her face, and she found she couldn’t speak. She nodded, and he understood. Everyone would say they were crazy, of course. He was nineteen, and she was seventeen. It was absolutely insane. Ingrid and Liam wouldn’t like it, she was sure, but she also knew they wouldn’t stop them.

 He dried her tears with his thumb, then traced her lips before kissing her tenderly. The kiss continued as they clung to one another in blissful, shining faith and hope. In that moment, she believed him: They would break the curse. 

Emma and Killian were so wrapped up in one another, they didn’t notice the slight shaking of the house or the rainbow colored light that swept through the room. 

**************************************************

It wasn’t the first time Robert Gold had entered the Swan/Jones home when the family was gone. He had explored every nook and cranny, flipped through photographs, smelled their clothes. He knew this family; every weakness to be exploited had been sifted and examined. 

Yet the house had never protested like it did today, and when he turned towards the dining room, he could clearly see why. 

It was a shirt. Hideous, smelly, and dripping wet, but a shirt nonetheless. When it dried, it could even be worn. 

“Well, well, well,” he muttered, reaching out a hand towards it. 

Almost immediately, he recoiled, the shirt burning him before he’d even grazed it. Magic radiated from it. The glamor spell he always wore faded, and his hands turned a scaly green, nails yellowed and gnarled at each finger tip. It wasn’t just the shirt, he realized. The entire dining room reeked with the magic, and he was in pain from the top of his head to the bottom of his feet. 

“Of course you’re in pain, Dark One.”

He writhed on the ground and cried out as a much younger face pulled away from his ancient, twisted one. 

“Stop fighting me!”

“I’m doing all this for you, son!”

“Are you, Papa?”

“I got her for you, didn’t I?”

“But I can’t keep her!”

The Dark One could no longer hold onto the shared body, and the younger man stood to his feet, opened the front door, and walked out onto the sidewalk. Neal Cassidy was the name he preferred in this realm, a name that Rumplestiltskin hated. Baelfire was his name: a strong, powerful name.

“Oh Papa,” Baelfire - Neal - whispered, “settle down and cooperate.”

“You know I’ll take over again eventually.”

Neal didn’t argue. Instead he clenched his jaw and gritted his next words through his teeth. 

“This won’t work forever. You’re losing, and you know it.”

“They only finished the first task. They’ll never complete the rest. Not in time, anyway.”

“But that magic - you know exactly what that was.”

Ah yes, he did. True love. He wasn’t worried. The Dark One had defeated true love before, and he would do it again.

[charkyzombicorn]

Uta as the STAR GODDESS!!!!! She is also the godess of dreams and lullabies. She is in charge of crafting constellations, shaping dreams, She picked up singing from brook.

OK this gave me a kind of sad idea abt Uta--

Okay so Luffy is much much older than Jimbe, and Brook is even older than that, so Uta was a star that was very vibrant and colourful, and Luffy had no one to talk to but Brook, so he talked to the star a lot. Brook accepted this as normal and started singing to the star and Luffy at the same time. Then after abt a million years of this (Luffy and Brook are Very Old) the star burned out, as all stars do, and Luffy and Brook were both very sad to see it go.

But then Uta was born as the star collapsed. Not a god of anything, just Uta.

Luffy was infinitely excited at the prospect of this new sister, and Brook was happy to have a new friend. They spent eons teaching her everything they knew, about how to make music and stars and asteroids and smiles, and she took in everything, and for a long time they were happy.

Uta didn't like Jimbe, though, when Luffy accidentally melted that ice. She didn't like that he was cold and wouldn't play games or listen to her speak let alone sing. She tried talking to him once, and he nearly extinguished her. She was scared, because Jimbe was strange and new and mean.

Then Usopp sprouted from the surface of a planet one day, and grew weird green things that shriveled up when she tried to touch them. Luffy was in love, and started following Usopp around. But Usopp didn't like when Uta touched his plants, and Uta didn't like that Luffy tried to drag Usopp into their games that were supposed to be just them and Brook.

Then Chopper, who was friendly at first but then Usopp gave him whispers about concepts Uta didn't understand, like death, and then Chopper hid from her as best he could.

Uta didn't bother with the rest of them, would hide amid the cosmos where she used to play, where it was just her and Brook and Luffy but now Luffy is dancing with the mean whispers and Brook is singing to the cold indifference and she believes she is forgotten.

And she grows bitter.

But then Brook dissapears completely, somewhere on that one planet, and Luffy tells her he won't leave again until he finds Brook. Asks her to help him look, because the sun and the stars just isn't enough.

Uta hates the planet, covered in plants that shrivel away from her and oceans that freeze her. Gullible animals, and messy clouds. She stays for six months, before she finds the god that nearly killed her guarding a cloud of ash.

Fine. If that's how Brook chooses to keep her away, she doesn't have the power to stop him.

Instead, she leaves without a word, and she knows Luffy can see her leave, because Luffy is always watching over her but it's not so comforting anymore.

Then, thirty years later, a god she never bothered to meet comes to her. Robin, she calls herself, god of knowledge. She asked why Uta was hiding, and Uta denied it.

Robin shows Uta her husband's human city, and talks about humans and their creativity. She's inspired, and she tries to come to earth again. But the humans, the ones that looked so excited to see her, went red and started bleeding and died the second she got close. She was horrified, and grief-stricken knowing she couldn't see all the art and music the little mortals made.

Then Robin came to where she hid again, this time with her husband and with the god of creatures.

Chopper offered her a proposal. She be incarnated as a human, for mortality and to see this would everyone was so infatuated with. She took the deal.

In being incarnated, though, she was born as a baby and lost all her memories. She didn't, however, grow up with an imaginary friend named Luffy that moved the stars around just for her.

[andiwriteordie]

ANDI CONGRATS ON 1500 FOLLOWERS!

I’ve been slightly obsessed with Byler and dorothea/ttds (as anyone who’s seen my awful edits can tell lmao) so maybe something with that idea of coming back for a Christmas break situationship but not being able to stay? Super angsty which I know you’ll love ❤️

LIV AHHH!!! thank you so so much!!! also, i love this prompt, so thank you thank you for sending it to me! i hope you enjoyed this modern au based on ttds/dorothea (also tbh i was listening to the very first night as well bc it felt right hahaha).

—

and it always leads to you 

The sun is shining today.

The sun is shining today, and for some reason, Mike is awake much earlier than he’s ever awake nowadays. The old alarm clock sitting on the side table in his childhood bedroom reads 7:14 AM, which means Mike has been asleep for less than five hours now. It’s Sunday. There’s no reason for Mike to be awake right now, and really, he should just go back to sleep.

