#might write a second part to this

[absoluteloser64]

every man has his needs

I'm legitimately craving smut of this man I even went on fanfiction.net lmao (this is set after silent hill 2 ofc :p)

NOT PROOFREAD

sitting in his car, listening to the rain softly pitter patter against his windshield. his sunken eyes were set on the woman before him.

humming an idle tune from the radio, he watched her, shivering from the rain, on her corner of the street as she waited. for him, he hoped.

he noticed her months back, on a drive home from work, she was there everyday, at the same time. utterly above his level, stunning... yet here she was, waiting for the next paying customer.

he fiddles with the envelope in his pocket, trying to calm his nervous breathing as he wipes the sweat from his brow. and timidly puts his car into drive, trailing up towards her figure under the dim streetlights.

she smiled at him, as he got closer and closer. 'my saviour' her lips would say as she skipped happily to the passenger side door, opening it and sitting down with a squelching noise, ignoring the mass amounts of rubbish on the floor.

she looked at him expectantly, he gulped, unable to meet her gaze. and slowly passed her the package from his pocket. her eyes fluttered at the sight, brushing her hand against his when taking the money, causing a wistful sigh to leave his mouth.

clenching his hand in and out of a fist to be rid of that sweet tingling sensation, she asked what he could want for such a large amount of money..and even he didn't know.

shrugging his shoulders tensley, trying his hardest not to stare at her exposed cleavage. and after a beat of silence she gave him four simple instructions, straight, right, left, left. and in doing so, led them both into a dark, tight alleyway.

turning the cars engine off, and with it all the lights in the vehicle, plunged them into complete and utter darkness. all james could hear was his own heavy breathing, and then suddenly a surprisingly warm hand came to sweetly rest on his cheek.

slowly turning his face in her direction, he could vaguely make out the outline of her soaked body. gently brushing her fingers against his stubble, he melted completely into her touch, closing his eyes.

she chuckled, pressing her thumb against his chapped lips, circling them until james couldn't help but press a light kiss on it. wanting more.

but then she pulled away. causing a slight frown to lace itself on his lips..but then he felt her body weight on his lap. james was breathless, he didnt even hear her move.

with his eyes still closed, he felt her kiss the underside of his jaw, her kisses getting lower and lower, nipping at his neck.

grunting lowly, he tilted his head up so she had more room to bless with those sweet lips of hers.

her soft hands gripping his wrists to guide them to her hips, she fit so nicely in his hands..as she suddenly grinded downwards. causing an outrageously loud moan to leave his lips. feeling her warm cunt through his jeans, as his eyes snapped open. causing them both to go still.

she whispers in his ear if he's okay, worry incredibly evident in her voice. but all he could focus on was the sticky release dripping in his boxers. swallowing the saliva in his mouth, looking down at the floor, he shook his head no.

after a long moment of silence, with him staring in shame at anything but her. she unexpectedly, begins to pet him..stroking his hair, brushing it out of his face, admiring him? he thinks?

no that would be stupid. he's paying for a service..this is apart of that service.

but he just can't help himself, its been so long..too long. circling his arms together that were still sat on her waist, he brought her in close. face pushed up against her chest, inhaling the addictive scent on her skin.

as she proceeded to coo at him, calling him beautiful as she pressed kisses into his head, causing him to groan at the affection.

he could feel himself getting hard once more, as she began to carefully move her hips against him, pulling his hands off from around her body and squeezing them against her supple tits. inviting him for more.

his eyes open in shock, staring at the vague outline of his hands against her pretty tits, but when he begins to pull away from the overwhelming feeling of it all..she follows him. trapping his palms against her chest and his own.

'you can do anything you want to me..'

'..anything'

and that wrecked him.

he audibly whimpered, tighting his grip on her chest. tearing her unbuttoned blouse off with a snap, a gasp of shock leaving her lips.

pulling her in close, mouthing needily at her gorgeous boobs. his rough hand slips in between her quivering thighs, cupping her hot, drenched panties. a shiver of anticipation running through him.

his thumb, skillfully rubbing her clit through that lacy cover. and every single blissful moan that leaves her sugared lips sends a lightning bolt of pleasure tearing through him.

his touch becoming even more desperate. roughly shoving her underwear to the side, he slips one finger in, both of them moaning at the contact.

feral eyes focusing on the vague outline of her mouth, in a 'O' shape, her ecstasy giving him the confidence to shove two more fingers inside, feeling how eagerly her pussy eats them.

