#gotta remember that I am writing for myself and not just to create content out of obligation

[running2reanimation]

Wonder

What if…

King tried not to get lost in imagination, in the what could haves and what should haves. It usually only hurt, but today he was alone. With Purple gone and nothing to distract him…

Imagine if the machine had worked and Gold had just walked out of the game after his allotted time. King imagined that he would have chattered about the game the entire train ride home. King wouldn’t quite understand his son’s enthusiasm but he would nod along as his son explained mechanics that he knew all too well now.

King doubted that would be the last he heard of Minecraft. His son never did anything in half-measures. Would he have turned to criminal activities just to get a chance to play again? …Probably.

Maybe there was a secret group of underground teens who had a portal much like he did now, that seemed believable.

Gold probably would drag Aqua with him, since they did everything together. Hard to say if Aqua would like Minecraft though, maybe the building aspect. King could see her building a farm.

Would Gold and Purple meet? Now there was a thought. King doubted they would get along, Purple probably would find Gold grating. Especially Purple as he was when they’d met.

Or Purple would have tricked Gold into doing something dangerous for Purple’s personal gain…

Gold would die in Minecraft all the time, but that would be okay because he’d just respawn in a bed.

Would Gold bring him into Minecraft? King doubted it. To never have set foot in the game… was a strange thought that filled him with emotions he still didn’t want to look at closely.

Gold probably would have spent that summer obsessed with the game, then gone off to college in the city. Gold had never been sure what he wanted to pursue and honestly King figured his son would become a stay-at-home dad.

King might even be a grandfather by now, though maybe not; Aqua would still be in veterinary school. He could picture the greenish baby stick, though and his son’s tears the first time he got to hold them… so like King’s own, though hopefully Gold’s tears would be pure joy and not half sorrow like his…

But… what was the point of imagining all this?

None of it was real. It hurt to do it. Made his chest ache in longing for a reality that could never be.

He was in his house alone. Sitting in the dark. He should probably go to bed, but the thoughts and feelings wouldn’t make that easy.

King pulled out his phone and checked the time before send a text to Purple anyway, “Are you up?”

Purple’s reply took just long enough that King thought maybe Purple had gone to bed, “Ye just finished the movie. Was about to head back.”

“I thought you were going to stay over there?”

“If you think we’re bad at sleeping, they are way worse. Except for orange, he fell asleep during the movie. I want sleep so I’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon.”

Maybe this wasn’t all he’d dreamed of. But, that didn’t mean it wasn’t still good. That he didn’t have things to look forward to here. That there wasn’t still hope. That he wasn’t still grateful what he did have now.

Purple was going to get one hell of a hug when he got home.

[cartoon-buffoon]

Despite taking a hiatus from writing I decided to cobble up something together from an AU idea for Epic Mickey because I COULDN'T GET THIS STUPID IDEA OUT OF MY HEAD! Because of my hiatus I'm posting this here rather than on my AO3 in order to just catalog this AU and it's premise in some way. Note that I still have yet to play the game and I really could sit down and play it now although I refuse too and I'm waiting for the remaster to come out. Be warned this is like 3,662 words, comes from an awful writer, and more than anything this is just an excuse for me to insert my favorite murderous rubberhose characters into a world and have them interact with my favorite normal rubberhose characters.

Repeating myself this time in bold letters: This is a fanfiction with 3,662 words that I'm posting here because why the fuck not. I have not played Epic Mickey yet this is an AU idea that takes place in that world. This features Oswald as well as the horror characters Bendy/The Ink Demon, Skitzo the 1920s Killer Bear, and the Cartoon Cat and Dog. As such these are MY takes on this character where they serve a role in this AU. Excuse the cringe and if you wanna spare yourself do not click, I am a bad writer and I never claim myself to be good. Also I basically copied and pasted this from my notes so there probably IS mistakes.

(also adding this but uhh I don't think this story needs any MAJOR content warnings but ya know this story is called "Blood and Ink" so expect blood and some stuff relating to it. Overall this entire thing is rated like T for teen. Oh and one last CW warning: cringe)

Blood and Ink

Oswald looked at the map the Sorcerer gave him, this was the right place yet he felt unsure about all of this. The area he found himself in wasn't known to anyone in wasteland but him, even then he never had been here. He never had any reason to be here until now. Wasteland was meant to be a savior from oblivion, a place that the forgotten would thrive and live, sadly some couldn't be spared. Even wasteland was home to a place where the forgotten truly came to die, a select few not even Yen Sid could save. As such he created a place for them, a place that served as a memorial to those who didn't even get a second chance.

The graveyard

That's where Oswald found himself, walking amidst the area where the dead came to dance and spirits of cartoons of long past lingered. The worst part? All the names and portraits on the graves he recognized. Each and every name littered on a gravestone was some toon he remembered yet seemingly no one else did. The lack of recollection made it so that this entire place was a reminder of the fate that had befallen them.

"No! I already went through the trouble of getting this!" Remarked Oswald while holding the magic brush he "borrowed" close like a weapon "I can't let it get to me now.... I gotta do this" stuffing the map down into his shorts he pressed on "if not for me, then for wasteland and everyone in it!"

Despite his own courageous words he was scared to death by the surrounding—well—death. It seemed like the faces on the tombstones followed him, the eyes of the fallen eyeing one of their brethren that was still breathing. Gravel and dirt made an uncomfortable noise scraping against the bottom of his paws, it was even more uncomfortable of a feeling. Despite the sensation he wasn't going to be deterred by pain, after all there was something much more frightening to worry about where he was at. Oswald knew the graveyard wasn't just a memorial, it's other purpose was the exact reason why he was here. The graveyard served as a prison for things that even Yen Sid had no control over.

The words of the Sorcerer echoed in the rabbit's mind, the warning he was given frightening him of what's to come: "some toons—nay—abominations do not deserve remembrance. There are some which are made of neither paint nor thinner which have no reason to exist, creatures not made to bring joy but to corrupt and feed on the joy that others bring. Toons, if you can even call them that, which are made of ink and blood. Like parasites you can't merely get rid of these accursed amalgams as well, like leeches they latch onto whatever comes their way, likewise they dwell in the world I created for you and so many others. Locked away in an area you know about yet never ventured into they await for whoever wishes to disturb them and open a gateway to their calamity" The look Yen Sid gave him was impossible to forget, Oswald saw fear in the Sorcerer's eyes as the last bit of the warning came out "I cannot save you nor wasteland if you call upon their aid as I'm bound to not interfere in your affairs, but I cannot bar you from this information either. It is your choice Oswald, I urge you to make haste and choose the fate of everyone, else your choice will be made for you by the powers at play"

It still gave him the chills, those words telling him how exactly dire everything was. Oswald pressed on however, hoping to get his mind off things he glanced at a grave trying to recall whatever poor soul was gone completely. There on the stone read the name of a long since gone toon by the name of “Krazy”. Curiously the grave was half-broken, chipped on one side via some vandalism caused by a brick. Upon closer inspection Oswald found the brick also had a name on it, “Ignatz” it read.

Oswald recalled the pair, one adoring the other and being met with a brick to the head. Despite the abuse they cared for each other, Ignatz and his violent ways was a sign of love, at least that's how Krazy interpreted it. The two toon's graves stabbed Oswald in the heart he was lacking, the knowledge that toons who had families, wants, dreams, all of which he also had were suddenly erased and left here pained him. This pain was just another motivator, he didn't want his friends or his family sharing the same fate, he didn't want wasteland to just be one giant graveyard where everyone was just words and pictures on stones. That mouse had forgotten and abandoned them despite everything they had been through, it was Oswald who had to be the hero now. Shaking off the emotional hurt Oswald stopped in front of a large stone mausoleum. The door was solid rock, the entire thing being rendered inert by the Sorcerer himself to prevent things from getting in. Well, it would be more exact to say he wanted to make sure nothing got out.

Oswald took a breath and pointed the paint brush at the two grey doors, ready to open it "alright magic brush, do your thing!" After a second or two nothing came out, the rabbit looked down with a frown "oh you gotta be kidding me, get on with it already!"

Slapping the hilt as if it were a toy that was running out of batteries, Oswald activated it's powers. Calling upon the magic that jostled through the enchanted item a torrent of blue paint came spilling out of the tip and onto the stone returning it to marble. After a few seconds the paint brush stopped, the last bits of paint fully giving life to the mausoleum, Oswald was unsure how exactly how to use it yet since he got to wasteland he had been testing it out. One could suppose it was just luck that he had figured out how to fire paint, how to use thinner was another story completely and he was unsure on how to call upon that power yet that didn't matter. What mattered right now was finding these things that could help him.

Trying to push the door open came with its own unique challenge, Oswald found his small statue made it hard to push solid marble. That wasn't going to get him down or stop him, instead he took a few steps back, holstered the paint brush via having his ears hold it, and puffed out his chest. With one quick charge the rabbit used all that strength he had earned by keeping the blot bottled long ago to open the door to something far, far worse. The heavy doors scraped at the ground and parted, Oswald's momentum carried him forward into the mausoleum sending him tumbling down some stairs deep into a crypt.

"AH!" He yelped whilst falling. Luckily for him he landed on his paws, well at least his paws landed first and all of his distached limbs slowly landed on top of each other after. Piece by piece Oswald was reassembled by gravity until he was standing there fine. "Phew!" He huffed "now where is-" his eyes landed on the brush next to him "there you are, let's get going"

Grabbing the brush the rabbit walked through the darkness and shadows with less fear than he had coming in. After all he had to save his world from whatever was happening to it. If the Sorcerer couldn't save it maybe these mysterious toons locked away could, rumors said they held creation powers similar in nature. These rumors weren't as kind to these toons as they were to the Sorcerer however, while Yen Sid was treated as some sort of guardian angel these creatures were treated like Boogeymen. Evil monochromatic beings that would snatch up a victim in the dead of night and gobble them up, at least that's what so many seemed to believe. Through a certain doctor's help Oswald had found out something different, bits and fragments of who or what they were got teleported into wasteland, posters for their cartoons, burnt film reels, and pens that their animators drew them up with. One such artifact were newspaper clippings detailing the hysteria that these creature's cartoons had brought upon anyone who viewed their cartoons. Their cartoons and the effect they had on the watchers were the exact reason why they were locked up. The things the audience did to themselves, what they did to each other, it was awful, the description of the people maiming one and another reminded Oswald of who exactly he was calling upon. He was asking for help from the downright evil.

That didn't matter still, instead of focusing on how horrific these things could be he descended into the crypt further until the door behind him slammed shut. Oswald's ears shot up and became detached by the startling slam, he didn't turn around though, he just had to keep going. Oswald kept walking until he finally reached the end of a long passageway which opened up into a large cavern. In the cavern at the very back were four projector screens that were powered off, just sitting there dormant and ready. It was pitch black and he couldn't make sense of whatever was going on behind the projector screen's circuits, besides there was no power in the cave so it's not like they'd be able to turn on anyways. Stumbling around he eventually walked right into the center of the room, this one little action awakening something he should have thought harder before asking for help.

The cavern was slowly covered in a grim red light that painted shadows on the walls, the shadows dancing and writhing while music played from nowhere. Now that he could see Oswald saw unlike the rest of the screens around wasteland these projector screens had no technology or mechanical parts behind them, they were just blank screens with red and black splotches on them. Wasteland itself seemed to sense this sinister presence, tints and turps came rising from the ground and flew at the projector screens to keep whatever was coming at bay. Once the spirits made contact the blue and green creatures suddenly stopped, the little wisps jittered around uncontrollably and Oswald watched as their color faded and were replaced with a crimson and black respectively. The newly made corrupted spirits circled the rabbit and crashed down at his feet, splatting red and black against the ground around him.

"What the?–ow!" Oswald grunted when some of the liquid hit his paw, it stung like hell although it didn't melt him like thinner would of "ah! Son of a Lady!"

All the corrupted guardians slammed into the ground and began creating a black and red insignia, Oswald quickly hopped away from it else he would be stung more. The insignia that grew was a giant star and it seemed to warp and shift once it became full, it wasn't some painting placed on the floor, it was like a living thing. The red light cast on the area began to fade making way for a very dim yellowish light, the rabbit was shrouded in darkness once more. The darkness uneased him, it felt as if there was something else there in it with him, waiting for him to move. Oswald's attention turned from the shadows to one of the projector screens which had some sort of spotlight cast onto it suddenly.

"huh?"

A voice unfamiliar to Oswald came from the darkness, it's voice broken and staticy. It was as if whoever was speaking was trying to mimic some announcer and with it came an entire orchestra. The mysterious music played and echoed off the walls, drums getting beat played while the star on the ground slithered over to the projectors.

"Ladies and gents, toons, tints, turps, blots and whatever-ya-call-it's, put your hands and paws together for the quartet EVERYONE'S screaming about!"

The projectors one by one tore and ripped apart, black and red oozed from the destroyed screens creating puddles on the ground which began to morph into shapes. Skeletal structures were formed from the blood and ink, the rising creatures soon growing flesh and cloth that covered their bones. Oswald gagged at the sight of the creatures slowly forming one by one. The first fully manifested and looked like a demented parody of a cartoon, it had small round ears and a short tail like a bear, a pronounced snout, two wide eyes that emitted a red glow, and it's proportions were odd, it had long limbs with an elongated torso only to end in a plump belly half covered by grey shorts. The most disturbing part was the blank grin with no emotion behind it, it's sinister smile contrasted with it's rather goofy appearance and haircut. The second creature grew out of a pillar of ink, its horns and teeth formed although it's face was obscured by black that dripped off its entire visage. Once it was fully created it stood hunched over on hoofed feet, spikes bristled up along its spine as it looked over to see the final two manifest. The final two creatures lashed at each other before even forming, inky claws grew from two puddles and clawed at the other until they stopped momentarily and sprouted out in the form of a lanky malnourished feline and canine. Both of them had bloody gums with large teeth and glowing eyes, seeing all this Oswald froze in place like a deer in headlights at the things awakening before him.

"Oh this is gonna be so FUN!" The grotesque toon feline exclaimed, its face morphing and stretching until it finally landed on an appearance that looked somewhat friendly, it stretched it's body over to Oswald quickly addressing him "hold on a minute will you pal? We gotta gather our bearings" the creatures head snapped around 180° to look at the bear who was scanning the room with his eyes which were white, it was as if trying to find something "speaking about bearings, Skitzo you find that runt yet?"

The bear—Skitzo as the cat called him, shook his head and let out a growl.

"Aww that's too bad, he'll turn up eventually, he always does, after all we can't kill him"

"Let the kid go, he don't do anything tos ya, Skitzo" the dog remarked.

In response Skitzo looked at the canine irked, the bear's eye twitched before both large white pupils of his turned red. The bear reached into his shorts and pulled out a jagged knife, a static noise filled the air as Skitzo spoke yet no words left his mouth.

The dog grew in size, now towering over the others he was summoned with at alert of the static noise “Oh yous looking for a fight already? Well buster step right up to the plate and you'll get what's coming to ya”

The two stared down at each other, seeing them get ready to fight the cat pulled out a frying pan and rolling pin and clobbered both over the head. The two immediately stopped their fighting, Skitzo’s eyes going white and the dog having a halo of stars spin around his head. The cat rolled his eyes and snapped back, his body and head fixing themselves while he addressed them

“alright, alright, you two cut it out, as much as I would love to see your ugly mug get ripped apart by Skitzo, now's not the time and you can brawl later” the cat looked around, trying to find the fourth member of his group "Inky, what're you do—oh! I see you're already back to ya old tricks"

Oswald was surprised to find while he was staring at the three titans in front of him the one a devil had changed shape, it now looked smaller in size, much smaller in fact. It was almost his own height now, it even looked more friendly sporting a wide grin with piecut eyes looking like a genuine toon. Skitzo scooped up the small creature up and placed him on his shoulder, the little devil quick to hop and and dangle his feet off the edge as he sat.

"Okay, nows that wes got that taken of, howzabout we do something about our viewer?”

The dog pointed to Oswald who had just idled by and watched everything unfold. A lump of spit built up in Ozzie's throat, with a comedically loud and audible "gulp" he swallowed it and spoke up.

"I'm-"

Before he could get another word out the cat had lunged forward and snatched Oswald up. The cat's face morphed back into a monstrous look with bloody gums and eerie shaking slit pupils.

"Oh we know who you are, ain't that right fellas!?"

All the creatures nodded in agreement. The small little devil melted into a puddle of ink on Skitzo's shoulder and slowly regrew back into the form of Oswald, albeit looking slightly different. It looked like a version of Oswald that was a bit more human in design, the rabbit remembered the style he had during that time yet it was still a surprise to see it again. In its copy state the devil began to dance around and sing a familiar song that struck a chord with the rabbit and brought back memories of when he had popularity. What scared Oswald was how the little devil perfectly copied his way of speaking back then right down to the very tone and annunciation.

"Lucky rabbit! That lucky Oswald rabbit! Nicest rabbit that you ever knew!"

The toons snickered, the cat quick to speak up again after his friend reverted shape "we've seen and heard all that you've done up until now, we don't really care about any of you toons yet what got our eyes is the fact that you went off the grid for a bit, you somehow when somewhere in this hell where we couldn't see or hear you and that caught our interest"

"Yous disappeared, showed back up holding that brush and suddenly comes looking for us? Yeah by that points we knew something fishy was up" the dog added.

"So now that there's no need for introductions, after all it don't matter if ya know our names" the cat's face grew in size, it got snout to snout with Oswald, breathing it's putrid breath that stunk of rotten flesh all over the smaller rabbit "why ARE you here?"

Oswald looked at them all determined, despite being in both the face and grip of danger he held his ground "I need help, wasteland is deteriorating and the sorcerer said you guys have some sorta power that can hopefully keep this place intact awhile longer, at least until a permanent solution can be found"

“Need our help?” The cat tilted its head unnaturally, its neck elongating slightly “that's the funniest thing I've heard in awhile! We don't help in fact, we do the complete opposite!”

Oswald was dropped onto the ground, he quickly picked himself up as well as the brush and kept up his pleas “You don't understand! It's gotten awful here, earthquakes, tsunamis coming from the thinner ocean, some toons are even naturally becoming inert! We don't even know what's causing it and I'm on my last paw” Oswald lowered his voice, feeling it not wise to come off aggressive in this deal he was trying to make “I don't want wasteland to be destroyed...”