But Mike can’t.

He can’t, because the sun is shining today, and because his bed feels warmer than it has in years, and because Will Byers is fast asleep beside him, his brown hair messily sprawled out onto the pillow. 

Will looks younger when he’s asleep. He looks a lot more like the Will Byers that Mike has known since he was just five years old—the Will Byers whom Mike has laughed with and cried with and spent so much of his life with. He looks like the Will Byers that Mike fell in love with and tentatively held the hand of when they were just sixteen and falling into something so much bigger and grander and more beautiful than they could’ve ever imagined.

Will looks younger when he’s asleep, and in this quiet moment before the rest of the world wakes up and begins its day, Mike feels a lot younger too. 

He feels like he’s eighteen again—wide-eyed and bushy-tailed with his entire life in front of him. For a moment, he’s eighteen again and like the world is his oyster and like there’s nothing in the damn world that could ever break up the Party. The last seven years fade away into nothing, until Mike is eighteen years old again and waking up nearly every morning to the sight of his boyfriend’s face and thinking one thing to himself.

I want to spend forever with you.

How quickly things fall apart.

It’s not Will’s fault… honestly, it isn’t. The thing is, right before the two of them were supposed to start school together at the same university—the one at the top of both of their lists and the one that the two of them had been talking about going to with each other since they were fourteen—something completely and entirely unexpected had happened. 

Will had been contacted by some fancy, renowned art school all the way over in Europe and offered a full ride scholarship. Apparently, some higher up at the school had gotten ahold of his art portfolio and was willing to move heaven and hell to get Will Byers to attend the university. It was the chance of a lifetime, and the choice was clear.

Will had to go. 

And really, Mike can’t blame him. He can’t blame Will, because for the first year, they tried. God, they tried so hard, but between an eight hour time difference and busy schedules and life simply just getting in the way, they hadn’t been able to do it. For the first time in their lives, they weren’t in close proximity to each other, and they just… they fell apart.

When they broke up at first, Mike was angry. He won’t even pretend that he wasn’t. He was angry, but more importantly, he was hurt. And in the midst of all that anger and hurt, he’d said things he regrets now and had done things like delete Will’s phone number and block him on any forms of social media—desperate to just escape the feeling of rejection and of being left behind.

That was nearly six years ago. They’re older now—like actual, full grown adults with fully developed frontal lobes and everything. And for the first time, both of them are back in Hawkins, and Mike hadn’t even been able to avoid El and Max’s threats to come to dinner with the entire Party. The last thing he wants to do is make an enemy out of two people who most definitely know where he lives and who are also the self-proclaimed godmother’s of his dog, Maisie.

Seeing Will in person for the first time in literal years had been… interesting. And Mike, now being an adult with a fully formed frontal lobe, had been so, so incredibly normal about his high school ex-boyfriend, who had somehow gotten even more fucking beautiful over the past several years and who somehow still had a way of making Mike’s heart skip a beat and the butterflies in his stomach go absolutely wild. 

Most surprisingly, being around Will had felt… normal. It’d been a little bit awkward at first, like neither one of them knew what to say to each other, but as much as Mike knew that he wanted to just bury their messy past and actually try to be friends, he could tell Will wanted to do the same.

So, that’s exactly what they did. You know… because they’re two adults, with full-time jobs and 401k’s and fully formed frontal lobes, who most definitely are unconcerned about their two-year long high school romance. Whatever romance they’d had when they were kids was long gone—a fond little relic of the past that they, as adults, could now look back on and smile about.

…

…

…

(Or… at least that’s what Mike will tell anyone who asks.)

“Why’re you up already?” Will mumbles, and Mike flinches, startled out of his thoughts. To his surprise, his… best friend? ex-boyfriend? current fling? is awake now, blinking sleepily and looking at Mike with half-lidded eyes. 

“I dunno,” Mike admits, rolling over so he and Will are face to face now. “I’m usually up this early for school, so I guess I’m just used to it.”

Will narrows his eyes, still a bit sleepy and suspicious. “It’s Sunday, isn’t it?” he says with a yawn. “You get up at… 7 am on Sundays?”

“God, no,” Mike laughs, and when Will smiles back at him, Mike’s stupid stomach does a little somersault. “I don’t know. I haven’t been up for very long.”

Mike pauses, then he gives Will a curious look. “Why are you up?” he asks suspiciously. “Wouldn’t it be like… sometime in the afternoon where you live? I figured you’d be all jet-lagged and shit.”

“I came right from the airport to dinner yesterday,” Will says, yawning once more. He shifts a bit closer to Mike now, so their lips are barely inches apart, and Mike’s breath catches. “Must’ve been too tired to get jet-lagged.”

“You can go back to sleep if you want to,” Mike suggests, his voice quiet. “I… I doubt my parents will come knocking on my door, so if you’re still tired, you can—”

He never gets to finish his sentence, because oh.

Oh, okay.

It’s early in the morning. The sun is shining. And Will Byers is kissing him.

Will Byers is kissing him.

Will Byers is kissing him.

…

Again.

“I’m okay,” Will murmurs, his voice low. “I’d rather just… stay up with you. If that’s okay.”

There’s a look in his eyes that makes Mike’s breath catch again, and Mike can’t help the smile that forms on his face. “Yeah… yeah, of course, it’s okay, Will,” he whispers, reaching up to cup Will’s cheek gently. “Whatever you want.”

A slow smile forms on Will’s face, and he leans close, kissing Mike soft and sweet. “I just want you,” he whispers back. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

For a moment, the two of them are eighteen again. For a moment, they have their entire lives ahead of them, and the world is their oyster. For a moment, neither Mike nor Will knows anything about the world, but they do know one thing. 

I want to spend forever with you.

“Me too,” Mike murmurs, and he gently runs his thumb across Will’s cheek. “Me too, Will.”

And after another shared smile, Mike closes the gap between them.

When this moment is over, they’ll go back to being twenty-five again. When this moment is over, they’ll be forced to remember the fact that they have their own lives—lives which have long since been separate from each other. When this moment is over, both Will and Mike will have to return to their own worlds, where “forever” with each other simply isn’t an option and hasn’t been in years.

But for right now, it’s just the two of them.

Mike and Will.

Will and Mike.

The way it always has been.

[thesilversun]

20 questions writer meme.

