#i gotta get more into all this but gen was the “too much” child and never grew out of it

[walkeddeath]

A REAL DEEP META RE: gen's relationship with their mother and why we should be okay with letting them eat her soul.

trigger warning for : mommy issues tm, trauma, abuse [nothing detailed just brief mentions], death, and ask to tag anything else nothing is detailed and mostly allusions.

something something Gen was the "too much" child and their relationship with their mother was deeply fucked and flawed to the point where Gen ran away at seventeen but ended up being dragged back. Their mother was highly and toxically co-dependent and also deeply jealous of Gen. She was not a good person we do not sympathize with her here.

She kept gen trapped in a town that wanted to eat them alive [nearly quite literally but that's another essay] and gen rebelled early and tried -so hard- to trigger their own exile and still never managed to truly escape. They questioned the rules and the way of things and had sympathy for all of the supposed evils out there bcs they felt something dark inside them , asked all the “if were all gods children why are some cast aside for things they cant control” questions, asked -too many- questions, always too soft towards the things they should hate / were supposed to.

They refused to be what their mother wanted them to be and she hated them even more for it. She tried to kill gen a few times, through neglect and through intentional methods, because she was also afraid of them. That there was something in them that wouldn't be able to ever be controlled, something evil. Which, the only fairness to that is that there is something deeply horribly bad going on but Gen's mom is the one that signed them up for that fate and wouldn't let them try to escape it, and gen tried so hard to get away they ended up falling into the beginnings of chaos, and their first death is directly tied to it.

something something Gen didn't want to die they just wanted to get out of that house.

[oatmealdaydreams]

Black Hole Fantasy: even in my fantasy, I keep the car running / in case I need to take off

Please let me know if ya wanna be added on or taken off the general taglist!

Part 2

Inspired By Works: the Shifter Stan AU made by @the-east-art! Check out her stuff, it's super good. Shout out to East!

Pairing: Stan Pines & Ford Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Summary: Back when he first leaves New Jersey, Stanley Pines discovers something new about himself on the streets. It’s dark, and there’s hardly anyone else on the road as he drives in the rough terrain of Mount Tammany. He figures out a little comfort when he can’t stop thinking about how his brother’s doing.

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

Midnight skies have always been beautiful with twinkling stars and darkened clouds, but Stan Pines does not have time for anything beautiful. 

The soft rumble of his car—the Stanleymobile, the El Diablo—helps keep him awake at the wheel. Various failed products are scattered in the back, alongside whatever spare clothes he has in his dufflebag. There’s even a spare suit for when he tries doing this door-to-door salesman gig over in Pennsylvania. He’s gotta keep a bright-colored winning smile for any potential customers, so he has a couple of makeshift suits to match it. This is the seventies, after all. Or is it the eighties? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He’s got this new idea for a cheap bandaid deal that’s sure to make some dough. Stan’s…starting to run low on gas again, nevermind the fact he’s not sure when his next meal will be. There’s probably some joint on the roadside he can steal some shit from. Pennsylvania is a new adventure. 

Banned from New Jersey, huh? Well, it isn’t like he has much to stay for. His Pa ain’t too fond of him. His Ma can only do so much with Pa still around. His brother…Stan shakes his head lightly as he turns a corner. In the dark of night, the shrubs and trees surrounding the roadside look more menacing. It doesn’t help the fact that there’s not really any railing out where he drives. Maybe there’s more of it up the mountainside or something. He hopes so, at least. Stan hates driving so high up like that. It feels as though he may plummet if he makes too sharp a turn. 

He tries the radio, having to smack it a few times to get it to work. Turning the dial, the stations flicker through bullshit talk shows and half-crackling static. He growls, shutting it off. Ain’t like he’d hear much of any music anyway, what, with the way his ears hurt from the pressure up in the mountains. Moses, he hates driving through Mount Tammany. He’s not doing this again. It’s not like he can come back to Jersey without some repercussions, anyhow. 

Something sad, empty, somber settles in his chest. He can’t return to Glass Shard Beach ever again. Not to his Pa’s face; he kicked him out. Not to his Ma’s face; he’ll disappoint her. Not to his brother’s face. Not…yeah. Maybe it’s best if he doesn’t return for a long while. At least, until he has a fortune to appease his Pa. He’s gotta make something of his sorry self, y’know. Make ‘em all proud and shit. Like a good son would. And, well, though he’s never claimed to be a good anything, there’s this stubborn hope that he can find a way to fix things. Make ‘em better. He can hide the less tasteful sides of himself if it means seeing his family again. 

Stan may be a dumbass, but he knows something’s wrong with him. Normal people can’t grow an extra finger at will. Normal people don’t shapeshift like they’re some weirdo from those books Sixer used ta read. 

Does he still read those? Or has he moved to all that college junk where he reads a bunch of nonsense textbooks? Y’know, with all those equations and nerd words and everything? 

Stan focuses on the road. 

It’s empty out here. Crickets and cicadas keep the ambience not so creepy-like. There’s no one out here. It’s just Stan and the Stanleymobile. Stan and Stan. Just…Stan. 

He doubts anyone’s gonna care if he neglects to use his blinker a few times. The brights on the car don’t work too well, so it ain’t like his lights will blind something. He swears they keep making brighter and brighter lights on cars these days. Someone’s oughta crash in a ditch from it eventually. 

Ford always complained about the lack of brights on the El Diablo. ‘What if it’s dark and you’re stranded, Stanley?’ he’d say, ‘What are you going to do if it comes down to you being on your own? What if there’s no one to help you?’ Kind of ironic, actually. Was he some future-seeing weirdo? Heh, imagine, his brother, some superhero who could see the future. Stan wonders if he’d have warned him if he saw what would happen. If he knew, would he’ve told him? Tried an’ helped him figure some shit out?

Ugh, he needs to stop thinkin’ about all this! 

Stan doesn’t need to glance down at his hands to know a sixth finger grows on them. 

Fuck, he thinks as he pulls over on a little lookout thing meant for resting travelers or sightseers. Fucking Christ almighty. 

He stops the car, not wanting to waste gas. Taking his hands off the wheel, Stan glances down at them with a huff. Yeah, he was right. A sixth finger on each hand, just the way it is on his brother’s. Maybe if Stan wore glasses on his face, they’d truly be hard to tell apart. He’d look all nerdy and…like Ford. He’d look like his brother. 

His throat’s dry. He has to swallow down whatever’s prickling his eyes. Stan isn’t gonna cry. That’s not—he’s not gonna get all weepy over hands. 

He’s not.

He’s not. 

He’s…

Shit.

Stan ignores the way a few stubborn tears glide down his face. He ignores the way his breath hitches at the thought of his brother. He ignores the thrumming, buzzing emptiness that grows a pit in his chest. It feels grey. It feels like static. It hurts in a way that doesn’t bleed. It hurts. He can feel that pit surge when he tries to take a fucking breath. It doesn’t help much. Stan just stares all teary-like down at his stupid hands as he clenches and unclenches them. He shifts one back to its typical five-fingered form. With shaking hands, he intertwines them. One six, one five—just like it used ta be. He grips his hands tighter as he lets out the first cry. Stan shuts his eyes and tips his hand back against the headrest. If he looks down at his hands for any longer, he’ll break. He can’t break. He can’t let himself break. 

Outside the car windows is a dark, starry sky that twinkles. 

Somewhere in a last-ditch-effort type of university, a six-fingered student watches the same stars.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[jaybug-jabbers]

Gen 3 Beta Pokemon 'Dex - Page 1

So the teraleak has revealed a whole bunch of beta gen 3 pokemon. I wanted to go through them all one by one and present the gathered information on them in some Tumblr posts. HiResPokemon (HRP) is keeping a spreadsheet of this info, but I find it incredibly awkward to scroll through it, so I wanted to present the info in a format that's easier for me to read (and perhaps for others too).

I'm going to start with the beta pokemon that seem to have been entirely cut. This will no doubt span several posts since there is a 30 image cap per post.

One final note, we do not have equal amounts of data on all of these beta pokemon. For many of them we only have sprites and a name. For others, which were far closer to being included in the game before being cut, we have a lot more info.

Okay, onward to the beta 'mon!

Name: Boyatto [ボヤット]

My Notes: HRP notes this yeti pokemon was possibly inspired by a yokai called Ashiarai Yashiki. (I gotta say it seems uncomfortable to have a mouth on your foot, though)

Name: Bii [ビィ]

My Notes: It appears this pokemon's data was in the process of being swapped over to Wingull; its name is listed as キャモメ(Camome), its typing is Flying/Water, its Category name is Water Bird and its height/weight are Wingull's as well. As such we don't know actually much about this pokemon, other than it looks like a bug type. I am not sure what they were going for with this bug's design, to be honest.

Name: Kuroboshi [クロボッシ]

Type: Rock

Category: Black Stone

Height/Weight: 1'8", 50.7 lbs

Pokedex Entries:

It's impossible to understand what they're thinking because their expression is always the same. When stared at, it makes one feel unsettled.

--

After the rain, they can be seen rubbing their wet bodies with leaves, polishing themselves. They seem to be satisfied when they are shining black.

Evolution: Evolves into Claydol

My Notes: This was apparently inspired by a roly-poly toy, which rights itself if you push it down. While I do feel as though Baltoy matches up with Claydol a lot better, it's a shame this little guy wasn't re-used as a seperate pokemon.

Name: Toroiika [トロイーカ]

My Notes: Previous beta squid pokemon include a couple from Red/Green, and a drill-armed Squid from Gold/Silver. At least we finally got Inkay!

Name: Ubausagi [ウバウサギ]

Type: Normal

Category: Foster

Height/Weight: 2'7'', 27.6lbs

Pokedex Entries:

If it has no offspring, it will seek out a small living thing and place it onto its back.

--

A Pokémon that wraps its tail around to make a cradle while raising its child on its back. Sometimes it bonds with a different creature.

--

It can run 50 meters in 7 seconds flat. Sometimes, it may accidentally drop its child. It brushes its teeth by gnawing on hard objects.

Additional Gamefreak Notes: Its stats are average strength, high speed.

Signature Move Ideas:

'Milk Time' - Withdraws from the battle forcefully to feed milk to the child on its back.

'Tantrum' - The kids on its back throw a fit, screaming loudly, which lowers the opponent's attack power.

My Notes: Literally the best scrapped gen 3 pokemon, fight me

Name: Biskyal [ビスキャル]

Type: Grass

Category: Everlasting Summer

Height/Weight: 2'4'', 17.6lbs

Pokedex Entries:

Lives in warm regions, often acts in groups, becomes very noisy when three or more are gathered.

--

It is said that giving one of its head petals to a loved one will make love come true. It gets furious if someone tries to take its petals.

Additional Gamefreak Notes: Born in tropical regions. It is weak to the cold. As long as the temperature is high, it can survive in even the most polluted environments, showing remarkable toughness and resilience. Its personality is selfish and self-centered. Only females exist.

Evolution: Evolves into Rillidiy

My Notes: HRP notes that this pokemon may have been cut due to the controversy surrounding Jynx (which would have been fresh in the minds at Gamefreak, at the time).

Name: Ryllidy [リリディ]

Type(s): Bug/Psychic (previously Grass)

Category: Red Spider Lily

Pokedex Entries:

It has long antennae that are highly sensitive, capable of sensing subtle air currents to understand the thoughts of its enemies.

--

It mesmerizes opponents with its dance-like movements and deep gaze, putting them into a hypnotic state. Only females of this species have been confirmed.

Additional Gamefreak Notes: The part that looks like a skirt is actually part of its body, and its legs are properly hidden inside. It excels at sensing the emotions of others, using its antennae to feel the opponent's aura. It can manipulate others at will. It is often seen standing still, gazing at the sunset sky.

Evolution: Evolves from Biskyal

Signature Move Ideas:

'Hypnotic Gaze' - Puts the opponent to sleep and manipulates them at will, allowing the user to command the opponent's moves. The opponent must be in a sleep state for this move to work.

Other Moves: Sleep Powder, Stun Spore

Name: Kanbok [カンボック]

Types: Grass/Water (previously pure Grass)

Category: Shrub

Height/Weight: 4'7'', 154.3lbs

Pokedex Entries:

Stores a large amount of water inside its body, which it can expel in a shower-like fashion while spinning. It's particularly useful during hot summer days.

--

Drinks more than 100 liters of water per day, and its leaves on its hands wilt if the water stored in its body runs low.

Additional Gamefreak Notes: By spinning, it creates wind with the leaves on its head and hands. It usually hops around to move. High defense. Can learn water type moves.

Evolution: Was going to evolve into an undecided pokemon which then would have evolved into Tropius

Signature Move Ideas:

'Sprinkler' - a regular physical attack where the body spins rapidly and shoots out water.

Name: Komari [コマリ]

Types: Ghost (previously Psychic)

Category: Spirit

Height/Weight: 8'', 3.3lbs

Pokedex Entries:

Is known to guide those who are lost in deep forests with the sound of its horns. Seeing this Pokémon is said to bring happiness.

--

Shakes its head side to side, producing a clear, bell-like sound similar to a xylophone, using the tones to communicate with others.

Additional Gamefreak Notes: It inhabits deep forests, and its ecology remains unknown. Its horns have a bell-like structure, and when it shakes its head, it makes a 'kaka' sound. When humans or Pokémon approach, it rings its horn to signal its companions. It communicates with its companions through the sound of its horns. It does not have a mouth. When angered, it emits ultrasonic waves from its horns, overwhelming its opponent. Extremely high special defense.

Signature Move Ideas:

'Exit Path' - Forces the opponent’s Pokémon out of battle and makes them switch to another Pokémon.

'Echo' - Reflects the opponent's move back at them.

My Notes: Because its name is a combination of 'Kima' ('the space between trees') and 'Fairy,' if this pokemon were ever made a reality in modern times I think it would be Fairy typing.

Name: Monorabi [モノラビ]

My Notes: Some of these pokemon have critique notes included with them; for our little one-eared rabbit friend here, the note was 'Looks deformed.' That note seemed especially mean and uncalled for, I really like this bun.