The cat pulled out a giant magnifying glass in order to look at Oswald, the cat’s smirk grew wider seeing his desperation “heh, looks like you're in quite the pickle, can't say you're very smart for calling on us of all things though” the cat pulled out a cigar and lighter from seemingly nowhere and lit it up, taking a few puffs before putting it out on Skitzo's skin.

Skitzo giggled at the sensation, the cigar didn't go out and just caused more smoke to appear. The bear took the extinguished cigar and offered it to the little devil riding on his shoulder, once the devil declined with a head shake Skitzo just shrugged and swallowed the thing.

“Do ya knows who we even are?” The dog asked, leaning down on all fours to look at Oswald.

“You're toons” Oswald replied “toons who are not very nice..." He trailed off at the recollection of what their cartoons did to whoever watched them.

“Well you're right about one thing, we ain't nice”

“Yeah, that's putting it bluntly!”

“whatcha got dead wrong though is the fact that we're toons, nah we're something far more scary”

All of them seemed to surround Oswald, even the little devil hopped off Skitzo’s shoulder and shifted back into its larger demonic state. Skitzo’s eyes turned red again, the bear brandished his knife and stood ready to bring the massive blade down upon the rabbit. The cat and dog grew in size, the cat now sporting scruffy fur with gloved hands that were also claws, the dog took a form something similar although it's body didn't stay consistent, constantly shifting and changing growing massive or shrinking suddenly. The now large demon made of ink got ready to pounce, resting on its heels it awaited the signal from all the others to maim. All the monstrous toons casted a shadow over Oswald blocking out the magical dim light, despite it all the rabbit stood unwavered. Oswald stared back at them with a scowl and readied the paintbrush in his hands, he was ready for a fight and he expected these things to not be the negotiating type. The monster's smiled seeing their soon to be victim so full of life and confidence, what could a little cartoon rabbit and a brush do to them? After all they weren't even on the same plane as the toons, they took pride in saying exactly what they were to someone who wouldn't be able to hear for much longer.

“We're terrors!”

[shadow-pixelle]

Oh wise Pix of the pool, I have questions for you!

10, 14, 20, 21, 25, and 29!

Have fun!!

(In regards to this post)

Mmmm I dunno about wise but I do have answers for this, so.

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

Hm, this is a hard one, cause a lot of times I don't really have expectations for responses? Or when I do it's usually fairly on the money. I do remember being a bit surprised that A Star-Lined Path got as much interest as it did, given that my tagging on that was... kinda awful, lol.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

Ah fuck me that's a really hard one, nevermind. I mean, A Shadow, an Eon, and a Worm could be fun, given that that's my biggest megafic. My other option is my current biggest WIP, Maskless, because it's got some really nice scene imagery in there and seeing that adapted could be super cool. (One scene in particular...)

20. What’s a favorite title for a fic you’ve written?

cracks open my AO3 works tab ok, I really like Second Sun, if only for the punnage of it all, and same with A Credit To The Order. But I think my absolute favourite is either Tempering Steel (Transformers fic), or Light in a Storm (Star Wars).

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

I am in fact currently in the process of doing that! I have about 10k of Maskless that I need to delete, because I don't like one character interaction that I have in it. Unfortunately, at the time I wasn't too bothered, so I kept writing!

And then I got writer's block, took like a four month break, and came back to it. Looked at the segment, went 'no actually I dislike this immensely', and am now having to delete pretty much that entire 10k because the way I want to rewrite this section also means needing to adjust the course of the entire rest of the conversation to keep it flowing well, so yay that.

(Technically I guess this isn't a scene? It's a big section of a scene to be deleted, it's just that I've then gotta rewrite the rest of the scene and the next chapter probably as well...)

25. Have you ever upset yourself with your own writing?

Oh hells yes. Writing Shattering Point was a nightmare, because I did that one in class and made myself upset, very fun to try and explain. Surprisingly, the one you'd think upset me- Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow- didn't all that much? I think it's cause I wrote it in a speedrun more than anything and got caught up thinking about the reactions more. Like I was sad but it wasn't that bad?

I think if I reread it now though I'd start sobbing.

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

...Hm, ok, this could be fun. Dooooo I have anything like that right now...

(The endless issue of 'if I wrote it with the intent to post it it probably got posted', lol. I have a lot of practice pieces that'll never be posted, but I don't think I've got much actual fic content...?)

Oh! I have an idea! I was, once upon a time, thinking of expanding on Revelations of Monsters, an MCU fic I wrote in the early days of me being on AO3. I never actually figured out how I'd expand it, though, so while I did write a scene for a potential sequel/expansion piece, I'll likely never use it. Soooo here have some of that I guess.

Even for Ultron. (Not the monster she’d created, no. But for the AI that would have been ULTRON, if not for her interference. ULTRON would have been different, would have grown up with a family of AI siblings and a father who adored his creations so brightly it burned, would have been taught love and compassion and to protect… Wanda had murdered that child before they could even be born, using her powers and the Sceptre, and created a monster in their place, and she wasn’t sure if there was enough grief and regret in all the worlds to atone for that fact. She wasn’t sure she wanted there to be.)

[gffa]

Do you have any advice for someone who wants to be more involved in fannish discords, but is too intimidated to keep trying? I want to make more friends in fandom, but everyone in the discords I’ve joined already seems to know each other and are super close with in-jokes and tons of praise and recs for each others’ fics. I never get recced or noticed on these servers or anywhere, which makes me super anxious and doubt my fics, and now I’m not only lonely, but I barely want to write at all. :(

Hi! Take this with a grain of salt, because I'm someone who has terrible social anxiety and lurks on Discord even though I am already friends with many of the people in them and I know they're friendly!  My way of getting friendly with people is usually, “make a crapload of posts until they come to me” XD My best advice is: Comment on people's fics or write some tags in reblogged gifsets, that's usually how I form friendships with people or notice people in turn. When I find someone I vibe with their creations, it's much easier to segue into a friendship with them and they'll develop naturally from there. Granted, do your best to find a balance with this, because sometimes people are just busy or sometimes you won't quite vibe with a specific person, but don't let it be a one-way street, either. But it is a good way to start talking to people, to say, "Hey, I really liked it in your fic, when [character did the thing]!" and find people you vibe with. Because that's a big part of it, too. Do you like the same things as the people? Do you enjoy the content that they create? Fic that plays into things that people like to read, the tropes that they enjoy? Find the people that you vibe with. But most importantly of all: Have fun, as much as you can! People notice others having fun and want to join in with them. Any fandom I have ever started in (and I often start over in every fandom I wander into, which can be really scary and anxiety-inducing!), I've had to take a deep breath, ask myself if I'm doing [thing] because I want to do it or because I just want a reaction from others, and figure out the thing I want to do, just because I want to do it, and have fun with it. And then I keep doing it. I write my meta, I make my gifs, I do my liveblogs, I reblog other people's gifsets with tags I think they'll enjoy reading/my followers will enjoy, and the more I have fun, the more I link up with other people who want to have fun, too. With Discord, it can be scarier, sometimes they move so fast, sometimes it seems like you're on the outside constantly, but I think getting familiar with people on slower moving platforms (like commenting on AO3 fic or twitter/tumblr posts) will help ease the way there, they'll recognize your name and go, oh, hey, I know you! You were really sweet, what're you up to? And don't take it personally if you don't link up with everyone immediately, just treat it as something you're doing because you're having a good time, interact with people because you're enjoying a conversation or enjoying telling someone you liked their stuff or enjoying being silly. Fandom often is what you put into it, you'll get out of it, which means sometimes you just gotta do a thing because you had a good time with it, and people gravitate towards others who they remember as being nice and who are having a good time, because they want to have fun, too.

[quillquiver]

“Tell me something.”

Cas frowns against Dean’s left pec, eyes looking up at him from where he’s laying his head on Dean’s chest. He feels a hand card through his hair and rub at the base of his skull. He hums into the contact like a cat, closing his eyes in contentment as he feels Dean’s unabashed stare. He rolls off of his chest so they’re nose-to-nose, fingers brushing in the space between them as they lay on their sides.

“About what?” Cas asks.

“Anything,” Dean answers. “Before. When you were an angel.”

An angel. Cas feels his heart seize and his wingless back ache, but forces a playful smile to his lips. “You want to hear about dinosaurs and meteors and great cataclysms,” he teases. “I suppose… the beginning was violent, like breaking a bone again and again until it sets right—”

“No,” Dean cuts him off, fingertips pressed to his mouth. Cas looks at him curiously. “I mean, that’s cool—the beginning,” he says. “And I want to hear about all of that another time, but… you. I—I wanna know about you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Like…” Dean’s fingers move to play with Cas’s own, his cheeks ruddy and red. “Where did you go? What did you see?” He bites his lip, brow furrowed as he forces his gaze up. Cas meets his eyes earnestly. “You pulled me from hell, man, but… I don’t know anything about you before that.”

“And you want to?”

“Well, yeah.” Dean rolls his eyes. “I—wanna know everything.”

His cheeks are so red they’ve droned out his freckles, and Cas can’t stop himself from reaching to run his knuckles over the flushed skin. “I don’t remember a lot of it,” he murmurs. “Some of that is Naomi, I’m sure, but—some is also just being human, I think. I’ve been writing it all down, so I don’t forget.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m older than most types of dirt,” Cas says. “It’s a lot to remember.” He pauses, tracing the line of Dean’s clavicle. “I… wasn’t lying when I said you changed me. And everything that came before, all of it, walking along the primordial beach, pushing mountains from the ground, spending time with all things that swam in the sea and walked upon the earth—it’s like they’re half-memories; empty, but given meaning now that I know to appreciate them. That I know how to put feelings to them.” 

Cas frowns. “Angelic love is—agape. Steadfast. Absolute. Unconditional. But it doesn’t make any allowance for emotion beyond blind devotion. I didn’t love the sunrise because there was nothing to love; that the sun rises is an incontrovertible fact of the universe. The pinks and oranges on the horizon are the result of refracted light, of which I could see all colours named and unnamed. The sun existed, and it rose, and in it was my father, and that was good.”

Cas looks down at his hands. “I think… I think I always had the potential to become—this. To get here.” He shifts, moving to idly play with the hem of the sheet. “You have to understand, Dean: King David, Solomon’s lover, Delilah, Judith, Bathsheba—they are nothing to you. Achilles wished Patroclus was so lovely of face and pure of heart. I remember thinking, strangely, that such radiance was just for the Righteous Man who will bring about Paradise. And yet for all the beauty I’d seen; gods and goddesses, kings and queens and commoners, the loveliness in every far corner of this world, that—you—were the first time I truly felt splendour. I had never seen a soul shine through a face, like that. And we had been taught obedience above all, but God had surely lied, because… because even twisted and conflicted as you were, you radiated love in all the ways I didn’t know I craved to feel. How was I supposed to pledge myself to an absent father when you were right there? When my own doubts were later echoed in your hands and the steady beat of your heart a hundredfold?

“And it was—is—complicated, and confusing, and painful but learning to feel, to disobey, to love; it has been the greatest honour and privilege of my life. And I know you don’t like… grand declarations,” Cas says quietly. He forces his eyes upwards, swallowing thickly when Dean meets them, his own wide and unflinching. “So please believe me when I say that this isn’t, to me. And I know I’ve told you all of this before, but we’re not dying, now, and you need to know how thankful I am to even just know you—”

Dean surges forward to press their mouths together, reaching over to pull Cas closer. He buries a hand in dark hair and uses the other to cup Cas’s stumbled jaw, pulling away to mutter Jesus, Cas before kissing him again. And again. And again. He pulls away and moves back when Cas chases, a crooked, goofy smile tugging at his mouth. Cas feels himself start to grin in response. “What?” he asks.

“You just—” Dean shakes his head. “You say all this epic crap about me like you didn’t change me, too.” He looks down at their joined hands, frowning as he brushes a thumb over Cas’s knuckles. “I didn’t really have any friends before you. Or not like you, at least. Hunting… you kinda gotta keep people at an arm’s length. And you—y’know, you helped me be myself. Made me brave. So, uh. Thanks. I guess.”

“You’re—welcome,” Cas says haltingly. He can’t stop staring, but he thinks maybe that’s okay. That this instance of overwhelming love and appreciation is the only one where unabashed looking is not a social faux pas. Hesitantly, he leans in. Dean meets him halfway.

They kiss for a good long while, until Dean is pressed back into the mattress and Cas is a useless, warm lump on top of him. What they’re doing can definitely be characterized as swapping spit; their every movement lazy and deep, hands wandering, bodies tangled and moving together as if in a prelude to sex despite the fact that neither of them seem particularly inclined to get there.

“Y’know, you never actually answered my question,” Dean breathes into the bolt of Cas’s jaw.

“Question?” Cas asks faintly.

“Mm. About you. When you were an angel.”

“Ah, my wings were iridescent black,” Cas murmurs humming when Dean makes his way back for a real kiss. “I have—um, had an animal head for every vessel I took.” Dean rolls them over. “The T-Rex was not a scavenger, and they had mating plumage.” Presses sucking kisses to his neck. “I was an advisor to Cleopatra. I waited for Emperor Ai as he cut his sleeve. Brachiosaurs used to sing—”

Dean abruptly pulls away. He sits up, straddling Cas’s waist with a dumbfounded expression on his face. Cas’s brow furrows. “Dean?”

“Sorry, you just—”

He moves as if to dismount and Cas tugs him back down, catching his mouth in another kiss. “I’m responsible for the Silfra Fissure in Iceland,” he continues. “Gabriel created the platypus. Moses had a stutter and was a bad public speaker; Aaron did most of the talking for him.”

“Uh—”

“The Roman Empress Elagabalus once invited, um, a gladiator to the palace because he had an exceptionally large penis, and when he couldn’t please her, she banished him. Her male lover, Hierocles, had given the gladiator something so he wouldn’t become erect.”

Dean snorts and Cas pulls away with a concerned frown. “What—?”

“Nothing,” Dean laughs, the thing caught somewhere between disbelief and joy. “Keep going.”

“Um… Copernicus had an aversion to feet?”

“Is that a question?”

“No, he did.”

Dean grins and kisses him again.

[actualbird]

okay i could have sworn i saw it on your blog (or maybe it was a wishful fever dream?) but i really thought you said that in your pool of fic ideas you had a ;; marius fic where he has like a competence thing?? or maybe feels incompetent compared to the other nxx members?? and whether thats in your idea pool or not;; i would . love to see either idea . BUT ALSO take care of yourself you write so much so consistently;; which is Wow (positive)

hello!!! okay so i must preface this with the fact i am SO FORGETFUL omg. when i read this i was like ".....i have no memory of this idea" so i dug thru my blog and found 2 things i THINK you might be pertaining to?

theres this short answer i wrote from a few days ago talking about how marius finds competence on the other nxx team members INCREDIBLY HOT. and then theres my analysis on marius von hagen being scared that he'll always be in his older brother's (giann) shadow (which isnt Really competence/incompetence but it's Very Related, imo)

THAT BEING SAID, THANK U FOR THIS ASK (and also ur kind words, yes i will take care of myself, hehe) BC I HAVE BEEN WANTING TO TALK MORE ABOUT----

character analysis: marius von hagen's inferiority complex + youngest child syndrome = dude...r u ok...

wc: 1.4k

SPOILERS AHEAD for Marius SSR Fabulous Feast!!!! and general warning for other marius related spoilers but i cant remember if i got that from global server content or cn server, sorry skdjfbsk. obligatory disclaimer that these r just my own thoughts and interpretations

an inferiority complex is, at its simplest, the prolonged/constant state of feeling inadequate in comparison to other people. i posit that marius has got one hell of an inferiority complex because of him being the youngest von hagen kid.

being the youngest child in a family has the tendency or possibility to create an attention-seeker. attention-seeking behavior happens because a youngest child is not alone, their sibling/s came first. the older ones got the love and praise and time before they could get any of it. now that the youngest is here, thats another kid the family has to pay attention to, and the youngest will do a lot of things to get that attention (because theyre "secondary", the family already had other kids, so theyre used to the song and dance of raising kids, yeah? youngest has gotta work more to make themself stand out). theyll play the agreeable charmer to get positive attention from the family. (keyword: positive. because negative attention...i'll get to that later)

but why is the youngest working so hard to get attention? surely, they must know that attention will come to them naturally, yes? well, when youre a "secondary" member, when you come to see yourself as a footnote to another person, attention from others seems harder to just get naturally. the youngest is not alone, there are others now, and where there are others, there will always, always be somebody "better"

(sidenote: it's pretty obvious that marius is an attention-seeker, yea? i dont have to prove that, right? because uh. just go thru any card story of his kJBKSJDF. //whiny marius voice. JIEJIIEEEEEE🥺🥺🥺)

anyway, the seeds of inferiority are present already, theyre getting sown into the ground of the mind as early as childhood. the notions of second best and stuck in another person's shadow can already begin to take root (and heres a previous analysis about marius being in giann's shadow. wait i already linked it up there. BUT I ALREADY LINKED IT HERE im too lazy to undo it, have it again)

the von hagen family is pretty small tho, when marius is brought into the world. mom von hagen died very quickly after marius was born which only left dad austin and older brother giann. i dont think austin or giann did anything outright to make marius feel inferior, the family seems to be a kind one to each other and marius has mentioned he loves his family a LOT but like, even if u dont mean to make somebody feel inferior, it might just happen for a lot of reasons anyway.

one huge thing that hammers the inferiority complex further into marius' mind is how people OUTSIDE the von hagen family see him, especially when marius takes on the mantle as CEO of PAX. marius is saddled with a whole lot of responsibility and duties and work and that in itself is hard enough but then oopsie daisy, the attention-seeking personality is now hit with its worst nightmare.

aka he gets attention but in the Most Negative Ways. hello negative attention!!

marius doesnt even have to lift a finger to get bombarded by people thinking hes doing a shitass job at running the company. people think him a brat who doesnt know what hes doing. in some instances, marius is compared to his father or older brother. marius is pit against them and hes the loser, the weakest link in the von hagen family, the kid whos out of his depth.

in SSR Fabulous Feast, we get to see Mr. Darby act as a microcosm of people who are against marius for this reason. mc witnesses Darby shittalk marius behind his back (and mc was SO CLOSE to marching over there and throwing her cards at him, god bless her heart).

it's marius though who explains Darby's behavior to mc. Darby was apparently an okay dude back when giann was in charge, but when marius came in, thats when Darby changed. marius then says:

granted, after mc is like UR NOT INFERIOR, dont compare urself to others!! (again, bless her heart, i lov her sm). marius then goes on to say "no no. i AM inferior to giann but also thats okay because i have my own special way to solve problems" and then for the rest of the story he goes on to solve the problem just like he said thru an unconventional yet incredibly effective way

(sidenote: it's fascinating to me that marius' way to solve the problem in Fabulous Feast (and other problems, like that journalist in main story 5.3) is to use Performance and Spectacle as a method, then as threat, then as a cage. in main story 5.3, marius gets the information from that journalist by first acting dumb (performance as method) and then once the jig is up marius goes on to say how this will be a bad scandal for journalist (spectacle as threat) and THEN goes on to trap journalist into folding bc of prev points (performance and spectacle as cage). same in Fabulous Feast, Darby is brought into marius' performance, the spectacle of his "donation" is used as a threat, and then the performance and spectacle traps Darby into doing what marius wants. this is....a WHOLE OTHER ANALYSIS ACTUALLY ABOUT how marius has lived his life with performance and spectacle as his own shackles and thus knows how to weaponize it. BUT IM GETTING OFF TOPIC. LEMME GO BACK)

RECAP: marius is the youngest -> being the youngest lays the bedrock of inferiority -> the inferiority is further cemented by outsiders -> ....now what?

well im going to loop back to ur actual ask, HAHA.

u said "[marius] maybe feels incompetent compared to the other nxx members..." and personally i think this is VERY POSSIBLE YES. because hes in another group. and as he slowly grows to trust them all, i see the nxx team turning into a found family, thus another family where he is STILL THE YOUNGEST.

yeah he works his ass off just as much as everybody else in the team, but the fear is hard to shake, yknow? marius will hide it behind smirks and jokes and slightly asshole-y vibes, but deep down hes scared he isnt good enough for them, like how he isnt good enough for so many people in the ENTIRE WORLD. when the team start giving him positive attention (something he thinks he has to earn by being the charmer and whatever the hell else they want him to be) a new fear can surface:

...when will they see hes nothing but a whiny brat trying too hard for scraps of love?