Thank you @bbcphile for the tag :) 

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

112 (A few are art rather than fic - but over 100 of them are fics) 

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

953,545 (17 years and getting close to the 1 million words mark)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently Mysterious Lotus Casebook and MDZS. Previously Torchwood, Doctor Who, Primeval, Being Human, Rivers of London, Shetland, (these are ones with 2+ there are others with just 1 fic)

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Futures Written on Shifting Sand   My only fic to pass 4 digit kudos at 2134 kudos. Unfinished wip, that I might still go back to.   My first MDZS fic, Canon divergent AU where Lan Wangji is brought back to Lotus Pier after the Xuanwu cave incident and is there for the Wen attack. 

Time Enough and Life 486 kudos. A Torchwood bigbang fic for one of the big bangs that I ran back on Livejournal. 

Writing up the report on the Night Travellers, Jack finds one line in the Electro guide book that confuses him – it closed in 1977. It leaves him with one question, how did Ianto watch films there if it closed six years before he was born?

As Spring Will Surely Come

MDZS. Written for the Bottomji big bang early this year, 464 kudos. 

Now in their forth year of marriage Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian are settled into their life together in the Cloud Recesses, looking forward to a quiet, cozy winter together in the Jingshi. A night hunt at a haunted water mill, old injuries and family illness make it a very difficult winter instead.

Going On 351 kudos. One my earliest fics, written and posted while the first series of Torchwood was still airing. 

Conversations, realisations and angst set after Countrycide. 

Secrets and Hope 339 Kudos. Fix it fic written in the wake of Torchwood series 3. 

As Torchwood slowly rebuilds following the 456 the government is still keeping secrets from them and it's up to Ianto to reveal the truth.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to/mean to then it goes past a few days and I wonder if people really want a reply from me. Then it feels like it’s too long, that I’ve missed the timeframe for it to be reasonable. 

6. What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Probably In Darkness one of the many Torchwood fics that I wrote.

The ending lines being:

Because if living forever is a terrifying thought, then living forever and losing himself in the process is beyond terrifying. It's something that Jack isn't sure there's a word to describe the sheer horror of it.

Huddling against Ianto, Jack supposes that at least he's got all the time in the universe to come up with one.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Maybe New Horizons Canon Divergent SongXiao in the CQL setting (I tend to write novel setting) 

The decision to help a small village threatened by a vicious yaoguai brings with it danger and upsetting news that Xiao Xingchen never expected to receive. With the news comes a choice, one that will change the course of both Xiao Xingchen and Song Lan’s lives in ways that neither of them expect.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No, the occasional annoying/odd comment - like asking me to use US spelling grammar or to re-write in past tense as they didn’t like present tense, or leaving a ‘sadly unfinished’ bookmark in a completed big bang fic

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Yes, not so much in recent fandoms - but I have ideas, but Torchwood and Primeval it was a bigger part of it. Most of it had a strong kink element. Generally with the focus being on trust

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

Occasionally.  The most ridiculous has to be Hex, Mainframe and the Temporal Trouser Error.

Discworld, Torchwood and Primeval. A conversation across time and space between Hex and Mainframe, two sentient computers.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I’m aware of.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I’m aware of, that is to say if anyone had they’ve not told me.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, as part of a fic writing challenge event, Out of Dark Places, written with Harkpad.

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Honestly I have many ships in every fandom I’ve been in. Although Jack/Ianto will always hold as special place, because it was that ship that really brought me into fandom circles. 

15. What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?

Probably the ridiculously ambitious alternative 4 season of Torchwood, which used my fic Secrets and Hope as a bridge between series 3 and hypothetical series 4.

13 fic ‘episodes’ which were a mix of creature of the week and had an overarching plot behind it all, using the Rift and Bilis Manger. It was all plotted out, and some ‘episodes’ partially written - but the whole thing would have been something like 300k-400k

16. What are your writing strengths?

Honestly, I don’t know. People have said that I’m good at getting inside characters’ heads. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Too many thoughts and description and not enough action, probably.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I can’t write well enough in another language to attempt it. 

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Highlander: The TV series. That was never posted online/shared. The first to be posted/shared was Torchwood.

20. Favorite fic you've written?

That’s a difficult one, there are so many over the years - it’s been 17 years I posted by first fic online 

Maybe  Northern Lights

An unlikely case fic crossover between Shetland and Rivers of London, written with fondness for the times I spent working on an archaeological dig in Shetland 23 years ago. 

The theft of three Pictish stone carvings from a museum in London lead Peter and Nightingale to Shetland. The reason for the theft is clear: The stones are ancient storage devices for magical energy. Who took them and why is a lot less so. That Shetland has its own mythology and magics which are far closer to that of Scandinavia than London doesn't help matters.

Between the lack of information, the cold and wet January weather and Nightingale's cold, Peter can't help but wish they were back in London.

I always feel like imposing on people somehow by tagging them in things, so don’t feel like you have to do this, I do tag you @heyholmesletsgo @hils79 @galadriel1010 and anyone else who wants to do it

[schismusic]

THE DISCOGRAPHY PRINCIPLE, Episode 1: Autechre - or, Into Battle with the Art of Noise

The discography principle may be defined as an objective way to determine whether or not you're worthy of calling a band or artist "your favorite" or "one of your favorites". A possible enunciation of it goes as follows:

"Let u ≝ some asshole, B ≝ {b|b is a band}, n ≝ #({x|x is a record by b}); let p = #({y|y is a record by b in u's possession}) = p1 + p2 wherein p1 ≝ number of physical records by b you own in any format and p2 ≝ number of records by b you have downloaded. If p ≥ n ∨ p2 = n (for n → +∞), then ∃b∈B such that b is one of u's favorite bands."

When u = me, this subset of B (which we might call Bf) is comprised of six bands, off the top of my head: Autechre, Godflesh, Shellac, Kraftwerk, Fugazi and Coil, listed in no particular order.

If you want to read the prologue to this series, go here. Otherwise, let's get going.

The concept of usefulness in the context of art criticism is very slippery and, one could argue, absolutely toxic and painful to the development of artistic expressions of all kinds. I have, in the past, been one of the leading proponents of it, but you have to understand: I routinely dealt with people who would add Arctic Monkeys and late-era Caparezza to their end-of-year lists. Drastic measures were in order, I'm sure you guys get it. In virtually all other instances, defining a record "useless" falls into one of the earliest trappings of retrograde art criticism, which is the supposed non-functionality of bad art, or more punctually the quality of non-functionality as inherently bad - wherein I am rather ready to assure you all that most of my favourite records of the past six or seven years fall into the category of absolutely unapproachable crocks of shit OR are records absolutely no one felt the need for except me (and even then, sometimes I didn't even know I'd love them, see Yellow Eyes' recent neofolk foray Master's Murmur).

