#dipped my toes in and now i'm dying

[safestofhands]

*shakes the f1 fandom*

what the fuck is pole. what the fuck is a safety car. wHAT THE FUCK IS A TEAM PRINCIPLE (or principal bruh wtf). WHAT IS A ROSBERG-HAMILTON!!!!! why are there teams when you drive cars by yourself. what in the 9 hells is p5/6/1293102598125 idk atp. how do you win. what do you win. what's the difference between a grand prix and a race and is there even a difference. why is ferrari shit (?). how does scoring/point accumulation work. why is the word for something of monagesque origin monagesque (so flamboyant and for WHAT). who is sebastian vettel and why is he a dad. what is going on with lestappen. WHY ARE YOU DRINKING SHIT OUT OF A BOOT.

*head in hands*

[hitomisuzuya]

Hear me out, Scara fucking and breeding us raw but then giving us the most aggressive aftercare with the grumpiest face because we’re refusing him like “nahh let’s just go to bed” and he’s like “ah hell nah” 😍

Btw I love you sm suzu pls don’t ever die 😭❤️

scaramouche x fem!reader. smut. breeding kink. creampie. fingering. clit slapping. degradation. praise. grumpy aftercare❤️

aww🥺 thank you, dear. i don't plan on dying any time soon.

even though scaramouche was panting, collapsed on top of you with his cock still inside of you, his stamina showed no signs of wavering. he was drunk on how good your pussy felt fucking so deep into it. drunk on his mission to breed you, and fuck a baby inside of you.

fuck his baby inside of you.

"such a good girl," he purred shakily, "still so tight and begging to bred," pulling out, he sat up to admire your fucked out expression for a moments. looking down, he smirked seeing little bits of his cum seeping from your hole.

with his index and middle finger, he delivered a calculated smack on your sensitive clit. you gasped, your body spasming in pleasure and your walls squeezing around nothing. he didn't give you time to shower him in praise and words of begging from how good he was breeding you.

"hmm," he murmured thoughtfully to himself, his beautiful fingers dipping between your folds to finger cum back up inside of you. he allowed himself to relish in your hazy moans and mewls as you grinded against his fingers before he leaned down and buried his teeth into the dominant bite mark he'd imprinting on your shoulder all night.

scaramouche is a very passionately aggressive man. he would be damned if you didn't feel every inch of passion he felt for you on your body. he always took great care in making sure you felt it. felt it in his hands. in his teeth. and mostly certainly in his cock.

"i hope our children get your eyes. and your unwavering determination," you babbled behind your moans. your hips bucked into his fingers, writhing as he scissored your walls apart.

scaramouche's cock pulsed hard hearing your words. groaning, he grinded his teeth on the fold of flesh in his mouth. he prodded his tongue on the inflamed skin as he sucked. "fuck, you are perfect," he pulled his fingers out of your pussy, "do you know that, slut?"

your cheeks flushed hearing his degrading praise. grabbing your wrist, he yanked up so he could kiss you. he knew he could've just leaned down and kissed you, but he needed his lips on yours. now. you swore you felt him pour more passion on you in the way he pushed your back onto the bed again.

your hands scrambled to grasp his cock and bring the leaking head to your entrance again. "please," you pleaded hazily, your lips hovering over his as you pulled away a little, "cum inside of me again. give me the pleasure of giving you what you want," you licked at his mouth submissively.

scaramouche's head spun with love. your submission was showing your passion for him. he could never, ever get enough. "what a whore. so cock drunk that you can't wait for me to pump you full again," batting your hands away, he bullied his cock back inside of you, bottoming out with accuracy that made your toes curl in pleasure.

he wasn't going to be satisfied until he saw a literal pocket of cum protruding from your stomach. your stomach that would be swollen with something else if he it his way.

and scaramouche always, always got his way.

"remember what i promised you, kitten?" he moaned huskily, his teeth biting at your lips as he forced his tongue into your mouth. you curled and glided your tongue around his, wrapping your arms around him. you further relaxed your body so he rest his weight on top of you. "i'm going to knock you up. make you my wife," his hips smacked into yours, his cock squelching and pumping wet in and out of you.

your body twitched in pleasure, your eyes lighting up in what scaramouche quite frankly thought was the purest devotion he'd ever seen. fuck, this is why you deserved to be his wife. there could be no one else.

then, you looked up at him with those pretty, pretty eyes of yours and said the words that never failed to make him come undone. "i love you, scara. i love you so much," your orgasm was building intensely again, you could barely keep up with the jolts of pleasure that rocketed through you as his cock head kissed your sweet spot.

the moment those three sweet words passed from your lips, scaramouche's cock ribboned more cum inside of you. groaning, he felt incredibly satisfied knowing you were fuller than the last time. you clung to him, your fingernails digging in his back. you could feel how wonderfully deep his cock was fucking into you.

you let out a whimper tinged moan, kissing him again as your orgasm flooded over you. "shh, shh," he cooed, holding you against him while you shook in pleasure, "you are fuller than before, i promise," he sucked and swirled his tongue around one of your nipples, making your walls flutter on his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm.

pulling out, scaramouche put a hand on your cheek. your eyes half lidded and glazed in a fucked out expression. you turned your cheek into his hand. "what can i get you, kitten? do you want a bath? or a massage?" his bruises were starting to blossom dark on your skin. you were definitely going to (happily) feel them in the morning.

you shook your head. "no, sweetheart. i am fine," you said tiredly.

narrowing his eyes, scaramouche scoffed. "what?"

you giggled softly. "just come to bed with me and hold me," you were about to rest your forehead against his, but he abruptly sat up.

"let me fucking take care of you," you enjoyed and let him be so rough with you. you doted on him with every ounce of your heart and body when he fucking you. he was going to be damned if he didn't take care of you after.

"scara, it's okay. you are so sweet, but just hold me until i fall asleep," you smiled softly up at him.

"no, no," he said stubbornly. "i mean fuck, i was going to do that anyways. let me at least make you some hot chocolate or tea." he crossed his arms. he wasn't going to back down on this.

you promptly kissed him again.

[thebibliosphere]

In case you were wondering how deep down the Batfam fixation hole I am, it's something I've actually been talking about in therapy a lot.

Not like, in a worried way, more just when my therapist asks me what I'm doing in my downtime, my answer always used to be either "sleeping" or "I don't have downtime. I have too much work to do."

Now my answer is "playing my Batman game" or "watching Batman show/reading comics/writing unhinged Batman x Muppet fanfic."

And my therapist is delighted. She's fucking ecstatic. She's like, "You have interests again!" and I'm like !!!! Because here's the thing.

Almost dying in 2019 kinda irrevocably fucked up my brain, like, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And I've been grieving over that for the last few years as well as recovering from the physical aspects of it. And to cope with it, I threw myself into work even though I wasn't physically or mentally well enough, and that made everything worse, and well, if you've been here, you know.

My brain has not been kind to me for a long time. It still isn't. But I do the work. I do multiple types of therapy a week. I piece myself back together on the daily and try to remember what it means to be human and not just this numb static void that sometimes sounds like shrieking if you listen too closely.

And then randomly, a few months ago a friend bought me Gotham Knights on Steam, and it was like a light turned back on. The engine that'd been refusing to turn over for years suddenly sputtered back to life, and something in my brain went, "Hey, I remember this... this is fun?"

And then I started tentatively searching the tags here on Tumblr, and yeah, actually. I remember this. I remember enjoying this. I can dip my toes into this. This is safe. This is a childhood interest from Before the almost-dying-trauma. And besides, it won't get in the way of my work. This isn't going to consume me. Nothing consumes me like it used to. I'm too broken for that.

Except, haha, jokes on me because, for some fucking reason, Brucie fucking Wayne and his gaggle of chaotic crime-fighting children is what reached into my brain, picked up my trauma, and started shaking it loose like a category 7 earthquake.

I actually laughed about that with my therapist a few weeks ago. Of all characters, of all pieces of media, it's Batman that's helping me process a significant chunk of my emotional trauma in a healthy way.

The most emotionally constipated vigilante in superhero existence, and I'm weeping like a child every time I get an achievement in Gotham Knights, and it says some bullshit like this:

ID: a purple steam achievement icon that says: He'd Be So Proud Of You. Reach the maximum level as any member of the Batman Family. 6.3% of players have this achievement. /end ID.

(for context, Batman is dead in this game, and you are playing as his emotionally devastated children trying to keep it together. Wailing, gnashing, crying, throwing up etc, etc.)

And my therapist, who has sat with me through EMDR sessions and a multitude of other shit designed to rewire your brain, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes we need to externalize our emotions through safe media. For you, right now, that safety is Batman having a relationship with the Muppets."

And like... okay, yeah. I'll take the win on that one.

[notakoolladz]

Ancients of the Creek would've called them "Good Friends"-

I thought I was funny 😔

When I was rewatching cotc I now have millions of HandleBarb drawings might wanna redraw some maybe

Also like im open with all ships when it comes to Cotc unless if it just like problematic. And not the toxic cult following problematic. Like sure I ship the common canon ships but like i'm not gonna go out of my way to slander others. Thats stupid.

(Ik most of my followers followed me through octonauts but I'd like to dip my toes into other stuff too- Craig of the Creek was one I been dying to for years- I'm just not as used with it LOL)

[cherrycola27]

(blood)lust

Warnings: Blood, language, whump. 18+Minors DNI. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

A/N: Hey, y'all. I'm dipping my toes back into writing and trying my hands at some whump for Whumptober. This is the first of 3 TGM Whumptober fics I'll be releasing!

...........................................

When most people thought about immortality, they idolized it. They coveted the idea that they could cheat death, make a fortune, or travel, or be a part of the future that everyone dreamed of but would never be around long enough to see.

Yes, the idea of immortality had a certain air to it that drew you in like a moth to a flame, and no ever really thinks about the consequences. Just like the moth going toward the light, unaware of the fate that was waiting for it, he too was enticed by the idea.