......when will they stop giving him positive attention because of this?

marius feels incompetent not because he actually is incompetent in reality. he plays an important part in the team, just like everybody else. marius feels incompetent within the team because the patterns and experiences of his life has calibrated him to think himself inferior.

if i were to write a fic exploring all of this (and i use the word "if" because my gdrive folder for tot fic wips is...IT'S A LOT....) i would write a fic where the team is kinda just like..."hey is marius okay because lately the media has been particularly ruthless towards him, unprovoked"

and marius waves away whoever asks him and hes like "im fine, but awwww, youre worried about me, thats so sweet!!! you like me more than you let on, eh ;)" and then after luke or vyn or artem or mc rolls their eyes at his antics hes like "[internally] good theyll NEVER KNOW that im actually getting hugely worn down by the current media shitstorm and that their worry means so much to me but if i let them help theyll see me as the incompetent brat i am and they can NEVER SEE ME LIKE THAT OR ELSE I WILL WITHER AND DIE"

and like the team obviously see hes upset and they try to help. every instance of help hammering more and more fear into marius. the more help he needs, the more "useless" marius becomes

and it's a whole mess but eventually the team and marius come together and like, FRIGGING TALK HONESTLY ABOUT FEELINGS and then nxx fluff time of emotional healing

THIS ANSWER NEEDS TO END NOW IT'S TOO LONG KSFDSJ. I HOPE THIS MAKES SENSE!!

[fonulyn]

You don’t gotta answer this publicly if you don’t want to but man a lot of people are making assumptions about the content of this remake for something that has maybe 5 minutes of gameplay and 5 minutes of specifically cut trailer out. Like. You can choose to not save the dog in the original game, if the dog is dead that might be the result (the thing people are seeing in the clip) or there might just be more dogs? Newer game means more resources so more props and animals. Like would I be really disappointed if the dog wasn’t in it? Yeah. But it’s not out yet. There are things I’ve seen that I’ve liked and things I’ve seen that I don’t. I’m still gonna get it cause I’m dumb and excited to see new stuff, but I also understand people who don’t care for the remake at all. My dumb personal hope is that an RE4 remake succeeding means they’ll have enough money to justify putting together a CV one. I will say for you if you haven’t seen yet, he does still seem to have some witty one liners (one is used in the gameplay trailer). Idk if he’s gonna get to say bingo but at least there’s a hint of his sarcasm so far so that’s fun :)

yeah you're right, we really don't know that much about the game at all, and making any sort of definite assumptions about it at this point could turn out to be completely wrong. that said, I do understand the need to speculate and the need to talk about things that seem to be included/excluded at this point. it's a completely natural reaction to want to rant or to worry, too. even if people easily take it pretty far.

I do think it would do everyone (myself included!) good to remember that this is only a trailer, we really do not know anything for certain. sometimes huge things are changed between a trailer and the actual game! so being too worked up over it is just gonna create unnecessary stress while things could still be very different, who knows! the trailer is just that, only a trailer.

personally I tend to lean towards the negative when it comes to this remake because the original is so, so important to me, and already now some people are showing their excitement about the remake by shitting on the original. i'm insanely afraid the fandom will just collectively jump onto the remake and write off the original, and that would be devastating to me. I know it's not entirely rational, but feelings and fears rarely are. so I'm sort of protecting myself by assuming the worst, because then if those fears turn out to be correct i've already mourned the loss. if I'll end up positively surprised? all the better :'D

i am very happy that they seem to be giving him at least some one-liners! that's definitely a plus :)

[spencersawkward]

hi! today is my birthday (yeah, a day before his) and as a big fan of yours that i am, i know that you made a one-shot for his birthday, but could you do it like it would be if it was your first birthday with him? i reeeally appreciate and love your work! keep doing this, you're amazing! thank you!!

ok the daddy kink gotta go on pause bc we have an EMERGENCY called it's a baddie's birthday! 🥳 happy birthday babe i hope it's as special and lovely as can be! also thank you that made my day of course i'd be happy to write a one-shot like that :)

summary: reader reunites with Matthew for her birthday after his absence on a week-long trip. 

relationship: Fem!Reader/Matthew

content warnings: unprotected penetrative sex, creampie, fingering, oral (female receiving), dirty talk.

word count: 3.8k 

masterlist

after lighting my favorite candles on the bedside table and smoothing out the wrinkles on the bed, I climb onto the mattress and fold my legs up beneath me, criss-cross applesauce. there's a warm, peachy light that falls onto the white comforter, aureate and gentle when I straighten my spine.

I have spent my birthday so far dealing with tired limbs and people I don't like; the only good part so far was getting lunch with a couple of my friends, but something still feels absent.

that something is Matthew.

he's been in Los Angeles for a week, and I miss him like crazy. the apartment is cold and hollow without him in it, despite the numerous objects of his that decorate every nook and cranny. a star and moon mobile hangs above our bed, which sounds childish but actually is fun for both of us to look at when we're lying together at night.

our eyes always follow as the crescent and circle shapes cross each other in a slow circle while we talk. and every time he's gone, his side of the bed gets cold. I miss his mouth and the shape of his arms when they enfold me. I've never been much for showing affection, but I would cover him in kisses if we had all day together.

absence makes the heart grow fonder, I guess.

he's coming home tonight and I've been looking forward to it for days now. even our kitten, Clarisse, lifts her head every time someone in the hallway of the building passes. she likes to sit between us whenever she can.

I let my thoughts roam freely as I take deep breaths and center my mind. it's hard to reign in the joy I feel at the memory of him. I haven't had an orgasm since he left, not because I haven't had the motivation, but because Matthew has created a new rule.

neither of us can pleasure ourselves until we see each other again. technically, I suppose we could break the rule and there would be no ramifications-- but it's kinda fun, to be honest. every night he calls me, and every night he tiptoes around the things he wants to do when he gets home. he can always hear the shortness of my breath when he says anything erring on risqué, asking what I'm wearing or if I've been thinking of him. of course I've been thinking of him; my nights swell with apparitions of his touch, moving over my skin without any tangible reality.

it usually ends with him tsking and telling me to be patient while I dig my fingernails into the inside of my thighs, resisting every urge within me to get off to the sound of his voice. he does it so well, too. all deep and desirous when he tells me to be good.

even as I sit here on the bed, a tingling feeling starts in my stomach. I want him too badly, and waiting has been absolute torture. I remember two nights ago, when I was sitting in his favorite armchair with my knees tucked into my chest, speaking softly to him.

"what have you been up to?"

"nothing out of the ordinary: filming, drawing... thinking of you." he had said, the last three words igniting a flame in my stomach. I love to hear him say that.

"anything in particular?" I started to trace absent-mindedly over the skin of my calves.

"thinking about how good you'd look with your hands between your legs." his voice was somehow silky and raspy all at once, like the idea of it was arousing him. I bit my lip and squeezed my thighs together.

"stop tempting me."

"why?"

"you know damn well why." I giggled. he sighed on the other end of the line.

"I'm starting to hate this rule."

"you made it!" I argued, practically able to hear the mischievous little smile on his face.

"I know, but I wanna hear your noises."

"Matthew..." I blushed, even though he wasn't right in front of me.

"I can't wait to hear you scream that." the drop in his tone made goosebumps rise over my skin.

"are you hard right now?"

"maybe." he hesitated. I felt every cell in my body begging me to cheat our rule-- maybe bend it slightly-- but I hold true.

"get home, then, and I'll suck the soul out of you." I laughed a bit and heard him move in his seat.

"stop teasing."

"you're one to talk," I glanced out the window at the city glittering, full of so many people and empty of him. "I should go before we fuck this up for ourselves."

"no..." he whined like a needy puppy for a moment. "just talk to me normally."  

"fine," I pretended to be disappointed. I didn't want to hang up, anyway. "do you wanna hear about my coworkers? that's guaranteed to eradicate all sexual thoughts."

...

he texts me half an hour later, as I blow out the wicks of my candles and watch the rest of the sun disappear. I love nighttime. he's on his way and I get butterflies, despite the fact that I already know what's coming.

instead of waiting giddily with Clarisse, I elect to take a hot shower and wash the day from my bones. I feel more at ease now that I've had some time to sit with my thoughts, although they've made me even more sexually frustrated.

it's only when I'm drying my hair and sitting in my new lingerie slip dress that relief walks through the door in the form of Matthew and a pizza from our favorite neighborhood place. I hear him come in, practically leap up and run into the living room.

"hi!" he greets, standing in the entryway with his suitcase and a scarf thrown casually around his neck. he shuts the door just in time for me to get to him.

"hi hi hi!" I attach myself like a parasite, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tightly.  

"happy birthday, my sweet girl," he kisses the top of my head and lets out a chuckle at my affection. "can I set my stuff down, quick?" Clarisse brushes against his leg.

reluctantly, I disentangle myself and take the pizza box from his hands and carry it into the kitchen. he makes a high-pitched whistle noise as I walk away, bending over to greet our cat.

"liking the view." he jokes. I set down the box and return to him, removing his scarf and coat with something of an impatience.

"shut up," I laugh. he starts to kiss my cheekbone, smiles against my skin while I peel off the winter layers. he's got too many clothes on. "you didn't need to pick up a pizza."

"it's your special day-- I wanted to get you the finest cuisine in Manhattan." he replies sincerely. I bite back a grin and stare up at him, completely and utterly in love with his stupid turns of phrase.

"it's gonna get cold, though."

"why?" he frowns. I answer by pulling him in for a voracious kiss, cupping his face in my hands. after a moment of us pressing our torsos together, he grabs the backs of my thighs and I jump, letting him hold me up. one of his hands rests beneath my butt, squeezing the flesh while we embrace.

"you're gonna drop me if we don't get to the bedroom soon." I giggle into his mouth. he playfully smacks my ass and carries me into our favorite place, slamming the door shut with his foot and setting me down on the mattress. I smile at his perfect features, wanting to both tear into him and preserve this moment in time forever.

he climbs onto the bed, pushes my legs apart and runs his hands along the outside of my thighs to hitch up my slip. I raise my eyebrows but don't argue when he gathers the dress up around my waist and yanks my panties down.

"I've been thinking about your pussy all day." he kisses the skin above my knee, moving much too slowly up my legs while he holds them open. I feel my hips leave the bed in eagerness, and he glances at my core hungrily. "you're dripping, baby."

"don't make me wait any more." I roll my eyes and he places the flat of his hand over my center, barely stimulating me while pushing me down. he knows the effect it has from the tortured whine I release.

"the best things come with time." he winks and continues his open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs. his head is between my legs, but not nearly in the way I'd like it to be. I crave more; he knows it. he licks over a spot near my pussy and I moan.

"sensitive, huh?" he raises an eyebrow. I run my fingers through those unruly curls, tug.

"don't act as if you aren't just as turned on right now."  

"delayed gratification is a skill, darling." he's smirking and it's driving me wild looking at him in this position, not doing anything. he peeks at my body again before meeting my eyes. "you're dragging this out by talking, by the way."

"oh my god." I throw my head back into the pillow, but go silent as he starts to resume his movements. finally, slowly, he licks up my entrance, pausing at my crest to flick his tongue. I gasp and look at him, his focus all on my face.

he rolls his mouth expertly over me, dipping between my folds to taste and releasing a greedy moan before starting to lap and play with it like he can't stop himself anymore. this time, when I grip his hair, I use it as leverage to grind against him. he feels so good, the sounds coming from my lips are truly unhinged.

"oh, shit, shit-- just like that." I choke out. every part of me clings to him. he wraps his hands around my thighs and yanks me down the bed so he can do more with me. every action with his tongue is like a delicious torture, him exploring all the parts of me as if he's never tasted them before. when he runs his teeth gently across my clit, I moan loudly.

"so hot, Matthew, god, please--"

he doesn't even stop to tease me at all. judging by the darkened irises and blown-out pupils, he's lost in his own world while he eats me out. I can feel the pads of his fingertips gripping onto my skin as if it's his only tether to reality. he behaves like someone inebriated, trying new tricks and thrusting his tongue into my entrance. I'm already close, and he can feel from the insistence of my sounds.

he pulls away for a second and I whine, but he puts two fingers over my clit and rubs me like crazy while he talks.

"is this what you wanted for your birthday, sweetheart? to cum?" his mouth is glistening with my essence, lips swollen, while he holds my gaze. I'm whimpering.

"we're gonna have dinner after this and then for dessert, I'm gonna give you what you want," he pants and I can see the erection straining against his clothes. "okay?"

"mhmm." I buck against his touch, which is bringing me closer with every passing second.

"I'm treating you until that little pussy can't take it anymore." he bites his lip and watches me squirm. I'm almost to the edge and I know what will finish me.

"I need your mouth." I beg him hopefully. Matthew grins.

"whatever you want, baby." and with that, he bends down again and replaces his talented fingers with his lips, flicking and running over my clit until I can feel my stomach tensing.

"fuck!" I cry out, rolling against his face and climaxing intensely. my eyes squeeze shut at the tightening of all my muscles. my skin is on fire as I clutch at my tits through the fabric of my dress and feel my back move off the bed. he's pulling my legs up so that he can work me through my orgasm at an angle, harshly sucking at it until I'm completely worn out.

he puts me down and I breathe deeply, try to settle the quickness of my pulse.

"how was that?" he asks, rubbing over my legs affectionately while I come down from my high.

"amazing." I sit up and start to tug at his belt in the hopes of undoing it, but Matthew removes my wrist and shakes his head. I peek up at him with a curious, disappointed expression.

"it's your day, remember?" he says it so lovingly with a slightly higher pitch than normal, soft and laced with kindness. I look at his erection, anyway, always wanting the sight of it.

"that can't be comfortable."

"oh, it's not." he laughs. I let him lift me off the bed and he guides me to the kitchen on my slightly weak legs. everything about him leaves me like that.

Matthew and I eat pizza and drink champagne while he tells me about his trip, about all the cool people he met and places he went to shoot. he shows pictures of the cast and him making silly faces, and a bakery he saw.

"all the pastries are named after amazing women," he grins and presents a photo of the interior, which is full of flowers and hues of rich blue. "so I obviously thought of you."

I smile through my bite of food, heart fluttering. he shows me a picture of a half-eaten cookie that has the silhouette of a woman on the front, sitting in a chair. it's very 1800's-looking.

"it's supposed to be Jane Austen."

"I'm jealous." I grin.

"I'll take you sometime." he puts his phone away and we go back to talking normally. I could watch his lips move forever, listen to his voice forever. there's a quality to his speech that is entirely unique, that draws me in and makes me want to claim him for life. I didn't know it was possible to want someone so completely.

I rant about the things I had to deal with today, and he chuckles at my naturally indignant tone. by the time I run out of steam, we're just sitting with pleased expressions on our faces. even when I'm angry about something that's happened earlier, he knows how to make me forget all about it.

"it would be fun for everyone to meet you." Matthew toys with the napkin in his lap. I sigh.

"as long as there's alcohol involved, sure."

"why?"

"they make me nervous!"

"you have no reason to be nervous," he shakes his head slowly. "they'll love you."

"that's the thing-- I want them to like me so badly, I'll do something to mess it up."

"you couldn't. you're adorable when you're shy." he reaches under the table and squeezes my knee reassuringly. I try to smile, but my stomach twists up at the thought. it's easy for Matthew; he's so uninhibited.

"you say that now, but it'll be a different story when I've managed to fall on my face in front of everyone."

he snorts. "okay, that would be kind of funny."

"hey!" but I'm hiding a smile.

"they'll love you," he keeps his hand on my leg as he looks at me. "you wanna know how I know?"

"how?" I wait patiently for his reply. he leans forward in his seat and beckons me closer.

"because you are the sweetest--" he kisses me. "smartest--" another peck. "funniest girl I know."

"stop." I deadpan as I turn my face away just enough for him to nuzzle my cheek with his nose as I laugh.

"not to mention the sexiest one, too." he whispers in my ear. I put my hand on his shoulder, intending to push him away playfully but finding myself not wanting to.

"I knew that's where you were gonna take that." I roll my eyes. his other hand has been creeping progressively up my thigh until his fingers brush my core. I suck in a breath, remembering that my panties are still in the bedroom.

"you want me to prove it to you?" he starts to stroke over me, gathering the wetness on his fingers that already waits for him. I let out a slight moan as he dips inside and curls his digits.