A similar argument could be made for the concept of incomprehensibility. There are records that are just cryptic for the hell of it - and it would be unfair to label power electronics as such, in that power electronics is usually very direct with what it is about and how it takes it across, but early Brandt Brauer Frick records might very easily fit the bill: who, really, feels the need for live-played techno with classically trained interpreters except for people who like to groove but also have to pretend they know their shit about music and don't want any of that fake computer shit? Or even, why would anyone legitimately give a shit about a Stephen O'Malley record without guitars? - but Autechre I think are simply a different beast. Wherein the vulgata concerning their production essentially revolves around the idea that their first three are the best, then it's all noises and "self-serving experimentation", whatever the fuck that means, and for as many autism jokes people like to make about their music because they simply don't want to even try to give their music a fair chance to stand on its own and just pretend like "wow these guys sure are making computer farts haha", one of the best conversations about music I've had in a while revolves around something that binds Autechre and another dearly-beloved of all obnoxious music people, and later also featured in this series: Coil. And I'm not talking about the (very openly stated) relationship of most-likely-mutual influence between the two groups, but it does stem from that, or more specifically from the aborted collaborative record they toyed with in the early 2000s. This aforementioned collaborative record (which, in the early 2000s, would have probably sold like pre-sliced and pre-Nutella-coated bread to the admittedly very specific audiences the two projects had, regardless of its actual outcome) was shelved, and I quote verbatim, for "not being good enough", which is simply something that you do not do in electronic music unless you are really, really good at what you do - the best at what you do, even. Which would explain why no one ever shuts the fuck up in that particular world and everyone has like a full record and three splits/EPs out every year.

Autechre is something you have to want to waste a lot of time (and money, if you're an obsessive like me) into. There's a number of very cute cheat codes to getting Autechre but the gist of it is that just about nobody I know actually followed the advice literally everyone hands out - i.e. to start with Incunabula. I know I absolutely didn't. The first Autechre record I listened to was Confield, which I later purchased at a certain particularly well-known record shop in my city: my first thought was I really didn't know what to make of it. In retrospect, it's no surprise: literally any other Autechre record would have been better. There are more accessible ones and more inaccessible ones, but either of these options probably would have given me a different shock that would probably have hit me harder. Had I picked up a record like Amber, or Tri Repetae, I probably would have been like "damn this is very '90s but at the same time it still sounds very futuristic in terms of approach and arrangement choices, there's like a billion albums-of-the-month on Pitchfork that sound exactly like any one of these tracks but stretched to forty minutes to one hour" and maybe give it another listen, and then two, and then before I know it Rsdio becomes my most played track of the year (unfortunately, as you might have guessed, this isn't autobiographical, but that's because I ultimately got Tri Repetae on vinyl and mostly play it from there - it's "incomplete without surface noise", after all). If I had picked elseq, or - God forbid - the NTS Sessions, which at that point had been out for like a year or something, you know for a fact I would have tried to get absolutely fucked up by listening to the full four-hour thing while doing something really stupid, like taking a walk around in a blizzard or while in sleep deprivation or while studying linear algebra hoping that my brain would increase in mass all of a sudden. I would not have gotten it, obviously, because I was and to a massive extent still am an idiot who got lucky. Anyway, the point is that Confield felt and in part still feels to me like it's unexpressed potential, but not in the way a record like Radioactivity by Kraftwerk is: Confield looks at you, the listener, and goes "there's a whole other world where we already are. Too bad you can't see any of this shit, because we most definitely do!". Its second half gets noticeably more focused if you listen to the whole thing in sequence, though.

My second attempt was with Oversteps, bought on the same day as Confield, and again - at that point I was already kind of expecting Autechre to just fucking smoke me right then and there. Of course it did not happen, because Oversteps is a fundamentally easier record to approach than Confield is - and in buying it, I also missed the chance to buy Exai, which promptly disappeared from the record shop the very second I managed to go back there, and which would have probably gotten me in a whole ass elseq loop, but let's not dwell on the past, what the fuck did I know then? It's not like anyone has the idea to start with a two-hour-and-a-half impenetrable wall of glitching after all. Whatever. Oversteps is pretty cool though, because it gave me a pretty neat access into a number of other Autechre factory-seals like their stark sense of melody and a style of compositionl development recalling more the idea of a place than it would an actual track (and not even in the Ambient 4: On Land way, where it's "music that describes environments" inspired by the anything-goes bombastic mnemonic approach of Federico Fellini's Amarcord, but rather in its own way of "music that is the environment it describes": spatially organized arrangements, something meant for you to explore, and as such something that you need to spend time in, perhaps repeatedly). Obviously articulating this train of thought was absolutely out of the question and I therefore kept saying "damn, I need to get to this record and listen to it in full", which I later found out doesn't fly more often than not. Autechre is something you want to get back to and waste a shit ton of time on, every track approached like a little world or some sort of escape room even, where all the clues are there and everything you need to do is look (listen) more intently than you did before. I like to think of Autechre as a challenge and I'm assuming that Sean Booth and Rob Brown kinda see it like that too, but not as a challenge to the listener as much as they do it to challenge themselves.

There are absolutely going to be Autechre records you like more than others, some are not gonna speak to you at all, some might be more approachable or just more stylistically in line with what you do (and the best part is that you're gonna find it changes from person to person), but the best part is that there is never an Autechre record that feels thrown out for a quick buck or rushed or forced to develop old ideas and intuitions - for better or for worse, that is. At the same time there definitely is a form of continuity that makes it especially rewarding to listen to Autechre sequentially, the way some people like to watch and rank a director's filmography.

After the pandemic ended, and as people were beginning to go out again albeit maybe wearing masks and gloves, I dropped out of Mathematics and started watching a ton of movies. I fell in love with Nicolas Winding Refn, a director that makes it really easy to put on a movie and let it slide over your skin bathing you in thrills and aesthetics, but is pretentious enough to make that stuff at least try to have something to say (some people argue that it's detrimental to Refn's work, and to an extent I agree; I, for one, simply can't help but appreciate a man who very gleefully declares that the female experience is a mystery to him and at the same time that there's a sixteen-year-old girl within him and that he plays dolls with his daughters and that he never had a girlfriend until he met his current wife Lia Corfixen. The Neon Demon feels like it'd be just one step away from being a male-gaze-glorifying flick if it wasn't for its inherent absurdity and absolute lack of understanding of human relationships that makes it that bit less relatable and more forcefully estranging). Anyway as I was fixating on Refn's movies and downloaded all of them to watch and rewatch them, I also found myself back onto Autechre and decided to take a step back. This time I picked Amber - Incunabula being described as their masterpiece still sort of intimidated me. In retrospect, if I had heard Incunabula without a clear picture of what Autechre would evolve into, I'd have had a hearty laugh and thought something like "man, this aged horribly". Amber has a bit of an edge to it, despite what Booth & Brown say about it, and the elements left over from Incunabula are turned into a less rigid, more impalpable version of themselves that isn't afraid to, for instance, remove all drums and toy with the listener's sense of rhythm in a way something like Kalpol Introl never really did (see: Nine) or face a horrifying creeping darkness that Incunabula's more clearly urban/cyberpunk sensitivities more swiftly dealt with, for instance on tracks like Teartear.