Name: Stanbu [スタンブ]

My Notes: The critique for this one was 'too much like Sudowoodo'

Name: Rikugin [リクギン]

Name: Aarei [アーレイ]

Name: Otoma [オトマ]

Type: Water

Category: Scale

Height/Weight: 1'4'', 5.5lbs

Pokedex Entries:

It produces sound by spinning the disc on its head. Each individual produces different musical scales. The sound varies based on the size of its body.

--

When eight of them gather, they start a performance. It inhabits ponds.

Additional Gamefreak Notes:

Uses its tail to flick the disc on its head, creating musical notes. The scale of the notes changes with the size of its body. Lives in small ponds rich in water plants. When its peers gather, they start playing lively music by the water's edge.

Evolutions: Evolves into Keromeelo

My Notes: While we do eventually get the sound-themed Tympole line in gen 5, that family line looks so very cursed to me and I think I prefer the DJ tadpole here.

Name: Keromeelo [ケロメーロ]

Evolutions: Evolves from Otoma

My Notes: It was critiqued for being too similar to Politoed. HRP spreadsheet notes something disturbing, that the orange strand that makes up the shape of a clef note may indeed be this frog's intestines (similar to the swirl in the Poliwag line being its intestines)

Click for Part 2!

[orion-lacroix]

Thank you @cb-writes-stuff for the tag sorry it took me so long to do the tag game this is going to be colorful because I wanted to tell the question apart from the answer

Writeblr questionaire:

How long have you had your writing tumblr/writeblr? A fast and loose estimate is fine!

I don't know, I created it this year, but before that I had a random Tumblr account but I'm not really a social media kind of person so I generally forget to interact (sorry!!!!!)

What’s one thing you’d like your mutuals to know about you?

If I don't interact much or talk much it's not on purpose, I just kinda forget I need to answer or get to anxious to talk and start a discussion.

What’s your favorite thing about the writeblr community?

How it's kinda expanding my social circle. Not sure if it make sense but like mutuals of mutuals will become mutuals woth me and I'll start interacting with more people and I like that!

Which wips or writing projects have you been noodling about lately?

Honestly there are many. First there is Avalon's Child, set in the same universe as The Dead sea and a third project still unamed and not planned more that the general idea, then there is the hare and the fox shall dance, and finally there are the ones that I've put on hold a little until I get more inspiration and idead and motivation. (The protectors, Can I save you? And Forgive me)

Do you remember what inspired them/what got you started?

Well for some it's spite (I want to write queer stories that do not end with the death of the queer character, writing queer character in spite of what some will say) for other the story just kind of popped up in my head and has me in a choke hold until I write it ahah.

Is there anything you’d like to see more of on your dash?

More short stories or projects! I like learning more about what other people write about!

Name any characters you created. side characters, protagonists, antagonists, characters who’ve never been written, the first original abomination you ever pulled from your rear; whomever you’d like

I would say, in the original abomination category it would be Rain, a faune (made up species) which come from the project the protectors, they are just basically Gen z on drugs, from a species that has no gender, all the faune are agender. They are well... lets say very stubborn in protecting nature, even if they have to fight a giant dragon with nothing but their teeth (they did, and lived).

How much time, in your best estimation, do you spend thinking about them?

All day, every day. I'm at work sometime and I will use an old receipt to scribble notes that I thought about so I don't forget.

Who's the most unhinged?

I would say either Rain from the protectors or Atlas from Avalon's child. One fought a dragon woth nothing the other fought two gods and killed them.

Who comes the most naturally for you to write?

I would say either Ry (Atlas friend) or Gideon. Both are young, just turned adult or nearly adult but I can relate to the way they think, unlike Atlas who's in their twenties which is harder for me to write.

Do you ever cringe at them?

Not really.

How much control do you feel you have over your characters? do they ever “write themselves,” refuse to cooperate, or do things you didn’t expect? To what degree?

I lost control the moment I started to think too much about their personality. They write themselves entirely even if I'm not writing.

Are some less cooperative than others?

Well I would say Atlas is somehow the worst one because I spent so lonng thinking about their personality that they just sort of do their thing and i just gotta chamge the story accordingly.

When someone asks the dreaded, “what do you write about,” question, what do you usually say?

Depends on who? If I like the person I might explain a lot, if not I'll just say like fantasy, sci-fi, paranormal, whatever genre it is and say the general idea like 《young adult thrown in a world of magic and they fight to belong》

Do you enjoy people asking questions about your characters?

Yesss please do!

and do you have a preferred means of receiving said questions? for example, as asks, as replies, as reblogs, as tag notes, as comments on ao3, etc.

Anything, if you have a question go ahead! Ask are fine, tags are fine and comments and reblogs are fine as well. It might sometime take me time to answer but I will try to answer!

What makes you want to follow another writeblr account? Do you follow ‘em as you see ‘em, or take time scoping out the blog to make sure you align with its content? Do you follow based on wips, or vibes?

Vibes ahaha, if I see something interesting I'll follow! I don't often check out blogs before following if the post I saw was cool

Do you interact with non-mutuals often?

Yes and no, depends on the day, my dash and many things but I try to interact with as many people as I can!

Do your mutuals’ characters occupy space in your noodle?

Yes a lot!

I'll tag @halfbakedspuds @thylocalbard @stew-magnetos-version @agirlandherquill but no pressure

[joviantwelve]

okay you said you had a pokémon fanregion in your head, and now i gotta hear all about that, is the thing

OH god actually it's really funny how much shit that was in it has come to pass in canon by now, because I originally conceptualized it circa gen 4. It's usually what I think about if I think of like pokemon fancharacters or whatever. here we fuckin go

It was based on the Holon region in the TCG which has pokemon with funny types. we have Tera types now... the idea was that it would be begin further expanding and adding its own League and whatnot. I put it as above Johto/Kanto so relatively gen 1&2 selection of mons. keeping it simple.

it was more about the Weird Type Shit, which the pokemon prof of the region was studying under an organization she was a part of (the evil team, which was not branded as "Team (x)" just like Aether Foundation lmao). anomalies to track down and whatnot. but they were also inducing it themselves and studying other detected anomalies in the region. or sometimes the experiments they did created new, unintended anomalies of their own

this was mostly to make Missingno canon. which is like the only thing that hasn't still come to pass yet (BUT IT SHOULD!!!!!!). my dearest darlingest Missingno, the entire reason I love glitches today, was effectively my box legendary. the backstory of the prof was much like Lusamine in that she saw this Fucking Weird Pokemon a long time ago due to her Experiments and it fucked her up and she became a weird bad anime mom afterward. SHE EVEN HAD A DEAD HUSBAND!!!!!!! I FUCKIN INVENTED LUSAMINE FIRST

oh I should mention the "protag" analogue of the region WAS the professor's child. SO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! you had to fight your mom. who is the prof. who is also the evil team leader. and corrupted by some messed up videogame code. damn that sucks

later when we started getting more AI-feeling Rotom characters, I imagined a Rotom in a more robot/android body as one of the team underlings. he was the protag's buddy back home but now he has to fight you :( sorry i dont wanna do this but my programming is telling me to (throws a pokeball out halfheartedly)

(ASIDE: I remember in the first movie when they were like flabbergasted at Mewtwo technically qualifying as a pokemon trainer. that was kinda fucked up and weird, can we go back to that? tbh when I think about it, a lot of the vibe of my fanregion is based on how Weird early pokemon gens felt. they really dont make it like this anymore. Ape Inc became Creatures, I'm certain some EarthBound talent factored in)

I think I was also imagining weird-typed versions of the legendary birds for a trio, which is funny cuz we got Galarian versions of them now too....

Hooke was originally a Pokemon OC and was my first one actually, he ran a Dark-type gym because one didn't exist in canon yet. he was ex-Team Rocket and moved up north to turn a new leaf. thought it fit Dark's vibe as like the Schemer Type. I had to wait amazingly long for an actual Dark-type gym in canon which is kinda funny. it actually felt a little sad when we finally got one because it had been 11 years since I had made Hooke in protest of this

if you remember my OC Serafine (she doesnt have a TH SORRY), she was also an evil team exec.

she doesn't have a modern analogue but another one of the fancharacters was the rival-type one and she was Lt. Surge's spoiled neice

the Ghost-type gym leader I can describe as a Super Nerd with the constitution of the Hiker. can see ghosts but is a social outcast but more in a nerd sense than a goth sense. I liked him a lot but I haven't had anywhere to put him :(

the Psychic-type leader was extremely tsundere and her mind reading helped her out with all those tsundere insecurities (now she's just paranoid and preemptively reads people's minds)

the Fire- and Steel-type leaders were a duo battle of "smoke and mirrors" themed magicians. and also married

this is largely stream of consciousness I hope this post makes SENSE

[crapmagak]

Fe4 Remake Predictions

Alright, yet again, a nintendo direct is around the corner. And yet again, we might get the Genealogy of the Holy War remake revealed. Personally, my guess is probably not, but it’s a soft probably not.

That all being said, every time a direct arrives, I tell myself I’ll post my predictions for what the Fe4 remake will look like, but never get around to finishing it. So fuck it, Imma post my predictions today before it’s too late.

Prediction 1: The map design will remain mostly untouched. Fe Echoes had a lot of respect and reverence for the old game, and those maps arguably need much more touching up than Genealogy’s. 

Prediction 2: Presentation wise, however, I think these maps will be stylized visually in some way. After all, most maps in Fe4 are the size of entire countries. Maybe the overworld units will be sprites again. Maybe the maps will do some fancy HD2D shit. Can’t say it will be either of those for sure, but some kind of visual abstraction will be employed to make the maps work.

Prediction 3: There will be slight adjustments to the trading system. Characters can still only do it with their spouses, but there’d be slight quality of life changes like getting to choose exactly how much money is given. Still gotta due pawn shop shenanigans to give weapons to non spouses, however.

Prediction 4: The love system will be fully replaced with a simple support system. Pretty much everyone is expecting this, though.

Prediction 5: Only the Castle Towns you start a chapter in will have free roaming segments where you can talk to characters, give them gifts, order food, ect. Since usually there’s a bit of a time skip between chapters and all. The castle towns you visit mid chapter will be more like the towns in echoes.

Prediction 6: There will be an avatar character. I know, I know, it’d be for the best that there wasn’t. However, the main reason an avatar wasn’t included in echoes was because of the story structure. It’d be a lot easier to introduce an avatar character in Fe4. And of course, this is the entry in the series that introduced romance. Story wise they’ll be a tactician for house Chalphy. I also think they’ll make the avatar another manakete who never actually transforms, mostly so they don’t visibly age during the second generation (So it’s less weird when they let you romance those characters as well). You will also get your own child unit/ an apprentice character if you haven’t S supported anyone yet. There will also probably be a lot of “I’m sad my S/O died” angst.

Again, this is not the timeline I desire, merely that which I believe will most likely come to fruition.

Prediction 7: There will be a small handful of new playable characters in the game. Most likely there to round out the cast balance wise, so probably a new ax unit for each generation, and maybe a new mage or wyvern knight. Maybe we’ll even get a token good dark mage.

Prediction 8: The replacement gen 2 characters will still be in the game. They’ll probably get their own unique supports as well. 

Prediction 9: The child characters will probably be rebalanced a little, most so the players can sail their favorite ships without crippling the usefulness of their children. 

Prediction 10: Most of the cousin incest will be removed in the english version. This will mostly come in the form of every potential second generation cousin pair having their S support be written more platonically, and if they actually are cousins, they’ll become “companions” instead of married. Think Owain and any of his potential cousins in Awakening. However, some pairs will slip through the cracks. Like a Lissa sired Morgan with a Chrom sired Inigo/ Brady in Awakening. Arvis and Deirdre’s situation will remain uncensored since it’s both plot important and not exactly a good thing. 

Prediction 11: There will be references to Thracia 776, but mostly in Lief’s support. A whole lotta “You remind me of an old comrade of mine” and “Hey Nana, this reminds me of…”.

Prediction 12: The DLC will be some kind of non canon alternate timeline thing where you get to control both the first and second generations, and you get a lot of interactions between them.

Can’t wait to see how wrong I end up being.

[glue-factory]

bandom x pokemon au

This whole thing got way out of hand and overdeveloped into a full blown brainrot and I blame @grayvineyard for indulging me (who made LOVELY art for this au <3)

Bear with me, set roughly in the 1st/2nd gen of pokemon so Kanto/Johto except for the pokedex, there's a mix of those just because. Technically thought out for geetrick with a side of petekey in mind, but also a shit ton of gen.

Here are the basic foundations:

-> pokemon teams

Gerard's champion team: Espeon, Typhlosion, Nidoqueen, Parasect, Mismagius and Salamence

- His Espeon is blind due to a surprise ambush kinda critical hit by a venom type back in his teens.

- Lots of rumors ensued from this, but they don't like talking about it.

- She guides herself by psychic waves/a psychic mental map and through both the mental bond with her teammates and Gee.

Patrick's: Ninetails, Togekiss, Staraptor (uncanny resemblance to Pete...), Venusaur, Ursaring, Luxray

- Although his team overall seems big and scary they are all sweethearts, extreamely nice

- Meanwhile he's small and snarky, the meanest out of them all

- Ninetails has an attitude problem. she's a princess and she expects to be treated as such (it's Patrick's fault really from spoiling her rotten when she was a little vulpix)

Mikey's: Jolteon, Arcanine, Ampharos, Milotic, Butterfree, Xatu

Pete's: Ambipom, Gliscor, Gengar, Sunflora, Honchkrow (uncanny resemblance to Patrick...), Coralina

Ray's: Magby, Houndoom, Charizard, Victini, Chandelure, Clefable

- it's a mystery how he found Victini, he refuses to explain, just showed up with them one day and that was that

- very smug about it when he uses them in battle (unofficial ones only, the league doesn't allow them in his elite team)

- bane of Gerard's existence how Ray babies them around (Victini enjoys this very much, he gets extratreats and hangs on his shoulder/head), like cmon, that's a fucking legendary!