"mhmm."

he starts to finger me easily, adding a second and pumping them inside while I grip the edge of the table and watch his face concentrate on mine. he's rough and deep, the result of not having his own orgasm earlier. I can see the lust in his eyes like he can't wait to dive in. all that comes out of my mouth are chants of his name, begging for him as his thumb toys with my clit. my walls clench and his jaw hangs open with a slight smile.

"do that again." he says. I obey, squeezing my thighs around his wrist. he feels so good there, and he's not even doing that much. "god, I can't wait for you to do that on my cock."

"fuck me, then." I breathe.

"gladly," he removes his fingers so suddenly, I make a disappointed noise. "get on the table, sweetheart."

"the-- the table?" I glance down at the surface. he nods in complete seriousness. oh, wow.

we clear off the two plates and down the rest of our champagne, his lips capturing mine easily the second I turn around from putting them in the sink. he walks me back to the table, never breaking our contact, before I end up sitting on it. he's between my legs, pushing his hips to mine while he moves my dress up again.

I hum into his neck while he starts to grind against me, undoing his belt and breathing quickly in my ear. I can feel his length through the fabric, feel how desperate he is. I scoot closer to the edge and try to get more.

"are you sure you don't want me to suck your dick?" I peek at him. he tilts my face up and I feel myself sink into those dark circles around his eyes. my beautiful, haunted boy.

"I need to be inside you." he says it without an ounce of humor. every word weighted with desire as he holds me there. my insides feel like they've been electrified, nerves sparking. all I can do is nod fervidly and pull his shirt off.

he takes off his bottoms and stares back at me, stroking his cock while I trail my nails down his chest, abdomen, whatever I can find. he's so gorgeous, I want to leave marks just so I can make sure he's real. he rubs himself in my essence, then pushes the head inside.

"Matthew--" I bite down on his shoulder to silence myself as he stretches me out. it hasn't even been that long, but it feels like the first time. his head dropping down with a long, low groan of pleasure.

"I missed this." he sheathes himself inside, deep, and I feel my walls tightening around him. there's a pressure on my clit from the position we're in, too. I whine on it, letting myself wiggle impatiently.

"move." I whisper. he starts to withdraw, only about halfway, before going in again. I throw my head back at the force of his thrust, so greedy. he's groaning softly while he presses his mouth to my throat, the flutter of his breath over my skin causing shivers to run up and down my spine.

I wrap my legs around his waist and he starts to find a rhythm with my body. nails dig into his back as an anchor. the closeness of his chest to mine is comforting.

"do you know how hard it was not to get myself off, baby?" he says, the words threaded with a needy tone. I shake my head and pray he'll keep talking. "every night I'd think about you and I couldn't do anything about it."

"you could have." I taunt.

"this is better," he goes faster, clutching at my waist and legs to pull me closer. "so much better."

"yeah?" I giggle, although it's hard when he's pounding into me so hard. I cling tightly and try to meet his thrusts. he's hitting different angles within me that I didn't even know existed, tearing me apart in the absolute best way.

"I wanna be inside it all day." he moans. I'm scratching his back with the way we're working together, every word out of his mouth and the sounds he makes causing me to lose my mind. his fingers dig into my ass as he slams into me. the table shakes beneath.

"that feels so fucking good." I grab on and roll my hips against his. his hand moves to my shoulder to push the straps of my dress down.

"let me see you," he tugs them until my tits are out, at which point he grabs my waist and pulls me against him, moaning loudly at the feeling. "pretty girl."

I can feel the tidal wave building within me, the seconds that gather into one wild, exquisite torrent of pleasure. the knot in my stomach tightens as he fucks me.

"I'm gonna cum." tears prick the back of my eyes. he's working my figure so perfectly, I can barely see. my legs are shaking before I even reach the culmination.

"good." he gets erratic as he imagines how pleasurable it'll be to have me clenching around him, and I sink below the surface. my hips jerk and I cry out like it's my last time being with him, his name pouring from my mouth. Matthew speeds up.

"so... tight--" he shudders. "oh fuck-- that's it, baby, that's it."

he spills inside and it prolongs our orgasms, both of us breathing hard while I remove my arms from his shoulders and lean back on my hands against the table, him still thrusting gently into me while we hold eye contact.

when he's finished, he removes himself from me and then we're just there, looking at each other with love all over our faces.

"happy birthday, Y/N." he grins.

"can you give me one more gift?" I bite my lip. he frowns.

"oh, I have several gifts for you in my suitcase--" he starts to say with a laugh, then sees that I'm not referring to anything tangible. "yes, anything."

"can you Clorox this table, please?"

Matthew kisses my cheek. "of course."

[desiraypark]

Alright. 

So.

I really wasn’t trying to get too deep into the mess. Why? For a couple of reasons.

1) Because when I joined this ADCU fandom--I was very aware that I was going to see racist shit. A lil’ internalized sexism. All of that. I’d mentally prepared myself for it before I came through, or tried my very best. As I stated in a post a week or two ago, I was very vocal about these things in my younger adult years, but now, I am tired and just no longer interested in letting racism, misogynoir, microaggressions, and other things on the internet get my blood pressure up (because I’ve gotta deal with it in real life). I simply block, filter, and move on. This is my path. Not saying that it’s right, that’s just the stage that I’m in right now. 

2) What I’ve heard of this controversial fic is offensive to me. More so, the erasure of certain elements about the Civil War is what I found offensive. Did it piss me off or enrage me? No, because again, I’m tired lol. Offended, yes? Angry--me? No.

Now, I’m not writing this as a “woman of color”. This is a BLACK woman about to tell you what HAS pissed me off over these last few days. And I’m saying it straight from my account--not on anon or some account that just blossomed a couple of days ago. 

I’m writing this as a Black woman who lives in a neighborhood that used to be a plantation (big house and slave cabins still up and intact up the street from my home) - because there is barely a place in my city you can walk where your feet don’t touch land that used to be a plantation, or a slave trading station, or an auction block, or a public whipping post, etc. I live in a city that is ENTRENCHED in “memories of the Civil War” -- “good” and bad memories. 

I’m writing this as a Black woman who once worked next door to a Confederacy Museum--MUSEEEEUM--and watched old white men sit outside of the building with their flags. Or, who once had an old white man come to into my job, walked up to me with a shady, condescending glint in his eye, to ask me questions about “the museum next door” that he hoped to visit one day.

I love historical AUs and write them myself. Me, personally, I’m not gonna tell anybody they can’t write romantic/smutty Civil War AUs (I’m just gonna fucking block them). Because people are gonna do what they want and as we’ve seen demonstrated, there are some people who are gonna do the shit HARDER if it’s called out. But I DON’T have the privilege of reading something in that setting and being able to imagine myself as a landowner. This is a fact. 

People can say “oh, well there were Black landowners back then!” But could they own that land without a  “guardian”? Could they walk around town without “papers” to “prove” that they were free? Do we think that free and/or landowning Black people were just walking around untouched in the 1860s and AFTER? We LITERALLY just commemorated the 100th Anniversary of the Tulsa massacre. Come the fuck on, now. 

I can BARELY write my 1920s AU shit without thinking about how race impacts the my OCs. I just CAN’T make that separation. And it must be nice that some of you WOC and white readers can do that. I’m happy for you. Whatever. 

Now, from what I’ve gathered, I believe that this is the point that was originally being brought to SH--that not only could some of her audience not see themselves in this story, but some of them actually might be hurt by it. And instead of being thoughtful of that, excuses were made. The “colorblind” card was thrown out and it was stressed that “sides” in a Civil War setting were written “vaguely”. The dismissal and denial is what has frustrated me. 

But ah, here’s the thing.

This is a pattern. 

I think some of you might be under the impression that this might be the author’s “first misstep” (that is, if you think that is the case at all). I’m going to tell you a quick story. And this story is not secret--these incidents and the posts (pro-cop posts) that correspond to them were shared publicly. 

I’ve long had SH blocked for awhile. Why? 

You remember when another writer whose name started with an “S” went  through this whole thing about all cops not being bad? I was actually quite friendly with that writer and expressed among people (including SH) that I wanted to reach out to S because I knew she was young and probably just hadn’t lived enough life and been around others to understand why their stance was problematic (and wrong). But then, I found out that she’d done the whole deleting POC’s comments thing...

She’d reached out to me wanting to talk, but at that point, after learning about commentary deletion, I didn’t want to be bothered. I decided that I would not reach out to her. I unfollowed her and moved on, because as I later told SH, Aiyana Stanley Jones was born around the same year that S was--but unlike Aiyana (who was murdered by WHO?), S will be fine. And I don’t regret my decision. I would have been a fool to try to be the Black person who “reaches out” to try to educate somebody. And I would have regretted doing so.

So, anyway. SH tried to encourage me to talk to S anyway, because S felt so bad and hurt. I politely declined, gave my reasons why, and me and SH left it at that and remained cordial. This is something I do regret because I should have known better. Because guess what? About a month later (IF THAT), SH made a post regurgitating S’s same pro-cop sentiments. 

But I made no fuss. I simply unfollowed and blocked. She’d shown me who she was and I finally decided to believe her. No need to argue. I had no desire to “call her out” because she already knew how I felt--and she’d only shown me that (as history has shown my ass time and time again), I don’t matter to her and I don’t count in the world she’d rather exist in--(edit: or at the very least, the fanfic worlds she’d like to create). Calling her out would have been fucking pointless.

So, I can’t let this week end with y’all thinking that this is just some “slip up” or misstep--or some “sudden attack” made out of jealousy or whatever other shit people are spewing. These recent events are merely a day that has long been coming. 

Now. 

I’m about to put “Civil War” in my filtered tags and content, and go on about my day. Bye.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Hallucination

Prompts: i love your fics insanity and real or not real!! can i request another fic where a side is struggling to tell what's real and what's a hallucination? can be in the same like universe (carrying on with one of the stories) or a completely different universe/person, idm - anon

 *crashes into ur asks*

Hey if you’re still taking requests could you do just Janus comforting someone on the verge of a meltdown? Like lots of soft words and caring Janus? He’s my comfort character and I love him - anon

Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3 Part 1 (ish) 

Warnings: talk of hallucinations, uncertainty

Pairings: focus on creativitwins, intrulogical, dukeceit, background LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic, you decide

Word Count: 3864

Sometimes Thomas watches things and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

Sometimes Thomas decides to watch something late at night, when it’s dark outside, even though Virgil tells him it’s a bad idea, and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

 Sometimes when Virgil has gone to his room and he’s fine, but Thomas’s mind can’t stop playing it over and over and over and over, he starts to expand on it and it isn’t Remus’s fault.

 He can’t remember the name of the video. Something to do with being stuck on a misty island in the middle of nowhere with a monster and villagers that wait to sacrifice tourists to the monster to sate its hunger. Something about a daring rescue or an escape plan doomed to fail.

 Something like…

 “Do not go outside. Do not turn on the lights. Don’t make sounds.” The old man draws the curtains sharply across the window. “And whatever you do, do not look out the window.”

 It’s late now. Patton’s asleep. Virgil’s in his room, probably asleep. The rest of them are still awake in the Imagination. It’s slumber party night for the twins, having created a big sprawling mansion in the Imagination for them to run around in. Logan is here, Janus is here, Roman is here.

 Villagers?

 They’re talking about what Thomas watched.

 Logan straightens his legs out. “It’s not a bad practice, staying quiet.”

 Janus rolls his eyes. “Come on, what is this, some haunted island?”

 “You saw the people in the video.” Logan rests his weight on his elbows. “Something was amiss.”

 “The only thing amiss was how awfully boring you lot are being.” Janus sighs and stands, stretching. “Well, I think a night of entertainment sounds wonderful.”

 “The old man said to be quiet,” Roman points out. Wait, is the old man real?

 “Do you know how prone to flights of fancy old people are?” Janus smiles. “Incredibly.”

 “Hmm.”

 “Oh don’t start that.” Janus rolls his eyes and his gaze lands on Remus. A smirk crawls across his face. “Well,” he drawls, sauntering across the room, “someone’s being awfully quiet.”

 Remus just shrugs. Janus crouches down.

 “What do you think about this monster,” he asks, tapping his fingers on his chin, “about the thing that sneaks around this island, peering into windows, through the keyholes of locked doors?”

 “Janus,” Logan warns.

 “What? I just want to hear what our other little scientist thinks about this.” He raises his eyebrows when Remus won’t hold his gaze. “No? Nothing? Need more data? Well, I’m sure you could ask around if you wanted to.”

 “We’re not supposed to leave,” he says softly.

 “I know you’re a goody-two-shoes, Remus, but you’ll never get anything done that way.”

 “Leave him alone, Janus,” Roman says with a wink, “he’s just mad at how pathetic the monster design was.”

 Long limbs. Dark eyes. Moved like shadow.

 “And the Boy Scout, coming to the rescue.” Janus rolls his eyes as he stands. “Aren’t you tired of being so boring?”

 Roman holds his hands up. “Hey, I’m all for exploring!”

 Janus sighs. “Ever the dashing prince, are we?”

 “Ask nicely and I may sweep you off your feet too.”

 The banter continues. Logan just sighs and pulls out a journal, the pen emerging from god-knows-where as he writes. Remus swallows and glances toward the window.

 In. Out. In. Out.

 Roman and Janus are still tossing barbs and jests back and forth. Remus cannot help but notice how loud they are being.

 The old man said to be quiet.

 Logan looks up when he begins to crouch down and shuffle behind the bed.

 “What are you doing?”

 “Changing.” He gives a half-hearted smile. “Texture spoons ran out.”

 He nods and goes back to his writing. Remus glances at the nightstand. Only 8:00. The conversation gets progressively louder. Logan joins in eventually, rolling his eyes at Roman’s increasingly elaborate proposals to bring in jukeboxes, disco lights, and speakers.

 “Let’s think about this logically. If the ghosts or whatever the hell the monster is sensitive to sound, why not pump everything to like, 300 decibels and blast their eardrums out?”

 “Or it could be that they just hear things like we hear things,” Logan remarks.

 “Mm.”

 “Why do I have to be quiet?” Roman spreads his arms. “I should not have to deal with that!”

 “Actually, you know what,” Janus says gleefully, “I agree. We shouldn’t have to be quiet. If this place doesn’t have adequate monster protection, that’s on them.”

 This place…didn’t they make it safe? Roman said they made it safe. Is it not safe anymore? Are the shadows—is the monster here?

 “Always the entitlement,” Logan sighs, seemingly resigning himself to the voice of reason as he settles his journal to the side, “assuming that everyone should cater to your needs.”

 “Oh come on, Logan. You have to admit that having a hotel that isn’t secure makes little to no sense.”

 Hotel? Isn’t this still the mansion?

 The low buzz of an LED sign comes from outside. Remus blinks. Has…has that always been there?

 “Not respecting the rules of wherever you choose to go makes little to no sense.”

 “That’s gotta hold up in court though.” Roman glances at Janus. “You get me?”

 “Yes, Your Honor,” Janus says, drawing himself up like a lawyer, “I would like to sue on the grounds that my intestines were devoured horrifically by a terrifying, savage beast that the hotel owners neglected to inform me of. How am I standing here, you ask, if my intestines have been devoured? Simple. Spite.”

 Roman’s off, cackling to his heart’s content. Logan bites back his own smile.

 “And how, may I ask, is this not the fault of yourself?”

 “May I say, Your Honor, that victim-blaming is not cute—“

 “Here here,” comes Roman’s voice.

 “—and also, the information about aforementioned monster came from someone who was not an employee of the hotel,” Janus finishes grandly, “therefore they can suck my—“

 Logan hits his hand against the nightstand, still fighting down laughter. “Defendant is charged with contempt of court.”

 “Do not pass go,” Roman chortles as Janus swoons dramatically, “do not collect 200 dollars.”

 “Remus,” Janus cries out, “avenge me!”

 Remus does not respond. He is too busy trying to figure out when the mansion became the hotel.

 “Remus,” Janus cries again, crawling dramatically across the floor, “save me from this indignity.”

 “No, thank you,” he mumbles instead.

 Janus huffs, pushing himself off the floor. “Then by all means, please tell us your ingenious solution to this monster problem that we find ourselves in.”

 Remus looks up, his face carefully blank except for a small smile. “I’m going to hide underneath the sheets,” he says in a soft, small voice, “because everybody knows monsters can’t get you when you’re under your sheets.”

 “That is adorable,” Roman chuckles.

 Janus’s eyebrows raise slowly until another fiendish smirk crawls across his face. “Are you scared?”

 “Yes.”

 “Aww,” he coos, “hiding under the sheets to get away from the monsters, how adorable.”

 Remus doesn’t respond.

 “If only the others could see you now,” Janus crows, “they’d know how intimidating you really are.”

 Logan takes his glasses off, polishing them with the handkerchief from his pocket. “As if you’re any better, crying over a torn seam in your cape.”

 “That bastard took two weeks to get right!”

 Remus ignores them once more, glancing at the clock. 9:45. An acceptable time to try and go to sleep. He moves slowly and quietly as he tries to get into the bed. The monster could be here. The banter continues behind him as he pulls the sheets tight around him.

 He does not see Logan glance over. He does not see that Logan frowns and glances at the clock, thinking perhaps Remus is more tired than he appeared, but…still. He does not see Logan look back at the others still talking, they’re probably not going to go to sleep for a long while.

 He does not see Logan look over at him as Janus leaves the room, claiming he’s going to go find somewhere more fun to sleep. He does not see Logan frown, looking to see Remus still on his side, huddled under the sheets. He does not see when Logan starts to count.

 One, two, three, four.

 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

 One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.

 He does not see Logan beckon Roman closer.

 He does not see Roman frown as he comes closer, sighing at the notebook in Logan’s hands.

 “Logan, why the hell can’t you take a break for…” he trails off when he sees Logan’s face. “What?”

 “Perhaps I like to keep myself occupied,” Logan says smoothly, even as he nods insistently to the notebook, “even in times where the circumstances might be less than ideal.”

 Roman raises an eyebrow. Subtle, Logan.

 “You are chronically incapable of taking a break, aren’t you?”

 “Perhaps.”

 “Do you know any words other than ‘perhaps?’”

 “Perhaps.”

 Roman hides a smirk as squints at the text.