Not one to be easily discouraged (at least when I feel like it), at the first opportunity I decided to buy a record I didn't already know: the choice fell on Tri Repetae, in that it was the next step in the Autechre canon (EPs notwithstanding) and I knew it'd be a step closer to Confield. I wanted to see what the story went like, on its own terms, because the key to this whole ordeal was that I needed to let the record do the talking before I had an opinion on it. And Tri Repetae really did talk to me, because it was exactly what I expected: it had the more discernible elements of early Autechre but also, again, an edge. It's that edge for me: that's the point of interest I end up into, the sort of liminal in-fieri elements that all Autechre releases imply to an extent, and the fact that something as fundamentally ungraspable as C/Pach or Rsdio feeling like it got back home after a whole sleepless night out walking in the cold could coexist with a veritable banger like Eutow (still the one track from Tri Repetae that elicits the most powerful emotional/elated reactions from me) simply blew my mind. Dancing to Eutow in my room and immediately finding myself bobbing my head to, of course, C/Pach and then Gnit led to the next realization in a long series: after everything that's been said about them, the being a four-dimensional object, the being famously impenetrable to all but the most dedicated nerds, the truth about Autechre is that they are a band about rhythm.

I don't exactly expect anyone to be surprised by this, really, but the conscious realization that what I had read on Wikipedia in passing (that Sean and Rob actually met up in the '80s while in the tagging/hip-hop/electro scene in London) actually had bearing on the duo's production was the key to unlocking the rest of their music. Every single thing Autechre have ever done has a form of pulse in it and it takes movement for it to be fully tapped into. Some hacks have recommended listening to Autechre on headphones (deep cuts on YouTube, I see you!) but as for me, I recommend speakers, possibly big, possibly hi-fi, possibly equalized for techno/dance music, and I recommend listening to them with a lot of free space around you. The inherent exploration of space that dancing entails very easily translates into an exploration of the underlying structures in Autechre's (whatchamacallit) songwriting, and from there the rest follows. Even Incunabula, which I finally tackled in summer 2023 and appreciated for what it is: provided you can deal with outdated sound palettes, an excellent record that stands as a true high mark in the exploration of analog instrumentation possibilities, a true forward-looking and forward-pushing debut outing on whose shoulders all future Autechre releases stand, even the most radical.

But Autechre could never stand still and simply replicate Incunabula all over n billion times; that's simply not the cloth they're cut from, and if that was the case I'd be very hard-pressed to think they'd feel as relevant as they do with every subsequent release. That they could drop, in sequence, Exai, the whole five records of elseq and the NTS Sessions boxset and still elicit the electrified reactions they did, both positive and negative.

One of the first serious conversations about music that I had with my old band's bassist was about electronic music, which was actually somewhat foundational to my appreciation of this particular art form (I was a die-hard Daft Punk/Justice guy, Waters of Nazareth and Genesis were to me what Metallica or System of a Down to a number of other people I know: a show of force that made me conscious of the physical impact of sound on a human's body, not just pleasant vibrations to the ears). She told me - and I'm willing to bet that was an old idea that she has since discarded - that she really didn't feel like electronic music was alive, and with music being "life" to her that was a true oxymoron that rendered her incapable of objectively judging electronica. At the time I would have never showed her Autechre, if anything because I did not know them if not by name, but my current understanding of them makes them the most serious counterargument to that affirmation. Autechre's music doesn't try to measure up to the feel of live band jamming because it doesn't need to, despite it often being (according to Booth and Brown) the result of lengthy, additive improvisations that the duo trade back and forth. It simply takes a step sideways, making all analysis on those terms essentially unserviceable and useless. And if it wasn't as massively pretentious as it is, this shit simply wouldn't fly: any tension to a conventionally-imaginable sense of humanity would make it clear that the duo aren't into it really, and ironically it ends up feeling less believable; it starts breathing weird, it turns into a captatio benevolentiae to the listener. And Autechre is meant to challenge us, or rather it's meant to challenge me, and Sean Booth and Rob Brown.

Ironically enough, Autechre's records feel more and more rewarding the more you get familiar with them, and therefore it turns into its own peculiar brand of process music, so to speak. And it's a hell of a process, granted, but it definitely has something to say to you as a listener, if you're willing to give it a shot. Autechre's music is incomprehensible and useless, if you don't know what to make of it, but the only way to know what to make of it is engage in it and make up your own mind about it.

[realityhelixcreates]

Some days ago you wrote a post saying that you were writing something using elder scrolls lore? I think? What's that about? Are you writing some au? I'm a bit lost on your most recent fanfics (I'm waiting until I have some free time so I can give nexus a try, I'm just a bit intimidated cause I know next to nothing about DC) but I love reading about your ideas and characters, they all sound so genuinely interesting and we'll writen.

Ohhhh yes, okay so!

Wayyyyyyyy back in the day, there were a bunch of Riddler ask/art/rp blogs, that all portrayed their respective Riddler in very different ways. Some were based on official material (YJ is from the 2011 Young Justice animated series, Arkham from the Arkham City video game, Detective was originally based off the 1992 Batman: the Animated Series, but became highly altered as their storyline continued) some, like Narci, Puzzles, and Nash, were original takes on the character. Swag stared out as a parody that became a solid character as time passed. All of these interacted with each other, and developed into a found family.

Helix (My OC) came along a little later, and began interacting with them. None of us really expected how inextricably involved she was going to become, since she's much more of a high fantasy character, than a DC character, but it all happened pretty organically, and was a lot of fun.

Back then, I started a bunch of creative projects I wanted to share with the writers of these blogs, but I had just ended my relationship with my ex-fiancee, moved back in with my parents, and was working in a pretty toxic environment, and it just slaughtered my creative output. If I were to point you to my old blog, which I shan't, you would see that I drew maybe five or six things in as many years, when previously, I had drawn almost every day.