- hatched Magby from the egg himself, and he turned out to be a crazy kid, running around without looking twice, there's always gotta be at least one grown human or pokemon supervising him at all times

- his Clefable doesn’t seem to fit but is the secret trick, knowing fire blast as well as solar beam and water pulse.

-> general context

Professor Way moving into town (Pallet i guess?) with Mikey

She's... Not the best at parenting

cue him journeying through Kanto with Pete and Patrick (suppose they are around 17ish during that as an start point)

Pete as the high-spirited, optimistic trainer who sees the good in everything and fully beliefs in the power of friendship to rise over any challenge coming into his path. Strong trainer, makes friends with everyone, extreamely focused on the experiences the adventure brings, half assedly aims to become pokemon master. (kinda ethan/gold vibes ngl)

Patrick as the other side of the coin, not completely opposite, but a stark contrast to him, where Pete is ambitious in his journey, challenging gyms and aiming for the league, Patrick isn't too sure about his path, is critical of the battling business and more theoretical/book strategic when approaching a challenge. Doesn't mean he has a worse bond with his pokemon. Uncanny, natural gift at battling tho, but honestly doesn't think twice of it ("what like it's hard?"). Lowkey on a midlife crisis at 18 going from trainer to breeder (pokemon daycare worker?) to researcher, boy does not know what he's doing. But it's fine. Mostly.

Mikey's the kid that looks too cool to be a nerd and simultaneously seems like too much of a nerd to be as cool as he is. Has their only braincell for most of the time. Doesn't give a fuck, only he knows what his plan in life is, does he challenge the gyms? does he plan to go into research under his mom? he just vibes. BAMF, keeps the other two out if trouble more often than not. Lowkey mommy issues

Gerard as reigning champion, child prodigy, went on his journey with Ray at 13ish, crowned at 14, practically a legend. Extreamely extravagant, drama queen all around. Lots of rumours about him AND his blind Espeon. Honestly overworked, plus mommy issues (my emotional punching bag <3). A mountain hermit that thinks living on top of a freezing mountain is better than doubling down to the unsurpassable merit of peaking as a preteen. Deep down a sweetheart with a passion for pokemon and training.

Ray takes it easier, one of the elite four, fire type trainer. Local sunshiney, polite guy who Knows What He's Doing. Actually a badass who is tired of everyone's shit. Mostly holds the last braincell he and Gerard have left. Perchant for petting every fire type he encounters no matter how big or dangerous.

Ray and Gerard took out Team Rocket when they were teens, with them now being around 21.

Professor Way centers/ed her investigations on legendary pokemons, devoting most of her time and attention to it. Gerard would try to help out, not really successfully, and eventually developed a weird relationship with them as a concept, slightly obsessed, slightly frustrated, an underlying splinter still dug inside him.

When the Ways were kids there were a bunch of Eevees in the lab for research purposes or whatever. They always played with them and eventually kept one each.

Pete’s jacket’s fluff is made of mareep wool which, paired with his penchant for hugging Mikey’s and Patrick’s electric types, means his always charged with static energy and he’s a nightmare to be physically close to

Mikey Pete and Patrick are little shits and they lure Gee’s pokemon with too many berries

Like Patrick quickly becomes their fave bc of all the treats and how little he gives a fuck about Gerard’s stubborness

Specially after Gee runs off to Mt. Silver for a while and he’s the one who has to periodically hike up to make sure the idiot’s still alive

(He’s fine btw, it was never that serious)

Yeah, I think that’s it for now but it’s ever growing…

[gsstories]

MEGA AU: The lore of Genesis Virtud

In this AU, the events of all dangers of Freddy Fazbear locations all takes place in a shorter time. William isn't stuck as Springtrap for 30 years, more like 15 or something, some characters are younger and all that stuff. All events aside from that go the same except for one key aspect: the addition of Gen in the timeline and the possible agreement of being two nightguards instead of just one.

At the time, Genesis is a young college student who left her not so great parents and went to study, although not full on sure on WHAT to study for. She decided to go into mechanics cause she was interested in it at the moment. Anyway, college and apartment bills ain't cheap and she gotta get a job. She finds out that a pizzeria is looking for nightguards and she immediately jumps into the chance to work. She just so happens to be working with one of her buddies, Michael Schmidt, who she isn't particularly close to but they are somewhat friendly with each other. The two work together at the place at night, Michael managing the cameras and Gen, well, she wonders the pizzeria even when knowing it could be dangerous. She had been told countless times but she don't really care about it. So she wonders around often and she begins to realize something is off about the animatronics. Shadows (or what look like shadows) that don't have their real shape are always seen by her, often looking at her dead in the eye.

Genesis has had a gift ever since she was born: she was able to see ghosts and communicate with them. This made people and even her own parents find her creepy whenever she talked to people they couldn't see. So, you can imagine who she saw with the animatronics. Yes, the missing children.

She wasn't surprised when she saw them move, I mean, ghosts can do bizarre things even when dead. Although this was one of the most bizarre. She doesn't know when, she doesn't know why, but the animatronics seemed... friendly towards her. Maybe it was the fact she could see their agonizing souls, maybe it was because she was nice, whatever it was, they were fine with her walking around the place. With Michael, however, that was a different story, obviously, so Gen kind of became a peacekeeper between her fellow nightguard and the animatronics.

Even with their rage, the animatronics were still kids. They were needy, clingy, and Genesis just radiated that big sisterly energy that just made them reach out to her. And Genesis was what you would call a bleeding heart so she let them reach out to her. It may have been dangerous, yes, but these were kids. Children whose lives were taken at an early stage, children who were angry and upset is an understatement. They were furious.

So she took care of them. Hugged them, pet them, held their metallic hands, just gave them the affection they needed and craved so much. She couldn't save them now, she was years too late, but maybe she could relieve their souls a little. She got close to them, she cared for them after they were tossed away so long ago.

Some sweet moments were her talking to the animatronics, playing with them, teaching them some things she either learned in college or some random facts that she thinks they might find interesting. She found a TV and some VHS tapes that were Scooby Doo episodes and put them on for them and they loved them! All sitting down on the floor enjoying the show, Foxy having his head laying on Gen's lap as she pets his head. Adorable indeed.

She knew a 5th child was around, she saw them sometimes. They were more skeptical, untrusting. She didn't blame them so she was patient, calm and kind. Slowly, she began learning their names...

Gabriel, Jeremy, Suzie, Fritz, Cassidy...

Did she hear Evan...?

It was all nice and sweet until Gen and Michael got fired for tampering with the animatronics. Gen knew it was wrong but she got curious and wanted to help the kids. Unfortunately, that would no longer be possible. She does seem to catch some glimpses of certain children in her apartment complex though...

This happened when the new Freddy Fazbear location opened. Gen and Michael applied to find out what happened and the animatronics were aggressive just as before. And the cycle repeats, Gen befriends the animatronics, cares for them and loves them, even the withered ones. She makes sure they are okay (well, as okay as they can be when damaged) and showing she will always be with them even if she isn't there physically with them. She wants them to know she will never forget them. She befriends the Puppet, she knows they know more than they let on and she wants to help understand.

She learned their name

Charlie...

And the cycle repeats.

Fired once again, some years passed and Gen decided to study bioengineering and work with machines. A reminder of her time at the Fazbear Locations. Fazbear Fright opens up and she reunites with Michael and they both start working there again. The cycle repeats? Well, yes but no.

Genesis is able to reach out to the Phantoms but barely. Then the damn rabbit appears. Instead of an agonizing child soul, she is met with a murderous bastard who wishes to bring pain and suffering to those around him. And that is when she learns of Mr. Afton, Mike's father. Before the place is burnt to the ground though, Gen kicked that rotten rabbit's ass. So worth it!

In Sister Location, it was meant to be one person. Just one but Gen tagged along. She laughed when Michael was called Eggs Benedict. She was kind of worried when the animatronics were shocked. She was able to reach out to them, befriended them. Ballora and Funtime Foxy were her favorite. Ballora was rather kind when not trying to attack and Funtim Foxy was fun to be around. Michael was fine, they weren't going after him. Gen was the peacekeeper. She met Circus Baby and was quick to learn the soul's name.

Elizabeth...

Then the scooper incident happened. Gen witnessed Michael's organs be ripped out and replaced with a mess of wires and metal. She was horrified but she didn't run. She stayed with Michael despite the horror she had seen. She didn't leave his side, not even when he became a literal zombie. The stench was unbearable but she didn't care. She wanted to free the souls, let them find peace. She still caught glimpses of them.

Then the Pizzeria Simulator events happened. The cycle repeats.

And then it ends once the place burns down. She saw it on the news. 'Michael's doing' she thought 'Could have told me we were doing arson again.'

She did not expect the message from hours ago. She did not expect to drop her phone and then sink into her knees with a blank look on her face as tears fell to the ground.

'Gen. It's me, Michael. I finally did it. I'm setting the souls free, and sending William to Hell where he belongs… Now, I can finally be at rest. I'm afraid this is the last time we'll ever speak, but please don't cry for me. This is exactly what I want. I can reunite with my brother and sister. No one has to suffer anymore because of my family's tragedy. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me, but now you can live your own life. This is goodbye, my dear friend…'

Life was hard. Odd. Normal. She didn't catch a glimpse of those souls anymore. She couldn't see Michael's soul. Not even once. It made her upset. She was miserable for months but she eventually recovered.

She finished her studies, got a degree in bioengineering and an MD. A smart, wild yet compassionate woman she became. She adopted a child, a boy who was as mischiveous as she was when younger.

She builts animatronics in honor of her lost friends, bringing joy and happiness just as they brought her the same joy, although without all the souls and the arson. Everything is fine. Everyone is fine.

And then the cycle repeats.

[sunlightsshadow]

Heal What Has Been Hurt Liveblog

hello and welcome to the first of 5 initial (but probably not Only) posts recounting my liveblogging of Heal What Has Been Hurt by @sunlitmcgee

ch1: and the universe said "I Love You"

c! tech did one (1) good thing and it was burning the egg

gogy mention/pos

its only ch1 and they've already gone DadMode. hasnt even even , talked to the boy yet/lh

XD :D

ch2:Flower Gleam and Glow

"weirdo mother hen guardian angel nanny thing." hehehe

moths moths moths moths moths

Clara :D

ch3: I've Been Ghosting Your Dreams

i wonder how tommy feels about warm rain

my browser crashed god dad is too powerful/j

ghostbur :DDD

oh i have so many feelings about ghobur

ch4:Come, My Child

not lots of thoughts just enjoying the domesticity of the bois

did enjoy the star freckles tho

ch5:Like A Busy Bee Taking Flight

"large purple man" thanos/neg

compass compass compass compass (im wearing my Your Tommy compass my bf bought me <3)

heheh dad said pogchamp

ch6:Flying Like a Bee, Black and Yellow Energy

hehe derivikat lyrics

xd dad god. why is that form even still in your rotation/lh

ranboo/pos. i love all Ranboos

hehehe time to sin!

c! techno/neg

xd having several children who are gods and can take care of themselves and having to focus your attention on the whole of creation is different than abandoning your litteral tiny children to go adventuring w a gladiator who hears voices

xd you could have shifted forms dont yell at them/lh

ch7:Cold. Why You Gotta Treat Me So Cold?

weird schlatt tubbo/neg nightmare tubbo/neg

GOD I hate exile

I am so emotional over them GODS

I need someone to be proud of me like xd is proud of tommy

I want a god dad. the yearning is strong

ch8: sweet like honey

any time someone writes tommy saying the phrase "ill be good" istg i feel my heart break

back sore, clue #1

micha 🥺

ch9: I Think You're All Insane

_beloved family/pos

PUFFY!!

every time i manage to forget the captain is dreams mom someone reminds me :/(/hj/nm/lh)

no more memory broke :D

am i using that emoji to much? i do not care<3

god enderman lore/pos

ch10: Deep In The Meadow

i also feel Okay. this is a good place to be

there is something so personal about tommy wanting to end the cycle of abuse and worrying he'll end up like the people who hurt him

good people have intrusive thoughts tommy:(

ch11:Here it's Safe, and Here it's Warm

hehehehe Wings also toms XD would never leave you :(

"you'll instinctively know" its not instincts if it hurts Philza

god i fucking love the personification of instincts. so much. its such a cool thing

ch12:Why, Tell Me, Father?

tommy has a perfect comfy bed and doesnt wanna move. mood

tommy is starting to heal and i love that for him/gen

how DID xd figure that out?

ive just decided just now while rereading that xd was too nice to phil

"you're still here" im gonna SOB

heal! emerald duo/neg

I wanna hug tommy :(

ch13:It's a Promise for Life Between Father and Child

what if i just [takes a white out pen to tommys trauma] look now hes just a lil guy! (someone do this to me)

[beats the doomsday bitches over the head with a stick] i will actually never be normal abt c!tommy

mmmm i should play omori

tinyboo. itty bitty

i dont wana read the interaction w technoooo [reads it anyways] its important

Ghobur! he back!

i think more people should let ghostbur get angry

ch14:How Would You Know?

idk how phil cant sense the Pissed Off aura xd must be giving off rn

in which xd is my spirit animal

:D(malicious)-XD

i like his hat :(

somebody please do this w my dad

ch15: Remember to be Patient

i am obsessed w instinct stuff. lil baby birb go peep peep

i was so lost in the euphoria of birb i forgot to have thoughts

ch16:Fold Up Your Wings, Close Your Eyes

WING TIME WING TIME WING TIME

"it's beautiful… except of course for the unholy screams"

xd " claws" and " adorable" are not generally words that go together

he is SAD the baby is SAD :(

what would xd do if tommy turned into an actual baby?

"its me?" AWWWW🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

hes a baby

i will kill any god for him

baby boy

precious

oh boo even *mentions* agere how did I miss that the first time? tommy is simply baby

ch17: See the Sunset

cant see glass<3

i want a cool space blanket (I have a non-binary flag space blanket tho :3)

I also like when things make click clack noises… am i birb?