 I think Remus is actually afraid. Don’t tease. - L

 Remus does hear Roman exhale sharply. He does not see him glance up at the bed before he looks back at Logan and nods.

 “Well,” he sighs, stretching and yawning exaggeratedly, “on that note, it’s probably a good idea to try and sleep.”

 Logan snorts. “And here I thought you were supposed to be an actor.”

 He swats at him halfheartedly as he starts getting ready to go to sleep. What that means is just a matter of snapping his fingers to change out of the prince costume. He packs his other clothes away and crosses the room, keeping his footsteps loud but not too loud.

 Now that he’s paying attention, he can see how scared poor Remus is. He’s frozen under the sheets, barely moving. As Logan starts talking quietly to himself, he sets his bag down next to Remus’s and sighs, moving around to make a bit more noise.

 Remus still doesn’t move.

 When he’s made all the noise he can reasonably make, he walks a little closer to the bed and reaches to fix the curtains, unable to stop the soft noise when his shadow falls over the bed.

 “Hey, Re,” he whispers, leaning down and brushing the sheet a little further from his face, “it’s just me, it’s just Roman. Can you open your eyes for me?”

 It takes him a moment but his eyes do open. He smiles down at him and cups his face for a moment.

 “Hey, there, Re,” he murmurs, “can I come join you?”

 He barely nods.

 “Thank you.” He frowns when he doesn’t move over. “You gonna let me in?”

 He can tell by the way his eyes glass over that’s not a good idea unless he can convince him otherwise.

 “Come on,” he whispers again, “scoot to the other side for me.” He nudges his shoulder gently. “Logan misses you.”

 Loren doesn’t let his mumuring falter but he does reach across the small space between their beds to lightly pat the side closest to him.

 Remus moves, as skittish as the new dragon pups, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest, his pillow gripped in his other hand. Roman swiftly takes the warm spot he’s vacated, wincing in sympathy as he shivers on the cold sheets.

 “Thank you,” he sighs, making a show of getting comfortable before reaching out for him, smacking his lips together in sleep, “now come here.”

 At his quickly stifled questioning noise, he drops the act and opens his arm wide.

 “It’s okay, Re,” he whispers, far too quiet for Logan to hear, “I’m not gonna hurt you, it’s okay.”

 He stares at him a moment longer before he realizes that shit, he’s not going to be able to move on his own right now.

 “Can I come get you, Re?” Roman smiles when he gives him another one of those jerky nods. “Thank you, I’m gonna pull you over to me, okay?”

 He takes him into his arms slowly and carefully, wrapping him up in the sheets until just the very tops of their heads poke out. He relaxes just enough so that he can maneuver him to where he likes, but he’s far from the sleepy pile he expected.

 “Hey,” he whispers, tucking his hair behind his ear, “you want to stay here with me, Re?”

 He blinks sluggishly. Roman bites back a curse and leans down to rub his nose against his.

 “Hey, hey, Re, you just focus on me, okay? Stay with me here—“ he tightens his grip— “right here…I’ve got you.”

 He frowns when he makes a small little noise that sounds like it could be his name.

 “Yeah, Re? You calling for me?”

 He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He kisses Remus’s forehead.

 “Nonverbal,” he whispers, “or just scared? Or both?”

 A moment passes.

 “Both it is then.” Roman tucks his head under his chin. “Why don’t you go ahead and close your eyes, Re, I’m right here.”

 They stay there, wrapped in the blankets, Remus warm and snug up against Roman’s chest. He plays with his hair, one of his legs slung over his to hold him close, working to lull him out of his frozen state. After a while, Logan stands from the other side of the room and pats Roman’s shoulder.

 “Your turn, Roman.”

 Roman rolls over. “Huh?”

 Logan nods his head toward the bathroom. “Shower.”

 Roman sighs dramatically and presses another kiss to Remus’s forehead, leaving his brother dazed, blinking up at Logan. Logan watches Roman leave before he turns his gaze downwards. Remus tries to pretend the shiver that goes through him at the way Logan softens his gaze is just the cold.

 “Remus,” he calls softly, voice barely louder than a whisper, “Remus, may I join you?”

 A pause.

 “Tap the bed twice if yes, once if no.”

 A pause, then Remus hesitantly reaches out to make two little taps.

 “Thank you.”

 He slides smoothly into the bed, reaching out to carefully slip an arm under his and pull him off of the sweat-soaked sheets—when did that happen?—and into his arms. Remus moves pliantly, tucking his chin into the space left between his chin and the pillow.

 “Hey,” he whispers, gentling his voice as he tucks his head closer to Remus’s, “hey.”

 Logan is warm. Is Logan—Logan said it made sense to be quiet. Logan knows. Logan understands. Logan always understands.

 “What’s the matter,” Logan calls gently, “can I help?”

 Remus swallows. “Monster.”

 “Are you afraid of the monster, Remus?”

 Remus nods. “Black eyes. Shadow. Kill you and Roman and Janus and then go find Patton and Virgil and Thomas. Bad.”

 “The monster isn’t real, Remus,” Logan says softly, running his hand through his hair, “it doesn’t exist.”

 Remus shakes his head. “We’re in the hotel on the island. It’s real. Roman left and the monster will kill him.”

 “Roman is just in the bathroom,” Logan corrects, moving his head to indicate the running water sound, “he’s alright. We’re not in a hotel, we’re in the mansion you two created.”

 “But the LED sign is buzzing outside.”

 “Would you like to look and see?”

 “No!” Remus wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist. “We’re not supposed to look out the window, the old man said not to.”

 “The old man isn’t here,” Logan says patiently, “I’m here. I have you. I’ll keep you safe.”

 “He said—he—he’s not real?”

 “No, Remus, he’s not real.” Logan gives him a gentle squeeze. “This is real. This is real, Remus, I’ve got you.”

 “You’re real.”

 “I am.”

 “You said it’s safe to look out the window?”

 “It is.” Logan squeezes again. “Would you like me to show you?”

 Remus nods. Logan leans up and pulls back the curtain, peeking outside. There’s no bright red light from the hotel LED sign. Just soft moonlight.

 “There’s no sign, Remus,” he murmurs, “you’re not in a hotel.”

 Oh.

 “The scar,” he blurts, his hand flying to his chest, “from the stab, what if it’s already got us?”

 “I don’t have a scar,” Logan says, lying back down and taking Remus’s hand, “here…feel.”

 Logan presses his palm to his bare chest, pulling his shirt out of the way so Remus can see. There’s no scar.

 “You don’t have one either…may I?”

 When he presses his palms against Remus’s chest, there’s no scar.

 “We’re…not there?”

 “No, Remus, we’re not there,” Logan says gently, “we’re here, in the mansion, safe, there’s no monster.”

 The water stops. A moment later and Roman emerges, tossing a towel over his shoulder. He sees the two of them in the bed and pouts.

 “You stole my spot!”

 “I had Remus to comfort,” Logan says smoothly, waving him over, “though you are welcome to help.”

 Roman ruffles Remus’s hair. Remus leans into it.

 “Ro, are you real?”

 “Yes, of course, I’m real, Re, what…” Roman trails off and his eyes go wide. “Oh, Re, did we—did I push you into hallucination territory? I’m so sorry, yes, we’re real, we’re here, we’re in our mansion, we’re safe, Re.”

 “Safe?”

 “Yeah, Re,” Roman murmurs, getting in to cuddle his brother properly, “we’re safe.”

 “Real?”

 “This is real.”

 Remus buries his nose in his brother’s real neck and holds him close. Logan stays by his side, stroking his hair and murmuring that Remus is here, they’re real, they’re safe.

 After a moment, Remus takes a deep breath and pulls apart.

 “You know the rules, Ro-Bro.”

 Roman grimaces, his head dropping to rest against Remus’s sternum for a moment before he nods. Logan looks back and forth between the two of them.

 “What are the rules?”

 “When Remus gets pushed into hallucination territory,” Roman says softly, “he sleeps alone.”

 Logan frowns. “But surely it would help to have us reassure you and help ground you?”

 “Wouldn’t help for the intrusive thoughts and hallucinations to include you too.”

 Logan winces. “I suppose not, but—“

 “Lolo we’ve tried,” Remus mumbles, “we—this works. It sucks and I hate it and so does Ro but this is what works.”

 “I trust you,” Logan says, squeezing Remus’s hand, “and I trust you to know what works for you.”

 “We’re just overprotective.”

 “I’ll say.”

 Roman gives him one last hug before standing and pulling Logan to his feet. “You know we’ll come as soon as you call.”

 Remus nods. “I know.”

 The room feels empty when they leave.

 The night passes.

 During the witching hour, he startles awake.

 The sheets are soaked in sweat directly under him. His eyes are wide. His breathing is too controlled.

 The monster is not here but the shadows are.

 Somewhere in this house, he knows, something is here. He can hear the voice in the movement of the curtains, hear the step in the way the floorboard settles. Hands never meet his tender flesh, a mouth never bites his fragile throat, but something is here.

 Step. Step. Step.

 The fear clouds his eyes as it drips into his ears. The light flickers. Something brushes a knuckle up and over his cheek. Something pauses outside his doorway.

 Through the depths of the fear filling his ears, something knocks.

 The chill rips its fingers out of his mouth and smears them over his throat. Something knocks again. There’s something outside. There’s something outside.

 “Sweetie,” he calls as he opens the door, “Sweetie?”

 Janus steps inside.

 “You’re awake,” he says, shutting the door and sitting on the edge of the bed, “it’s quite late.”

 “I know,” Remus says as he sits up, wary, “sorry.”

 Janus hums, reaching out to idly brush his hair off his forehead. The chill curls and lingers around his fingers, the shadows diving to hide in the lea of him, greedily drinking the fear from Remus. Janus goes to pull his hand away only to notice the prickles on Remus’s skin.

 “Are you cold, my dear?” He frowns and lightly dusts his forearm with his fingertips. “You look it.”

 Remus shakes his head. Janus raises an eyebrow, pressing his thumb hard against his arm to reveal a white imprint. It takes long seconds for the chill to let blood color the flesh again.

 “Let’s not lie,” he murmurs, his gaze flicking back up to catch Remus’s, “shall we, sweetie?”

 Janus reaches up to trace the air around the curve of his cheek, one finger lightly tracing his jaw. The electrifying tingle clenches his hands in the sheet. He tilts his head and hums softly.

 “What’s keeping you awake, sweetie?”

 The chill snarls, refusing to let go of his throat.

 “You can speak,” he encourages, lightly knuckling the underside of his chin, “it’s alright.”

 “I’m sorry.” He shakes his head a little.

 “None of that, now, you’ve done nothing wrong.” He closes his hand around his. “To be afraid is nothing to be ashamed of, sweetie, you know that.”

 The shadows move slowly, wary of him, eager to taste his fear. The chill huddles around it, icing it in place, refusing to let him breathe without reaching its fingers into the pit of his throat.

 “Oh, my dear,” Janus murmurs, running his fingers along the side of Remus’s neck, “can I do anything for you?”

 He shakes his head quickly. Too quickly.

 “Sweetie…”

 “You’ll be annoyed.”

 “I’m concerned,” Janus corrects gently, “that’s all.”

 Remus risks a glance at the shadows.

 “And you know, Remus,” he continues, lifting his hand to press a chaste kiss to its back, “taking care of you is never annoying.”

 A different type of fear tingles along his fingers as they brush the curve of his jaw. This one reaches deep, deep along his fingers, up his arm, down to the curve of his shoulder, wriggling in between the cold knots to pulse against him. The shadows bloom in the corners of the room, shying away from the light flickering over his face, his shirt, his hand.

 Through the mouthful of fear, his tongue wets his lips. “You’ll find it stupid.”

 “Never, sweetie.”

 “The dark,” blurts shamefully from his mouth, “I’m afraid of the dark.”

 “The dark, sweetie? Is this about…”

 “I got pushed into hallucination territory earlier.”

 Janus makes a noise of sympathy, murmuring an apology for teasing earlier.

 “I can’t see anything but the shadows,” Remus whispers, squeezing his eyes shut, “and the noises, and how empty it is because I know it’s not empty.”

 “And what helps this go away,” he asks, still cupping his hand, “what makes the shadows leave my sweetie alone?”

 “S-stay? Please, with—with me?” Remus’s breath starts to catch again. “Don’t—don’t let them hurt me.”

 “Oh, sweetie, of course,” Janus murmurs, “of course I’ll stay.”

 The poor thing chokes out a sob. Janus reaches forward to lie him back down when his hand brushes the edge of the sheet. He frowns. Picking the sheet up between two fingers, he winces. He can feel his fingertips rubbing together, it’s barely warm enough.

 Remus’s breath still hasn’t caught when he returns with a thick quilt, spreading it over him to banish the last of the chill.

 “Hush now,” he soothes, smoothing the corners of the quilt, “hush, sweetie, it’s over, you did so well, shh…”

 Janus climbs into bed, pulling the shaking Remus to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly, tightly around the poor thing as he cradles Remus protectively.

 “Come here, my sweet,” he whispers, “come here, now, shh, shh, you’re alright now, sweetie, shh, shh…”

 His cries soften, gentled into mewls against his chest as he warms him against his skin. The poor thing is still clenched tighter than a fist. He croons, taking his wrist in his hand and pulling him flush against him.

 “It’s alright, sweetie, you did so well, it’s gone now, you did it, there you are, here you are, right here, sweetie.”

 The poor thing whines.

 “Oh, sweet one, shh, shh, shh, my dear, you’re alright…” He makes a noise of sympathy when he doesn’t stop. “What’s the matter, sweetie, tell me, say it, come now…”

 He brings his hand up to stroke gently under Remus’s chin.

 “Say it, sweetie, tell me what’s troubling you so, let me help, I’m right here, I’m right here.”

 “The shadows,” he whimpers, “the shadows, I can—I can hear them, they—they’re everywhere—I—they’re looking at me, they’re touching me, I can—I can feel them—I—“

 “I’ve got you, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, pressing a kiss to Remus’s cheek, “I’m right here, nothing can touch you, here—“

 He pulls the blankets up and over their heads, creating a little bubble of intimacy in the dark room.

 “I’m here, sweetie, it’s just me, I won’t hurt you, you know I won’t. Shh, shh, hush now, sweetie, it’s alright.”

 They stay like that for a little longer, Remus sobbing out the rest of the fear as Janus hushes him softly, pulls him close, soothes away the last of the tremors with gentle hands and tender words.

 After a while, Remus pulls away.

 “…thanks, Jan.”

 “I promised,” Janus murmurs, “I promised that I’d do it when you need me to.”

 “I know.” Remus sniffles. “I just…wish you didn’t have to.”

 “Don’t ever feel bad about needing something,” Janus chides softly, chucking him lightly under the chin, “especially not when you really need it.”

 “Already sent Lolo and Ro away for hallucinations, you—“

 “They’re fine, sweetie, a little worried, but they came and told me what was happening.” Janus kisses his forehead again. “They’re not angry, they don’t begrudge you needing things, and they’ll be here for you. They always are.”

 “I know.”

 Exhaustion begins to seep into his eyes. He blinks sluggishly.

 “This is real, right?”

 Janus gives him a squeeze. “It’s real.”

 “Can I sleep now?”

 “Oh, of course, sweetie,” he murmurs, leaning back up to rest his head on the pillow next to Remus, “you go right ahead. I’ll be right here. I’ll keep the shadows away.”

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[entiish]

why are minor fcs not allowed in the rpc? no one out here that i've seen is rping nsfw with minor characters...

hi, it’s skye.   hey anon, this is kinda a complex question so lemme just give you my theory on why people are hyper cautious, it's still gonna be looooong but you asked me and i go off lmao. first off, i gotta disagree with you respectfully anon bc there are people in the rpc (we don't claim them) who roleplay usfw content with actors who are underage at the time, some people don't even use resources and just use the platform for taboo shit. it's real, it happens and yeah, it's a thing, ive seen it and dealt with it. we rlly can't be ignorant of those people who still use tumblr for gross shit, but we can do everything we can to stop them when we find em. i’m so so glad you’ve never come across it or had to be exposed by it, im truly thankful, you are not ignorant for not being aware or exposed!! but it is a real ting and it’s bad when it comes across your dash or into your inbox or roleplay in any form, i cant be any more honest w you right now. i dealt with it twice in one roleplay, each time even though i was swift and ruthless and not having it and did my duty as admin, i was mentally taxed to a mASSIVE degree. and they were not the first nor only times.

so, onto ur question in general, i agree that kids are IRL so kids naturally exist in the RP worlds we create. that's a fact, you can't create a world without having children in some capacity. but that doesn't mean you need to WRITE and PLAY a child.      and here is where i think this blanket mentality and rule has come from in the rpc and content creating community, speaking as someone who's almost 28 and has been in the rpc since i was about 14/15.

not all people have good intentions!!! not all people are decent and moralistic and have respect. and that's the plain and simple truth, i've seen too much shit on this platform in however many years ive been haunting it, and hella people who create resources (myself included) know/have seen the sad truth that some try or succeed in using underage resources to portray unsavoury things, i don't need to be explicit, but we know there is a nasty lil underbelly of people who still think it's "okay because it's not real". NO, i am absolutely wholeheartedly NOT implying thats you anon, nor anyone else who is curious on this topic. not at all 🙏🏾 —— however this means, to protect ourselves, lines must be drawn for what we personally deem appropriate for ourselves, the community, friends, fellow users, all of us, which has lead to this commonplace rule in the rpc.

now bear with me, because i have played characters who were underage (for me, aus, that is under eighteen), i had six characters in this world when i was around 17yo myself, also underage. one was seventeen and then one was a twelve year old, i played these characters within the moralistic and reasonable bounds, like you would write a character in a book. this world was based in the survival post/apoc world. and yah it was rather wholesome to form bonds with elder characters, to have them learn and develop... at that time, the seventeen year old was relative to my age and was very much an outlet for me — tbh i still use this muse, but she as aged as i have, and as for the younger one, there was no question that i was going to actually respect the age capacity as did everyone in this roleplay, it was an amazing and respectful community i still remember nearly a decade on. i had no ulterior motive, i just wanted a challenge outside of my normal bounds, but i also did not use resources because i didnt think it was needed. ig thats just a personal thing for me? who knows. at the time i was personally a minor, and i don’t speak for the underage rpers out there though i was one, but at the time it was not something that was a blanket rule anyway and not for the community who was underage themselves.