Moreover, he was more drawn to the idea of not dying in a medical tent in the Carolina wilderness, miles away from his home, fighting for a nation that didn't even exist yet.

He was young, barely twenty-five, able-bodied, and brawny from years of working on his family's farm when the revolution broke out. He had so much to live for, so many things he wanted to do. So when the field doctor with the mysterious eyes came to him offering a cure to all of his pain and suffering from the gunshot wound to his shoulder that would surely end his life, he agreed without hesitation.

Looking back now, he realizes that maybe he should have turned the doctor down and died with the rest of his friends. The pain that came after he agreed was far worse than any gunshot. The sound of the blood rushing through his ears was louder than any cannon fire, and the burning sensation in his veins was hotter than any camp fire or summer day back on the farm.

But peace came after that. For a while—at least. Then came the thirst. The one that no matter how much water or wine or ale he drank—it couldn't be quenched. Then there was the hunger. The deep, insatiable hunger that no meal could touch. The hunger that hurt so deep in his stomach that he thought he would surely parrish as he stumbled through town that night.

Until he stumbled upon the man in the alleyway, too drunk to walk, that had cut himself on his whiskey bottle. And that's when he smelled it. The blood. Fresh and warm and oozing like red gold down the man's fingertips and onto the cobblestones. And it that moment, he knew exactly what he needed to satisfy the craving that nothing else would touch. In that moment, he realized what the doctor he'd never seen again had turned him into, a creature he'd only heard about in tales that parents told to scare their children.

That night, as he feasted, he had an epiphany, he'd been granted a gift, and he wasn't going to waste it.

.......................

Two hundred and some odd years later, he didn't feel the same about his "gift" as he did back then. In fact, it was more like a curse. He was damned to wander the earth forever, which meant he was damned to be alone. He'd watched everyone he ever loved die. First, starting with his mother in the winter of 1781, then, his wife and son ten years later during childbirth. He'd tried saving them the way the doctor had done for him, both times, when he'd sunk his teeth into the soft, supple flesh of their necks and tasted their blood, he couldn't stop. It was like a demon possessed him, inhibiting him from hearing their cries and blinding his vision until he'd drained them dry, leaving their bodies limp and lifeless in his arms.

For a while, he vowed never to try again and never to love again until he knew he could find a way to keep her forever.

So, for the next two centuries after the death of his wife, child, and mother, he practiced. Starting on small animals at first, working his way up to larger ones, the eventually people.

He'd successfully master the art of turning, and now, he needed to find the perfect mate. Someone to spend eternity with.

He suspected that it would take him a while to find the right one. He certainly wasn't expecting it the night he walked into the bar and was hit with the most enticing scent he'd ever experienced.

He followed it until he found you.

You were exactly what he was looking for. You were probably around the same age that he told people he was. You were beautiful. A stunning natural beauty that drew him to you.

An aura that called him. A beacon of light in his darkness.

So, he walked right up to you, and asked "can I buy you another drink?"

You turned to the handsome stranger who'd offered to buy you a drink and gave him the once over. He oozed charisma and charm. His eyes, that could only be described as golden, sparkled as he flashed you a stunning smile.

"Sure, thing. I'll take another tequila on the rocks." You told him. He laughed before ordering one for each of you.

Once that glasses appeared before the two of you, you cheersed before extending your hand and introducing yourself.

He took your out stretched arm and brought the back of your hand to his lips, and placed a kiss there. "Charmed to meet you, darling. I'm Bradley, Bradley Bradshaw."

Bradley didn't miss the way your pulse quickened as he held your hand. Nor did he miss the blush that crept to your cheeks. He continued to sit there at the bar and talk to you for hours. And the longer he did, the more it affirmed for him that you were definitely the girl he had been looking for you. You'd been the perfect girl to have around forever. Now, he just had to convince you of the same.

..............

If Bradley has learned anything in his 273 years of life, it's patience. If he was going to convince you to be his eternal bride, he knew he'd have to play the long game. He wasn't deterred by the fact that it may take months, maybe even a few years, to convince you. He had been waiting to find someone like you for over two centuries. A little longer wouldn't hurt. Which is why he was perfectly fine in agreeing to take the relationship that was budding between the two of you as slowly as you wanted.

Bradley had also learned to be discreet about who—what he was. As the world moved on, and his age stayed the same, Bradley made sure never to stay in one place for too long. He also learned that taking jobs that kept him away for long stretches of time helped provide the perfect cover for when he needed to sneak away and feed.

Right after he was first turned—the fledgling stage, he would later learn what it was called— Bradley wasn't as careful when it came to choosing his meals. Anyone who had the misfortune of crossing his path when his thirst arose would become one of his victims. He couldn't bear to be around people because the tangy metallic scent of their blood drove him mad with need.

Later, he learned to control it. He could function in society and keep up the act. And for a while, it worked. Until he took the wrong person as a meal.

She was the daughter of the local pastor, who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. After she disappeared, the police began looking, asking questions. Bradley became paranoid that someone saw him, that he wasn't careful enough.

So he fled town and vowed to himself that he'd only feed on people he knew wouldn't be missed. Criminals, the homeless, vagrants, and vagabonds with no one to come looking for them, no one to ask questions.

He'd come to San Diego about ten years ago, claiming that he was twenty-two. Shaving his mustache and letting his hair grow helped make it believable. The one thing all the stories get wrong about being immortal is that your hair and nails stop growing. They don't. And for that, Bradley was thankful.

Because of this, he learned he could spend about fifteen to twenty years in one place before speculation arose. A shaggy haircut and a beard can do wonders for a person.

............

Maybe that's why it was so easy for you to believe that Bradley was thirty-three. Despite the fact that he seemed like an old soul, wise beyond his years.

He also told you he was in the Navy and that he was an aviator, which meant he had frequent deployments and trips for work that he couldn't tell you about. Which is why you never questioned him when he told you he was leaving for a few days or weeks or months the longer the two of you were together.

You never suspect that half of those "trips" and "deployments" were, in fact, times when Bradley traveled somewhere to feed.

He was smart. Making sure to go to a different state, so if what was left of the body was ever found, it could never be traced back to him.

He had a system, a routine, a schedule that worked and kept him under the radar and undetected for decades. It worked for him, and eventually, he would share his secrets with you, and the two of you would stay in the shadows together forever.

...............

You were busy in the kitchen of the house you and Bradley shared. He was due back from his latest deployment today, and you wanted to make sure he had a hot meal waiting for him. You wanted to make sure he had plenty of fuel for the plans you had later for the two of you.

Not that he ever seemed to need it. Your boyfriend had the most amazing stamina. More so than any partner you've had before. He told you it because he was an elite fighter pilot, the top one percent, and being the best at everything was in his blood. You had to agree with him. Bradley could go for hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm from you, and never asking for more than one of his own in return.

You shivered as you flipped the steaks that were in the grill pan you had on the stove. You pulled the one for Bradley off the heat while leaving yours to cook a bit longer. He always preferred his more on the rare side, while you favored a more medium cooked steak.

You'd just finished setting the table when you heard Bradley's keys in the door. "Honey!" You squealed as you launched yourself at him. He easily caught you and held your frame against him.

"Hello, My Darling Girl." Bradley smiled as he kissed you passionately. His lips glided across yours before he trailed them across the column of your throat, stopping when they reached the juncture of your neck and shoulders. He grazed his canines over the pulse point that was thrumming just below your delicate skin.

"Bradley—" you groaned into his neck, gentle pushing on his chest. "Yes, Darling?" He asked you, pulling you closer to him. "I made dinner." You chuckled. "We can eat later. I missed you, My Darling Girl." He whispered against your ear.

"No, I want to make sure you have plenty of fuel in you for the plans I have for you later." You laugh again before dragging him to the dining room for a hot meal, blissfully unaware that the food you made would have no effect on your boyfriend.

That night, you let Bradley carry to your shared bedroom and strip you down the crimson lingerie you'd chosen specifically for the occasion. You let him tear the delicate lace from your body with his teeth, and then, you let him make love to you for hours until both of you were sated and his cum was dripping down your thighs and sweat covered your skin.

In the early hours of the morning, Bradley lay quietly beside you, watching the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept. It had been two years since that faithful day he met you and knew you were destined to be his mate. As he watched you, he knew in his heart that it was time to tell you about his plan. Hopefully, you wouldn't take much convincing, and under the next new moon, he'd take you up to one of his—hunting— cabins and change you. He'd find a perfect first feed for you, and teach you everything you needed to know. Then, once your fledgling phase was over, the two of you would have a bonding ceremony to seal your love forever.

Bradley could feel that the time was coming soon. All the work he'd put in. Moulding you—grooming you— shaping you into his perfect mate would soon come to fruition.

.....................

Bradley had been acting—different— the past few weeks. Not different in a bad way, but doting on you much more than normal. He'd taken you out to a few fancy dinners, bought you some new clothes, and he came home every day with a new flower arrangement. He'd also given you the most beautiful necklace you'd seen. Honestly, you weren't sure how he afforded all of this, and when you asked him about it, he told you not to worry. He'd been so calm lately. You hoped he would be that way when you gave him the news you'd just received.

You waited patiently in the living room for Bradley to come home. When you heard his keys in the door, you jumped up to greet him. "Hello, My Darling Girl." Bradley smiled before kissing you passionately.

"Bradley, come sit. I have some news to share with you." You told him as you led him by the hand to the couch. His mind raced with what it could be.

Could you be pregnant? It wasn't unheard of for his kind and mortals to have a child together. That was how he lost his first wife, Elizabeth, and his son, Nicholas.

Her body couldn't handle the labor. Thankfully, Bradley knew what to do this time. If you were pregnant, he'd start the changing right before you gave birth. The strength the change offered you would see you through the labor.

His heart raced at the idea. Maybe this was the second chance he'd been waiting for.

"Bradley." You let out a long exhale as he sat there waiting patiently.

"Yes?" He eagerly replied.