All of those blogs eventually went silent, the last interaction being between Helix and Narci. Since then, some of them have even been deleted entirely. I forgot about the things I was going to do, and they lay ignored for years. Then I stumbled across my old harddrive, where all these ideas still existed, barely sketched out, partially begun, and it all flooded back. Yeah, those blogs are done, some of the writers have disappeared, it's all over. But those stories are still there, and so am I.

I am in a much better place than I was. I have some writing practice under my belt, and, most importantly, I have inspiration again. I can make the art I always wanted to. I can write the stories I always wanted to. I can finish what I wanted to start.

That all being said, One of the things I started a long time ago, was an elder scrolls crossover. I had also started playing Skyrim at around that time, and it was an idle idea that I thought would be fun. When I found that harddrive, the first chapter had been partially written out, and I ended up taking the ideas there, and going in a different direction with them. I now have an over thirty chapter, ongoing story involving Helix and Swag stumbling their way through Cyrodiil, told entirely through Swag's POV. I've been posting it on my main/RP blog rather than here, because I felt that Helix and Swag's relationship hadn't been well enough expressed in the Nexusverse yet. Almost all of the Nexus stories so far take place in 2011-2013, and this crossover story takes place in 2020, so there's a lot in between that I haven't gone into yet, you know?

But considering that I've been posting some of the later Nexus stories out of chronological order, I might just start posting it anyway. I think it's kinda obvious by now how some of Helix's relationships pan out, so it might be okay. What do you think?

Also, you are very sweet, and I'm glad I've been able to express some of my ideas in a way that others can enjoy them with me. I will warn you, the stories that are from Helix's POV can be a bit challenging to follow; she doesn't experience reality in the same way as most people, which I've expressed with synesthesia and the repetition of consonants, syllables, and vowel sounds in a freeform poem/prose manner. If you do start the Nexus stories at their beginning, you'll see why.

Don't be too intimidated though; most Nexus stories are only 1-2000 words, with the exception of Orbital Unresonanace, which is, admittedly, a chonker. But you've been reading Lasa, so I know you can handle unreasonably large stories.

[verdantglow]

so is it safe to assume that you're going to be going through each of the seasons chronologically then? and exploring how each of their relationships form and change over time? or are you going to pick a set point that is the "current" times and make references back to older series and stunts?

also out of curiousity, whos pov(s) do you watch? im always interested in learning this stuff

also also i think seer of void is perfect for Sc(h)ott and i think heir of rage works really well for Joel. im trying so hard to think of any other classes that would work for him and im just... coming up short. maybe page? because i can see him inciting rage in others and growing stronger as time passes with it. but i dunno. youve thrown me back into my homestuck phase that i thought i had gotten out of years ago and thus have forgotten too much :')

So that’s a bit of tricky question. The campaigns happen in the chronological order of the seasons, but I honestly haven’t settled on what is ‘now.’ Tbh, I’m kinda treating this AU as a playground for all my crossover relevant headcanons & plot bunnies. I’m not planning on making one cohesive fic for this AU. My hope is to do an assortment of art, comics, & fics (& maybe animations?; gods I’d love to do mini animations/“flashes” for this & would like to try to, if I can get my brain to sit still long enough). Each piece will be a different chunk of the story, a significant event or plot line that I feel like examining, rather than there being a linear story. Kinda like a selection of vignettes rather than a novel.

Granted, I’m not married to this idea yet. It’d be a nice way to do things in that it’d allow me to follow my inspirations rather than be stuck in a timeline. But at the same time, I’m not sure how that’ll read/look. I might just start at Secret Life or after Secret Life & do everything else as flashbacks. But it’ll definitely be around the Secret Life time if I do decide to do some linearity because Gem is bae & I desperately need her at least somewhat prominent. (& she joins up with the others between sometime before Limited Life & before Secret Life. Haven’t nailed that quite down either, but she wasn’t part of the group from the get go, like the others. (Everyone was somehow linked to each other from before/around the 3rd Life campaign, even if they didn’t join the VLARP until Last Life.))

Tbh, I haven’t comprehensively watched most of the Traffic seasons. I started watching mcyt when Limited Life was happening, but couldn’t maintain focus at the time. (Probably because I was watching Grian’s viewpoint of EVERY SINGLE SEASON AT THE SAME TIME, dear god what is wrong with me lol.) So until recently, I’d only seen the first half of all of Grian’s seasons. I finally finished his 3rd Life the other day (in one sitting mind you; wild experience) as well as Martyn’s 3rd Life.

When Secret Life rolled around, I was more invested & wound up watching Grian, Mumbo, Gem, Joel, Scar, Lizzie, Martyn, Jimmy, & some of Etho & Cleo.

Right now I’ve got Jimmy & Tango’s 3rd Life, Joel’s Last Life, & Etho’s Double Life going on a rotation. I think that’s all I’m currently watching? I’m kinda crawling through those as I’ve got an absolutely massive list of Hermits I’m watching at the moment. Other POVs I’ve got earmarked for watching at some point: Impulse 3L, Lizzie, Martyn, & Pearl LL, Joel, BigB, & Pearl DL, & I haven’t even started figuring out who I’m gonna watch for LimL.

I’m so flattered this AU is getting you back to Homestuck! You know, I hadn’t seriously thought about it in… six? seven? years, until I had the thought that Scar & Grian made sense as fucked up moirails & I suddenly had an AU to be fascinated by lol. Like. I haven’t even been observing the high holidays for a few years, & now I’m doing in depth research on Lore so I can work on this AU. Funny how life works that way, a new special interest resurrecting an old one.

[padawansuggest]

Hi! I really enjoy your fic ideas and writing, do you have an ao3 where i can find more at, or a tag i can look through? The latest post about the star wars/ trek cross over is really good! I enjoyed the humour of how the characters were confused by each others abilities, its great. and i saw that you also write for stargate, which i also enjoy alot, so its really cool that your making fun and interesting crossovers with them. Hope you have a good day!

This is sorta the nicest way someone has told me they love my ideas. I get the ‘I love your AUs’ comments all the time, and they always make me warm, but I love being told exactly what someone likes about them. So, answer first: I just put a tag on this post that says ‘my fics’ click and follow that, that will show you actual fics that I have posted on AO3. If for some reason you can’t find the link, the username is Bam4Me

Answer the longer; I will warn you, I don’t post a link here to everything that I write so you can still go there and see what you like, but also, I don’t stick just random ideas I’m not working on or actively posting/posted to in that link. So I have a million ideas but if something is there I’m either close to finishing and about to post soon, or already have.