so we jump ahead now, as an adult, a decade later, a we've all learned a lot and become more aware and educated on HELLA stuff; whats appropriate and whats not, what we personally find ok and so forth. my next milstone is 30 (rip) and i have no desire to play the role of a child; even in a world that would expect such, even in a world that i create, even in genres where it is completely reasonable and normal to have characters under eighteen. the moralistic side must come out where we, as adults, have to consider... "why do we need to play a muse underage when we know, on the real, it's not necessary to a roleplay experience?" the answer is, we don't. adults don't need to create and pilot a child character, or a teenager, really. maybe on the sims, or in a video game, in your own time, but not really here. and to be honest if your muse is a late teen, then why not simply age them up that year or two? it changes very little in the grand scheme of things.

however, i stand on the grounds that you can have NPC children, many of my muses have had children of their own in game, they can certainly have casted faces if you are into family graphics, comprehensive masterlists and the like (i def am) but only use child actors who have consented to have their face shared, and continue to respect ethnic backgrounds my dawgs ofc. (i made that decision as an admin, with the support of my rpers after i asked their opinions & in a genre where many of our adult characters had children or even younger siblings of note.) and look i even believe in writing little interactions within your replies if your character is a parent or guardian as kids usually pipe up and react and i feel that can add authenticity when relevant, but they are always NPCS (non playable characters). there is nothing inherently wrong, generally speaking, with acknowledging the children in our characters lives and worlds; our characters could be teachers, parents, elder siblings, paediatricians, and thats 10/10 great.    BUT, and this is where it all comes back to in the rpc community these days & reasonably so... non playable characters such as children do not need a plethora of resources. especially not when, even though we might revere and celebrate their performances and we want to hope everyone is good deep down, we cannot and do not risk putting out resources that can be abused.  for me?? i will never stop honouring and revering and GASSING UP the child actors who eat/have eaten the screen, i will make gifsets of them, i will hype them, i have so many movies that inspired me as a child that i’ll honour in my own lil giffing way, but i wont turn them into what will be a barely-accessed resource that could be used for something unspeakably nasty. i wont put my name or soul anywhere near that hellfire zone i know exists 🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️🙅🏽‍♀️  and i also dont feel the need to anyway

maaaaany creators choose not gif people underage, whether 18 or 21, and they have the right to do so as they are the creators, particularly fellow adult creators. many admins choose not to include people underage, and they have the right to as the creator and admin of a world. i, as a whole ass adult, do not feel comfortable doing that personally, i don't think any adult should be playing a character that is underage, mainly because i don't see a reason why is needed and also because i dont think there is a storyline to sustain me unless i was doing some sort of time jump; children shouldn't be exposed to adult things when you are on a public and open forum. that's my personal stance. it really comes down to this, it's your choice. if you sincerely want to write a character who is underage in some way and you sincerely want to respect and do this character accurate justice and challenge your writing chops like i did, it would be up to you to create the resources, or you to create and take on the burden of monitoring a world as admin where anyone can try and rationalise some whack shit and you have no warning or heads up, IT HAPPENS. A LOT OKAY. (*flashbacks fr* 🤢) OR you can find someone who feels comfortable writing like that and do a private 1x1 to explore the dynamic or storyline or world, tbh perhaps write without resources? bc that doesn't diminish anything as a creator. hell, go write one-shots, write stories, write novellas and let your creativeness grow!!! many authors write children's/underage/teen characters, that is not weird, in my own writing time i do. however it is weird to demand that others create or interact with what they feel is a personal boundary, it is weird to gaslight people into thinking they’re hyper-fixated on the bad things by having a personal boundary like this, i’ve seen that a whole lot for some reason.     as it seems, most the rpc that i personally interact with are well into adulthood alongside me and share that personal and moral boundary that we don’t wanna dabble, as is our right. it also seems that the majority of people in the rpc have that same boundary. it’d also posit that the reason why it might seem a bit staunch and all that shit is because the damn boundary keeps getting pushed on. i srsly don't think any of us would be this extreme and strict on it if the personal preference and boundary hadn't been disrespected so many times, or if we hadn’t been exposed to the nasty side of tumblr where we see it happening.

also, if you weren't here on the platform, there was a seriously horrid period of months and months a few years back where legions of fuckheads were bombarding the tags of the rpc with every DAMNED trigger in the WORLD (all the nasty, all the trauma, it was visual and vivid and horrid, it was a full on attack weaponising our tagging system, i dont wish it on anyone). i went through it and we all came out very traumatised from that, personally that is one of the events that makes my boundary and rule so strict. as well as like... TOO much personal experience.

look tbhtbh i'm a bit tired and kinda stoned rn, so i hope this rambling makes some sense, i have a lot of thoughts and theories on this, i don't speak for ANYONE else so again this is just my pov and my theory as a rper, admin, rpc homie, gifmaker, whatever you want to call me. it all comes down to is respect and choice. and i respect that there are people out there - rpers, authors, creators of all kinds - who write from an underage POV (harry potter, fkn twilight, the secret garden, ASOIAF, little nightmares, the last of us, i could srsly go on and on), and i respect everyone, including myself, who’s choice it is to set that boundary and stick to it 🫶🏾 i hope maybe i shed some light on one perspective.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I don’t get you, CJ. Why are you so quick to throw around the term “bad writing” when you don’t agree with something? Why not simply chalk it up to having different likes or dislikes than other people and move on?

Instead of deconstructing characters you don’t like, why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom.

You clearly love writing and analysis, but when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs.

I guess what I’m trying to say is I think your blog and analyses would be stronger if rather than dismissing plot points or characters as “bad writing” you step outside yourself and ask others what they see in that writing since it’s not connecting with you.

To be fair, anon, I don't get me either.

But I hear you, so if you'll allow me to do the thing where I launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs, let's talk about this.

I assume this might've come about because of the recent Violet talk here? Or maybe it's from older posts, I dunno, you didn't specify so I can only speculate and use the Violet posts as the main example here.

So here's the thing... deconstructing characters and storylines is something I enjoy doing. Hell, it's one of my favorite things to do. It doesn't matter if I like or dislike the character, or if I agree with plot directions, or if I think it's "good" or "bad" writing. That's how I work things out for myself, how I try to understand why I'm feeling the way I am about certain characters and story elements. I break apart the different aspects of these things and analyze them so that I can improve the content I create and try to avoid the same mistakes I've come across that I wanted to be better.

When it comes to me tossing around "bad writing", or just implying it, I'm not trying to say that "bad writing = trash, garbage, unenjoyable, anyone who likes this is a dingus, how could you?" it's more "I see flaws here and I want it to be better, I know it can be better and it frustrates me that I can't fix it," y'know?

And I'm fully aware that other people might not see it that way. With that basketball Violet post, I know that a lot of the Violet crowd are gonna read that and be like "no, I love the bell tower scene! It fits well with her character! What are you talking about?" and that's fine, I expect that. That post was me writing something that's been on my mind that I wanted to share, it wasn't me trying to scold anyone for liking it or trying to dismiss their feelings about it.

When it comes to differing opinions, especially on Violet, I've come to the conclusion that we just gotta agree to disagree. I've tried for years at this point to understand the appeal of Violet and gone looking for answers about her in hopes of being enlightened, and I have asked around.

In the past, I have made posts inquiring about what people see in Violet [Minerva, too] and why they prefer Violentine, and I got little to nothing in response. So I totally get where you're coming from when you say I should ask others what they see in the writing that I don't, but there's only so much I can do when no one is willing to answer me. So, I have to look around myself.

I've searched through several threads on reddit and none of them have been insightful, unsurprisingly.

That's what sparked my mini-rant about Louis before. On reddit, a lot of the answers on why people like Violet are either "she sided with Clementine, she's just really sweet deep down, she has more trauma, and lesbian," or "I like Violet more because Louis is a traitor," and what the hell am I supposed to get out of that, y'know? They're not really telling me anything, they're just looking to argue among themselves and I've had to throw in the towel on that one.

I've had better luck here, having read some truly insightful posts about Violet, her arc, and her relationship with Clementine. The conclusion I've reached it that the things people find appealing about her are things that I don't.

If you need an example, we'll use the aftermath of Marlon's murder when Violet turns on the group to defend AJ. Every post from the Violet crowd I've read that talks about that scene praises her for turning against her friends/family to defend AJ when they were gonna attack him, it shows what she's willing to do for them, that's something that drew them to her. Then there's me, who sees that as adding unnecessary aggression to the situation when none of them were going to attack AJ, they weren't looking at AJ, and none of this is helping. Neither of these interpretations are wrong.

Guess what I'm trying to get at is I'm one person, and having discussions takes more than one willing person.

Moving on, "when you post answers to asks that hold different opinions than you’re own, you often go “you’re valid, but…” and launch into paragraphs upon paragraphs of your opposite opinion rather than truly exploring theirs."

I've thought about this for a while, and maybe I do actually do this but don't realize it. I like to think that I'm engaging with the ideas that people send me, but I dunno, maybe I can be dismissive of things because I have a hard time being objective. That's something I've always struggled with, and I'm sorry if I ever came across as dismissive or didn't fully explore ideas, that's something I can definitely get better at.

As for "why not use your platform to empower other voices and highlight others with different tastes or opinions than you? Different people notice different things about the games. That’s one of the nice things about fandom."

I've done character nights, ship nights, season nights, etc. for about two years, give or take. That's what those nights were about. Usually, I'd put up a poll and we'd all vote on what we wanted to discuss, and then the floor was open for anyone to give their input, and we'd discuss.

I stopped doing them a little while ago because I was burnt out on themed nights. Remembering to make new polls, setting aside part of my weekends to spend hours answering asks the best I could, usually dealing with other projects on top of it all.... it may not seem like it, but god, those nights took a lot out of me. I loved doing it! Having those discussions were some of the best parts of running this blog, but now my new job has me working 40+ hours a week, four days with ten hour shifts and occasionally some overtime on the weekends, I just don't have it in me anymore to do it every single weekend. Not with how tired I am and with all the other projects I'm working on.

That's why I've started testing the waters with these shorter posts of me throwing out ideas or going on mini-rants. They're something simple I can do with no pressure, just me with an empty document getting whatever's on my mind out... and it helps that it feels like my last fuck has just flown away to the heavens to weave itself into the boat god's beard like as he sails among the clouds and stars..... so now I'm gonna talk about whatever I want and the fact that it's my opinion is implied.

I'm sorry if I'm coming off as a little defensive with this part, I tend to get that way whenever people tell me what I should or shouldn't do with my blog, even if they're just trying to be helpful and I don't believe you have any ill intent with your message. I've had this blog for three years now, and I've always had people telling me I shouldn't do character analyses, I should stay in my lane, just write fanfics and do character nights. I should answer more asks otherwise people will think I don't care. I shouldn't write headcanon posts, that's what other blogs do and I'll be taking content away from them. I shouldn't write that one au I've always wanted to because I should be working on [with you]. I shouldn't write anything but [with you.] I shouldn't talk about Violet because I'm a Louis blog.

And that's dumb. All of that is dumb! No one owns the concept of headcanon posts or character analyses! Just like how I don't own the concept of character nights!

Again, my last fuck is lost in Kenny's beard, I don't have it anymore. I'm going to write and analyze whatever I want, when I want, and the best I can do is promise to be better. My inbox is open, I'll try to answer and engage with you guys when I can, I'll keep doing these posts where I ramble about whatever topic is on my mind, and I shouldn't have to put a disclaimer of "This is all my opinion and it's okay if you disagree, I'm not trying to invalidate you" because that's implied.

Before I close out this long response, I do wanna add a thank you for the ask, I do appreciate the constructive criticism. Usually anons that have any problem with me after I talk about Violet will just call me a piece of shit and tell me to delete my blog. Maybe this helped you, maybe it didn't, either way thanks :)

[fleursowl]

illicit affairs

This is for @lumosinlove after I yelled in her asks that illicit affairs is such a perfect song for Sirius and Remus in her sweater weather fic, so I obviously had to write it myself and make myself cry over it (heartbreaking song!!

‘Make sure nobody sees you leave’

Remus whispered to Sirius, his knuckles brushing over Sirius’ cheekbone. Sirius nodded with a sad smile, turning his head to brush his lips against Remus’ hand. Remus let out a soft sigh, his eyes refusing to leave Sirius’, just drinking him in. 

“Gotta go now, Loops,” Sirius whispered, hating that he had to break the moment they had created. Remus hummed sadly, leaning forward and pressing his lips softly against Sirius’, like he was afraid that if he went any harder he’d get caught up in the feel of Sirius and not let him go home. 

“I’ll miss you,” he mumbled, ducking his head but smiling softly as Sirius reached up to press a kiss to his forehead.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, oui? At mine?” Sirius asked softly, like he was afraid Remus was going to say no. As if. 

“See you soon, Cap.” he murmured, cupping Sirius’ cheek for a moment before stepping back and letting him leave. 

Sirius gave him a last sad smile, longing look, and turned to go. 

Hood over your head, keep your eyes down

Sirius reminded himself, tilting his cap down over his eyes and pulling his hoodie over it for good measure as he clambered to his car parked in the shadows. As he swung his legs onto the driver’ seat he thought about how he’d much rather be swinging them over Remus’ lap instead, grinning down at the blushing boy circling his waist in his arms and drawing him closer. 

Tell your friends you're out for a run

You’ll be flushed when you return

“Remus, Remus, I really gotta-” Sirius cut himself off with a high whine, writhing underneath the boy looming over him on the bed, arms bracketing Sirius’ head and lips attached ferociously to his neck. 

“Merde merde merde, oh- mon dieu, do that thing with your lips again or I’ll end you.” Sirius gasped out, whining again when Remus pulled away to smirk down at him, his thumb trailing proudly over the marks he’d made up and down Sirius’ neck and around his collarbone. 

“Thought you really had to go? Potts will be waiting for you, hm?” he said smugly, letting out a small snort of laughter as Sirius groaned, reaching up to flick Remus’ cheek. 

“I absolutely despise you, Re. Getting me all riled up before I have to go and sit down and have dinner with James and Lily and his parents, for mercy’s sake-” the breath was knocked out of Sirius’ chest when Remus collapsed onto him, groaning and curling his arms around Sirius’ neck. 

“Then don’t go. Stay with me,” he mumbled into Sirius’ neck.

“Was that your plan all along, hm?” Sirius snorted, suddenly overwhelmed with a wave of affection for his boyfriend. His boyfriend.

“You know I’d get out of it if I could, but I owe Pott’s parents a lot, and-” yet again Sirius found him interrupted- could he even finish a sentence around here anymore? Jeez- by Remus’ lips pressing quickly against him to shut him up.

“Yeah yeah, I know. Was just joking, don’t worry. You’ll be back soon?” he said hopefully. Sirius huffed a laugh, burying his face in Remus, neck.

“Course I will, Loops. Nowhere I’d rather be, you know that.” 

And when James made very loud remarks about Sirius’ lateness, flushed cheeks and bruised neck, he found he was too happy to care how poor his ‘I went for a run and tripped’ excuse was. 

Take the road less travelled by

Tell yourself you can always stop

Remus sighed in happiness as Sirius kissed his hand that he was already holding as he kept his eyes on the road- and Remus was perfectly content to just stare at him. 

“‘M glad we’re doing this, Re,” Sirius said, glancing over for a quick second to smile at Remus and then settling his hand on Remus’ thigh. Remus titled his head back in the seat, a broad content smile on his lips. If only he could live in this moment forever.

“Me too, Sirius.” 

What started in beautiful rooms

Ends with meetings in parking lots

Sirius thinks about the start, the glancing at each other from across press conference rooms and the locker room but always missing the others’ gaze, as he drives through the night to meet Remus in an abandoned parking lot. They’d nearly been caught last time- and Remus was determined to not let it happen again. Sirius wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that. 

He eventually pulled into a space, sitting in the cold waiting for Remus and watching the way his breath curled in the cool winter air.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and longing stares

Remus let out a relieved breath when he finally arrived on foot at the parking lot as he saw Sirius’ car in the shadows, looking around before quickly jogging up to the car and knocking on the window. Sirius jumped and turned to Remus so quickly that Remus had to take a step back, but Sirius still scrambled over to yank open the car door, tugging Remus up and into the seat.

“Hey. Re. You made it.” he said softly, his hands cupping Remus’ cheeks. Remus hummed in response, and the two simply stared at each other for a while, taking in every small detail and feature in case it was a while before they got to see it up so close and they had to memorise it by heart. 

It's born from just one single glance

But it dies and it dies and it dies

A million little times

Remus can’t stop thinking about the start, the start the start the start. He thinks about the start when he James and Sirius are all in an elevator together and Sirius won’t even meet his gaze, staring resolutely and steadily at James chattering on instead. He thinks about the start when Sirius flinches when Remus brushes his fingers across Sirius’ arm on the way to his seat on the plane, crumpling down next to the window and trying to pretend that he isn’t crumbling inside. 

And that's the thing about illicit affairs

And clandestine meetings and stolen stares

“You asked for this! You signed up for this, Remus! You knew what you were getting yourself into!” Sirius says frustratedly. It’s their third fight this week on the same topic. 

“That’s not-”

Sirius cuts him off. “I told you, I told you at the start that we wouldn’t bee able to tell anyone, no one, that we would have to be so careful, and you agreed anyway! You can’t go taking it back now that we’ve… now that I’ve… it’s not fair, Remus!” Sirius shouts, pushing Remus’ chest a little and just feeling even more irritated when it doesn’t budge Remus one iota.

“Yes, I signed up for that, but I didn’t sign up for you not even looking at me anymore, jumping away whenever I touch you- requesting a different physio? Really, Sirius?” Remus says harshly, scathingly, his arms folded over his chest as he glares at the boy in front of him- man in front of him. 

They show their truth one single time

But they lie and they lie and they lie

A million little times

“I’m just- we just have to be-” Sirius stuttered, shocked by Remus’ confession of truth.

“We have to be what? Careful?” Remus snorted ironically, rolling his eyes. “You’re just using this as an excuse to not be near me or around me, and I don’t know why, but-”

And you wanna scream

Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

Remus was stopped short by angry lips pressed to his, finding himself shoved back against the counter with Sirius’ body pressing against him. 

“Remus John Lupin. Don’t ever doubt that I want you. That I want to be around you. I want to be around you, want you so much, that it feels too much sometimes. And I have to physically stop myself from just pulling you on top of me in the middle of the locker rooms in front of the whole team and all the press, okay? It scares me. So don’t tell me what I do and don’t want, Remus, I’m not a kid.” Sirius scowled. 