I love hiiiiimmmmm

ch18:Nothing Could Tear Us Apart

they can both be clingy it's okay

i almost forgot to open my document when I started reading again

[wilbur voice] quackityyyyy

hes not even actually here but I'm lobe himb

hehehe lovey dovey qpps/pos

i adore my qpps and my bf

GOD i am not NORMAL about platonic soulmate clingyduo there is nothing normal abt my mind state towards them!

"You were worth more than L'manburg ever was…" grrrrrr growl hiss its so GOOD

more baby birb🥺

ch19:Come out and Play

is he a demigod now?

bird time again!

i love instinct shit have i mentioned that?/hj

baby baby boy/pos

i was reading this the first time and I was just like. hes so small

i fuckin love my comfort chara using my coping mechanisms

And with that it's back to reading<3

[oatmealdaydreams]

this is our birthday, so why are we weeping? / at your side, I feel like a ghost

If ya wanna be added on or taken off the taglist, let me know!

Pairing: Ford Pines & Stan Pines, gen

Warnings: Homelessness, Medical Procedures, Blood, Bruises, Injury, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Toxic Masculinity, Allusions to Grief

Summary: During the ten years of separation, the older Pines twins regard their birthday with the wariness of a grieving brother. Stan tries not to cry over a stolen muffin alone in his car. Ford tries to ignore it altogether, aside from the late night whisper of wishing his brother a happy birthday. After all, ghosts like to stick to what they’ve lost.

Notes: Title is from the song, Evelyn Evelyn by Evelyn Evelyn. This fic is inspired by that song, so enjoy the angst!

[Masterlist] | ao3 link

[read under the cut]

June fifteenth is one of Stan’s least favorite days outta the whole damn hellish year. It doesn’t help that it’s his and Ford’s birthday. 

He shoulda grabbed those extra rolls of gauze from the convenience store when he had the chance. Stan regrets not taking more than a handful of medical supplies. All he could carry was a few basics: a pack of bandaids, a roll or two of gauze, a few alcohol pads, and this crappy pair of trauma shears. He doesn’t have a proper first-aid kit, so he shoves the extra shit into his glove compartment. That dingy thing takes Stan slamming it to properly close all the way. He grunts as thudding it shut pulls on his side wound. Struggling to pull his shirt over his head entirely, he settles for keeping that side of it up so he can see the damage. 

His jacket covers his lap, dotted with dried specks of blood from when he got jumped. Far as injuries go, this one ain’t that bad compared to what he’s used to dealin’ with. He rests one arm on the shoulder of the driver’s seat, peering down at the injury in an awkward position. He has to twist a little, and it makes the wound throb and thrum just underneath his skin. Speaking of which, yellow and green bruise his side. There are scrapes that shed a layer of skin in dirty white lines. Blood seeps from cuts buried in the mess of it all, though it’s hardly bleedin’ now. It could be a lot worse. Stan’s surprised it isn’t worse. Musta hit a pot of luck with this one, huh?

He takes an alcohol pad from the pile of supplies on his jacket, ripping it open with his teeth. Spitting out the wrapper, he takes the pad and wipes it across the wound to clean it. He hisses through gritted teeth as he does so, forcing himself to get it over with. After it’s been cleaned enough to Stan’s liking, he tosses the pad onto the trash-littered floor of his car. Next is putting some gauze on it…ah, fuck . He got the fuckin’ rolls and not the pads . Of course, he fuckin’ did. Why would Stanley Pines ever do something besides fuck up? There goes his damn pot of luck. Stupid Stan, did he really think it’d be easy ? Christ alive. 

Moses, I really am an idiot, ain’t I? he chides himself, the vague voice of his Pa echoing in the back of his mind. 

Okay, fine, he can deal with this. There’s worse situations he’s gotten his ass outta. This is fine. It’s fine . He just needs ta figure out grabbin’ the roll and gettin’ a hold of the strip of gauze. Maybe he can makeshift a little thin pad outta some of it? Then wrap it? Can’t use too much though, he’s gotta make it last a long while. It’s not like he can just go and buy more. That ain’t in the cards, y’know. 

Huffing annoyance at himself, he tries to grab the end of the gauze. It takes a few minutes—okay, more than a few minutes, what, with usin’ one hand and the awkward position he’s gotta be in to do this shit by himself. When he finally manages to get a damn hold on it and makeshift a half-shitty square pad, trying to hold it in one place and wrap it at the same time one-handed is another challenge in itself. Stan growls as he keeps fumbling with the pad, with the stupid roll of gauze because his dumb little brain couldn’t remember to grab gauze pads when he was runnin’ outta that nowheresville store on the side of the road. He’d managed to speed his ass outta that parking lot—not a real parking lot, it had, like, three parking spaces altogether—and slam on the gas to get as far away as he could. Couldn’t risk gettin’ caught up with cops or else he might’ve had ta play possum on command. Which he can do, by the way. With all the near death experiences and escaping the grasps of car trunks and firearms, he’s had plenty of practice being dead without actually dying. 

Point is this: he yanks what he can off that damn roll before he can drop it, ripping it with his teeth as soon as it’s wrapped ‘round him at least once. He pants, pulling down his shirt and shoving the rest of his limited medical supplies into the glove compartment. Another thud of slamming it closed, Stan grunting as it pulls at his injury again, and he finally leans back against his seat. The car’s locked. Well, mostly , the driver’s seat doesn’t lock anymore after being yanked on for so long. Which, hey, that ain’t great, considering that’s where Stan is, but whatcha gonna do? Ain’t like he can fix it. He…he doesn’t know how. He should probably learn soon, though. Another disappointment of his, he supposes. 

His Pa’s gruff taunts linger in his ears, and he shakes his head to push them away. 

Stan presses his forehead against the cool glass of his window, peering up at the night sky. It’s a pretty clear night out here, in the middle of nowhere, on the side of the road. No one else is out here, either. Stan hasn’t heard nor seen a passing car in almost five hours. It’s an absolute desert wilderness out in Arizona, almost a wasteland out here on Interstate 93. He passed the exit for Bagdad a while ago. He’d been tempted to stop in Congress, but that would’ve been less distance from the place he robbed, so he couldn’t exactly stall there an’ all. So, yeah, ain’t no one out here near the mining towns in this blazin’ state. Stan wishes his air conditioning unit worked, but again, it ain’t like he knows how to fix it. Always makin’ problems but never knowin’ how ta fix ‘em when they count for something, huh? Classic Stan Pines, he’d say. Knuckleheaded dumbass. 

There’s a stale muffin he nabbed that sits on his dashboard. 

Stan can see the stars from the window. So many dotted, twinkling lights that gleam with colors beyond his reach. If Ford were here, he’d point out all the constellations. Stan never paid much attention to astronomy, but he picked up a few things from when Sixer would yap about ‘em. He looks to the sky but fails to spot Gemini. You can’t see it during the summer months in Arizona. Something feeds into an empty pit in his chest at that realization. It’s June, he’s pretty sure. You’d think you could see any of the constellations at any time of the year, but nah, ‘parently not. 

He can see the Northern star. What did Ford call it, Pores? Uh…Polaris? Yeah, that’s probably right. It’s one of the brightest. He can see it from his dingy little car in the middle of fuckin’ nowhere, gleaming like a handy guide in the northwestern direction. At least, what Stan thinks is Northwest. He’d have to spot the moon to be sure. Y’know, rises in the east and sets in the west, that shit. 

The drifter takes his head away from the window. Too much of a reminder of his brother, lookin’ wistful at the stars. He tries pushing Ford outta his head. His gaze lands on the stale muffin. It’s gonna crumble everywhere. Not that he’s one for cleanliness, considering the state of his car, but it’s gonna get everywhere . Maybe he should move his jacket off his lap first. He’s gotta keep it close still, keep it an eye on it. Can’t risk having it taken or nothing, y’know. He could set it on the shoulder of his seat. Yeah, that works. 

As Stan does that, managing to pull at his wound again because he keeps moving that arm of his body, there’s an idle wonder if it really is June fifteenth. His last motel was a week ago, and it’d been around the eighth, so…most likely the fifteenth. It’s hard to tell out on the streets. Birthdays get lost in the running, chasing, fighting for another few minutes to live. Maybe a part of why he’s determined to remember this birthday is because it’s Ford’s. 

And his, he guesses. 

After moving his prized torn-up jacket, he grabs the muffin with gentle hands. Something catches in his throat as he does. It’s just a simple thing. Banana, he thinks, he doesn’t remember what he stole flavor-wise. He hopes it’s not pumpkin or something, that shit tastes awful if ya don’t do it right. Most people don’t do it right. Most pumpkin-flavored muffins are total crap. 

Ford likes the crappy pumpkin muffins. 

Stan tries to swallow around this stupid fucking lump that’s appeared in his throat, but it doesn’t work that well. What’s wrong with him? It’s just a damn muffin! It’s not even a fresh one, either. It’s stale, boring, probably a shitty flavor. It’s food. He isn’t gonna cry over something so fuckin’ simple like this. He just…no, he’s not . The muffin’s not worth it. He’s not worth it. Imagine what Pa would say about him crying like that. 

Man up, boy, echoes in his mind, and he has to push it away before he winces. 

Okay, maybe don’t imagine what his old man would say about that. That ain’t something he wants ta think about right now. Something else, something else, turn back to the stale shitty muffin. He should eat it anyway. No telling when his last meal was , hell, or when his next meal will be. He’s gotta just eat it. Yeah…just eat the muffin. 

He stares. 

Why can’t he bring himself to eat it yet?

Stan swallows again. He tries to blink the tears gathering in his eyes away. Turn that sadness into anger. Anger is useful. Anger keeps you alive. Anger keeps ya goin’ when ya don’t wanna go no more. The anger hardly even sparks before the sadness hones itself in the empty pit in his chest. The pit widens, threatening to swallow him whole. It’s a black hole where his bleeding heart beats. It steals the breath from his lungs slowly, a boa constrictor takin’ its time to entrap its victim. Stan is a mouse, a rat, a fleeing possum. He’s the skunk that pushes people away with its stink. He’s a rapid junkyard dog, biting and snarling because all he knows is anger and anger protects him. Anger helps him survive. 

There’s a numbing silence, air in his ears as the only ambience. He takes a bite into the shitty muffin, chewing around the tears that glide down his face. He doesn’t feel them. He hardly feels anything, absentmindedly eating what he has in his hands. 

Happy birthday, Stanley , he imagines Ford’s voice saying, his Ma repeating. Happy birthday!

It makes him almost gasp and choke on his food, a quiet cry slipping from his lips. He shoves as much muffin in his mouth as he possibly can to muffle it. He ignores the fact that he’s crying over a muffin. 

Stanley Pines is a ghost in the shadow of a scientist. Ghosts cry alone in their car on birthdays. Ghosts muffle themselves so they can’t bother anyone with their weak little whimpers and sobs. Ghosts watch from afar as life moves on without them. 

Stan wonders if Ford can see Polaris, too. 

=====

If Fiddleford ever asked why Ford stayed up in the late hours of night, he’d blame it on poor study habits. It’s not a lie, though Ford doesn’t plan on telling his roommate about his birthday.

They have midterms in about a week. Midterms at Backupsmore are… interesting , to say the least. Fiddleford likes to regale him about last year’s, which a majority of were held in a barn. A barn, that’s fifteen miles from the actual university, in the middle of nowhere. Stanford hopes that this year’s are held in the actual school because he does not think he could focus properly surrounded by hay and cow pie. Fiddleford could, he will admire. By the sound of it, Fiddleford has taken and passed midterms surrounded by unusual testing areas. 

To be fair, he did grow up on a farm. What was it, a hog farm? His roommate likes to go on and on about the kind of chores he did growing up. During the holidays, during school weeks, his family made him get up at the crack of dawn no matter the time of year! Even on his birthday. 

Birthdays. 

Ah, yes, right. The reason Ford is even up this late. 

He sighs quietly as he rubs a hand over his face. His glasses skewer as he does so. His desk light hums, yellowish light illuminating his desk. Pens, pencils, notebooks, loose-leaf paper—it’s all scattered across the surface. He’d been studying for his advanced physics course earlier. It’d been right around the time Fiddleford finally decided to turn in for the night. As far as his friend knows, he’s still studying among a warzone of red ink and annoyingly bright highlighters. Textbooks lay open to pages of tiny print and pen-written annotations. Ford, hunched over his desk in his creaky chair, looks every bit the studious insomniac. His fluffy, wavy hair is disheveled from the lack of sleep. Eyebags weigh his eyes down, dark, beginning to look more like eyeshadow than human skin. There’s a tense line in his shoulders that’s usually there when he’s thinking. 

He’s not thinking about his courses or the incoming midterms.

June fifteenth. 

The end of summer. 

His birthday. 

Stanley’s birthday.

He weaves a six-fingered hand through his hair as he thinks. Ford hadn’t told Fiddleford it was his birthday. If he did, there’d be questions. Why he didn’t like to celebrate it, why didn’t he like telling people about his birthday, what could possibly be so bad about your own little celebration of life, and on and on and on . Fiddleford, despite being a vengeful mechanic genius at times, is a caring person. Perhaps it’s the southern hospitality drilled into his very soul from his earlier days, but he’s kind. He would want to celebrate Ford’s birthday. He’d want to know why Ford didn’t . He’s…Stanford huffs a small smile as the thought of Fiddleford’s expressive face comes into view. He’s a friend, and if anyone would try to get Ford out of a gloomy mood, it’s him. They’re close, despite knowing each other for hardly more than a year or so. The scientist and the engineer. The mechanic and the cryptozoologist. The ambitious anomaly from the east coast and the kind-hearted kid from the south. 

Yeah, he can imagine his friend poking and prodding until he got an answer. Well, unless it hit some sort of sore spot. Which it would , and then Fiddleford would back off, and then there’d be this tense air in the room that they’d both ignore until it threatened to strangle them like wringing out a towel that’s soaked in liquid awkwardness and regret. 

Ford shakes his head lightly. It’s too late for this. His brain is starting to engage in flowery prose instead of logic-based thought. 