so hot and dewy, soft...ferociously finger fucking her whilst rubbing her clitoris. wanting to reach every single deep crevice inside of her. 'take it, take it, take it' he chants under his breath, obsessed with her warmth.

her nails dig deep into the back of his neck, leaving deep indents in their wake as she screams in delight. he can feel how close she is, her walls wrapping so tight around him. 'I need to feel you cum' he whispers greedily.

and with one final thrust, she obeys, back arching, coming undone on him while wailing in delight. his breath trembles as he feels her hot release trickle down his long fingers.

looking down at his soaked hand, in disbelief that he made her cum..she grasps it, like many times before, and pulls his fingers out of her, herself, shuddering while doing so.

looking up at her shadowy figure, as she slowly brings his own cum covered hand up towards him, pressing her musky release into his mouth. he moaned as that sweet necter engulfed his tongue, tasting as addictive as liquor once did...

idk idk idk idk 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️

Im not gonna lie I was tempted to set this a year before silent hill 2 and have Mary in the backseat but I thought that might've been too wild lmao

[transvampireboyfriend]

Here's a little snippet from a tattoo shop/bakery au that i got kinda stuck on and i dont know if ill ever finish.

some context: Chrissy and Eddie are best friends that live in different states, Eds is taking two weeks off work for Chris' visit, he won't be at his tattoo shop which means he won't see the cute baker from next door

Chrissy's in the middle of answering and he's stretching his arms above his head when they hear the front door opening and the little bell above it chiming.

Eddie left the sign up front switched to "CLOSED", which can only mean-

"Eds?" Steve calls into the studio

Eddie immediately gets up from his seat and goes to meet him at the lobby, missing Chrissy's surprised look.

"Hiya, Stevie." he greets, bumping his knuckles against the front counter where Steve is standing just to the side of it.

He's secretly been hoping Steve would stop by just so he could see him. Just so he could hear his voice one last time before he has to go on for days without it.

Steve looks good too, in a plain white shirt, his blue apron and the absolute best pair of lightwash jeans in the whole entire world (if you're asking Eddie).

"I thought I saw you come in" Steve says, "You've been here for hours and you didn't come by to get breakfast, so i brought you this" he lifts the tray in his hands.

There's a mug with coffee, several sugar packets and two chocolate croissants.

"Aw, Steve, you didn't have to" Eddie says, genuinely touched. His heart flutters even though this is typical of Steve. He's just the sweetest.

"Oh, stop it," Steve protests, sounding bashful "these are from yesterday, I can't sell them" he says, placing the tray on the counter. A blush colors his cheeks and Eddie smiles, he looks so pretty.

Eddie knows by now how a pastry looks when it's fresh. He can't be fooled anymore.

It's been so long of them doing this dance though, and Eddie knows if he mentions it Steve will just get embarrassed, so he keeps his mouth shut about it.

"Well, they look really good." Eddie says instead "Thank you, sweetheart" he adds softly, his eyes drawn to the pink blooming on Steve's cheeks and focusing on the flour smeared across Steve's nose. He wants to kiss it and get flour all over his lips.

Eddie leans towards the tray and breaks away a piece of croissant, taking a bite.

Yep. Either Steve made these this morning or he's got magic abilities.

" 'M sure gonna miss these" Eddie says around his mouthful, gesturing with the bit of pastry still in his hand.

"Ugh, don't remind me," Steve groans "the shop already feels dull today"

Eddie laughs softly "You flatterer" he accuses

"Just trying to get you to visit" Steve defends, leaning against the counter and into Eddie's personal space to tap the rim of Eddie's reading glasses.

"Like I could stay away from your shop" Eddie says, tries his best not to sound breathless. He thinks he fails, and he must be blushing too, judging by how Steve's eyes are roaming his face.

"Good. Cause we need the business this month" Steve jokes.

That makes Eddie snort and laugh, Steve's shop is filled to the brim with costumers at least twice a day, five days a week.

Steve smiles at him again and then he peers around Eddie.

"Oh, hi!" Steve greets, straightens up and waves a little.

Eddie turns to see Chrissy leaning against the lobby partition, observing with her arms crossed.

Fuck.

"Chriiisssyyyy!" Eddie draws, and she narrows her eyes suspiciously "C'mere!" Eddie soldiers on,

Chrissy eyes him warily but walks to the counter and smiles sweetly at Steve, "Hi!" she greets "I'm Chrissy."