Look at this godforsaken mess that you made me

You showed me colours you know I can't see with anyone else

Sirius let out a short burst of laughter, curling his hand around the back of Sirius’ neck. 

“You’re such a fucking mess, Sirius Black,” he whispered, grinning at Sirius’ wounded pout. 

“But so am I, remember? So now we match,” he said, finally meeting their lips again, revelling in the colours that exploded behind his closed eyelids as their lips moved against each other slowly again. 

Don't call me "kid," don't call me "baby"

Look at this idiotic fool that you made me

They stayed in their moment of quiet bliss for a while, but eventually Sirius pulled back for breath, looking up at Remus with a gaze that took Remus’ breath away. 

“You’re idiotic with words sometimes, you know that?” he smirked, kissing Remus again before he could protest. 

You taught me a secret language I can't speak with anyone else

Remus kissed him back happily, able to tell by Sirius’ own special language that the argument was over. They’d figure out the logistics of how to move forwards after, after after he’d just kissed Sirius some more. 

And you know damn well

For you, I would ruin myself

A million little times

“I’d do anything for you,” Sirius whispered into the crook of Remus’ neck as they slow danced around Remus’ tiny kitchen to music only they could hear. 

“Same for me. Goes without saying, Captain.” Remus replied softly, if a little teasingly.

Sirius smiled.

[fromtheplanethexagon]

the robot problem: a critical look at tobecky, 5 years late

hello wordgirl fandom i am back :) and i have a lot of thoughts that i never got around to expressing before i moved on from the show. so be aware that everything i'm saying is based on my experiences during the 2012-2016 era of the fandom & state of tumblr in general, and i am not familiar with more recent fan content.

it's been over five years since the show ended, and @ifbrd​ reminded me (along with some great analysis) that while tobecky was super popular since before the show technically started (thanks to the play date shorts), it's pretty unhealthy in a lot of ways that tend to be excused or flat out ignored in fanworks. i'd like to reflect on that a bit (a lot); specifically, how both the show and the fandom approached this enemies-to-lovers ship, and how easily this ship can slip into uncomfortable territory if we're careless about how we interpret the ship and create fan content of it.

i will admit, i'm mostly writing this as a response to past me and my old creations - though i moved on from the show as a whole years ago, i do like taking the time to reflect on old interests once in a while, and reevaluating my thoughts on them. and this ship is probably the biggest one that still lurks in the corners of my mind once in a while, so let's go.

cherish is the word: a short positive note before a much longer negative one

i wanted to start this essay off with some positivity, because i am going to be very negative after this. tobecky was, in some ways, cute. it's obvious from the very beginning that these two characters are on pretty equal ground, even if one of them isn't aware of it. and that's part of the fun - the irony of how unaware tobey is that his nemesis/crush/person that pretty much always wins against him is someone that he completely dismisses as incompetent. i want to point this out because honestly, in general i don't like enemies-to-lovers because a lot of them use a power imbalance within the dynamic, and i hate power imbalances, especially when it comes to actual life-or-death scenarios (at least, as much as cartoons can do that). in most episodes, becky is never actually forced to go along with his wishes. she's not held in a 'date' against her will, nor is she ever really outwitted by him. i bring this up because there is one huge, uncomfortable exception, which i will get to later.

another big plus to the ship is the fact that they just... get along? even when fighting? of course we get brief moments where they just hang out and talk about paintings or whatever, but i'm talking about how much they get each other, even if they don't realize it. like the word banter, for example. been there since day one. becky loves words, and while most other people in her life don't really care (ranging from 'eh, that's cool i guess' to her brother calling it annoying), tobey gives her a chance to show off and thus treats her as a worthy adversary as herself, not because of her more generic superpowers - something that we've seen in canon that she feels self-conscious about (see: her motivation in patch game). one of the less noticed examples, to me, is "it's your party and i'll cry if I want to", because it's just - okay. they both are excluded from a social event, and while it's obvious that tobey deals with it by destroying the city, it's also pretty obvious that becky also deals with her frustration by fighting in that battle. like, yes, realistically it's just objectively bad that he's destroying buildings. but they're also providing each other with a way to work through their frustrations, first by fighting and then by talking things out, and finally by hanging out together instead of dwelling on being excluded from the party.

so it makes a lot of sense to me that many tobecky fans gravitated towards writing far-in-the-future fic, usually by implying that some growth had taken place before starting to write the ship. (there are, as far as i'm aware, 2... maybe 3 exceptions, that take the time to attempt a real redemption for him, at least when i left the fandom.) because if you take away his worst moments, either by reasoning out that he was 10 years old and a mess, or that he was a cartoon character in a cartoon world where everyone's actions are over-the-top, or by just flat-out pretending that certain episodes never happened, there's some pretty solid ground to start a ship on.

go gadget go: we all do not see it, we simply close our eyes (review of canon)

when the show began, i was the same age as the characters. a lot of other people were, too - at least in my cohort of the fandom. i think it's pretty safe to say that many of us have fond memories of the show's earlier seasons, and held on to that interest as we got older, for whatever reasons. so like, not to be all 'as an OG fan...', but i remember seeing the shorts air for the first time in 2006. i have a diary entry in july of 2009 about how i, a 12yo with no concept of the idea of 'shipping', was disappointed in the new tobey episode because i wanted more tobecky interactions. (that was robo-camping, btw, lol.) and so i remember how exciting their rivalry felt, watching them as someone literally their exact same age, and then watching that again as a nostalgic 17yo, and then uh... growing up, to put it frankly, and realizing just how unhealthy most of their interactions were.

okay what i meant to say was, this section is an overview of the relationship's canon portrayal throughout the years.

first, we have early tobecky: this includes the shorts and the first few seasons. this is their classic relationship: he likes her and takes robots on rampages to get her attention, she majorly disapproves and has fun taking him down. we've all seen the show, you know what i'm talking about. his backhanded ways of trying to find out her identity often feature prominently in the episodes, which - sigh, i've mentioned this whole issue before, but it's kind of a grey area in the whole uncomfortable-factor thing, because while trying to find out her identity is VERY invasive, it's something that like... everyone in the show tries to do, even her canon crush (scoops). on the one hand, it's really not a great look, but on the other hand, this is a cartoon meant to parody a genre in which this trope is extremely common. so i just wanna say that i have Issues and Thoughts on this aspect of their relationship, but there are other things i find more important to discuss here.

second, we have late tobecky: this is seasons 7-8. this is... a very strange and huge shift from the previous dynamic, though it's not necessarily obvious. what i mean by that is that for some reason, the show writers made it so that half of tobey’s rampages have nothing to do with his crush on wordgirl, even though that used to be the sole reason for his villainy. seriously. we have the birthday episode, where he's upset because he feels left out; wg vs tobey vs the dentist, where he's mad that he has a cavity; and trustworthy tobey, where his robot goes on a rampage... after becky accidentally makes it malfunction. the two outliers are ‘guess who’s coming to thanksgiving dinner’ and ‘patch game’, but they still differ from previous seasons because 1) his destruction is isolated to a forest far away from the city, and 2) his motive is still to impress wordgirl, but his methods are relatively tame. also he completely gives up on the secret identity thing??? i may have missed some things but i think he straight up tells her 'yeah there's no way you're wordgirl, lol' and the subject is just dropped for the rest of the show.

i also want to include 'the robot problem' here, because it's one of two season 6 tobey episodes, and follows the 'doesn't destroy buildings to get her attention' pattern: in fact, he teams up with her to try and stop someone else from going on a rampage (even if his reasons are selfish, lol).

and finally. the other season 6 episode. we have go gadget go, the bane of my time spent in the fandom. because GGG is the single episode where tobey truly manages to take away her autonomy, and proceeds to abuse that power for an extended period of time, for his own amusement. it's bad. it's Very Bad. put in the context that it's a white boy doing this to an (ambiguously) brown girl, it's REALLY REALLY BAD. and the more i look back on it, tbh, the more weirded out i am that the show not only made it seem like she wasn't affected at all within the episode, it just... forgot about it (which is not unusual for shows and especially children’s shows, but WG does make some efforts to either retain continuity or create canon reasons for why things are forgotten about). it's the kind of thing that you can't excuse and honestly you can't redeem (like at this point, you gotta ask yourself why you're spending so much effort trying to redeem this guy when becky has several other possible ships that are nowhere near this unhealthy - violet, scoops, honestly even victoria if you want another hero/villain ship, my absolute fave rarepair rose, etc).

so if you want to still ship it you have to just pretend that it never happened. (i remember trying for weeks to write something exploring the aftermath of this episode, to try and make myself feel better about it, but the more i wrote the more i realized just how traumatic this event should've been, so i eventually just dropped it.) and i brought up my own timeline of experiences earlier to point out that this episode aired eight whole years after the show started. which means that when i saw it, even though i was a huge stickler for canon at the time, i'd built up my own idea of the show and characters strongly enough to go 'yeah, no, this episode sucks and i am going to pretend that it doesn't exist'. and i think a lot of other people did too, because i really saw like... no one mention it, ever, except for some rogue fanfics over on ff dot net that already liked dynamics like that.

because here's the thing, and i don't know if people nowadays are aware of it? but i'm 80% sure (cannot find a source, so the other 20% is that it was just a rumor) that the show was originally supposed to end after season 6. and even if it's a rumor, it makes a ton of sense, because we get 1) an 'ending' to tobecky, which is a bad one, 2) a permanent wordgirl identity reveal that significantly changes one of the major dynamics in the show, 3) an episode where TJ gets to work with wordgirl and get a nice potential ending for their sibling dynamic, 4) an episode where we see Two-Brains explore life without his henchmen... the list goes on, and idk how many of these are just major stretches. but the point is. if the show had ended there, that would've been a pretty solid ending for many things, including their relationship: aka, it would prove that it was only ever heading somewhere bad, and when tobey finally has his moment of triumph, he is truly evil about it. and this provides us fans who HATE go gadget go with an easy reason to dismiss it - we can say that it was an attempt to conclude things in a way that wouldn't have happened if the writers had known they'd get more time. but despite that... it is still a canon episode.

it is odd to me how dramatically the dynamic shifts after that, though, because we seriously go from 'worst case ever, tobecky is toxic, your ship is dead' to 'no actually they get along and hang out and get ice cream together and tobey isn't even pressuring her into it, she's happy to go along with it :)' like, immediately. i never knew much about the show writers, so i don't know if the writers changed in between these seasons, but i would absolutely not be surprised if they did.

the earlier episodes are definitely problematic as well (though they pale in comparison to GGG) but i think everyone who ships it is aware considering that tobey is, yknow, a villain. from memory, he destroys buildings to get her attention, lies to her about the level of danger that people are in to trick her into spending more time with him, blackmails her into reading his poetry, and he creates a robot based on her that’s supposed to be devoted to him (but of course, all of these things backfire). not great stuff of course, but like... he’s a villain, that’s the point of his character. and considering that he’s a child these are things that can be redeemed, if done thoughtfully.

anyway, to sum up this section, the show starts off with a pretty standard 'enemies with an unrequited crush' setup, takes a really dark turn for a single episode, and then for the rest of the show takes their dynamic in a direction that makes it much, much easier to ship. as long as you ignore a lot of previous content.

wordbot: where's becky's autonomy in all of this? (misogyny)

we've finally gotten to the fandom. i recognize that a lot of this is going to come across as hypocritical considering how active i used to be re: this ship, but like... i'm a very different person now. anyway. disclaimer i guess - i don't write this to accuse all tobecky shippers of being like this - i know a lot of us aren't/weren't! but boy do i have things to point out, so without further ado:

it is very hard to ship this without allowing some bit of misogyny to slip into it. very, very hard. the entire premise of the ship involves a girl falling in love with a boy that repeatedly pressures her to date him via threats to the safety of herself and people she cares about, which... it's 2020, i shouldn't have to explain why that's terrible & a terrible example to set for children (which is why i am glad they never made it canon, tbh). best-case fan content has tobey stop pressuring her and start working to redeem himself out of an actual change of heart, which leads to becky seeing him in a new light. worst-case fan content treats his incessant pressuring and sometimes outright threats as something romantic - and even worse, romantic to the point where he deserves her attention and love as a reward for not giving up or whatever. i did see this pretty frequently for a while, especially in the earlier 2010s (didn't read much, Not My Thing At All), but i don't feel like going into detail here because of how obviously problematic it is. one medium (but still bad) case is where the fan content makes him start his redemption, but treats her liking him back as a reward for not knocking buildings over anymore. another not great case is where she tries to fix him with her love, which is a very common and very dangerous romantic trope. both are just... so incredibly unfair to her.

in content where she tries to 'fix him'... yeah i feel like it's really obvious how misogynistic that is. girls and women should not feel responsible for the evil actions of men, plain and simple. idk what else to say here i just really hate that trope and hated it back then and it just sucks! so can we not do that anymore, thanks.

in content that treats her like a reward for good behavior, there really isn't much of an explanation for what she sees in him. if she just goes 'oh wow, you're good now, i am going to fall in love with you for it' the whole thing falls flat because it makes NO sense whatsoever. we get to hear so much about tobey and his feelings and why he likes her and how he feels about it, but where is that energy for becky? why does she choose to trust him, to spend time around him, what does she enjoy about his presence? where is her getting over scoops in the process of falling for tobey? where is her telling her friends about this, confiding in them, asking them for advice? where is her choice in the matter?

win a day with wordgirl: do you guys even like becky or do you just like the idea of her (misogyny... 2!)

it was pretty standard for all fandoms the early-mid 2010s, but that's still not a good excuse for why so many tobecky fanfictions centered specifically around tobey's feelings while refusing to give becky the same level of empathy and nuance. it is true that to ship them comfortably you have to redeem him to some degree, which means spending time figuring him out and trying to find ways to pull him to the light without feeling super OOC. but ships take two people??? and there was so much potential for fanfics to explore becky's complex feelings on the matter - because she is! complex! she's heroic and kind but she's petty and has a competitive streak, she easily befriends villains but also doesn't trust them and doesn't believe they can ever really change, she's the savior of an entire planet but has feelings of inadequacy as her civilian identity and struggles with feeling like she can be successful without superpowers, she's great at the straightforward meanings and uses of words and loves reading but struggles to write passages that aren't dry as hell, it can be easily headcannoned that she's neurodivergent (special interests, issues with fitting in with her peers, taking things very literally, etc)... seriously there is SO MUCH to explore about her character, and a lot of it comes into play when you add tobey into the mix (literally ALL of the things i mentioned are explored at some point using tobey as a parallel or foil), but i rarely saw fanfiction that explored her thoughts on things further than 'he's evil but... maybe good?' or 'he's evil but... i kind of like him anyway?'.

if you want her to fall for him while being a villain, explore it!! why does she go against her morals? does she lie to herself about it to feel better? does she feel like she has to 'fix him' as part of her superhero duties to the city, and if so, how does that affect her as she tries and fails to help him? does she fall for him when she believes that he's turning good, only to feel betrayed when he starts acting worse because he feels like he can get away with it? it's such a shame that fanworks spend so little time even considering these questions, and it is absolutely a product of how deeply misogyny is/was baked into how we approach media (especially back then).

tobey goes good: but wait, i thought this show was progressive (a conclusion, i guess)

ifbrd wrote a great meta recently about how the show is a bit misogynist, despite being progressive in several ways. honestly i don't have much to add, but i'd really recommend reading through this; it makes a lot of great observations about the ways that male and female characters are presented differently through the show

i have little to add, so i'd just like to conclude with a reflection on the ship from my current viewpoint. i do think part of the reason so many of us latched onto the ship, despite how obviously problematic it was, is that the show treats a lot of things that would be serious in real life as normal or even comedic - which is fine lol, i'm not going to pretend that it's not a show for little kids, so they have to keep the tone light.

but if we, as teens/adults, decide to engage with this content in a more realistic manner, we have to be prepared to confront how messed up so many of the things going on really are. and if you still want to ship it, there's nothing inherently wrong with that! there's a lot of interesting things to explore in this ship, no matter what stage of enemies-to-friends-to-lovers you write them at, and it can be really helpful to have a space where you can explore a dynamic such as this in fiction. (speaking from experience here tbh, writing some fic for them helped me deal with complicated feelings about some ex-longtime friends.)

so to write this ship at all means that there are canon issues that you need to deal with if you want to have them end up in a healthy relationship in any manner that makes sense (unless you create an AU where none of that is applicable, which, power to you then). and i’m not saying ‘write them with a healthy endgame or you’re Bad’, not at all lol. but at least please, please take a step back once in a while to examine the dynamic that you’re writing, and please be careful about whether you mean to be romanticizing whatever behaviors you end up portraying as good.

[hteragram-x]

Remus Sanders is an artist HCs

I think that there are too many people who sleep on the fact that Remus is an artist. I mean… sure… his creativity is probably mostly spent on creating disturbing thoughts and coming up with lewd jokes. But I refuse to believe that he does not make art just for the cool aesthetic or to put his ideas into a tangible object (or performance). I’ve seen more stories where Virgil was an artist for some reason... and Remus wasn’t even if he’s a literal embodiment of Creativity. Gotta fix it.

We know that Roman is an excellent singer and actor. He can draw (Mona Lisa) and write (gift for Logan; songs; poetry) as well. But he couldn’t really play an instrument (see: Moving On) and he mentioned that Thomas probably shouldn’t show his dancing skills, so maybe he’s not the best at that too. He’s good at costume design and tried interior design as well. The list goes on. He clearly has his strengths and weaknesses in this department.

So what about his brother? (get ready for that Creativitwins content… and maybe some hints at Intrulogical and Dukeceit too)

...

...

...

1. Remus is great at playing instruments. He can play almost everything he tries if you give him a few minutes to check how it works. But being his chaotic self he most often plays instruments that are super loud and annoying.

2. When no one listens he sometimes tries instruments that are more soft and romantic, but you’ll lost your ears and eyes if you ever discover it. Deceit once did. He promised to not tell anyone, but he still remembers the sight of Remus with a silver harp, singing some angsty ballad like a dramatic bastard he is.

3. He likes to make his own instruments too. From everything. And I mean everything. Which includes vegetables, bones, soil, parts of furniture or dirty laundry. Don’t ask.