It’s dark out. Their dorm window is left open, blinds up. Moonlight spills into the room like a waterfall of silvery wisps. If Ford glances outside, he would see the twinkling dots of stars and constellations. He doesn’t. He stares at the scattered remains of a sleep-deprived scholar, unseeing. If Stanley were here, he’d probably flick him upside the head and tell him to go to bed. ‘Can’t have my brother falling over,’ he’d say, ‘If we’re gonna go sailin’ one day, you gotta learn how ta sleep right!’ The reminder of past dreams and the thought of the ocean opens a gaping maw in his chest. It’s an empty, consuming thing. It’s like a black hole that threatens to swallow him whole. He can almost feel the ghost of someone else feeling the same. A twin instinct that drives them to cry in a car. Twin black holes, brothers in destruction. 

Ford tries his best to shove away the notion of brothers , ignoring the sensation of a ghost that stands beside him. While spirits and such might be real—who’s to say—he knows there is no literal ghost near him. Maybe in the university’s basement. Hell, the auditorium in the Performing Arts building has an entire legend about it. Some poor girl risking herself for a sister who betrays her for her own hubris and ambitions. 

Something prickles his heart, figuratively. The Pines family doesn’t have a history of heart problems. There’s not literally a stabbing pain, but it feels like the ghost of it. It’s like the silvery wisps of the moon, light, hardly there, still as noticeable as the starry sky as long as you pay attention . 

What is Stanley doing on their birthday? It’ll be midnight soon. Their birthday will be over soon. Ford will move on and pretend there isn’t some missing piece from the puzzle of his soul. Twin hearts don’t beat the same when they’re estranged, do they? Do twin souls still know each other by energy alone after over a year of separation? Do twin brains remember the idea of each other after so long of not knowing who one another is? 

Moses , he’s getting all philosophical. It’s too late for this. Or too early, depending on which you prefer to call it. 

He’s not going to get upset over the lack of a brother who ruined his chances at a good college. He messed with his future. He messed with something important to him! He…no, Ford isn’t going to give him anymore thought. What he is going to do is shut off his lamp, put his classwork away, and go to bed. He needs to wake up early for class tomorrow. 

He’s going to turn off the lamp and pack up. 

He’s going to turn off the damn lamp …

Ford stares. 

Why can’t he just let the dead stay dead? Why must there be a ghost plaguing his mind? It’s not like he even got a muffin or a sugary treat for this stupid day! It’s not worth celebrating. He’s one year older, that’s it. Making it more than just him aging would be admitting he misses someone. He doesn’t miss him. The ghost needs to go away. 

The ghost doesn’t leave. 

Ford shoves down a groan, not wanting to wake his roommate. He can’t focus like this. He needs to focus on his night routine. If he falls asleep at his desk again, the crick in his neck will just make him feel worse. 

Something pricks his eyes, and he does not let anything fall. He will not cry. Crying won’t help anything. It’s just a waste of time that he could be using to be useful . Ford tilts his head up to glance towards the texture ceiling, hand moving from his hair to the back of his neck. He has to make sure he gets ahead of his class. He has to be above everyone else. If he isn’t the genius of the family, then who is he? Pa likes him because he could bring him great fortune from his intellect. Pa…he said Ford impressed him, once. A few times. He has to make his Pa proud. If he can’t make his Pa proud, then…

A dufflebag thrown harshly at a lost, scared teen boy. He looks up at Ford, but Ford cannot bear the sight of such a distressed boy. The last thing he sees before he shuts the blinds is a crying young man. The last thing he hears before the sound of a car starting is his Pa’s gruff voice spitting threats. He remembers a heart aching in his chest as the El Diablo sped off into the night. 

He has to make his Pa proud. There’s no telling what he’d do if he didn’t. If Pa could drop Stanley so easily, then what’s stopping him from doing the same to Ford ? 

No. Stanley brought on to himself, didn't he? He broke his machine. He valued his stupid childish dream over his brother’s! Stanley betrayed him. Pa agrees. What doesn’t make money doesn’t matter in his Pa’s eyes. Stanford has to matter in his eyes. He has to. What else could he do, reach out to Stanley? 

Ford nearly slams his head onto his desk as he chides himself. 

He isn’t going to cry over a ghost. His eyes are dry by now, anyway. It doesn’t matter that the emptiness in his chest widens. It doesn’t matter that he feels an indescribable loneliness like he’s lost a limb or half his soul. It doesn’t matter. What the fuck would he even say to Stanley if he tried? Hi, it’s me, the brother whose life you ruined over a year ago, how are you? Stanley’s probably fine. He has the social skills and charm to figure it all out. He bets he has business ventures on his mind and not the brother he used to share a dream with. 

What does it fucking matter where Stan is? He’s got the car. He’s resourceful. He’s Stan . He can charm his way out of trouble if he needs to. 

Ford braces himself for the ghost to plunge a stake through his heart. It doesn’t. It just sets a gentle hand on his shoulder. Why would a ghost be kind to a success-sucking vampire?

Fuck it , he thinks as the image of them as kids on the beach comes to mind. 

He sits up in his desk chair, setting a hand on top of the ghost’s. 

“Happy birthday, Stanley,” he mumbles, barely a whisper above the twinkling stars in the sky. “Happy birthday to us.”

He doesn’t cry. The gaping pit in his chest doesn’t go away. In the almost-midnight strangeness, a lack of feeling replaces the sadness and bitter hurt. Ford holds on to the memory of the little kid who protected him from bullies. He pushes away the lingering grief of the teen who ruined his future. He ignores the stake in his heart of an adult brother that he may never know. Ford stands up from his desk, turning off his lamp. He slowly and meticulously organized his belongings into the correct places. He changes into the shorts he likes to wear to bed. A dazed walk to his mattress. The sound of springs is ambience in his ears as he lays down to sleep. 

Ford glances outside his dorm window, spotting the bright Polaris in the inky sky. 

Before he closes his eyes to slumber, his last sparing thought is hoping Stanley can see it too.

Taglist: @lost-in-thought-20 @thegoldenduckie @not-sure-what-im-feeling

[theamityelf]

dude hear me out on the mpreg aliens bc it gen makes sense for them and I am going to explain this cause it’s kinda cool idk?

ok look as a space faring species population groups are small or non existent, so kn order to avoid dying out they had to adapt to semi asexual reproduction. The mechanics of it I could go into intensely cause it’s something a lot of my other species use if they’re spread over a wide area. To put it simple and without making it WEIRD: one member of the species has both ingredients for la child, but forcing these two ingredients together requires external actions ah la the demonic tango from hell either by yourself or with others. Or surgery. Or a lot of things actually depending on species, some guys kinda just grow little plants literally it’s like jellyfish. Anyways, to keep genetic variation since not having that is bad, the species of aliens (I’m calling them gorpos but obv that’s not gonna be their official names) can co create with other species that are similar to them. By similar, I mean neuron number to body mass (the reason why humans are so… human… is because we have a large number of neurons in compared to our mass). This is just to avoid any freaks making shit I don’t want them too. anyways, this process mixes genes and then sometimes mpreg happens wether or not someone has a womb in the relationship (or we get Yuri but like… hyenas…) because the Gorpos come from these small, like jelly looking eggs, if you’ve seen a mermaids purse (which I used to collect the fuck out of) like imagin that but it doesn’t have the horn things and it’s clear because baby gorpos are translucent. Little guys. The other thing is that like… Gorpos are like just as if not more intelligent as us, some of them just have like a thing for breeding… or mpreg… idk their their own guys they can be whatever they want to

Anyways cannibalism-

that’s another neat thing for them but first ima talk about how their mouths are set up. First thing is their tongue curls, it’s like a probiscus but it’s got this really really thin needle (basically, if they wanna exchange a language or information, they fucking French each other and stick this needle in each others brains, some can do this across species. Freaks) and it’s very sensitive. Two, their mouths are absolutely full of fucking knives. Evolution kinda fucked them over on this one, that’s why they gotta keep their tongue curled up. Three is if you see one with its mouth visible outside of feeding, run. Basically if they see something that looks like them with a visible mouth or no antenna, it’s their uncanny valley since that means something is BERY wrong (Junko).

ok so they very much are built for eating raw meat literally, and that’s what they do. Cannibalism occurs when a whelp is exposed either during the parents pregnancy or after birth in intense levels to ethereal energy. All gorpos have ethereal energy (call this god energy), and those with increased amounts turn to cannibalism to get more. This gets them closer and closer to ascension. Izuru was probably forced to cannibalize at first, but ethereal energy is more addictive than heroin so at a point you can’t stop. Once ascended, they are a god. Now this cannibalism thing actually isn’t odd for gods, who only feed on each other, like dog eat dog literally, but for most species this ain’t good. It’s not healthy either because cannibalism can have many long term health problems both mentally and physically. izuru strong but at what cost… WHAT COSTTTTT… freakiness that’s the price. also cannibals tend to give themselves more teeth, what I’m saying is that Izuru gotta be careful giving Makoto kissu so he doesnt hurt him.

Oh, I'm firmly in favor! You don't have to defend mpreg aliens against me, I promise! I would accept it if it was just for fun. (And you also don't have to avoid getting weird. We're all weird. 😊)

The neuron number to body mass thing is a really interesting way to distinguish the viable species. And I like the "If the mouth is visible, you should be afraid" thing and what it implies about how they would interact with/perceive humans. (Kind of like smiling being taken as a sign of aggression because baring teeth, etc.)

This is a cool AU! Avid supporter of Izuru "Mouthful of Knives" Kamukura rights.

[vitani-carnis]

Finally it's time to talk about...

Jill Sprouse...

Or rather, Vitani's teenage years and early adulthood before they went to Atlanta. This is an extra long post since it covers 9 jam-packed years. Honestly I should write out some detailed memories and junk too... MASSIVE TW for character death (not described but Jill is basically the wife that got fridged in some superhero/action story fr. But obviously not V's wife, just their caregiver whom V worshiped basically) and A SUPER DUPER BIG ONE for attempted sui stuff. V is very sad here and only stops for the dumbest reason (but not really, I'll explain it later). Also it's implied that V has seen the XBD that Jill was in firsthand (only for a little bit to get info on a guy who they gotta kill), so that's unpleasant. I really tormented this baby with this arc and made them relive it with Evie.

Jillian Sprouse was a nineteen-year-old doll that V met when they were crying on their stoop over their family straight up dropping them. Jill, who already had her problems (not that V ever knew), took them in. There was little chance Vitani would've survived long without her either, they were exceptionally easy prey as a homeless "girl"; Jill wasn't sure she could turn them away, despite everything telling her to do so.

Within six months, Jill was their legal guardian (I imagine it'd be way too easy to adopt a kid in this universe, laissez-faire capitalism and all that, probably just really expensive.) She couldn't find a trace of this kid's parents anywhere, and it didn't help that it took a good month before they gave her a last name to do so. Vitani told her, "I don't have a last name anymore. They aren't my family."

Every time it made Jill give a groaning sigh. This was going to be *way* harder than she thought.

And oh boy, it was. For Jill, at least. V had never felt so loved and understood and taken care of. It was exactly how they imagined it would feel, but even better. As for Jill's time? It was exactly how she imagined having a little sibling and a child, rolled into one. V was annoying, weirdly obsessed with a terrorist (seriously, did they ever take that Samurai jacket off?), and generally just vaguely off-putting.

It took Jill almost a year to start liking V. Despite how off they were and how having them around chewed through her wallet, they weren't... that bad...

She'd realized, that V was probably one of the better kids to get stuck with. They stayed clean, got good grades in everything but math, and didn't ask for much. They even stopped constantly talking about some sixty-year-old band so much. Even if she had to take more life-draining shifts at the dollhouse, it was almost worth it.

To V, it wasn't. They hated the fact that Jill was a doll. Not because she hated dolls either not anymore, at least (they weren't *all* like her mom). They didn't like it because Jill didn't like it, but when they mentioned getting a new job, all she did was shake her head and say, "I'm a little too in deep, don't worry though, it's adult stuff."

Jill was only five years older than V, how did she even know what 'adult stuff' was? They were fifteen! Practically an adult already...

If they knew anything about adults (and V liked to think they did), the problem was money. That was always the problem, at least for their parents. They just needed to make money... somehow...

V started by hacking various machines around town. It started with small stuff, mostly old arcade machines that no one would care about to learn how things worked, they spent months trying to figure out bigger things; vending machines, newer gen arcades, electronic pachinko machines. Things hopefully no one would kill them over. Miraculously, they never got caught either (of course it helped when you threw rocks at the cameras). It wasn't much, but it was something.

At sixteen, V learned how to box. They thought it'd be more lucrative to start street fighting with the other non-chromed kids in Heywood. Quickly, they realized that most kids did not fight fair, and often in their first fights they froze. For a moment, every single opponent reminded them of their parents. After ten fights of getting their ass beat and losing whatever cash they had been scrounging for months, they finally won.

They didn't remember how it happened, just that one moment, they were getting a jab to the face and the next they were on top of their opponent and squeezing the life out of them... It almost reminded them of their brother. That was the moment they let go. The fight had been won, V took the money home, a grim look on their face so no one would steal it... Then they cried.

Most nights, both V and Jill came home crying. Both were bruised, both mildly disgusted. V would try to have some meal plated for her and a bath ready. They had a plan, a dream even; to get the hell out of Night City and never look back.

In a few months, the sound of bombs was the only thing you could hear in Night City.

Luckily for V and Jill, most of them dropped in Pacifica, near where the NUSA were taking land for themself. Either way, it was business as usual for the proles of the city. All V did was listen back on some old albums about how shitty war was, to remind themself that joining was not an option, even if the pay was good. Oh, that and more fighting, everyone watching always keeping an ear and eye on the sky.

It was over quickly; if you can call a year of war 'quick'. To everyone who lost something or someone, it felt like an eternity of hearing that whistle of bombs, and the sirens letting people know about them. They'd lost a part of Pacifica to some douche named Kurt Hansen and got fucked by letting Arasaka resume business as usual. Things would only go downhill from here. All the more reason to delta in V's opinion.

Yet there was never enough money, always more fights to barely win, always more "I can't V, you know we can't just up and leave..."