"I've been offered a job!" You told him excitedly.

"What? You already have a job." He said dejectedly.

"I know, but this is a promotion. Head of the new office in Virginia. Isn't that wonderful? I know it might take some time to get your transfer in, but my office is willing to work with us. You could be back home! We would be so much closer to your family!" You bounced with excitement on the balls of your feet.

"Darling, it sounds like a wonderful opportunity, but I'm happy here. I don't want to move." Bradley told you. His voice was more stern than normal. Your smile fell from your face.

"Wha—what do you mean? Bradley, this is everything I've been working for. I've supported your career with your deployments and moves more times than I care to count in the past few years. I know it seems like a lot, but this is what I've always dreamed of. Why can't you see that?" You pleaded with him.

Bradley inhaled sharply. "We aren't moving to Virginia. That's final." He said with no room for argument.

Rage bubbled inside you. How dare he say that to you. After all you'd done for him.

"You're right. We aren't moving. I am." You deadpanned.

Bradley turned on his heels. Your words hit him in the chest like a dagger. No, he thought. No, no, no. After all the work he'd done, there is no way he's letting you leave him now. You were staying with him whether you liked it or not. Bradley had worked too hard to let you go. He'd spent decades learning to control his temper. The unbridled rage that could come with what he was. He'd kept it under wraps for decades. But hearing you say that you'd give him up so quickly? It caused something inside of him to snap.

................

You weren't sure what was happening. One minute, you were packing a bag to leave. The next, you felt a jolt of pain shoot through your neck. Then, your whole body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out. You cried out for Bradley, begging him to help you, to save you from the invisible attacker. But instead, all you heard was a voice that almost sounded like his, whispering in your ear that it would all be over soon.

...............

When consciousness came back to you. It was slow. The first thing you noticed was the smell. You weren't wrapped in the warm vanilla scent of your home. No, you were somewhere near the woods. You could smell the dirt and hear birds somewhere in the distance.

The next thing you noticed were the sheets. The soft cotton ones of your bed had been replaced by a stiff and scratchy flannel.

You slowly opened your eyes and sat up. You didn't recognize the room you were in. The walls were bare and wooden. Some kind of a cabin, maybe. You swung your legs over the side of the bed, and that's when you felt it. The thirst. The overwhelming urge to drink. But you didn't want water. You wanted something else. You just didn't know what.

"Hello?" You called out tentatively, unsure of who else was there.

"My Darling Girl. You're finally awake." You whipped around so fast you made yourself dizzy. Bradley stood before you, his large form leaning on the door frame. Only something was off about him. He wasn't the Bradley you once knew. He stepped forward and smiled, and for the first time, you noticed how prominent his canines were. Had they always been like that?

"Bradley. Where am I? How did I get here? Did you—did you kidnap me?" You shriek, eyes darting around the room. You try to breathe, but you can't get any air into your lungs.

"Darling, calm down. You're going to hurt yourself. Tell me. How are you feeling?" He says so smoothly.

"I feel like I want to know what the fuck is going on." You spit at him. "Where are we?"

"We are at one of my hunting cabins. I figured it would help with the adjustment if we weren't near people." He tells you

"H—help with what adjustment?" You say as you clear your throat. A burning sensation creeping in. "What—what did you do to me?" You say as you being to claw at your skin.

"I changed you—for the better. I made you perfect. The perfect mate for me for all eternity. I know it must be a shock, but you'll get used to it. I'll help you, My Love." Bradley tells you as he glides across the room to you and turns your towards the mirror you hadn't noticed before. You look in it and see yourself, well, almost yourself. Something is different. You just can't place it. You trace your eyes over your features, and then you see them. Two small puncture wounds on your neck. Your hand flies to to them.

"Don't worry, they'll go away. But these—" Bradley says, and he pulls your gums back to reveal your new elongated canines, "these are permanent."

You run your tongue over your teeth and wince at their sharpness. "Don't worry. You'll get used to them." Bradley assures you, taking a step back. Just then, you hear a thump in from another room. "Ah, perfect, looks like it woke up just in time." He smiles.

"What do you mean 'it'?" You ask him harshly. "Your first feed, My Darling Girl. I know you feel the thirst. Every fledgling does. I know it did. Believe me, your first feed is always the hardest, so I brought you one. I wanted to make this as easy as possible for you." He says almost kindly.

"Easy? You wanted to make this easy on me? Bradley, you kidnapped me and brought me to the middle of nowhere and turned me into a—a—a—" you can't finish your sentence.

"Vampire. It's okay, you can say it, dear. I turned you into a vampire so we can be together forever. Of course, I hadn't planned on doing it this early, but when you said you were going to leave me, I knew I had to act then. I've spent the past two years grooming you into the perfect mate for me. I knew it was you from the first time I picked up your scent at the bar. Ideally, you would have willingly let me change you, but it doesn't matter now." Bradley tells you calmly.

"You've been planning to do this to me ever since you met me? How could you! I trusted you! I loved you. I thought you loved me?!" You wailed. "I do love you. That's why I did all of this. Why I brought you to my hunting cabin. Why I found a first feed for you. Why I've practiced for years getting the art of transforming right. All for you." Bradley says.

"I'm not the first person you've done this too?" You ask in disbelief. "Well, I had to practice to get it right. After I lost my mother and my first wife because I failed at transforming them, I vowed never to do it again until I perfected it. I started on small creatures and then worked my way up to people. But don't worry. I killed them after. I couldn't have a bunch of my own creations trying to kill me." Bradley laughs.

"First wife? Creations? What the hell is wrong with you. How could you ever think I'd want to spend my life with you after what you did to me? How long have you been like this?" You fire questions at him.

"I was born in 1751, changed in 1776 by a field doctor during the Revolutionary War. I've been practicing turning since about 1900. But I never let my creations live long after I turned them, lest they take revenge and try to kill me. You see, the movies and the books have it all wrong. Garlic and wooden stakes aren't what kills a vampire. We can only be killed by a dagger through the heart by our creator or one of our creations. A creation killing their creator also reverses the effects. Turns them human again. I couldn't risk that so I made sure to take care of that before it became an issue." Bradley explains to you.

"You see, I've been alone for so long. I was married to a wonderful woman, Elizabeth, but she died during childbirth. I couldn't save her. I vowed to myself that I'd never love again until I could keep her forever. And you were the one I choose for that, My Darling Girl. You're special, perfect, my perfect mate. I picked you out of everyone." Bradley tells you as he cups your face. You look in his eyes and don't see the man you once knew. He's long gone, replaced by this—monster. But if you wanted to survive, you knew you'd have to play into his fantasy.

"I see now. It all makes so much sense. Now I know why you didn't want me to leave." You say what he wanted to hear.

"Exactly. And in one year's time, when your fledgling phase is over, we'll have a bonding ceremony, sealing our love with a blood pact, so we can never be separated." Bradley tells you with a smile.

"That sounds wonderful." You lie to him. "I knew you'd see my way. Now, let me help you with your first feed." Bradley smiled as you let him lead you by the hand to the other room.

...................

Lying to someone for a full year is much harder than anyone expects. But you knew if you wanted to survive, and for your plan to work, you had too.

You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time. Even though this wasn't what you wanted, you looked stunning. A long-sleeved, lace, stark white gown hugged your body. A crown of blood-red roses on your head. Exactly what Bradley wanted you to wear.

You stepped out of the cabin your home, no, your prison for the last year and made your way across the field. The bright light of the full moon illuminated the area, causing your dress to practically glow in the light.

Bradley was standing near the edge of the clearing, waiting for you. You could see the glint of the bonding dagger in his hand reflecting in the moonlight.

"My Darling Girl. You look breathtaking. You have no idea how long I've waited for this moment." Bradley praised you as he took your hand in his.

"Are you ready?" He asked you. "I've been ready." You smile at him.

Bradley takes the dagger in his right hand and makes a slice across his palm, then hands it to you. Your fingers wrap around the grip tightly.

"I've been dreaming of this moment all year." You tell him. "I've been counting the days."

Bradley smiles, unaware of the true meaning of your words.

You grip the dagger tightly and raise it up. Bradley waits with baited breath and watches your palm, ready for you to slice the skin. Instead, he feels something sharp pierce his chest. He looks over to see your hand wrapped around the dagger that is now in his heart.

You pull it out and watch the blood drip from the blade, staining your once pristine gown.

"My—My Darling Girl. What have you done?" Bradley asks you as he stumbles back. More blood oozes from the wound as he drops to his knees.

"I'm taking back my life. And I'm not your darling girl anymore." You sneer before he collapses dead on the ground, eyes wide, mouth open in a silent scream.

You feel the exact moment he dies. You feel it in the pain, searing through your body and leeching out of every pore of your skin. You feel as though you may die, but you know it's worth it.

You black out and fall to the dirt.

When you finally wake up, it's daylight. You run your tongue over your teeth, and the once sharp canines are gone. You stand up and find that your white dress is now a deep shade of maroon, and the man you once loved has shriveled up to almost nothing. You give his remains a kick, and they turn to dust, blowing away in the breeze.

You pick up your dagger from last night and walk back to the cabin and find the bag you pack. You sling it over your shoulder and grab the keys hanging from the keyring near the door. You climb into the blue Bronco that had once belonged to Bradley and drive away from the cabin, from the woods, from him, and from the nightmare, you just woke up from.