4. He’s good at singing, but prefers playing.

5. So he often plays for Roman and since they both enjoy coming up with their own songs they regularly perform something one of them wrote.

6. They sometimes try rap battles, so Roman can practice for his eventual rematch with Logan, but rapping is really not their style. And most often than not they end up laughing too much to perform and just add as much nonsense and disgusting jokes to the lyrics as possible.

7. And maybe when Thomas was younger they had a very “hardcore” band called: The Empire Has Fallen. And maybe they sang about not being loved and appreciated. So what? None of our business.

8. Remus is great at sewing (yes, sometimes it means visiting the sewers). And costume design (have u seen his clothes?!). At first most of his drawings were inspired by Roman’s – he just wanted to do something that was a complete opposite. But later he gave himself more creative freedom.

9. Remus designed and made Janus’ costume. I mean… the snake boy is fashionable and all. But it doesn’t mean he can create something on his own. He just said “black and yellow… and I want a hat” and Remus was like: “ALREADY ON IT!” (at first he gave him a bee costume with a top hat as a joke).

10. He’s not great at interior design, because he values the creepy aesthetic over comfort and practicality. So his room was mostly created by Roman who kept the colour scheme and the atmosphere of a damp and weirdly luxurious basement, but added a lot of pillows and greenish lamps in various corners. (There was a long argument about keeping the artistic bloodstains on the walls.)

---

11. He’s excellent with make-up. But he does not try too hard while doing his own, because he likes to look like he has not slept for two weeks.

12. He can dance, but doesn’t do that often. Especially since part of his charm is being intentionally ungraceful and positioning his limbs at weird angles. However, he dances with Roman or Janus if they want to. (With Roman it often ends in a playful fight; with Janus dancing can turn into a semi-romantic, passionate performance to some villain songs.)

13. He’s just as good at drawing as Roman, but obviously their inspirations are very different. Remus most often draws people… with way too many details and a lot of attention to anatomical correctness. You know exactly what he draws. I’m not gonna say it.

14. Logan taught Remus a lot about anatomy of both humans and animals so he can draw as realisticaly as possible. And if they dissected a body in the basement to be extra sure how the liver looks that’s also none of our business.

15. When they were kids Patton promised he will put his drawing on the fridge next to Roman’s if he promises to not draw blood and corpses. Initially he drew some disturbing pictures of naked people to mess with the rest of the sides, but only Logan could look at them without being too grossed out. And since Remus really wanted some validation, he showed Patton his designs of new weapons and pictures of deep-sea creatures (some real, some fictional). A few of them were on the fridge for so long that the ink has slightly faded.

16.  The pictures of sea creatures were partially responsible for Logan’s fear of the bottom of the ocean. But it’s a phobia fuelled by curiosity and scientific fascination so he does not complain and often complements the most terrifying designs.

17.  His weirdest creative outlet is creating new animals. (Roman’s manticore-chimera was heavily inspired by Remus’ mush-ups). And maybe he sometimes invites a certain local nerd to admire his work and help him with coming up with Latin-based names for his dear abominations. And maybe they enjoy adding antlers to fish a little bit too much. And then giggling about it. Stop judging. Gosh…

18.  Remus is unfamiliar with the term minimalism. Or rather he pretends it does not exist. With his ideas the concept of “less is more” will never apply.

19.  He loves sculpting. He’s not great with it, but you can make a big mess with clay, so he finds it relaxing. Sewing is also relaxing, but in a more “I’m already calm so let’s do something tame” sort of way. Sculpting is better to vent. Ya know… create a face out of clay and then punch it real hard. Or smash a block of granite with a mace and see what interesting shapes you end up with.

20.  The art he’s most embarrassed with (if he’s capable of such a feeling at all) is his doodles. He thinks they’re too soft and cute. But he draws them anyway, because sometimes he’s just tired, but still needs to do something with fidgeting hands and all the ideas buzzing in his head like a swarm of hornets.

 ...

More to be added. I myself am full ideas.

[I did part 2. It’s HERE, if you’re interested.]

[asthmark]

❝ comfortable ❞ l.mk

synopsis → “oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

word count → 3k

a/n → instead of admitting to the fact that this has been in my drafts since october what if i just said i was watching superm interviews and got inspired.. would anyone believe that??? anyway superm on the ellen show was a fever dream lol

your leg bounces nervously as your makeup artist touches up your look and you stare at the tv screen in anticipation. you were finally making your television debut. you knew you were blessed for the wonderful opportunity, especially for how new you were to the music industry.

you had started like nearly every other artist; posting covers on youtube. these were well received and gained a good amount of views and likes but your career really took off when you began creating original content. every time you would release a single, it would make it on the trending page thanks to your growing fanbase and exposure to the general public, who seemed to like you. soon enough, requests to interview you whether it be on radio, tv, or magazines were high and, thanks to your managers, you found yourself in los angeles, backstage in a studio, waiting for the ellen degeneres to introduce you to her live audience and thousands of viewers at home.

“don’t move so much, miss l/n,” the woman trying to apply your highlighter comments. “you’re smudging your makeup.”

you force yourself to sit still as you apologize. “sorry. pre-show jitters.”

the woman smiles, emphatically. “i understand, sweetheart. i would be nervous too.”

you’re quiet for a moment, debating if you should continue conversing with her. “can i be honest?”

she hums as she dabs a beauty blender into your cheek. “go ahead.”

“i am so nervous that i’ll mess up or say something stupid. the only thing close to an interview i’ve ever done was a q&a on my youtube channel. and at least i could edit stuff out then.” you huff. “if i make some kind of mistake on my tv debut, my career will be over before it even started.”

“well, think of it this way,” she says. “you went from a moderately popular youtube channel to the ellen show. that doesn’t happen for no reason. there are people out there who really admire you.”

you chuckle in disbelief. “it’s crazy to think about people actually wanting to see me. i still can't believe it.”

she giggles, softly. “they know there's something worth seeing.” at seeing your small smile, almost as if you were barely realizing your own star status, she laughs. “you seriously gotta wake up, girl. you’re famous!”

you smile at her, finding humor in her words. “thanks for the wake up call.”

you both direct your attention to the tv placed backstage that broadcasted what was happening on stage. you listen in to ellen’s monologue as she tells jokes and addresses current topics. before long, there’s a knock on the doorframe. you half expect a staff member to let you know that you’ll be on soon but instead you hear a quiet, “hello?”

you and your makeup artist both turn to the boy standing in the doorway. he's wearing a black jacket paired with dark, ripped jeans held up by a belt. he goes to bow, then remembers that korean etiquette does not apply and decides to wave as a greeting instead. you reciprocate the gesture. he stands with only one foot inside the room, almost as if he’s too polite to enter without being given the okay.

“did they send you to get your makeup done?” the woman who had done yours says.

he nods. “they said something about concealer and bb cream, i think?”

she smiles. “yeah, it’s basic stuff. come on in. what’s your name, dear?”

“oh, i’m mark. mark lee.” he gives her a lop-sided grin, reminding you of a high school boy. the kind you would have a crush on.

“well, mark lee, i’m lily. i’ll be doing your makeup, making sure you look pretty for the cameras.” she motions to you. “i'm just about done here so i’ll be right with you.”

“okay, thank you.” he shuffles in, his eyes glued to you and you hold his stare. he nods, a wordless greeting as he settles in next to you. in return, you throw up a peace sign and he smiles at your casual behavior.

“you know what? somebody used all the setting spray. i’ll be right back, i’m just going to steal some from my co-workers.” with that, lily darts out of the room.

it’s pure silence between the two of you until you spark conversation. “i didn't get to introduce myself but i'm y/n.”

“i know,” he responds, quickly. “i'm kind of a fan, actually. i mean, it’s practically impossible to not be. you’re all over the place. especially with the new single you dropped... which is a bop, by the way.”

you smile at his simply-worded praise. it was a nice switch up from the professional reviews you received from critics. “that’s so cute. i’m honored.” you miss the way mark’s ears turn slightly pink at your words. “but enough about me, what do you do, mark?”

“oh, me? i’m in the k-pop scene.”

you hum. “that’s a good genre to be in. which group?”

“right now i’m promoting with superm, it’s kind of like a side project. but originally, i’m in a band called nct.”

you lean forward at hearing the familiar name. “nct? as in, nct 127?”

mark’s eyes light up. “yeah! you know us?”

you nod, enthusiastically. “oh my god, yes! you collabed with ava, right?”

“we sure did. are you guys close?”

“i help her write lyrics sometimes.” you lower your voice down to a whisper for dramatic effect. “i wrote the chorus to ‘sweet but psycho’.”

the way mark’s jaw drops is almost comedic. “no way! that song got her famous, dude!” his lips curve into a playful smirk. “just because of that i’m gonna have to get you in the studio.”

you return the mischievous look. “is that a promise?”

“i’m back!” lily announces, giving mark no time to respond. she gives no warning as she spritzs you with the bottle she had gone to retrieve.

you cough, choking on the mist. “no heads up?”

“sorry, dear. you’re on in two minutes, no time to waste.”

you feel a chill go up your spine. it was finally time.

mark nudges your arm. “you okay?”

“a little nervous.” that proves to be the biggest understatement of all time because in reality your heart is doing somersaults.

“hey.” you stare at him, his brown eyes boring into you. “you’ll be fine. there’s nothing to worry about. you got this!”

you smile at his words of encouragement. he cared about you and you find that your heart is pounding for an entirely different reason now.

“i'll be here to cheer you on while you’re out there and i’ll be back when you’re done to tell you how amazing you did, okay?”

you nod.

“now get out there!”

“well, we have a great show for y’all today,” ellen says, clasping her hands together, having just finished her monologue. “i mean, it’s always great but the exciting thing is we have two musical guests today.”

the audience that cheered wildly is shown on screen. you almost forget about the knot in your stomach when you see some people in the crowd wearing shirts with the cover art and quoted lyrics of your last single.

“i see you guys are ready so, without further ado... let’s get started. our first guest is a soloist who has made quite a big name for herself in such a short period of time. she currently has three singles on the billboard charts, her most recent music video is number one trending on youtube, and she has a new ep coming out soon. here for her television debut, please welcome y/n l/n.”

you walk out from behind the stage, a huge smile on your face. the crowd screams and you wave to them until your hands become too occupied hugging the hostess who greets you with open arms and a proud smile. once the hype dies down and your entrance music fades out, you take a seat, opposite of ellen.

“how have you been y/n?”

“amazing,” you respond, letting your hands fall neatly in your lap.

“and why is that?”

you sigh, wistfully. “everything has been going so well for me lately. i mean, i feel like all these doors are opening up for me all of a sudden. i think i finally made it.”

“you’re just barely realizing that?” ellen exclaims.

you laugh, along with the audience. “kind of, yeah. it just all happened so fast.”

“is there an experience that comes to mind where you finally realized how famous you are?”

you try to think for a few moments before your eyes light up. “okay so, i was at a mcdonald’s like, last month and i went through the drive thru and ordered some nuggets and fries. so, i pull up to the window to pay and it’s around 2 a.m. so the cashier guy is super out of it, like he’s not even paying attention to me. finally, he goes to grab my card and he gets a good look at me and just freezes. like, full on shuts down. so i ask him if he’s okay and he nods so i try to hand him my card again but he goes, ‘no, you’re famous, you don’t have to pay’. and in that moment i just knew.”

“hold on, pause,” ellen announces, dramatically. “you’re telling me that you have been nominated as artist of the year, gained over ten million followers on social media and made your national television debut but the thing that really made you say ‘wow, i’m famous’ was a couple of chicken nuggets?”

“ellen, c’mon,” you begin, seriously. “it was a twenty piece.”

“oh, well, that changes everything,” she says, playing along with you, as the audience erupts into laughter.

the rest of the interview goes smoothly, running on jokes and sarcastic energy. you discuss your young age (thus resulting in some of your baby pictures finally being revealed to the world), millennial culture (the crowd went wild when you explained terms such as netflix and chill to ellen who claimed she didn’t understand yet her sly smirk said otherwise) and your upcoming ep (that you would be giving a sneak peek of later on in the show).

you continue chatting once the commercial break is announced and ellen showers you with praises, commenting how young talent never failed to amaze her, although it did make her feel old. you get to thank the hostess and tell her how much you appreciated her sweet words and the opportunity she had given you before the crew is dragging you backstage so you can prep for your upcoming performance.

you’re greeted by a “that was awesome!” and a high five one you get backstage.

you flash mark a full smile. “couldn’t have done it without my hype man.”

just then lily walks in to touch up your makeup.

“and my hype woman!”

she just rolls her eyes and chuckles as she reapplies gloss to your lips. 

“seriously though, y/n. why did you have to be so perfect? the bar is all the way up here now.” to emphasize his point, mark raises his arm as high as it will go.

“hey, i only tried hard because you’re up next. you’re a hard act to beat, mark lee. i mean, you’re charismatic, charming, witty; basically every talk show host’s dream.”

he scoffs yet you see how he avoids your gaze, your compliments obviously flattering him to the extreme.

a staff member walks by, cutting your conversation short. “y/n, you’re back on in one. superm is on right after.”

you and mark turn back to each other, speaking the same two words at the same time.

“good luck.”

ellen introduces you again, only this time you hold a guitar and stand in front of a microphone once you’re back on the stage. you perform a never before heard song but judging by the roaring applause and standing ovation you receive by the end of it, it’s another successful hit.

you bask in the amazing response and then you’re ushered backstage for the last time. you catch sight of the staff placing more seats on the stage as you exit and you smile eagerly, knowing exactly what’s to come. you search the hallways for your new friend, hoping you can catch him before the show goes back on air. you’re almost about to give up when you hear your name being called.

you lock eyes with mark who stands a couple feet away, barely hidden from the audience’s view. even from where you stand you can tell he has a nervous smile on his face. you jog towards him and to your surprise, he envelops your figure without a second thought. in return, you tentatively wrap your arms around him.

“great job,” he murmurs, breath fanning your ear. “i really did cheer you on.”

“i’ll make sure to do the same.” you hesitantly pull away from his embrace, holding him at an arm’s length away. “go get ‘em.”

he gives you a determined nod and you watch him rush on stage, the audience’s wild cheering increasing. their energy didn’t fade once throughout the interview and just as you had suspected, mark was doing wonderfully. he clearly thrived in interviews; his awkward, boyish nature enchanting everyone in the studio, yourself included.

ellen crosses her legs and clears her throat. “so, i have to ask you something, you know, for the fans.”

the group leaned forward in anticipation, awaiting her next words.

“are any of you dating?”

the crowd released noises of amusement at hearing the very personal question. you can’t help but feel intrigued although you knew ellen has always been quite the invasive person. you watched as the seven boys looked around at each other, unsure what to say but before their silence can become suspiciously long, mark ends up taking the question.

“why are you always so curious about this, though?” he blurts.

the audience absolutely eats up his response, cheering at his bluntness. even you find it humorous, shoulders shaking with a chuckle. that’s definitely gonna become a meme, you think.

“it’s my job!” counters ellen. “why are you so defensive?”

the crowd is very responsive to ellen’s rebuttal, ‘ooh’ing in amusement.

mark’s silence only pushes the hostess to continue teasing him.

“does it maybe have anything to do with y/n?”

your smile drops. had she seen you two? you’re not sure why you feel so exposed; after all, you had just been talking.

ellen’s lips adorn a sly smile at mark’s stunned reaction. “you seemed to be getting very comfortable with each other backstage.”

the black haired male stumbles over his words before he gets a semi-coherent sentence out. “we just, um—we just met.”

“oh really? you two looked like you had known each other forever.”

mark chuckles breathlessly, eyes glued to his lap, obviously at a loss for words. ellen stares at him expectantly so he mutters, “i like making friends.”

ellen, the audience, and even some of the band members laugh at his response.

“well, i’m sure there’s a lot of fans out there that wish they were your ‘friend’.” her tone makes it clear she doesn’t buy his excuse but she prods him no further, instead turning to stare into the main camera. “when we get back superm will be performing their title track ‘jopping’. during the commercial break, please feel free to place your bets as to how long mark and y/n will remain ‘friends’.”

the camera pans to mark for a couple seconds; his ears are bright red and his cheeks are dusted light pink, his makeup doing nothing to help hide the blush. his eyes dart around, anxiously and then they cut to commercials.

you shake your head, smiling at the entire situation and just how big of a dork mark was.

you attentively watch superm’s two performances, eyes mostly glued to a certain rapper. you sit patiently in the makeup room, waiting for mark to return backstage so you can congratulate him but he never appears. you try to conceal your disappointment, even when lily enters the room, smiling brightly.

“well, the show’s over, doll.” she removes her makeup stained apron and glances at you as she places it on a nearby rack. “hey, why the long face?”

you stare at your reflection in the mirror, no longer bothering to hide your pout now that your frustration had been made known.

“you did great, if that’s what you’re worried about. just ask mark.”

“he left,” you mumble. “i thought i’d be able to catch him before he left and we could… i don’t know, talk a bit more? i just really—” you trail off.

“like him?” lily suggests, too loudly for your liking.

your head snaps towards her, eyes wide, only confirming your feelings.

“don’t worry, dear, you can say it. i won’t tell ellen,” she jokes.

you sigh and slump down in your seat. “yeah. i like him.”

“well, then, i have good news for you.”

you half-heartedly hum, allowing her to continue.

she waves a piece of crumpled paper in front of your face. you grab it from her, staring at it curiously.

“what’s this?”

she nods her head at it, encouraging you to find out for yourself. “open it and see.”  

you obey, unfolding the tiny item. your eyes struggle to read the words inside but if you squint, they become clearer.

please call, me i would love to become closer ‘friends’.

(xxx) xxx-xxxx

it’s mark btw :)

you can’t contain your smile at the cute little note.

“he’s adorable,” you say, mostly to yourself but lily audibly agrees.

“he ran into me as he was leaving and begged me to deliver that message to you. which reminds me, i’m supposed to let you know that he wishes he could have stuck around but his schedule is ‘crazy tight’ so he had to ‘dip’. his words not mine.”

you nod, grin widening. “thanks, lily.”

“my pleasure. nothing like young love.”

you give her a glare although it’s all but threatening.

she folds her arms, teasingly. “so, are you going to give him a call or what?”

you’re sure she sees the phone in your hand and the way your fingers press the numbers on the keypad, excitedly but nevertheless, you decide to answer.

“i’d be crazy not to.”