Steve's eyes widen "Of course! Eddie was picking you up today! I'm Steve, it's nice meeting you!"

He's such an angel, Eddie wants to cry.

"Likewise, Steve. I'm so sorry, I don't think Eddie's mentioned you yet" Chris says, but directs it to Eddie, glaring at him.

Eddie's about to answer, offended, but gets stuck on Steve's crestfallen expression for a split second and then Steve beats him to it.

"Oh, it's okay" Steve says, his smile reappearing, "I own the bakery next door" he supplies.

"He brought croissants!" Eddie tries to redirect "The best croissants in the state I'd say" he offers, succeeding in lightening Steve's mood again, judging by the twinkle in his eye.

Satisfied, Eddie asks Chris "D'you want one?"

Chrissy looks at him weird but mutters "sure" and grabs the one still whole.

"Well!" Steve exclaims, softly clapping his hands against his sides,

"I was just dropping these by, I won't take up any more of your time." Steve says "Chrissy it was really nice meeting you, I hope you have a great time in our town."

He turns to Eddie then and reaches out to squeeze his arm "And Eds, I hope you get lots of rest during your break. And visit us." he adds, moving his hand up to softly pull on a stray bit of hair that fell off Eddie's bun "The place won't be the same without you"

Eddie deflects so he doesn't melt under his gaze.

"I'm not dying, Stevie." he says, grabbing him by the shoulders and bodily turning him around as Steve softly laughs.

Judging by how his own cheeks are burning, Eddie's sure that he's the exact shade of a ripe tomato.

"I'll be back before you know it." Eddie adds, and with that, he gets Steve out the door.

Steve turns to say "You better" to Eddie. And once again, he peers around him to wave his fingers at Chrissy "Bye!" he says.

Sweetheart.

Eddie forces himself to not watch him walk the few steps between their shops.

When he turns back to his best friend he's relieved to see she's not glaring at him anymore.

She's got chocolate in the corner of her mouth and she's nodding.

"These are really good" Chrissy says, lulling Eddie into a false sense of safety.

He walks towards her to pick up and continue eating his own croissant, but as soon as he's within reach, Chris smacks the back of her hand against his bicep.

"OW!" Eddie protests, leaning against the counter and rubbing his arm.

She's been an athlete ever since they were in middle school together and she's never pulled her punches with him, it's a big part of why he loves her so much.

"You never told me you had a boyfriend!" she accuses, her mouth still full.

[afewproblems]

Prompt 53. "I'm flirting with you!" Part Two

A follow up to This Post

@happymediummm I promise the answer to your ask will be up soon in part three!!

Eddie stews in his room for three days following the incident at Steve's house. 

Wayne attempts to coax him out with food and coffee, even opening up the pack of bacon they'd been saving in the freezer, anything to try and get Eddie to talk to him. 

"I'm just worried s'all," he says softly from Eddie's doorway on the third day, his expression pinched in that way Eddie hates, "you should go out, do something, come on".

Wayne claps his hands together and disappears for a moment only to return with a tape case from the living room.

"Wayne, no--"

"It's overdue Eds, just bring it back for me would ya?"

Eddie groans into his hands at the triumphant expression on his uncle's face as he gets up from his bed and tugs on his leather jacket. 

"Since your friends work there," Wayne says brightly, gesturing with the tape as he hands it over to Eddie, "you should see if they waive the late fee for us". 

"I agreed to take it back, not talk to people," Eddie grumbles under his breath as Wayne shakes his head and gives his shoulder a squeeze.

"At least you won't be growing mold anymore, sitting there in the dark," Wayne says with a wink, ignoring the indignant scoff Eddie makes.

"Store closes in a half hour kid, you better hurry!"

Shit.

Eddie grumbless petulantly as he hurries out the door, ignoring the way Wayne compares his groans to a haunted house door.

He doesn't smile at the jib, and it doesn't make him laugh for the first time in days as he gets into the van, it doesn't!

The parking lot of Family Video is empty, but what did he really expect on a Wednesday at half past eight in the evening. 

The Open sign is still on at least but the low lights in the building and the bright copper glare of the sunset make it so much more difficult to see who is working tonight. 

He could just toss the tape into the return slot and wait out the late fees, he's sure another video store will eventually open up in Hawkins, they can take their business there.

Eddie sighs heavily as he shuts off the van and yanks out the key, "dammit Wayne," he mutters under his breath as he gets out and makes his way to the door. 