Tagging those who might be interested: @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @desert-fern @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @na-ta-sh-aa @katieshook02 @beyondthesefourwalls @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @horseshoegirl @djs8891 @roosters-girl @rosiahills22 @dempy @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @mshistorylover @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @inkandarsenic @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted @skipchat @princess76179 @schoollover @cheyrenee @angelbabyyy99 @bobfloydsbabe @sunlightmurdock @sebsxphia @atarmychick007 @queenlmno @sweetwhispersofchaos @mamaskillerqueen @withahappyrefrain

[conanssummerchild]

ive dipped my toes into a little bit of unserious fic writing for rnm and i felt it was about time i dropped an autistic rick fic 🫡

ive had this idea circling around in my head for a while but i wasn't really sure what direction the fic would go in but ive decided to go for some good old internalised ableism (me writing angst? shocking /sarc) bcs rick never seems to see his autism as a disadvantage which is super slay BUT there is also a lot of difficult things to deal with being autistic and you know that old fucker hates admitting he needs help with anything so im gonna fucking force him to >:) this is set in like maybe season 2 or early season 3 btw just to make rick even less inclined to admit he needs any help !!

ok enough yapping, here we gooo

~~~

It was awfully quiet in the house for a Saturday afternoon. Usually by now Rick would've come barging into the living room, demanding Morty come with him and tugging him through a portal without waiting for an affirmative answer, always at least a little drunk on whatever he could get his hands on.

Today there was none of that, only fragrant smells of whatever dinner Jerry was cooking coming from the kitchen, juxtaposed with the harsh screaming match going on between him and Beth. Summer was scrolling on her phone absently next to Morty on the sofa as he pretended to watch some film that Jerry insisted was a masterpiece on non-interdimensional TV.

Overall, it was a normal night at the Smith's house from before Rick had come into their lives, but Morty wasn't relaxed like he would've been before, or even upset over having to listen to his parents' petty argument. No, he was ansty, fidgeting around enough to earn several annoyed glances from Summer.

He combed back through his memories, doubting whether he'd seen Rick today at all. He hadn't been at lunch or breakfast, in fact Morty hadn't seen him at all since their brief adventure yesterday, during which Rick had been in an increasingly foul mood. Had no one else even noticed his disappearance?

"I'm gonna check on Rick." He blurted out, stumbling off the sofa.

Summer didn't even spare him a glance.

He tried not to run down the hallway, nervous jitters going through his whole body. What if he had left again? No, probably not, Morty had seen his ship in the driveway. Shit– Rick had thousands of enemies, what if he was lying dead in his room right now?

Morty knocked on Rick's door so hard his knuckles stung a little, ignoring the small buzzing sound that accompanied the knocks. He heard a groan akin to one of a dying man and some shuffling from inside the room.

"Rick?" Morty called out to no answer, anxiety only rising.

He shifted nervously from foot to foot. If he just barged into Rick's room and he was fine Rick would be super pissed, but if he didn't and Rick was dying Morty would never forgive himself.

He shoved the door open. It didn't have a lock anymore. Morty held his breath as his eyes darted around the room, he feared it would look like a crime scene, but it looked... normal. He hadn't been in Rick's room that many times but, despite the darkness and slight mess, nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Well, that was, of course, apart from the translucent green force field type thing in front of the door.

He frowned, calling Rick's name again, but he was lying in his cot, facing the wall, unresponsive. Not even seeming like he'd heard Morty, the rise and fall of his tense shoulders the only thing showing he was still alive.

Morty chanced a careful touch to the force field, preparing for some kind of electric shock, but none came, only a quiet hum was emmited as Morty's fingers passed through. Rick moved again slightly, but other than that showed no visible reaction.

The field gave way easily and Morty passed though completely, standing meekly at the doorway of Rick's room. He was surprised to find that it was silent, like completely. No sound passed through the green barrier, not the sounds of sizzling pans, or the movie playing faintly in the background. Nothing.

"Rick? A-are you okay?" It wasn't said particularly loudly, but it felt that way in the complete silence.

No answer. He took a step closer, repeating himself louder, in case Rick just hadn't heard. "Rick? W-what's– is everything good?"

He expected anything, from Rick yelling at him to the person in the bed just being an alien wearing Rick's face, not even Rick himself.

He didn't expect Rick to cover his ears and curl into himself further.

"Uh-" Morty hesitated. His head hurt? Was he, like, hungover? Dying?

He only paused for a second more before turning and running out of the room, if something really was greviously wrong with Rick he would much rather be safe than sorry.

"Mom!" He called, running into the kitchen, interrupting the argument going on abruptly.

Beth downed a large sip of her wine glass, emptying it and setting it down on the counter with a sharp clink.

"Morty, honey, the adults are talking right now." She said, rubbing her temples tiredly.

"Mom, something's w-w-wrong with Rick."

"What?" That got Beth's attention, straightening from where she was topping off her wine once more. "What's wrong with Rick?"

"I don't know." Morty replied, agitated. "He's in his room just– just lying there, he's not answering me."

Beth was already heading in the direction of his room—not without grabbing her wine. "Come on, sweetie." She said to Morty.

"Wha- Beth, come on! We were having a conversation here!" Jerry exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air.

"I have more important things to deal with right now, Jerry." She said coldly.

Jerry's complaints were drowned out by Morty's rushing thoughts as he led Beth down the hall.

She peeked into the dark room without passing the noise-cancelling field, expression changing when she saw Rick curled into a ball, hands still clamped over his ears. While her frown stayed, a sort of realisation flashed in her eyes.

"Um, I think your grandpa just needs a little bit of alone time right now, okay? Let's give him some space." She said, taking a step back and closing the door gently.

"What? Why?"

"He just... Well, honestly, I don't know. I just vaguely remember he would get like this sometimes when I was a kid, when he was stressed. Mom always told me to just leave him alone for a while. I thought he'd probably grown out of it, like it was a midlife crisis thing or whatever. Guess not." She gave a small shrug.

That didn't really answer any of Morty's questions and raised several more, but Beth didn't seem to have the answers.

"Okay."

"Okay." Beth echoed, taking a swig of wine, her demeanour changing back to a bored one. "Well, I gotta go deal with Jerry now, go play video games, or something."

For the rest of that day, and then one more after that, Morty waited anxiously for Rick to emerge from his room. He felt like he was losing his mind, all while everyone else didn't even seem to care that Rick was gone at all.

He was picking at his pancakes uninterestedly when he finally caught a glimpse of blue hair in the hallway.

"Rick!" He exclaimed, making the old man nearly jump out of his skin.

"Jesus fucking christ, M-Morty." He muttered, grabbing some orange juice from the fridge and downing it straight from the carton.

"What happened?" Morty asked, getting up from the table and hovering by Rick. No one told him off for leaving the table. He could tell that they were all listening in on the conversation.

"What happened when?" Rick asked dismissively, playing dumb. He rummaged around in the overhead cupboard until he found an opened box of wafers. "What– who the fuck opened my wafers?"

Morty rolled his eyes. "You did, last week."

"Oh yeah." Rick shoved a wafer in his mouth.

"Rick, come on, seriously, I was worried."

"Well then maybe you should mind your own business, Morty."

Morty huffed. "What so you'd prefer I didn't care about you at all?"

"Yes. Obviously. Why does that surprise you? I've clearly stated it on multiple occasions."

"Well, I'm sorry, but I do care about you, Rick. I just want to make sure you're okay, because it seemed like you weren't" Morty said earnestly.

"Ugh, I'm fine, Morty." He scowled. "Don't be so– so weird about it."

"I'm weird?! Y-you're the weird one, Rick! Wh-what the hell is wrong with you? You just dissapear for– for two days and won't even tell me why? Can you give half a shit about anyone but yourself?"

"Jesus, I was overstimulated! O-okay? I'm autistic! Is that what you want to hear? You– you fucking dick."

Morty shook his head lightly, processing the stream of information "...What?"

"What? You can't be autistic." Jerry chimed in from the dining room.

"Okay, Jerry, and you won't be alive when I stuff your tiny dick in your mouth and freeze you, so we can put you on the mantle like some kind of fucked up decoration with your balls hanging out. Wait, actually, you will be alive. You'll feel the whole thing. Suuuper painful."

Rick snatched up Morty's virtually untouched stack of pancakes and sauntered out.

A quiet washed over the table, Morty looking over at Beth and seeing that she seemed just as surprised as him.

"What, you guys seriously didn't know?" Summer's bored voice broke through the silence.

"Y- you did?" Morty asked incredulously.

"Uh, duhh, Morty. It's like super obvious?" Summer drawled, not even looking up from whoever she was texting on her phone.

"How is it obvious?!"

"Becuase, Morty, I'm not uneducated like all of you guys."

"What? Wh-whatever, I'm just– I'm gonna go talk to him."

Summer didn't grace him with a response.

Morty peered into Rick's room but he wasn't there, so he wandered towards the garage. As he approached, he could already hear the sounds of Rick tinkering with something or other.

"H-hey, Rick." He said carefully, but Rick didn't seem particularly upset, offering Morty a small grunt in greeting.

"S-sorry I said there was something wrong with you." Morty added.

Rick looked up this time, quirking an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

He went back to his project for a bit, but when Morty still didn't leave after several minutes he sighed, setting his wrench down harshly next to Morty's now half-eaten pancakes. "Yes, Morty?" He asked, irritated.

"I-I just... You could've told me, you know? That you're autistic. I'm not– you don't have to be, like... ashamed."

"Screw you, I'm not ashamed." Rick snapped. "L-look at me Morty, do you know how smart I am? You think any fucking neurotypical could ever reach my level of genius? Fuck no!"

He crossed his arms like a petulant child, pouting at the floor.

"Oh– Sorry." Morty stuttered. "I just thought..."

"What? That just because I'm autistic I have to be ashamed? Pretty ableist stuff there, Morty." Rick said sharply.

"No! Jeez, That's not– not what I meant, Rick. Jeez... I was gonna ask why you never t-talk about it, then?"

"Becuase it's none of y-your damn business, that's why."

"But– I mean, sure, but not even my mom knew. Did... did your wife? Did she know?"

Rick's shoulders tensed and he looked away, his loose grip on the table becoming harsher.

"R-rick?"

"She... knew." He said tightly.