It was always questions without answers with Jill. They guessed it didn't matter. She had her reasons. It didn't mean she didn't do her best. After all, Jill was perfect. Perfectly beautiful, perfectly just, always right... It would just be a little longer, a little more money. In the meantime, they could sit in the park, watch movies, whatever. It never mattered where they were to V, so long as they were together.

That meant following Jill to her job, to the store, to hang out with her more Mox-aligned friends. V was certain it drove her crazy but... there was something on the horizon, they could feel it. Something would happen and Jill would leave...

It took about two whole years for V to be proven right.

At twenty-two, almost twenty-three, V didn't follow Jill for one night. That was all it took. She was gone for a week when one of her friends stopped by, in tears. All that registered was...

Jill. Dead. XBD

There was no way this was happening. V could not be alone, again... This wasn't real.

They found out for themself that it was.

V felt like a snake's fang; lethal and hollow, they spent a day stewing in the misery before making a call.

Wakako, that old vulture, V knew her fairly well, at least as well as most others did. Some old fixer they'd bumped into on Jig Jig street and stopped by to win it big at Pachinko ever since (not that V spent much on it, of course). They almost every enny they had and practically begged her for some help. All she had to do was find him, V swore they'd do the rest.

Truthfully, they knew whoever that guy in that accursed BD wasn't the real root of evil. He was a pawn, maybe paid a fraction of what that BD made on the black market. They weren't sure if she'd even find him, all V really saw was that he had a tattoo.

For weeks they rotted in the apartment. Rent was almost due, and they weren't sure they could get rid of anything to pay it. With the very last of their savings, they had bought a gun. Killing that *monster* would be the last thing they ever did.

Really, they never should've doubted Wakako, she was one of the best for a reason. She found him, found out when he'd be alone... It was all V needed to do, then everything would be over.

It was about four in the morning, early November, and the moon was full. That was what they remembered. He didn't have a face to V, didn't have a voice even as he screamed. They had bought the gun but... No. He didn't deserve anything quick. It was too easy, too merciful. They just used the cheap pistol to empty a few shots into each leg, just so that he couldn't escape. There was a pipe, like some miracle, just lying there and they couldn't help but smile and-

It took ten minutes in total. V couldn't stop smiling the whole time and they wondered if that was how death should feel. To have their heart beat so fast, on the verge of some frenzy. It was almost like a regular fight, just better. The problem was solved.

No.

No. No.

No.

V was a monster for this, not even just killing him, but for liking it. Ten minutes of hearing a guy gurgle and choke on his own blood and they had enjoyed every second.

Jill would've hated them for this...

The walk back home was surprisingly short. Crawling back into the darkened apartment they contemplated the inevitable. They had one bullet left. That was all it would take.

V's hands shook. Despite knowing that this was all they could possibly do now, the idea of there being nothing still scared them. Maybe they could delay it by adding a Columbarium marker for them both beforehand, but they weren't even sure what they'd put. No words that they could think of could ever really say everything they needed to. Nothing they said would ever be perfect...

Like in most times of need, a certain someone was always there for them. It felt so... stupid. Unbelievably cheesy, even; but when the Morro rock station started playing Never Fade Away, they just couldn't do it. The muzzle had been pressed to their temple, they had been so ready and...

With a sigh, they dropped it, and they were lucky it didn't go off.

The marker made was simple, at the back of the stony cemetery.

A gift to all who knew her. May I never change, and you never fade away.

She might've hated the reference, though, V guessed it was more for themself than her. They'd always been rather selfish. If they ever came back, they would have this as a reminder. To never change. To never forget.

And that's when V fucked off to Atlanta, yes I have many thoughts on how all this relates to SilverV somehow (like how Johnny's first words to V is "kill urself" essentially and how a Samurai song literally made them not do that). I will be giving my thoughts on this junk specifically. I know this was long and probably won't be as seen, but if you read this to the end, omg ty!

Luv ya! Bye!!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 14) - Keep Close

Summary: The Ackles have the Padalecki’s over for dinner and let it slip that they’re engaged. Things seem to be going well but the anniversary of the accident is coming up and the reader comes up with the Ackles taking their first vacation together as a means of distracting Jensen as well reconnecting with Ray...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 4,800ish

Warnings: language, mention of sex, mention of a dead parent/spouse, anxiety

A/N: Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

________

“I’m stuffed,” said Jensen that night, the kids running around playing soccer in the yard after dinner. 

“I need that chicken recipe,” said Jared.

“I’ll write it down for you guys,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “You can do it with breast too if you like that better.”

“I want exactly this like, everyday from now on,” said Jared. Gen rolled her eyes and Jensen pulled out his phone. “Want me to take a pic?”

“I don’t need your freakishly long arms just yet,” chuckled Jensen. He turned around and took one of the four of you at the table before handing off his phone. “Mind getting one of us?”

“Your mom harassing you for engagement photos already?” asked Gen.

“By the time we were leaving they were both asking for photos and being obnoxious. Better than they were though,” said Jensen, smiling beside you. Jared took a few more and handed the phone back. 

“I still can’t believe your parents would act like that,” said Gen. “I mean obviously I’m super happy it got fixed but that’s so unlike them.”

“They made a mistake is all,” you said with a smile. “I don’t know about you guys but I’m going to finish this beer in the pool.”

“I think I’ll join you,” said Jared. He stood up and had a look on his face you caught too late. Before you knew it he had you picked up and was jogging over to the deep end and jumping in with you.

“Jared!” you said when you popped up. He giggled and swam off to the shallow end. “After I helped pick up the plates ya big lug.”

“We got it,” said Jensen, carrying over two beer cans and handing them to you. “We’ll join you guys in a few.”

About ten minutes later Jensen was leaning against the side of the pool in his bright red swim trunks, handing you the other half of his cookie cake piece.

“So any big plans for the wedding?” asked Jared, sat on the pool steps with Gen.

“I have a thought,” you said, turning to Jensen. “I haven’t discussed it with Jensen yet.”

“Vegas. Shotgun wedding,” he laughed. You shook your head and he grinned. “You’re thinking the farm, aren’t you.”

“What do you think? It could be outdoor or indoor, whatever it needs to be depending on the weather.”

“I’d love that,” he said, giving you a squeeze. “That’d be perfect for us.”

“You own a farm?” asked Jared. 

“Yeah, ten minutes from the brewery.”

“Dudes. You can open bar with your own beer. Oh and dibs on being a groomsmen.”

“Like that wasn’t gonna happen,” said Jensen.

“I don’t know on that,” you said. Jared’s face fell and you shook your head. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that you wouldn’t be one. Of course you would. I just don’t have a lot of close girlfriends. I think it’d be weird if Jensen had a ton and…”

“I don’t think it’s weird,” said Gen. “We didn’t have an even number at our wedding.”

“We got time to figure that stuff out,” said Jensen, holding your waist. You finished the last bite of cookie and hummed. 

“So you two having a kid?” asked Jared. Gen whacked his chest and he shrugged.

“Jesus, Jare. Don’t ask that.”

“They’re our best friends and godparents to our children...although I guess Y/N didn’t know that she inherited that until now but come on, I know you’re wondering too.”

“Shut up,” said Gen, crossing her arms. “Obviously if they decide, they’ll tell us when it happens.”

“Yeah, I think there’ll be at least one,” you laughed. Gen lit up and turned to Jared.

“Last time they said they were having a baby guess what we did? I can’t handle no more babies,” said Jared.

“Can you even get that thing up anymore?” teased Jensen, sipping on his beer.

“You’re one to talk, old man.”

“That shit still works just fine.”

“Just fine?” shot back Jared.

“Oh my God. You’re both good at sex. Y/N be grateful you’ve missed this same conversation over and over for the past sixteen odd years,” said Gen. 

“I’m still taller,” said Jared with a smirk.

“I can last longer,” said Jensen with one of his own. They narrowed their eyes at one another and Jared stood up.

“Go wrestle on the grass,” groaned Gen. They both huffed and got out of the pool before starting to playfully wrestle. “See, what you may not realize yet is you have another child right there.”

“Yeah but he’s hot,” you said, Gen laughing while you sat beside her. “Do you guys really talk about sex with each other?”

“Yes and no. The boys are you know, boys. They’d combust if they didn’t tease each other. I wouldn’t say there’s like, intimate details or anything ever shared. They’re both pretty private about that sort of thing. Dee and I would talk but more so say we had fun the night before. Shit we probably talked about sex toys more than anything.”

You stopped mid sip of your beer and she laughed.

“When your guy is thousands of miles away for that long out of the year, you gotta get off on your own. You get pretty good at phone sex too. You’re lucky. Jensen won’t be staying away so long ever again he said.”

“No, no. But uh...before Jensen I’d had the same boyfriend forever and he was as vanilla as could be. We didn’t do that stuff really together.”

“I can text you some links to stuff. It’s not like you have to go in some scary store or anything. It’s discrete and I think a small vibe would be great to start with. You can use it during sex or foreplay or whatever. Just you know, have fun.”

“Jensen and I kinda got busted by the cops a week or so back for...activities in the backseat,” you said. She started to laugh and you groaned. “Thankfully it was his friend that caught us so he let us off the hook but...it was kinda fun.”

“Good,” she said, sighing as Jensen pinned Jared down. “Hey so yeah about that wedding thing. Jared had two more groomsmen than I had girls. It doesn’t have to be matchy, matchy, you know?”

“I know. I don’t know if…” you trailed off. “I lost my friend group when I broke it off with my last boyfriend. We’d been together for over ten years and I kept turning down his proposals and they didn’t like that. I have some nanny friends but not a lot and no one I’m really close to. I don’t know if I’d even get more than five people to come for me. Everyone else is his family and friends and I didn’t think about that until just now. I mean what would they think, seeing that? I don’t know if I even want anyone there now.”

“I think what they’d see is someone they care about marrying someone he loves. Just because we’re Jensen’s friends doesn’t mean we’re not your friends too. I know we’re still getting to know each other but we’ll be as close as those two eventually. Ruthie was texting me and we’re having a girls night the next convention in Dallas. You literally have a built in crew ready to go from the show, the girls and the guys. You are so coming with me to the next night I have with my local girlfriends and you got our family. You even got Dee’s parents. You have more than you know, sweetie.”

“I never had a best friend growing up except for my mom. Until Jensen,” you said. “I’ve never really been good at the friend thing.”

“Were you bullied in school?” she asked quietly.

“Don’t tell anyone besides Jared but my dad wasn’t a good person. He hurt me and so I was afraid of getting in trouble so I didn’t talk to other kids all that much until I got old enough to understand what he was doing was wrong and that’s how I ended up being adopted.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Can’t do anything about it now. But I can have it not control my life too. I’ve been pretty good since I was nine in that department. My mom dying sucked and things have been up and down but I like where I am now. This is easily the happiest I’ve ever been in my life.”

“Jens’s not perfect.”

“I know. But he’s good enough. He gave me a certain confidence to live my life, like really live it.”

“He’s alright,” she smiled. “You know I have an idea about this bridesmaids thing you might like.”

“You?”

“Oh I would for sure but I meant more so I know two little girls that wouldn’t mind. Maybe there’s a boy too,” she said.

“I’m gonna need you to be my wedding planner at this rate,” you said.

“Job accepted,” she said. “I say we go farmhouse modern style.”

“Gen. I got engaged like two weeks ago. We have time,” you said. “We don’t even have a date.”

“At the very least can we go dress shopping?” she asked.

“I’m going to regret this,” you sighed as Jensen stepped back in the water.

“Get yourself a stronger man, Padalecki. That one is weak,” he said. Jared followed him right after and went to tackle him when Gen caught his arm.

“Boys, not in the water,” she said.

“Chicken?” asked Jensen.

“Losers pick up the tab for when we go out this weekend for dinner. Deal?” asked Jared.

“Well in that case, you’re on.”

Two Weeks Later

“Jensen,” you said, carding your fingers through his hair while he absentmindedly burnt some eggs. “You okay babe?”

“Yeah. We ought to pack up the kids, get on the road soon if we’re gonna hit the beach.”

“I’m gonna drive, okay?” you asked. He nodded and you got out the eggs again, making up a new batch. “Do you want to talk to Ray?”

“Why?” he asked quietly, leaning back against the counter.

“Anniversaries of traumatic events can be triggering,” you said. “My mom died two days ago. Well, you know what I mean.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked.

“Because it doesn’t trigger me anymore. But it did and this is the first time...the first one is the roughest.”

“Yeah,” he said. “I ought to talk to him.”

“Eat your breakfast. I’ll give him a call and get the kids ready while you guys talk, okay?” you said.

“Thank you,” he said. You kissed his cheek and hugged him before you went upstairs for your phone. It rang a few times but Ray finally answered, noise in the background.

“Y/N. Everything alright?” he asked.

“Hey. Yeah. We’re...we’re pretty good. Today’s the first anniversary of Jensen’s-”

“Ah. I understand.”

“Listen, I know it’s a Sunday and you don’t work the weekends but would you mind talking to him for a few minutes? We’re going down to Galveston for the week in a bit but he’s off this morning.”

“I’d talk to him even if he wasn’t your fiance but especially because of that. You know we’re actually down here ourselves for a few days. Just got down yesterday. If you guys are around...maybe we could get together for that swim.”

“I’d like that. You okay?” you asked.

“I always get a little down on the day but Sarah understands. You understand.”

“Yeah. I’m gonna put Jensen on and um, maybe we can meet at Arillo’s for dinner?”

“We got a reservation there ourselves tonight. How many in your crew? Five? I’ll call and ask for an update.”

“Yeah there’s five of us. Um, Ray?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry for being so horrible as a teenager after mom. You loved her as much as I did.”

“Thank you but you don’t have to apologize for that. You got too much pain in your life. I’m glad you found the good stuff too.”

“Are Geroge and Taylor there?” you asked.

“Yeah kids are here. Taylor’s got some internship but she does it online half the day and George is some research assistant thing for one of his professors but same kinda deal. We leave them to work in the morning while Sarah and I have some fun. Want me to let them know you’re coming?”

“Probably a good idea. Not sure how they’ll react,” you said, Jensen poking his head into the bedroom. “Here’s Jensen.”