A deeper explanation: this is so sweet of you to say. For my entire life I’ve dealt with disabilities, and in the past six or so months, I have written and posted more than I have in the past four years. What’s changed is that I’m sorta dealing with a lot lately and it’s given me a lot of sitting time. Lol. Frankly it’s been a major help lately (I am, at this moment, trying to shallow breathe through a very painful infection that is fighting tooth and nail to stay in my face it’s so painful I wanna die but this ask cheered me up so much that I’m able to think of something else) and so I’ve thrown myself back into writing, and I have actually been typing up stories that I had/have had ideas for years ago and still love now, as well as random ones that come to my head now.

And I’m actually really excited about that. Like I have been looking through old posts (I only tag my own work or art/meta/ideas that I TRULY don’t want to forget, so what I do is that sometimes you’ll see a blank post with nothing but tags on my blog… yeah that’s me trying to look for a specific post by tag hopping because it’s fastest and most reliable on mobile) and giving new life to AUs years old and adding ideas I didn’t think of when I wrote them. Rarely do I really stray from them.

So. If you truly love an AU I just posted, and you tell what you like most about it, it typically makes the time till I actually get to writing it a lot faster than some.

I just. I just woke up from the nicest nap (because of Benadryl lmao I’m so tired still) because of the WORST swelling (because of that darn infection that I’m hoping these antibiotics take care of soon it’s so painful they had to give me oxy cause I’m allergic to acetaminophen lolllll it hurts so bad I’m rubbing topical nsaids on it and downing ibuprofen and gabapentin it’s so bad) and this ask as well as a few comments I got otherwise, have absolutely made my day. I’m happy; and I love writing and this is very nice. Thank you.

[blazehedgehog]

And Now: Thoughts on Sonic Prime (1-8)

I am hot and fresh off watching episode 8 of Sonic Prime -- it's the end of the current batch of episodes we have, with the promise of more to come.

And to some degree, I guess I went in with low expectations. For starters, this show has been kind of shrouded in mystery. I guess to some degree I'm used to more lead in time on these things, where there's a steady drip feed of teasers, and trailers, and previews for 9-12 months leading up to its release. Sonic Prime had nothing, for the most part -- just some concept art leaks, until about three months before it premiered. It didn't help that the streaming landscape as it stands today is sort of on fire; not just Warner Discovery slash-and-burning HBO Max, but a swathe of Netflix Animation layoffs cut through the industry during Sonic Prime's production. It was, and is still a scary time for the industry.

The pervasive theme from some I follow on social media also was kind of lukewarm. I get the feeling a lot of people had the same experience with Sonic Prime as I did with Samurai Jack back when that premiered. For me, Samurai Jack came at the peak of the anime boom, when Americans were getting their first taste of truly serialized animation. Jack set itself up as a serialized adventure, but very, very quickly devolved in to a typical American cartoon format, with episodes made to be syndicated and aired out of order. Or, to put it in terms that make my comparison more clear: I expected something more and instead got a show that was comfortable resting in an existing format.

And the prevailing complaint I've heard against Sonic Prime is that it's "just a kids show." The complaints aren't very loud and most people are fine with this, but the disappointment is still there, because, again: they expected something more and received a show that was comfortable where it was. That's fair.

Sonic Prime is definitely a cartoon show for children. The original pitch was that it is "Into the Spider-verse for Sonic", and that's definitely true, but it makes sure to go as slowly as possible and explain the concept of a multiverse over, and over, and over again just to be positive that the six and seven year olds in the audience understand the concept of alternate dimensions, and the fact that Sonic is crossing between them. A lot of early episodes are taken up by Sonic being confused by what's going on, despite the fact that DC's Crisis on Infinite Earths popularized the idea of the multiverse back in 1985. But hey, kids today weren't alive in 1985 (heck, I was barely alive in 1985).

Even though, y'know, Spider-verse itself was a comic book in 2014, and a movie in 2018, with a sequel due next year, which is to say nothing of the Marvel Cinematic Universe dabbling in the multiverse with Spider-man: No Way Home and Dr. Strange in The Multiverse of Madness. And then there's Fortnite, perpetually one of the biggest games in the world for the last half-decade, which has positioned itself as the center of all multiverses ever created, in its quest to transcend and graduate to a metaverse.

Heck, even Sonic himself: between Sonic Generations, Sonic Forces, and the 24 year run of the Archie Sonic comics, this isn't Sonic's first multiversal rodeo.

But I can swallow that. Like it's been said, it's a show for kids, and they're just trying to make absolutely, totally sure even the youngest are able to digest what's happening. Eventually you get past the show feigning a sense of "I don't know what's going on!!" and it starts to hit a stride.

Sort of, anyway. By the end of episode four, when Sonic Prime has fully and finally committed to admitting this is a multiverse, you're halfway through this first batch of episodes, and the pace suddenly goes from zero to sixty as Sonic starts more rapidly popping around dimensions.

I'd really like to see the original, unedited pitch for this show. Because there are clear vibes in Sonic Prime that suggest something much closer to what a "Spider-verse" really is: namely, different sub-franchises coming together. More specifically, the Spider-verse movie goes out of its way to suggest that its Peter Parker is, in fact, the same Peter Parker from Sam Raimi's movie trilogy, as during his origin story, you see shot-for-shot recreations of famous Raimi-Spider scenes. Now, with its sequel, Across the Spider-verse, fans are going wild pointing out cameos in recent trailers.

All of this is me saying I think Sonic Prime was probably pitched to be a show where Sonic visits known dimensions -- alternate universe versions we know from other pieces of Sonic media. In the Sonic Prime show we have now, Sonic visits three dimensions:

The Red Sky Dimension: A grim, dark universe where Eggman ("The Chaos Council") has already won. A rebel band of freedom fighters works underground to fight back against the dictatorship. One of the characters is a half-robot woman with telescoping arms and legs.

The Jungle Dimension: A tribe of natives are suffering from a small civil war after temperament changes over how they are maintaining their balance with nature.

The Pirate Dimension: The entire surface of the planet is covered in nearly endless water, leaving most people to sail the high seas in galleons.