"Did anyone else?" Morty made his tone a little gentler, seeing Rick wasn't exactly thrilled to talk about it.

"...Birdperson. And Squanchy."

"That's– no one else?"

Rick frowned. "My parents knew. But they didn't like it... Diane– my wife she was the first person I chose to tell myself."

"I'm sorry." Morty said quietly. "About your parents and... Diane."

Rick sat silently, staring at the work bench in front of him without saying a word.

"Is that... why you guys divorced, or?"

"No, Morty, jesus." Rick huffed. "She was actually the only one that didn't treat me like less than because of it. I mean, until BP and Squanch."

"So why–?"

"I don't want to talk about my failed marriage, M-morty." Rick sighed.

"...Sorry."

Rick shrugged.

Silence stretched on as Rick went back to his project again, it wasn't an uncomfortable silence, but it wasn't exactly comfortable either.

"It's embarrasing. Sometimes." Rick said haltingly. "When I get overstimulated. Becuase I know that doesn't happen to normal people and I don't like admitting I need help with things that other people don't. It's a sign of weakness."

"That's not–!"

"Shut the fuck up, Morty. This isn't a discussion, you got what you wanted out of me, so now you can fuck off."

"But, Rick you–"

"Morty, just fuck the fuck off."

Morty hesitated for a second, before lunging towards Rick and trapping him in a tight hug. Rick tensed up.

"Morty, you little shit, get off me!" Rick wriggled, trying to get out of Morty's embrace.

"I love you, grandpa. Thank you for opening up to me, I know it's hard for you." Morty whispered, which only made Rick thrash around harder. "I don't think you're weak, by the way. Or that there's anything wrong with you."

Morty finally pulled away from the hug and Rick crossed his arms again, his face now a little flushed in embarrasment.

"Don't do that again, you asshole." He grumbled. "I don't like it when you hug me."

"Sorry." Morty said, mostly meaning it. "Hugs always make me feel a lot better."

"Well I'm not you, Morty, and they m-m-make me uncomfortable."

"Sorry." He repeated. "But I-I still mean everything I said."

Rick pouted, turning away. Morty knew Rick was stubborn, and that he wasn't going to erase years of self-hatred and internalised ableism in a few minutes, but he hoped that one day Rick let him in enough to at least try.

"Okay, bye grandpa. Love you."

"Bye, asshole." Rick muttered back.

Love you too he thought, but didn't say.

+ extra

Rick had been in a shitty mood all day, and Morty could tell something was brewing under the surface, but he couldn't tell what until they were already on their way back home from grabbing some crystals from some drug planet Rick stole from all the time.

Usually Rick would be in high spirits after another succesful crystal-stealing mission, but today he just glared through the windshield, gripping the steering wheel tightly. Morty could tell that, despite his intense stare, he wasn't really paying too much attention, so it wasn't a huge shock when an large asteroid chunk flew into their field of vision and Rick didn't even try to swerve.

They crashed into the asteroid hard and an alarm started blaring, red rays flashing in the interior of the spaceship. Rick's hands flew over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.

Morty had seen this alarm go off several times, due to Rick's often reckless driving, and it usually didn't bother Rick very much at all, not warranting more than a curse and flipping the alarm off annoyedly.

Rick bit down on his knee hard as Morty hurried to shut down the alarm, Rick's hands moving into his hair and tugging when it was finally switched off.

Rick had a tendancy to hurt himself when he was overstimulated and it made Morty endlessly anxious. He searched desperately in the backseat for the noise cancelling headphones he'd given Rick and "forced him to wear" as Rick would say, but Morty could tell he appreciated it. Especially when he snatched them out of Morty's hands before he'd barely even handed them to him, shoving them onto his head agressively and clicking the button he'd added himself for improved noise cancellation, claiming the headphones were trash and that he'd had to modify them to make them at all a useful tool.

He slumped back in his chair with a sigh, his eyes were still shut but Morty could see the tears that had collected on his eyelashes.

"Do you want me to drive us back?" Morty asked, barely finishing the sentance before Rick was hitting the button that switched their chairs around so Morty would be in front of the wheel. Morty let out a small exclamation of surprise, but quickly took the wheel, putting the ship back on track.

Rick didn't say anything else for the short journey home, jumping out of the ship before it was even parked properly. Morty hurried to keep up with him as he unlocked the door. He stopped abruptly in the middle of the entryway and Morty almost crashed into him, managing to stop himself just in time.

"Thank you." Rick said gruffly, not giving Morty time to respond and just rushing off to his room.

Morty still smiled, though. He knew that was about as close as it got to his grandpa expressing affection.

"Love you too, Rick."

---

THE END IM CHEESEY OK I KNOW SORRY BYE

[womenwhump]

About Women Whump

Just discovered the concept of whump and was like "oh. that's what I like". Only to discover the terrible lack of whump focused on women. I understand why it can feel complicated, a lot of the ways women get hurt in media are very misogynistic, and people who glory in seeing women vulnerable and hurt is something a lot of women have dealt with irl, myself included, and reminders can be tough

However. There is plenty of media where women are get injured or are emotionally compromised where it isn't about misogyny but treating them as like, you know, full people and characters who are having their own adventures. There's great queer and platonic content about women comforting and caring for other women, plenty of this media is BY women...ignoring all this is pretty sexist and denies it to the people who need their food.

So I'm going to dip my toe in this and post my own little collection of cool moments in fiction. Nothing too serious or intense, and it will be mainly focused on anime, manga, comics, because that's where my interests lie, but might include other stuff. I'm not gonna be taking submissions right now, but I will take suggestions. I'll repeat that there will be nothing too intense, this blog will not involve sa or anything like that.

I'm most fond of hurt/comfort stuff, ones where characters actually end up dying (permantly. If they get better it's okay) just make me upset in a not-good way. I especially love content involving queer women and women in general coming together in angst, taking care of each other, protecting each other, etc. Ones involving men supporting them are good too though

This blog is trans-inclusive, trans women are women, and I'm also happy to take suggestions involving nb characters--and I mean all nb characters, not as a 'oh people who look feminine are basically women anyway' bullshit thing. I just consider it an additional group that serves an audience who needs food too.

And maybe a man will sneak in once in a while as a special little deal, especially if there's a woman protecting him or somethin'.

(also, don't expect me to be available to post all the time, obviously. Life gets in the way).

Lets do this.

[immortalarizona-art]

“This isn’t love, Monty. It’s obsession. I’m your unfinished business.”

Achlys has been having a completely fun and normal time in Curse of Strahd (lying)

so last session Achlys found out that one of her ghost buddies that's been following her for like the past few years is actually her husband from her first life in Mordent >:) he's been waiting all this time for her to remember him (she should be able to if she really loved him, right?) and so never told her who she used to be, despite knowing that she's been desperate to figure that out ever since she woke up again after dying. (for the record, he wasn't always like this. something something undeath corrupts even the purest intents and emotions)

this was a conversation I improvised with myself in-session, and this is honestly some of the best dialogue I've ever come up with on the fly imo. so I decided I wanted to commemorate it with art :D

I reeeeaaaalllly wanna draw more comics now, having dipped my toes in the water with this one!!! composing this one was a very fun challenge. very Enrichment. I will be keeping my eyes out in future sessions of all my games for more Fun Dialogue Moments to illustrate >:D

also, this is my first time drawing Achlys with her updated scar design, featuring darkened blood vessels, muscular paralysis, and strabismus since first sketching it out, and I'm REALLY happy with how the visual update looks in action!!! as a treat for reading all the way to the end of the post, here's another sketch of my gal :DDD

[vilevenom]

I took a break from writing for a bit, and now I'm dipping my toes into the Sonic fandom. This is essentially just a quick little thing I wrote to try and get a bit of a handle on how I'd like to characterize them. P.S - I wrote it mostly on a whim, and a little bit while recovering from a migraine, soooo...yeah. No Ray of Sunlight's Ever Lost Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog (no specific media) Pairing: Gen, Sonic/Shadow Summary: The idea of Shadow getting injured wasn't new to Sonic. But the possibility of him dying was certainly new A.K.A: These boys are emotionally constipated Warning: Descriptions of blood/injury

Blue had always been a color that brought Shadow great comfort. His memories were clouded and distorted on the best of days, but he could vividly recall the light blue dress that Maria wore as frequently as she could get away with. He remembered how soft the fabric had been as he clutched at it while Maria held him tight after an especially harrowing battery of tests, and how warm he'd felt in her embrace as she scooped him into her lap to read from her favorite book on sleepless nights.

Later, when that sweet cornflower blue became tainted with red, a different shade would emerge into his life. A stark, vivid cobalt that would enrage and taunt him at first, only to later bloom into an odd sort of warmth in his chest. It was a constant that Shadow could count on, no matter how dire the situation seemed to be. That bright blue would appear and set everything to rights with a razer sharp grin and a handful of quippy remarks.

He never truly realized just how much he'd come to value it until it was, perhaps, a bit too late.

~

As long as Sonic had known Shadow they had fought against and with one another. Even if the later was often quite begrudging on the hybrids part. It was something Sonic never meant to take for granted, really, but when push came to shove, he knew Shadow would be at his side, if the situation called for it. He knew as dour and irritable as Shadow could be, there was a heart of gold buried somewhere in his chest. After all, the chaos loved him, and he'd seen how he acted around Cream.

So, when Robotnik had attacked, and Sonic was on the ropes, he'd only grinned as a familiar steak of black and red flashed across the battlefield towards him.

"Took you long enough to get here, slow poke," Sonic teased as Shadow came to a stop next to him, his quills already bristled and a scowl on his face.

"Some of us have red tape to cut before they can take action, faker," Shadow snarked back, folding his arms over his chest as Sonic snorted a laugh at him.

"That's your own fault for working for G.U.N," Sonic said with a shrug.

"I don't have time to have such a childish argument with you again," Shadow grunted, taking off without a backward glance. He took down a badnik with, perhaps, a bit more force than strictly necessary as he went, which caused Sonic to laugh.