“Okay, sweetie. We’ll see you guys soon.”

You handed the phone to Jensen and finished up packing while he sat on the bed. You tried to leave him be but couldn’t help listening in.

“Yeah I’m anxious...I don’t want her to drive down today...you know why...I guess...probably...I don’t want to be freaking out for three hours in the car...because it’s today...I know...I know...so I have to suck it up...I don’t want to have a panic attack in the car with the kids...no I haven’t...I’m scared I will though...yeah...I understand...dude that sounds so stupid...that’s not medically anything...no I don’t have my doctorate...I don’t wanna ask her...I said I don’t want to, not that I wouldn’t...I know...I will...maybe I’ll try that too...yeah, Y/N said the first year is the roughest too...I’ll let her be in charge until we get down to the beach today. I think I’ll feel better after the car...yeah I kinda figured out what she was doing planning a trip on today of all days...I need it...really? Yeah, I’m looking forward to meeting up down there too...thanks Ray.”

You finished with your suitcase and had his open for him when he walked into the closet. He swallowed and handed your phone back.

“All good?” you asked.

“Ray thought it might be a good idea if I had something of yours with me on the way down, to keep on me since I’m...anxious this morning about being in a car.”

“Something of mine…” you said, looking at your side of the closet. “Why don’t you pack up and I’ll get you something before the road, okay?”

He nodded and twenty minutes and about three bathroom trips later the SUV was packed up. You hopped behind the wheel, Jensen tapping the arm rest from the passenger seat. 

“Here,” you said, reaching into your pocket, pulling out a bracelet. It was fabric, the kind made from craft string, white, rusty orange and a light tan color mixed together. 

“I’ve never seen this,” he said as he held it between his fingers.

“I got it on vacation with mom and Ray. Last one we went on,” you said, tying it around his wrist. “You have it.”

He stared at you as you turned the engine on, watching you backout. 

“This is too important for me to take,” he said quietly.

“It’s fabric. I want you to have it, okay?” you said, pulling onto the street and closing the gate. He nodded and you turned the radio on low. “Coffee run?”

“Yeah. Coffee sounds good right about now.”

You were only about fifteen or so minutes away from the beach house you’d rented. The kids were either taking naps in the backseats or watching a movie on the ipad. You risked a glance at Jensen, his fingers absently toying with the bracelet while he looked out the window, the radio on low. 

“How you doing big guy?” you asked as you pulled off to the exit ramp. 

“Pretty good now,” he said softly. 

“Mind navigating for me?” you asked. He hummed and picked up your phone from where it sat in the console the past few hours. About twenty minutes or so you were stretching outside of the car, Jensen opening the front door of the house with the code you’d been given. The kids climbed out and were good about each taking their own backpacks while you and Jensen gathered up the rest. 

“Come here,” he said, leaving the bags by his feet and kissing you against the side of the car. You grinned and he picked you up in a big squeezing hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said. He set you down and kissed you again. “You seem like yourself again.”

“I needed that push, get over that fear. But now, I can enjoy my day with my girl and my kiddos and apparently we are having dinner with Ray and his family tonight?” he asked.

“If that’s alright,” you said.

“One hundred percent,” he said, Arrow jumping up and down nearby. “Honey, go use the bathroom in the house if you have to go.”

“No I’m excited!” she said. “Can we go play on the beach? Pretty please?”

“Hm, give daddy fifteen minutes and then we can go?” he asked. She turned to you and grinned.

“We’ll go really soon sweetie. I promise.”

“Hey guys,” said Jensen an hour later, the five of you down on the beach and mostly watching them build a sandcastle together. “Y/N and I want to tell you something.”

“Is it that you guys are getting married?” asked JJ, patting some sand with her shovel. You glanced at Jensen and he shrugged. “You were talking to Aunt Gen and Uncle Jared about it last night, right?”

“Well, yes we were,” said Jensen. “I suppose we were a little louder than we thought. But yes, Y/N and I have decided to get married. We’re not sure when exactly but in the next year I can say.”

“So we have a mom again?” asked Arrow, fixing her corner of the castle that kept caving in.

“Well you guys are kinda lucky. You’ll get two moms,” he said. “How’s that sound?”

“We missed mom’s day,” she said with a sigh. “Right?”

“We’ll catch it next year, promise,” said Jensen. “Do you guys have any questions or anything you want to say?”

“Do we call you mom now?” asked JJ. 

“You guys call me whatever you want,” you said.

“Can we call you mom?” she asked. You nodded and she went back to playing in the sand. 

“Anything else guys?” asked Jensen.

“Can I get a giraffe?” asked Zeppelin while he figured out how much water to add to the sand to get it to stick together.

“No sweetie. They wouldn’t fit at our house,” said Jensen. 

“Darn it,” he said.

“I can tell you’re all so invested in this topic,” chuckled Jensen.

“Oh! Can my flower girl dress be purple?” asked JJ. 

“Your dress can be whatever color you want it to be,” you said.

“Awesome,” she said. “Or black and purple. With lightning stripes.”

“Ah, I knew the classic rock would finally pay off,” said Jensen.

“Maybe Daddy’s suit can be black and white stripes, like a tiger,” you said.

“Like a White Snake music video more like it,” he laughed. “We’ll figure all that stuff out. We wanted to make sure you guys knew was all and if you have any questions or were nervous or anything you know you can ask either one of us.”

“Mom makes you happy again. Of course you gotta marry her!” said Arrow. “Oh and get her a pony. Girls like that.”

“Would you care for a pony, sweetheart?” asked Jensen as he shook his head. 

“Are we talking mustang kind of pony?” you asked.

“That’s my girl,” he said, wrapping an arm over your shoulders, kissing your cheek. “Let dad get a picture of you guys. We’re on vacation after all.”

Five Hours Later

“Jensen,” you said, changing into a light summer top and a pair of denim shorts after your shower. He was standing by his suitcase undressed, trailing his finger over his scar. “Honey?”

“A year ago was the worst day of my life and today was a really great one. I get to meet Ray more and even Sarah and the kids who all sound great and...I’m really happy I’m still here to see all this.”

“Me too,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. “Wear your red underwear.”

“Is that a request?”

“I like how you look when you take it off,” you said, gently smacking his ass as you went to go fix your hair.

“I am so grateful I found you,” he said to himself. You smiled and brushed your teeth quickly before checking yourself over and taking a selfie. You sat up on the counter and opened instagram, still silently grateful you’d always had it on private. There was nothing bad on it but Jensen and Jared had tagged you before and all of the comments always seemed to be negative.

“How do I look?” asked Jensen, walking in wearing a short sleeve navy button down and his red underwear.

“So sexy,” you giggled, Jensen digging through his other bag and finding his khaki shorts. 

“Can I get away with sneakers and a backwards baseball cap at this restaurant?” he asked.

“Totally. We always eat outside. It’s near the pier,” you said, putting up your post.

“Taking more pictures I can show off of you again?” he asked, grabbing your brush and getting some control of his damp hair back.

“Nobody even sees my instagram hardly,” you said.

“You know the internet knows we’re dating, right.”

“I’m pretty sure your fans still aren’t okay with that fact, even if they know.”

“Oh you’re mistaking the nutjobs for actual fans. The real ones, those guys are cool and nice. I actually got a lot of care packages and things from them last year. Still do. They really are good people. Those other ones that leave nasty comments? Fuck them. That shit don’t bother me anymore.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying family and friends know. Can I show off the woman I love to the world?” You wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him in front of you, his head cocking. 

“Yeah,” you said. “Better late than never.”

“Okay,” he said. “For now though, I’m looking forward to this dinner.”

“I hope it goes well. It’s George and Taylor I’m more worried about. They were kids when I decided to stop coming around. I only knew them maybe two years, if even that. I know they were upset.”

“Give them some credit. Ray raised them too after all.”

“I’m all set!” said Zeppelin, walking into the bathroom with his paw patrol shirt and nothing else on.

“At least I was gonna wear underwear,” chuckled Jensen. “Little dude. Get some undies on and shorts in the next two minutes or else…” he trailed off as he came in and hugged Jensen’s leg. 

“I love you, daddy,” he said.

“I love you.”

“Can we get a giraffe now?” he asked. Jensen rolled his eyes and you released him.

“Let’s go finish getting you dressed, buddy.”

“So you guys were Sarah’s fosters?” asked Jensen towards the end of dinner, all three kids passed out asleep in the stroller or on the bench besides you while you picked at your shared dessert. Neither George or Taylor had said much aside from introducing themselves. 

“Guys,” said Ray, nudging Taylor. “I’m sorry for our children’s rudeness. I was afraid of this.”

“Shut up,” they both said, Sarah sighing.

“The kids were both big fans of Supernatural. They grew up watching it with me. It was something we bonded over at first in fact,” she said. 

“Oh,” said Jensen, a smirk forming on his face. “Sam or Dean girls? George come on buddy, it’s okay.”

“This isn’t happening,” said Taylor, her eyes squeezed shut.

“So you guys don’t want to hear about the movie, gotcha,” he said, both of them snapping their heads up.

“He really is a dork,” you said. 

“Movie?” asked George.

“Someday. You can count on it,” said Jensen. “Maybe I’ll go easy on you guys and ask what mom was?”

“You boys are a little young for my tastes but honestly the guy who played John was very attractive,” she said.

“Even I’d hit that,” said Ray, Sarah laughing to herself.

“You can see Ray wins his ladies over with his charm,” you said, glancing at Taylor and George. “Like you guys could literally ask anything you ever wanted about the show and get an unfiltered answer if you want.”

“Did you really keep the car?” asked George. Jensen nodded and held up his finger.

“When we’re back in town, you guys come over and you can take a spin in it,” he said.

“Okay, he’s cool with me,” said George. You cocked your head and he smiled. “That was the car from the show I always told you about.”

“Oh. I thought you were talking about batman or something,” you said, pursing your lips. “Sorry I wasn’t…”

“You always sucked at pretending to be happy,” said Taylor. You looked down and nodded. “We get it. You had to do your own thing.”

“Don’t hate me for leaving?”

“Maybe when we were little,” she said. “But we’re older and we get that you probably felt like a fifth wheel.”

“Yeah. A lot really,” you said. “It worked out though.”

“She’s a Dean girl by the way,” said Ray, cracking up as Taylor whacked his arm.

“Dad! Oh my God no I’m not! I like Sam!” she said.

“Want to talk to him?” grinned Jensen. Her face went red and you heard a quiet chuckle at the table. “You’re right, we’ll save that for in person.”

“You basically are marrying Dean Winchester without like, the trauma,” she said. Jensen tensed up but kept a smile on his face. You knew Ray caught it when he gave him a simple nod.

“Trauma’s not inherently bad,” said Ray. “Everyone at this table has gone through some.”

“I know, dad,” she said quietly. She looked at George and he nodded. “Our parents were in a house fire. So were we. I was five and Georgie was four.”

“She carried him out and went next door for help,” you said.

“I was in a car accident last year,” said Jensen. You turned your head. It wasn’t public knowledge that he was in the car. He’d flat out told you that aside from family and a few friends, no one besides you knew. “I almost died. My wife did but for other reasons. You can still have trauma and a really good life.”

“Very good point, Jensen,” said Ray. “You two rugrats wouldn’t be around if mom and I had moped around in our misery forever.”

“Was he always such a sap?” asked George.

“From the day I met him,” you said, Jensen grabbing your hand under the table. “Would you mind watching the kids for a second?”

“Not at all,” he said. You excused yourself and brought Jensen along with you, walking out to the beach area, the breeze cool but light.

“You alright?”

“Yeah. I can talk about it now. I went from having the worst year of my life to one of the best. Nothing bad’s gonna happen for saying what really happened. I want to let all that shit go and have the rest of that really good life I was talking about.”

“For someone who keeps a lot inside I sure have noticed a difference in you the past few weeks.”

“To quote both of the loves of my life, I gotta let that shit out more regularly,” he said. You smiled and wrapped your arms over his shoulders, giving him a kiss. 

“You know that’s what we call growth, babe.”

“I very easily could have gone the opposite way this year.”

“But you didn’t, cause you tried even though it sucks sometimes. I love you but I extra love happy you and you’re definitely a happier guy now than when I met you.”

“So are you, honey,” he said. “Must make a pretty good team or something.”

“Oh yeah, maybe that’s it.”

“We should honestly get like, married or something, you know?” he teased.

“First I have to know though, are you willing to do cookie cake for a wedding cake?”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice,” he said. “The real questions is, are you willing to deal with the eventual dad bod that will happen as a result?”

“I love this bod, but I don’t love you for this bod,” you said. 

“Thank you for today,” he said softly. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” you said. He grinned and kissed your cheek, hugging you tightly. “What are best friends for?”

“Everything?”

“Hell yeah they are Ackles.”

_______

A/N: Read Part 15 here!

[batsforbadones]

Dear Batsforbadones,

I wanted to thank you for your writing of Billy Lenz.

As cute as OOC fluff can be, I just love it when there's writers who stick to the more canonical version of characters, and aren't afraid to write them as the deranged assholes they are. You made Billy rather sarcastic, condescending, and rather calculative while still maintaining is mental instability and rather animalistic insanity. The way you even write his dialogue is so great, as it oozes this capturing, but psychotic asshole vibe of "You're a dumb slut, but I'm gonna fuck and kill you now". With that, you're not afraid to unleash the more unpopular, and controversial side of Billy character, and that's the fact that he's pretty much a sexual predator, and absolutely wouldn't mind crossing lines to get "what he wants". People tend to baby Billy as some "ADHD" poster child of Gen Z "quirkiness", but you don't seem to infantilize him at all. You give him a personality outside of the "lol random xD" trope that many people seem to like projecting onto such characters. Like a gust of cold wind, your writing is rather refreshing.

Once again, I gotta thank you for writing Billy in a way that makes me smile whenever I see a new fic with him being released. I wish you well!