Parts of each dimension map pretty well to existing things we already have (or had) in the Sonic franchise. Some more than others, and maybe it's just a sign that Sonic's been interpreted so many ways over the years, but I can't help but wonder if there was a version where this was pitched as:

The SatAM Dimension: Named for the fact this was the Saturday Morning Cartoon Sonic (Saturday, in the AM), this was part of the second wave of dark kids shows following in the footsteps of pioneers like X-Men: The Animated Series and Batman: The Animated Series in 1992. Dark kids shows truly kicked off in 1993, with Sonic joining the ranks with Swat Kats, Exosquad, and Cadillacs and Dinosaurs. SatAM put Sonic in a team of freedom fighters lead by Princess Sally Acorn as they fought back against Robotnik's dictatorship. One of the characters is a half-robot woman with telescoping arms and legs. The show became the basis for the Archie Sonic comics, which went on to become the longest continuous licensed comic book in history. The "red sky" in Sonic Prime isn't necessarily a reference to SatAM itself (which often use colder blue hues), but the "red sky" is often a general term for the grim dark period of cartoons in general, used in particular when the 80's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles cartoon rebooted to become darker and more serious, entering what fans call the "Red Sky Era." That, or, y'know, Eggmanland from the actual Sonic games.

The Boom Dimension: This one's admittedly a big stretch, but what really grabbed my attention was the way Knuckles acts in this world. Here, he exists in a nearly identical role to Sticks the Badger from Sonic Boom. Basically, all he does is interrupt when the dialog gets too serious to spout off over-the-top conspiracy theories as a way to lighten the mood. Plus, um, wood huts...? Like I said, it's a stretch.

The Sol Dimension: This is the home of Blaze the Cat, introduced in the Sonic Rush games. These games are, in themselves, also suggestive of a multiverse: in the first Sonic Rush, we meet Blaze, who is kind of the Sonic of her own dimension. In the sequel, Sonic is temporarily stranded in Blaze's world, which is mostly covered in water and dominated by pirate factions. A great deal of the gameplay is Sonic gathering materials so Tails can build watercraft able to reach many of the game's most scattered islands. Blaze isn't in Sonic Prime, obviously, but there's nameless background rebels in The Red Sky Dimension that are almost a dead ringer for her in a way that feels like a deliberate wink. (Re-scanning the episode, there's also Raccoon-styled background characters clearly using visual cues from Marine, too)

I could definitely see this show being pitched where these references were maybe a little more overt. Especially the first one, considering production is being handled by WildBrain, aka Cookie Jar, aka DiC, the original production company behind SatAM in 1993. The first thought I had when I heard the legacy was that if they were going to pull a "Spider-verse" as they originally announced, they needed to do an episode where Sonic visits SatAM, and given the Red Sky Dimension is the first (and seemingly most important) of the three so far, it seems they were at least thinking in the same direction, to some degree. I just assume Sega wouldn't let them commit, so they had to pick and choose what they liked about those worlds and adapt them to fit a mainline-centric cast.

As for what they did with it... yeah, it's fine. It's not the greatest Sonic show ever created, but it's a step above things like Sonic Underground, Sonic X, and even Sonic Boom, I'd say. Sonic Boom was also very "fine" from everything I've seen (I never saw most of Season 2), but it's really hard to look back on nowadays when you see Sonic Prime's vibrant colors and fluid animation.

I'm hesitant to judge too much of the story yet, given we know Netflix apparently ordered 24 episodes and we're only 8 episodes deep in to that run. Assuming they keep to 8 episode batches, we still have two more "drops" left to go -- the series is still clearly getting warmed up.

I will say I echo what some others have said, namely the fact that they treat Green Hill Zone with such a comical amount of reverence as if it has all these iconic locations, when it turns out to be... like, one tree. Out of many. Or a single loop-de-loop. Every time Sonic goes to a new dimension, he has to be like "aw man, there's the loop" like we're supposed to feel something with him, when Sonic games show us loops everywhere, in every level.

As I said in another blog, though, I really appreciate Sonic's characterization here. He has the personality I always thought he should have: carefree to a fault, very hyperactive, and obnoxiously cocky. Sonic is used to going where he wants, when he wants, and doing what he wants, and we're lucky he's one of the good guys because he's basically unstoppable when he really puts his mind to something. He just, uh, doesn't put his mind to very much, because he just kind of casually wanders into and out of trouble at his leisure. His friends love him just as much as they put up with his ADHD impulses. Sonic Prime just shows us a moment where that devil-may-care attitude bites him particularly hard. But I've definitely been of the mind that more Sonic games should be about Sonic stumbling in to something dangerous by accident, and that's definitely what happens here.

So, in general, I feel like I am living my best life when I watch this Sonic bumble his way around, lost in worlds he doesn't understand. This is my guy. This is how I'd write him. There has not been a single moment in the entire show so far where I have wavered in this thought. This is, 100%, my Sonic. He is perfect.

Everyone else I'm not so sure of. Shadow shows up here generally to repeat the same things that got him pushed out of the IDW comics, where he's treated more as a hyper-aggressive one-dimensional rival to Sonic who can't stand being seen as a second-banana. It's a flimsy reason to make a character punch Sonic (something that happens a lot in Sonic Prime). I know I've complained about Shadow being too serious before, but there used to be more nuance to his characterization than "I am always going to be mad at Sonic for petty reasons."

Rouge is also a weird addition to the main cast; namely making her part of the core team along side Tails, Amy, and Knuckles. I get that they probably wanted more gender diversity and probably didn't want to (or couldn't) introduce a new female character, but she always struck me as someone who was always off doing her own things and didn't necessarily care about what Sonic was doing unless their paths accidentally intersected.

I'm already getting tired of The Chaos Council. This is probably the thing that feels the most like a kids show -- instead of having one character with depth and nuance, you break them down into a group of easy-to-digest stereotypes. Here's the trendy one! Here's the dumb one! Here's the apathetic one! Here's the old one! Here's the leader! It's the same line of thinking behind The Deadly Six from Sonic Lost World, and being so basic and toyetic is one of the reasons people rejected those things. The council seems like they're going to be the central villains for the rest of Sonic Prime, but I'd like them to combine back in to the real Eggman at some point.

Though speaking of Chaos, I'm pleasantly surprised how little Chaos Emeralds have factored in to this story. Sure, they have a different type of jewel to worry about, but it's nice that the emeralds aren't so important just yet. I assume they will be, since Shadow finds an emerald in one episode and his ability to use Chaos Control seems to tie in to the dimensional shenanigans, but it's still good to have Sonic media where the answer isn't instantly just "we gotta find the Chaos Emeralds because Super Sonic will stop this." We get to have some fun, first.

Definitely interested in seeing where the rest of this series goes, but at the very least, these first eight episodes have dashed any hopes of legitimate alternate-universe crossovers. Perhaps SatAM, Sonic Boom, and the Sol Dimension were never in the cards, and they chose these as the first three dimensions to showcase as a way to tell people like me that they can't and won't be crossing over with any existing Sonic media. Because, I mean, they can't do SatAM and the Red Sky dimension, right? It's an easy way to set expectations.

Fingers crossed it finishes strong.