"Ah, Shadow, So easy to rile up," Sonic muttered to himself, before following in his self proclaimed rivals wake.

The battle went on as such for longer than Sonic would have liked, but with Shadow and his friends helping to beat back Eggman's forces, it was obvious that the tide of battle was quickly shifting and coming to an end. Unfortunately, that was usually when Robotnik lashed out in one last, desperate attempt to flip the fight back in his favor. Sonic knew this, it was how all their battles tended to go. He should have been paying better attention. He should have been looking in the other direction. He should have heard Tails shout. There were so many things, looking back, that Sonic truly wished he'd done to change the way the last moments of their skirmish had played out.

He'd been grinning at Amy as she smashed her hammer into a badnik, taking a brief moment to catch his breath, figuring his friends could handle themselves and the last few bots scattered around. His ear had twitched in Tails' direction as he caught his brother yelling something, but he didn't turn to see what it was as his attention was caught by the sudden look of horror on Amy's face. He opened his mouth to ask her what was wrong, only to grunt as something slammed into his side, sending him flying from his perch atop a downed badnik and into the dirt. Finally, he turned his head to shout at whoever had pushed him, only to be met with a sight that would be burned into his mind eye, seeing it in vivid detail every time he closed his eyes for quite some time.

Shadow stood where Sonic once was, eyes wide as he stared down at the blue hedgehog. A choking little wheeze escaped his lips as time seemed to freeze as Sonic's mind caught up to what he was seeing. The metallic glint of silver was protruding from Shadow's chest where it ought not be, and thick rivulets of blood were oozing from the spot where the blade met Shadows fur. A stunned look of surprise was on Shadow's face, as if he couldn't quite fathom what had just happened.

As quickly as it occurred the moment was suddenly over, as Shadow was jerked backwards through the air, the blade sticking out of his chest attached to a chain that was being retracted by the robot wielding it. A scream that would haunt Sonic in his sleep ripped through the air as Shadow collided with the robot holding the blade, the impact inevitably driving it deeper through his chest.

By the time Sonic had shaken himself from his stupor and scrambled back up onto his feet, Robotnik had fled, Knuckles had crushed the robot that had skewered Shadow, and Rouge was gently lowering the hybrid to the ground with the blade very much still protruding from his chest.

Sonic rushed to Shadow and Rouge once he'd spotted them, Tails and Amy quick to follow, as both had witnessed what had happened. He skidded to his knees next to his fallen friend, Shadow hiccupping little breaths of air, foamy bubbles of blood trickling from his lips with each labored half-breath he managed.

"Take the blade out," Sonic said in a panic, reaching for the tip of the blade, only to flinch back as Rouge slapped his hand away.

"You want to watch him bleed out right here!?" she snapped, holding Shadow protectively close while being mindful of the blade. "It's got to stay put until we can get him to a doctor."

"Shouldn't his restorative powers keep that from happening?" Tails asked, fidgeting next to Sonic. "We've seen him heal from similar wounds."

"None that were straight through like this," Rouge grumbled, her ears perking up as she noticed Omega finally making his way across the battlefield towards them. "This is bigger and deeper than anything I've seen him deal with, and I am not gonna risk losing him just so Blue doesn't have a melt down."

When Omega halted next to the little group, Rouge had Knuckles help to settle the injured hybrid in the robots arms so he could be carried back to, assumedly, G.U.N headquarters. "We'll get you all fixed up, sugar, don't you fret," Rouge quietly assured Shadow, who looked dazed as he continued to struggle with getting air into his lungs and they began their trek back towards the city.

Meanwhile, Rouge's words to Sonic rattled around in his head. What did she mean by 'lose him'? Shadow would be fine. He was "ageless", after all. Didn't that mean he was practically immortal?

"I mean…Ageless just means he won't age. I don't think that means he can't die," Tails murmured next to him, Sonic jerked in surprise at his brothers voice. He hadn't meant to say any of that out loud. "He has an amazing capacity for healing, but Rouge had a point. If a wound is bad enough, and he doesn't have medical attention fast enough…well…" Tails trailed off, looking uncomfortable even as he spoke.

"I don't think that was as comforting as you thought it was, Tails," Knuckles snorted, folding his arms over his chest as the fox kit turned to look down at his brother with a wince.

"That's not to say he won't heal! They'll probably get him back to G.U.N in plenty of time, and with some surgery, I'm sure he'll be just fine!" Tails was quick to try and reassure, waving his hands through the air.

Sonic stared after Team Dark, shakily rising to his feet after a beat. "I'm going with them."

"Sonic," Amy sighed, resting a hand on his shoulder, "You know G.U.N doesn't like it when you show up at their headquarters unannounced. Rouge and Omega have Shadow. He'll be okay."

Sonic shrugged off Amy's hand, stepping away from her with a short shake of his head. "He's hurt because I wasn't paying enough attention. I need to make sure he's okay."

Before any of his friends could get another word in edge wise, Sonic took off after Team Dark, skidding to a stop and then trotting along next to Omega. Rouge cast him the briefest of glances, but otherwise didn't say anything as they walked with purpose towards a van that Sonic presumed would take them back to G.U.N. He glanced up at Omega, though the robot gave him no mind, before carefully reaching out to gently take Shadow's hand. The hybrid blinked sluggishly at the contact, tilting his head slightly so he could see the blue hedgehog keeping pace with them.

"Hey," Sonic said, forcing a lopsided smile on his lips, and forcing himself not to notice how the white fluff on Shadow's chest was now a vivid red that almost matched his quills, "Thanks for the save. I'm gonna make sure those goons heal you up, okay?"

A quiet little hitch of breath left Shadow, before he managed to make a low humming sound. Sonic's smile became a little less forced as Shadows fingers squeezed around his own.

~

Irritation and anxiety flowed freely through Sonic as he bounced his leg incessantly where he sat outside the room they'd rushed Shadow into. Predictably, they'd tried to keep Sonic from following Team Dark into G.U.N headquarters, but a quick, waspish remark from Rouge and an easy dodge from Sonic kept the blue blur at Shadow's side. It wasn't until a doctor forced Sonic out of the room with comments about sanitation and distractions that Sonic acquiesced to waiting outside.

Eventually, Rouge had Omega steal a couple of chairs from somewhere and the two sat in silence outside the room, Rouge with a book she'd produced from Chaos only knew where, and Sonic anxiously winding himself up.

The thought had never even occurred to him before that Shadow could get hurt enough to die. He'd seen the hybrid get stabbed six ways to Sunday, get beaten unconscious, hell, even falling to earth from orbit hadn't killed him! But now, the very real possibility of losing Shadow was gripping his heart in a way he never thought it would. The very idea that he could be facing a future without dragging the hybrid out of his apartment to race, or watching him zip into battle with a snarky comment shot in his direction was surprisingly paralyzing.

Finally, after what Sonic presumed was hours, as no clocks were to be seen in the hallway they sat in, a doctor exited the room. Sonic shot up from his chair as the door opened, his heart seizing in his chest at the sheer amount of blood on the doctors smock.

"He's stable," the doctor stated bluntly after staring Sonic down for a solid minute, before sauntering off down the hall like they hadn't nearly given the blue hedgehog a heart attack.

He didn't even given Rouge a glance as he rushed through the open door, halting at Shadow's bed side, his hands fluttering uselessly through the air over the hybrid's prone form. He had thought, for a moment, that Shadow was asleep, but was shortly met with a quite groan and red eyes peering up at him in mild irritation at his anxious movements. He did his best to ignore the bandages wrapped around Shadows chest and the seeping red stain slowly tinting them.

"Shadow!" Sonic breathed, "You're awake?"

"Mmm," the hybrid grunted, offering Rouge a small nod as she and Omega made their way into the room, "Can't use anesthesia on me. Metabolism is too fast."

Rouge offered Shadow a glass of water, which the hybrid took with a grateful little hum. As he drank he quirked a curious eyebrow at Sonic, who was simply staring at him with a dumbfounded little expression on his face.

"So you were awake for all that?"

Shadow simply nodded, handing the glass back to Rouge once he was finished.

"How did you not make any noise when they pulled the blade out?" Sonic blurted rather tactlessly, earning a glare from Rouge and a restrained snort of laughter from Shadow.

"I did," he said with a shrug, Rouge sighing next to him with a shake of her head, "All of the rooms in here are sound proof, though."

"Don't give me that look, Blue. You would've blown the door off its hinges if you'd heard him scream," Rouge said rolling her eyes at Sonic's affronted look. "Anyway, sugar, I have a feeling Blue wants to talk with you in private, so I'm gonna go do our paperwork. I'm glad you're okay." She leaned over and pressed a short kiss to Shadow's forehead, earning a disgruntled groan from Shadow.

"You? Doing paperwork? I must have died. There's no way you'd voluntarily do it otherwise," Shadow sniped, earning a light laugh from Rouge.

"I never said it was a free service," Rouge chuckled, blowing Shadow a kiss as she and Omega left the room.

Silence reigned for a beat after Rouge shut the door behind them, before Sonic let out a low whistle.

"So," he started, rocking back and forth on his heels, "You almost died saving me. What's that all about?"

Shadow slowly arched an eyebrow at Sonic, frown prominent on his muzzle. "..Tactful."

"I…Sorry, yeah. That was't-" Sonic cut himself off with a groan, dragging his hands down over his face. "Thank you. For saving me. I…You saved my life."

Shadow simply hummed, offering Sonic a slow nod. "Don't get used to it."

"I don't plan on making it a habit to put myself into that sort of situation."

"Liar."

"…Okay, you got me there," Sonic snorted, dragging a hand absently through his quills. "But…no, look, I…You scared me," he admitted quietly, "It honestly didn't even occur to me until today that you could get so severely hurt. What made you do it?"

Shadow sat silently for a moment, observing Sonic, before he finally shrugged, wincing slightly at the movement. "I moved before my mind could catch up with what I was doing."

"Ah," Sonic nodded, a sardonic little smile on his face, "Hero instincts finally kicked in, huh?"

Shadow frowned, grunting quietly as he shoved himself into somewhat of a sitting position, Sonics hands instinctively fluttering around him once again, obviously unsure as to what he could or should do. "Not hero instinct," Shadow sighed once he was settled back into his pillows, "I didn't want to see you get hurt."

"…You roundhouse kick me almost every time you see me."

"You know exactly what I mean. Don't be difficult."