This comment means so much to me. you've given me a very in depth analysis, and I feel the urge to give you an explanation- a thought process as to why I'm so- mean when I write my slashers. because i do try to be. I also enjoy the fluff and the 'awwww, cute they'd hold my hand in a barn after killing someone' thing, but I am intentionally mean when I write, at least i try to be.

so, if you're willing to, hold out with me. It may not be worth much, but I'm- so glad my writing does what I intended it to. TW - DISCUSSIONS OF SA

fun fact about me- I got my fanfictional start in the creepypasta fandom on wattpad c.2012. If any of you got pipelined into being a horror movie watcher, you know how I got here, but basically, OOC content is- insanely popular in the creepypasta fandom because of how little substance there is to a lot of the root characters. Most of the source material has this very- passionate, but over all lacking development vibe so you'll get these really mediocre concepts handled very poorly. so you end up with things like jeff the killer, whose very clearly written by some 14 year old boy who listened to marilyn manson's cover of sweet dreams are made of these and it changed him for life (me too), or you get some bastardized form of someones passion found footage project- this isnt to say I wasn't also in that boat, but it was to say that I was kind of thrust into this very romanticized, and understandably less morbid view of these characters very early on. I responded to fear with sexuality, and that is an incredibly unfortunate boat to find yourself in so early on in your internet life, but fuck it we ball-

so basically, theres a character who is incredibly similar to Billy Lenz in the creepypasta fandom, and if you were there, you know exactly what I'm about to do because i've been sitting on this for almost two years now-

The way Billy Lenz is often written, is the way Ticci Toby was written. And Ticci Toby was my favourite creepypasta (i am using creepypasta as a fandom term, and not an actual iteration of the website. i mean the pantheon, because this differentiation is important to some people ((theres a lot of creative elitism in the creepypasta community)))

Ticci Toby is a slenderman proxy oc described as neurotic, bipolar, delusional, unstable, and with an unmaskable type of tourettes to where he garners the name he would later use as his moniker (all as written by a deviantart user c.2010, so take a lot of the sensitivity with a grain of salt)-

and my god, did the creepypasta fandom infantilize him. i did too. he was, for all intent and purposes, my baby girl. and I was like- idk fucking 10 and being into true crime and not flinching was cool so I was dick riding this man and eyeless jack like it was my job. and a couple of notable things about how they would treat him would be a bizarre obsession with waffles, Hollywood tourettes, if you were really ballsy, you'd make him hypersexual, and constantly trying to anime grope the reader, and he was just- all around considered to be the comedic relief character when paired with our other collection of 'the killers'. get its, its funny because its 2012 and we all think a severe social disorder is the peak of comedy.

and he wasnt well written, i would argue this is an actual infliction of what he was written to be (creepypasta oc rights drama aside), but later down the line when I got older i had this faint realization where its just like- no. he wouldnt-- do that. And not that it matters, you can literally do whatever you want with these characters, death to the author shit, but I was put off by it, almost? like, i look back on my old preconceptions of these characters and im like, morbidly inspired by my own childhood innocence when interacting with him. like- oh wow. i really wouldve just walked into the woods with a man with a hatchet if he was hot enough. oh wow.

once again, i too love to read ooc fluff and smut and stuff where these men aren't sexual predators and arent abusers, and i care for funny giggle billy, dont get me wrong, but I'm not- aroused by him much. i feel like, an emotional fondness, but im not- attracted to him.

and this isnt to say i dont think everyone isnt aware of how we are writing about fucking fictional murderers. we all watched the movies, we all got horny when he came out. we're all aware- and i know for some people it comes from a place of personal comfort that the boogey man treats them with care. its not my place to ruin someones comfort character. it never will be.

but, i genuinely struggle to make myself dissociate enough from these characters to believe they would care about consent. Most if not all slashers are founded on the grounds of the male, predatory gaze. the woman is the victim. the man is the victimizer. they're often literally metaphored with actual prey/predator situations. anyone killing women in mass is doing it because they hate women, and likely wouldnt have a problem raping said women. this is a fact i cannot remove myself from, both meta and not.

and i find a weird comfort in knowing they will always be- just that.

i feel that way about billy lenz a l o t. he, verbatim, threatens to rape the entire sorority house and then kill them. Its only by 70's movie censorship that I'm sure we didn't have a violent and grotesque assault scene from him. Billy Lenz is, at his core, a sexual predator. The little canonical input we get from him is- of him being a sexual predator. I'm not going into his phone calls, but basically- him being a rapist is, so incredibly core because we get... what? 7 minutes of dialogue with him? and not a SINGLE full body shot of him moving? We get a blood shot eye and?? what?? like i cant just remove him from the rape. theres nothing left of him. i'd be ticci tobying him again. and its not that i dont feel right doing that. not everyone should be like, forced to think about rape all the time- like, if you want a funny, sexy, evil guy, do it. I'd read it and giggle and kick my feet. if billy is your favourite character because you read him as autistic and gender, do it. but my billy- exists on those grounds. And so does my Jed. and my Stu. and my brahms- and so on so fourth.

sorry for the rant i'm just- so so passionate about like, this topic. and this is so fucking sweet to me. it means the world, really. thank you so much. im always in a billy lenz mood and plan to do some stuff for him soon. Thank you thank you thank you <3

[sephiraa]

♥ How to re-mother yourself? A spiritual guide ♥

♥ How to re-mother yourself? A spiritual guide ♥

Following the previous pick a card reading (thank you for your likes and reblogs!) for healing your inner child, I got the feeling it could be useful to explain how re-mothering is done, and what it actually is.

It is not that radical to conclude that most people have had some sort of trauma early on in their life, whether minor or major. Most families are far from perfect, you see. So, for some it could be blatant abuse, for others something more mild, perhaps. In any case, many parents (especially in older generations, so Gen X parents, Baby Boomers, etc.) did not have sufficient knowledge on how to raise a child empathetically. I can explain that too, but it’s going to take me on a whole different angle of this topic. Experiencing a parental figure lacking in emotional availability and or empathy can leave you scarred in one way or another. Therefore, it is quite useful to try and remedy that. This is what we can achieve through re-parenting ourselves, and specifically for this post, I will focus on the aspect of re-mothering.

So right off let’s start by what is re-mothering?

Think about the ideal mother. It would be a figure that teaches you how to live your life in the best way possible, in the more empathetic sense of this notion. (The other part is re-fathering, but I’ll have to make a separate post for that). Basically to re-mother yourself is to give yourself what your maternal figure could or did not. It usually means more empathy, warmth, undertstanding and pampering.

Eat Well.

This is very personal but looking back at my childhood, my mother hated cooking, and ate either very little or way too much, depending on the season in her life. Food seemed like a punishment to me, as a child. And, as a teenager, I had some issues with limiting my food intake etc... thankfully, I did not succumb to these tendencies for too long. Instead, I had the insight that it is something much deeper I have to heal in regarding to food.

Food is our fuel, But, unfortunately we can get by on low-quality fuel, like junk food and cold snacks. To treat your energy better you have to eat better. It does not have to be the perfect keto/vegan/whatever diet, but just make little adjustments. Takeout food can be healthy, too, so don’t beat yourself up for using such service but just search for the healthier options. Don’t have time to cook? Eat fruit on the go, grab some nuts. These are simple solutions. 

Drink Well.

Listen, you gotta drink water everyday. Like really, a few full glasses of water. From a Chinese medicine point of view, they better be room temperature, not icy water. Can’t drink water? make some nice sweet tea.

Exercise AND stretch

You don’t have to be a ballerina to be needing a good stretch here and there! Most of us are living a sedentary lifestyle, sitting in front of screens the whole day. I feel like that has gained even more extremity specially ever since the pandemic has taken place. So, get off of your chair and stretch your arms, rotate your shoulders. Youtube has some really great tutorials for good stretches that only take a few minutes to do.

And excercise - I honestly think yoga/pilates are great but it’s not for everyone, so if you can at least try to fit it some light jogging/walking/cycling every day. Even 20 minutes a day is a great amount of excerise, and it does count, not only for your body but mostly for your soul.

Manage Your Expectations (from yourself)

I feel like a big part of being empathetic towards yourself in this day and age is simply being able to manage your expectations from yourself. Society expects us to deliver 150% on all fronts - Your studies, your day job, your side-hustle, your relationships, your friendships, your hobbies... but how is that even possible?

Being content with ‘just enough’ sometimes is a great way to heal yourself, especially if you were a child who felt the pressure of impossible expectations from your parents/teachers etc.

Manage Your Expectations (from others)

Being empathetic towards oneself, as a good mother would have been, also means to me. managing your expectations from others. Not in the sense that you have to lower your standards but in the way that if someone cannot give you something, you should give it to yourself. It could mean different things for different people,

Rest.

It all depends on your biorhythms and stress levels but re-think resting as a whole. In seasons when I work a lot I try to fit it little rest periods throughout my day. So I tackle a problem or assignments and then lounge for 20-30 minutes if I can. It helps me think. You may not be able to do that all the time or most of the time but if you can, try and find this sweet spot of fitting in a moment for yourself amidst the chaos of the everyday.

Pamper yourself  - Be your own best friend & lover first ♥

If there is one best advice I’ve ever gotten, it was the one given to me by my literature teacher when I was sixteen. She was telling our class something like “you gotta be your own best friend. Go to that noontime movie screening by yourself. Take yourself out for a coffee. That way, you wouldn’t need anyone and you will only attract the best people into your life, the ones who will really love you”.

And you know what? While I’ve still had my share of obstacles since I was sixteen, there is one thing I never struggled with - enjoying my life without waiting for anyone else.

♥ I hope this post helps in some way, please don’t hesitate to reach me if you have any more questions regarding the topic of re-mothering ♥

[writing-good-vibes]

holidays prompt 35 w bo would be so cute

thank you so much for the festive request 🎄 !! i'm sorry this came so late, but it is still winter so i did somewhat deliver !! i know this may or may not have been for an x reader bit, but the spirit swayed me to write a gen fic i'm sorry !! but i hope y'all enjoy anyway and thank you as always for reading 😊📚 bold is sign.

bo (and vincent)

It rarely snowed in Louisiana. Bo could count on one hand how many times he remembered real snow, not the faint dusting that was sometimes there on winter mornings but gone by noon.

No, no, real snow was hard to come by and as a child Bo had savoured every second of those sparse snow days. It gave him an excuse to get out of the house, to keep out of the way of his parents and giggle under his breath in wonder at the snow crunch beneath his sneakers.

It had been years since a proper snowfall but that morning Bo awoke and knew something was different. A bright, stark winter light cut through the crack in his curtains.

A smirk pulled at his lip though he tried to supress it. He didn't have time for snow, not really. Not now. Long gone were the days when he could scamper into the woods for the day and come home with frost bitten finger. No, now he had a kingdom to maintain. The generator was on its last legs as it was and if it got cold enough down in the tunnels, he didn't even want to think about all the goddamn trouble they'd be in if the power went out.

Bo sighed, untangling himself from his sheets and pulling himself from the warmth of his bed. He quickly got dressed, cursing that he hadn't found a good enough pair of boots yet; his current ones were worn through, more hole than shoe at this point. Hopefully the next batch of tourists would be dressed for the weather.

Making his way down stairs he banged on Vincent's door as he passed, calling, "Vince, snow. Gotta check the generator." He wasn't sure if Vincent was in there, or if he was already down in his workshop, but he'd find him either way.

By the time Bo had raided the cupboards for something even resembling breakfast (who said a grown man couldn't eat cheetos for breakfast) and brewed a pot of coffee, Vincent had appeared. Turned out he had been in his room.

"I only just went to bed," Vincent complained, rubbing at his eye, clearly tired but fully dressed. Bo looks down at his feet. Proper boots.

"Ain't my problem," Bo shrugs, taking another mug from the shelf and handing it, empty, to Vincent. He picks up the coffee pot and Vincent holds his mug steady as Bo pours, "This'll wake you up."

Vincent twitches, "Gross." He doesn't usually drink black coffee but Bo isn't going to give him time to add milk and sugar because as soon as he's done pouring, he's heading for the door.

"Gotta get a move on, catch anything before we have a blackout."

Vincent downs his drink, leaving his mug in the sink and following Bo.

They stand on the front porch and look out over the town. Everything looks serene and, as cheesy as Vincent knows it sounds, it looks like a Christmas card. The cracks in the pavement and grime on the windows is hidden by frost and, from their place high on the hill, the houses even look like people could be inside, warm and safe in front of televisions and space heaters.

They're not going to be able to tell if everything is still working until they go down into the tunnels.

Bo strides down the front steps and unlocks their truck, turning the key in the ignition. The engine turns over and the truck shudders alive. At least that's still working and hasn't frozen up in the cold.

Vincent glances over at the railing of the porch. A few inches of snow. Without thinking, he reaches out, pressing a perfect handprint. A short breath leaves him. As a kid, he didn't go out much on those rare snow days. His sinuses were pretty bad and the harsh, sharp cold of snow always hurt too much when he was younger. Now, wrapped up in a stolen coat that he had physically fought with Bo to claim, he looked down at the snow beneath his fingers and smiled.

It crunched quietly as he pressed it together, his finger not-quite cramping at the temperature.

Bo shut off the truck and looked over, the harsh slam of the door jolting Vincent so much he nearly dropped his snowball.

"What you waiting around for?" Bo said, making to come back up to the house, "Go on -" He cut himself off when he saw Vincent rolling the snow between his hands.

Bo shook his head in mild panic, "Hey, no! No, if you throw that snowball, so help me-”

A half-smirk crosses Vincent's face, as he pulls back to throw the snowball. It lands squarely on Bo's chest, exploding in a shower of frost in his hair and down the neck of his fleece.

"You're fuckin' in for it now," Bo grins, stooping down to scoop up the snow at his feet.

Vincent grins back, half-identical, and gathers the snow on the porch as a snowball hits his shoulder, dusting his hair with snowflakes.

They forget about the generator, silently deciding it isn't as desperately important as Bo made it out to be (though if it goes down and they have to call Lester to help them rewire it, they'll both be complaining).

A raging battle overtakes the front lawn, Vincent was always a better shot (surprisingly), while Bo makes up for it with furious enthusiasm. Soon they're not even throwing snow anymore, but roughhousing until they grow tired, laying side by side in the ruined snow.