Sonic let out an almost hysterical little giggle, moving to sit on the edge of the bed with a shake of his head. "I really don't think I do."

Shadow heaved a deep, but obviously difficult sigh, shutting his eyes as he tipped his head back into his pillows. He was silent for a moment, before opening his eyes and directing an intent stare at Sonic. "I've lost people who were important to me. It was an experience I am not eager to repeat."

"…I'm important to you?"

Shadow grunted, rolling his eyes at the slow grin spreading on Sonic's face. "Yes."

"Awww, Shadow!" Sonic cooed, placing his hands over his chest while fluttering his eye lashes at the other.

"Mmm, thank you for trivializing this," Shadow sighed, folding his arms over his chest with a barely perceptible wince.

"Wh-no! That's not what I-guh," Sonic grumbled, rubbing his hands over his face in frustration at himself, "I'm not trying to trivialize it." He fidgeted for a moment, his ears pinning back at the unimpressed stare down he was getting from the hybrid. "…You're important to me, too, Shadow," he finally said after a beat, letting his hands drop into his lap. "For a bit, there, I thought…I thought you were going to die. I thought one stupid mistake on my part was going to mean that I never got to see you again, and I…That's not something I want to think about again."

"Then stop doing stupid things when dealing with Robotnik," Shadow snarked, earning a light laugh from Sonic.

"No promises, but I'll do my best," Sonic hummed, offering his hand to Shadow, who looked momentarily startled by the action. Slowly he unfolded his arms and placed his hand into Sonic's, curling his fingers loosely around the other's palm.

"I'll hold you to that."

"Wouldn't expect anything less."

[pastafossa]

Right ok many things have happened in a short amount of time which is where I've been, and most of it is GOOD for once, which is wild when I'm still feeling out of it after being beaten by the Emotional Trauma bat for a few months and I think my body + brain has just kinda short-circuited.

I've been offered a booth spot for my wood carvings at a local witchy market event in April, and I've said yes! If this goes well, it will seriously help my bills and really start getting my name out beyond my normal sellers online. This is huge. I've never done an event before, and my anxiety's through the roof, but mom's agreed to help man the table so that makes me feel a bit better. This is an artsy city and there's tons of tourist traffic in Summer, so establishing myself to the point where I can get into their view would be amazing (tourism is where my teacher sells 75% of his carvings and makes a living).

Additionally, I am now in talks to do a brief, 10-20 minute class on wood this summer at another witchy event run by the same group. If there's enough interest, I might be able to run regular classes (which means more $ as a bonus). This has sort of always been one of my end goals with carving - it's a dying artform, and I LOVE teaching and showing people how easy it is to get into! This is also what my own carving teacher always told me he thought I'd wind up doing eventually: essentially taking his place and continuing to teach others like he taught me.

A couple folks in the community who are published have said they think if I wrote a guide on the various carving woods, their associations, and how to work with them, it would sell, and they're happy to help me. It wouldn't have to be long and it wouldn't be too hard, since most of it is stuff I already have written down for my own notes, but I'm also wondering if this isn't a good way to dip my toe into publishing and see how it goes, especially since I want to publish an AU of TRT one day when it's done. It's not the door into the publishing world I expected to open, but damned if I'm not inclined to take advantage.

I have no idea what to expect going forward. I'm still having some issues after what I went through, but damn, even I can feel this this is a potential path ahead that might do a lot for me.

Anyway, I've got some stuff I've started writing, the promised little one shots, that I'll do before slowly transitioning back into TRT. Ironically, I've used the time to go back over my outline and streamline a few arcs, and had some epiphanies that I think will improve the plot even further. So that was nice, and I think when TRT starts back up, you're going to love what's coming!

Lastly, to the person who dropped that cash into my ko-fi: thank you. You have no idea how much that's helped.

[wolvieshairypussy]

okay I'm dipping my toes in x men comics for the first time and read THIS series (Astonishing X-men: Xenogenesis) because I saw emo wolverine on the cover and my GOD was it so awful 😭

when it comes to comics. the first thing that attracts my interest is the cover art. naturally so because comics are visual arts and story telling. and my brain is so confused because on one hand, there's moments where I see the charm in some drawings, and other times where I HATE IT.

The proportions are CRAZZYY, especially with Emma. She's not my favourite, but any of the characters hardly are in this, I already like all of them in the movies, but in the comics it's another story obviously.

The theme of the story is quite sensitive and can very well fall into the territory of racism. there are points made by other characters about the state of African nations and how the world doesn't care about them. You know, colonialism and shit. We see this happen everyday in the news, people are dying in the Congo and nobody gives a shit because they're black people.

Logan is a little annoying, he should KNOW better than grumble "African leaders..." GIRL WDYYMM!!! The man is saying how HE needs to eleminate threats so his people don't get harmed, not matter how ugly it is and that he's not relying on the x-men 100% because they could and WILL leave if something bad happens in the US. And who will help his people then??? It's pretty bleak.

Also, the artist must've smoked something while making the covers because why in the world is Emma drawn so sexually in a story where the whole thing is to save babies???

And don't get me started on these panels, they're so awful.

Listen, I love seeing women and men in cute cunty little outfits. but TIME AND PLACE!!! TIME AND PLACE!!!! Emma was dressed like she was going to the CLUB and not in a MISSION where they had to save villagers from EXPLODING BABIES?!?!?!?

And you're telling ME, Scott Summers allowed her to tag along in her little outfit because they fucked and she has special privileges??? I am literally so embarrassed right now for him. In my head, with the information I got from the movies, that man has standards when in comes to the x-men and he'll make EVERYONE dress in the appropriate uniform. they're going on a HUMANITARIAN MISSION OMD!!!!!

It's so wrong and insensitive on so many levels.

[tfdtreasurer]

This is a part 2 to this ask.

Erigam

Now we're getting to the real rarepairs. Erigam. My initial judgement is: mmmmmmmm it's pretty alright. I don't think it's anything to super write home about, but I can see how they make a funny pair. I admit to a lack of ideas for their dynamic mainly stemming from the fact that I don't feel I know too much about Gamzee as a character. Normally if I'm not that much a fan of a character to go to such depths of analysis I'll do with Eridan, I'll delegate to other people's interpretation. The problem with that for Gamzee is that people are super divided on him. Even those that are more charitable to him, which I tend to lean to because my overall interpretation of Homestuck, tend to be divided in their interpretation. So, I guess I'm on my own on this one.

The Dynamic

To start: Gamzee's character, in my view. My general sense about him is that as a result of parental neglect, he was taken in by the subjugglator ideology, which triply represents a gang environment, esoteric spiritual cult, and at the same time, mainstream evangelical religion. So, you kinda know he's gonna come out of it severely fucked up. I'm not like psychiatrist or anything but I also wouldn't rule out some weird psychopathology going on as a result of it. I tend to lean that way though because how faygo and sopor allude to alcohol and drugs respectively, and thus it seems to imply that through his substance abuse, Gamzee was self medicating for the more dangerous parts of his personality. But two very fucked up things canceling each other out isn't a very stable situation. As I will always say, Doc Scratch is the manipulative, abusive guardian of the trolls, and like how Vriska was manipulated directly by using her ego, and Eridan manipulated by her trust in history, Gamzee's constant associations with puppets are not just for kicks, and he's been very deliberately wound up like a spring, to be unleashed when the moment is right. If you trust my analysis about Eridan's villainous turn, that it's like film (jack) noir, Gamzee's is like a jack (noir) in the box. So, we can start to see how they make a decent duo symbolically and as villains.

There's also the question of what to consider when analyzing: red or black? Well, god gave us quadrant vacillation for a reason, so why not dip our toes in both.

As a dynamic, I can certainly see where caliginous feelings arise. This is reaching back into some of my primeval analysis of Eridan, shit back from when I was a kid and was first reading homestuck, back to my first reasons liking her: Like how a lot of the trolls are meant to represent kinds of online archetypes, I saw Eridan as representing the archetype of militant atheist. Constantly insistent on the fakeness of magic, including Gamzee's belief in miracles, makes it pretty clear how they would come to disagree and potentially despise each other. True believer v non believer. Faithful v faithless. To put into more Homestuck terms: Gamzee is pure prospit, optimistic, credulous, oriented in favor of creation; Eridan is pure derse, cynical, skeptical, oriented against creation. Creationist, anti creationist. Like, you can get it, there's only so many ways to put it I guess, but all of it works as an excuse for the kismesissitude angle.

Villain Duo

Normally, I like analyzing Homestuck with the idea that it did not originally intend to end so cynically, with so many dead children, and many of our protagonists being under-developed as characters. I also tend to choose murderstuck as the point of divergence from canon, as it allows the big trio of Vriska, Gamzee, and Eridan to perform the moral wrongs that are vital to their characters, while also being the narrative spot to prevent everybody else dying, and setting up both the time and space for everybody to develop positively under Karkat's leadership, which is a defining part of how things could've turned out for the better. For this post though, I'm not gonna make it all sunshine and rainbows, because I think for the most fun with Erigam is less immediately about their redemption from their villainous roles in canon, and much more their blundering cartoon villainy together as a pair.

While Eridan's run as villain was a lot more short lived, but they're both notable for being the two only "true" villainous troll kids, left unredeemed and unforgiven by the narrative by the end. Eridan, at least in my biased opinion, works well as a villain. She's capable of the same menace as Jack Noir, but unlike him, is more talkative, when dialogue is Homestuck's strength. So, for this hypothetical, we're just gonna extend Eridan's lease in the narrative, and let her be another long term villain. It's a good thing to do, because one of Gamzee's weaknesses as a villain is the relative obscurity of his "why." He's a puppet doing things for the forces that use him, but at the least, it'd be nice to know his opinion on the whole thing. Having a character that is a villain alongside him, and especially one that will endlessly argue with him, gives the narrative plenty of space to flesh out his motivation and exposit important information for the audience. For how they bounce of off each other, it's good that they're both vulgar. It's good that they're able to at least promote their own supremacy over each other's castes. Imma be real though, it's bad that they're both purple. Gamzee is a headache enough to read at times. Idk, let Eridan lose her fuckin shit for real this time, go truly off the deep end, grimnoir mode, for no other reason than to make her text black.

As I discussed in their dynamic, these two are very nearly diametrically opposed in motivation, which makes their kismesissitude obvious, but why they would team up as villains together not so much. It's simple: cahoots. Like her relationship with Vriska, Eridan's reason to work with her kismesis is an alliance of convenience. You can have a lot of fun with two villains that work together but not to the same ends. It provides a lot of interesting push and pull, and for the sake of narrative, ways for heroes to poke holes in their villainous plans. For example, Imagine the scene where one's villainous monologue to whichever of the ensemble protagonists is disrupted by the other, and they erupt into an argument that serves as deus ex machina for the protagonist escaping or making their way to their objective. Imagine the comedic potential of cutting back to them at whatever moment you need. At the same time, imagine the thematic potential of a character with false god tier, and a character who doesn't even believe in the reality of god tier powers.

Til Death Does Them Part

I know what you're asking: Where does the vacillation come in? Well, in this hypothetical, besides it just possibly being interspersed during their villainy, I would say the main thrust of red romance would coincide with whatever potential for redemption that the narrative deems to give them. Because y'know, they're still children, still being manipulated by darker more powerful forces, we can sympathize with them even as they do wrong things. Even then, Gamzee is still comedy and tragedy. And like those Greek plays of old, while a comedy may end in marriage, tragedies typically don't. Oftentimes redemption requires sacrifice, and what is better to embody both the marriage ending of comedy and deadly ending of tragedy than their marriage, or symbol thereof, happening simultaneously as their final act of sacrifice that redeems them? I can certainly imagine a symbol of marriage common in Homestuck, and a character with a free finger for it, and the how the destruction of it would be pretty thorough in destroying the wearer too (I'm suggesting that Gamzee put a ring on Eridan as they fall into a volcano together, if it wasn't obvious).

Maybe you don't have to end it like that. Maybe you want to go deeper with their story and let them be redeemed in life. The switch from amusing antagonist pair to amusing side characters is perfectly fine in terms of having fun with it. Now, is it as poetic as the comic-tragic ending? Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.

Conclusion

Well I started this saying that I can see them as funny and then accidentally analyzed my way into a huge bummer ending. Just couldn't help myself. I'm a English major, I see a character that alludes to sock and buskin masks and immediately start thinking of their bittersweet ending. But the ship does absolutely have narrative potential, and while it maybe depends on a controversial understanding of Gamzee, I will bump it up to "cute" tier.

Remember folks, the ask box is open and free. You too can goad the moron behind the screen into typing... Shit, that's ~1500 words shipping Erigam. c'est la vie. Well you can get me to write this much about your ship of choice is the point. I also do non ship stuff. Whatever random nonsense as long as it's Eridan related.

Next up: wwixards!

[f1-disaster-bi]

I wish you would write a fic where...

I would love to read the one night stand au as a fic especially to see how long it takes max to clock that they have met before. Since he is a smart cookie i don't think it would take him long to figure it out 😂😂😂

And i would also love to read love at first sight au, paparazzi au and obvious au as fics 🤣🤣🤣

Apart from norrix i'm dying to know more about mystery au and the dando roadtrip 🥰🥰🥰

But i love all your stuff (and more pairings than norrix and dando) so whatever you write i will read it ❤️❤️❤️

Sorry for taking so long to get back to this anon!

One night stand au is in the works and you might have seen the snippet I shared. I am trying to get to it, but my brain is not liking longer fics right now so I am writing in short burst!h

Max would almost instantly sense some weirdness but he would not clock why. At least not straight away. He might sense attraction by the end of the night but no way would he pick it up at his birthday party....the next day however.....

Love at first sight and Paparazzi au are in my wips. I have drafted some starts to those, but I haven't dipped my toes into Obvious au yet 👀👀

Mystery au..,I did write some whump for it recently....I got yelled at a bit for it but it was fun! Essentially it's an au where Lando moves to a small coastal village that has a tight knit community. He gets a job in Max's bookstore, and he starts to form a bond with the local bartender, Daniel (originally Michael). However Lando is extremely closed off. He won't talk about his past or why he moved. His house is covered in security measures, and no one knows why. The reason is that Lando is a one of three survivors of a notorious serial killer that keeps evading the police and is trying to lay low so he doesn't find him again....but maybe he does...

Dando roadtrip is my baby that I want to make into a big oneshot or two or three long chaptered fic. It's based around the idea of Lando moving to Perth for his Masters. He wants a fresh start and something new, and he jumps at the chance to take a funded place in Perth. It's there he meets Daniel who introduces him to people that become his friends, and Lando falls for him quickly. However he never says anything and then, when it's possible that Lando is leaving for good now that his degree is complete, Daniel decides they should roadtrip through Australia, and Lando struggles to deal with his feelings while sharing small motel rooms with Daniel.

Hopefully I can start writing big fics again and bring some of these to you!

[unfriendlyamazon]

Pink Cake (Stardew Valley)

and now for something completely different

rating: T

pairing: Haley/Abigail

warnings: WLW Fluff, Hair Dying, Pet Names

summary:

Haley peeked again. The chemical smell of the hair dye wafted up from where Abigail had mixed it, and she wrinkled her nose. “You can’t make me hideous,” she said. “Promise this isn’t a prank.” “Oh, yeah, this is the perfect prank,” Abigail said dryly. “I work my way into the Pink Princess’ good graces for smooching and sleepovers just so I can convince you to try a different hair color. Ha ha ha I am so evil.” Abigail dyes Haley's hair.

That's right I write fanfiction for other fandoms. I'm going to be dipping my toe into some Stardew Valley pairings I find amusing and I thought I'd start with black and pink girlies themselves.

Read It Here on AO3

[nimuetheseawitch]

I don't know anything about TGM but I HAVE TO ask about the fungus hanahaki 👀

Oh my god, I love to talk about this, and although the story is definitely TGM, it came from me thinking about the honestly horrific implications of hanahaki more than TGM. I think the best way to describe this is actually just to copy/paste the convo that inspired this fic:

Nimue — 3/19/2024 2:57 PM You know what would be really cool? Hanahaki but make it horror and fungi Petals covered in blood are very pretty and symbolic, but fungus feels like it could actually take over your lungs and grow throughout your body And mushrooms are kind of like flowers halestrom — 3/19/2024 3:28 PM Oooooo. Something something rot Like. Love isn’t returned so now it’s almost rotting inside of you Nimue — 3/19/2024 3:29 PM Love is a beautiful, wonderful thing, and it grows…. But if it's not returned, it needs to feed on something else, and that's your heart halestrom — 3/19/2024 3:32 PM Oooo I love it It’s already slightly horrifying but this gives it more of a horrifying vibe Nimue — 3/19/2024 3:33 PM It also has possibilities with the phrase "dead man walking" Because fungus is supposed to feed on dead matter, decomposing things So if you start coughing up spores and crushed mushroom caps and bits of mycelium, you're already dead, you just haven't finished dying yet There are ways to survive, but no matter what, parts of your heart have been replaced with fungus It only hops over to the lungs once it's gotten a foothold in your heart If you're lucky and catch it immediately, you might be able to get a surgery to replace the bits of your heart and lungs the fungus has taken over If you're not, you can still stop it in it's tracks and function with the fungus inside of you But most people aren't even that lucky - they're found in their homes, dead or mostly dead and completely taken over by the fungus Everyone who comes in contact with the body is at risk of having the spores take root in their hearts too. It'll only grow with unrequited love, but it's there, waiting Now I want there to be a scientist or doctor who has dedicated their entire career to the disease because they were found as a baby in the arms of a woman who died of it. So definitely already infected, which means less danger in doing the research. And they're determined to never fall in love because if they never love, there'll never be anything for the fungus to grow in. But then they fall in love with a patient, who has obviously already succumbed to unrequited love with someone else. And the "cure" this doctor has developed shuts off the infected's ability to love (because that's a classic hanahaki solution), which means the doctor's love can never be returned

I am now a little obsessed with the idea of a universe where hanahaki is a fungal disease, and maybe romance stories and fairy tales made it into something beautiful and tragic instead of horrific, but the reality is awful. I'm also fascinated by the implications of aromanticism in a world where not loving someone back could mean they die. Hanahaki is so much more interesting to me as a horror concept. And dipping my toes into writing horror has been very fun.

[secondbeatsongs]

is ff.n finally dying? god. that was my first intro to fanfiction and oh boy the fandom i was in was a terrible/idk dead ig? community. tbf i didn't write pairings so (still have this problem) my stuff just gets filtered out bc there's no slash and people don't read it, maybe that's why i never spoke to anyone. Still, I read and wrote so much transformers angst way after the movies were out of immediate popularity and got very little interaction. years later dipped my toes into pokémon and immediately got someone yelling at me about the capitalization of species names.

On AO3 now writing & just as brutal angsty shit and it's much better there! but ya know. weird feeling thinking FF is gonna be like Gone gone.

I have no idea if it's actually going to go down, but I do not like the domain issues they've been having, so I'm backing up anything I can think to, juuuust in case :/

but also! I'm a bit upset right now, because I've been using the FanFictionDownloader to archive stuff, but looking at my files just now, chapters are missing? which means that any multi-chapter fics are probably ruined, meaning I have to go back and re-download a large amount of the 573 fics I downloaded yesterday. T_T

I tried fichub and it seemed to download fine, but I am still Upset about having to redo this much work