Eddie winces at the sharp jingle of the bell above the door and looks around, his head on a swivel, looking for any sign of Steve and his big, stupid, hair.

Robin waves from the counter as Eddie spots her, she's grinning at him with a sly look on her face as she leans against the counter, the multiple buttons and pins on her vest clink against the glass surface.

"There he is," Robin crows, drumming the counter, "I was beginning to think Steve had kidnapped you or something, were you allowed out for good behavior?"

She seems to realize what she had just implied and winces, shaking her head as Eddie snorts mirthlessly. 

"Uh, no, I just came to return this for my uncle," Eddie mumbles, keeping his eyes level with the counter rather than Robin's eyes. 

She frowns at him, taking the tape he slides across the counter and scanning it without dropping her gaze. 

"What's with you?" She says suspiciously. 

Robin drums her fingers lightly against the counter, as the large computer beeps acknowledging the return.

"Nothing, tired," Eddie shrugs, he's not about to tell Robin about what happened, though it is weird that she doesn't already know? 

Maybe she wasn't in on it, he can't imagine that Buckley would approve of a prank like that on another 'friend of Dorothy' but she was Steve's best friend first and foremost.

A song comes on over the small Family Video speakers, humming in the background. 

'All I wanna do when I wake up in the morning is see your eyes

Rosanna, Rosanna…'

Robin wrinkles her nose, her eyes traveling towards one of the large speakers in the corner before looking back to Eddie, a large grin in place.

"God this sappy shit, I told Steve not to put this one on the tape, you must hate Toto".

Eddie shrugs again, glaring at the floor, wishing he could burn a hole into it that he could escape through. 

"He did play it…didn't he?" Robin asks quietly, a small trace of anxiety in her voice as she leans away from the counter.

Eddie stops himself from rolling his eyes; if he was being honest, the tape was a nice touch --really sold the whole prank, honestly.

He looks back up to find Robin staring at him, and sighs heavily, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah," he huffs, taking a step back towards the front door, Robin's eyes follow his path in confusion, "I wasn't much of a fan of the choices".

"But it's fine right," Eddie scoffs, "he can use his little tape on someone his shit will actually work on next time".

"What?" Robin says incredulously, her face scrunches into a frown as Eddie laughs.

"You know Buckley, I'm surprised you were on board with this?" 

"Eddie, what the fuck are you talking about?" Robin hisses, shrill and loud, as she finally walks around the counter towards him.

"Oh don't give me that, he's your best friend, you're going to tell me he didn't tell you about his plan?" Eddie shakes his head as a high pitched laugh bubbles up out of his chest.

"I don't know what plan you're talking about Eddie," she says in a low voice, her eyes wide and angry, "the only thing Steve was going to do that night was tell you how he felt about you". 

"Yeah right, Steve Harrington, wants me? And that's not a fucking joke?"

She sucks her teeth, letting her eyes roam over his face, "this was such a mistake, okay, get out". 

Eddie sneers sharply, "a mistake?"

"Yeah, I never should have gotten his hopes up". 

Robin crosses to the window behind the counter and shuts off the second neon open sign before breezing past Eddie to pull the cord on the other sign, nearly hard enough to yank it down. 

No, no, no, no, it's not true, she's just saving face, she has to be…

Robin stands beside the door, a furious glare aimed at Eddie, "we're closed, get out, I need to go check on Steve". 

Unbelievable, Eddie does roll his eyes at this and heads towards her for the door, he takes the push bar in his hands and leans on it to swing the exit open before turning to Robin one last time, he wants so badly to have the last word it hurts.

"Better go check on King-Steve, I'm sure he's devastated," Eddie snarls, the furious fire from before burns bright in his chest as he watches Robin stiffen in the doorway.

"I haven't talked to him since Sunday Munson, until just now, I thought he was with you!"

Robin reaches out to grab both doors in her hands.

"Asshole," she scoffs, her eyes never leaving his as she locks the doors in his face. 

***

1980, Hawkins, Indiana

Eddie sniffles as he walks home, he can feel blood trickle down his chin from the split lip Paul gave him while his knee aches from where he hit the ground. 

He's not even sure what he did.

Paul had been so nice recently, talking with Eddie almost every day, eventually taking him under his wing. Paul was a year above Eddie at their Middle school, and when he had told Eddie to meet him under the bleachers after school, how could Eddie say no? 

It didn't help that Paul had soft blond hair, big hazel eyes that crinkled when he smiled, and the nicest laugh Eddie had ever heard.

What Eddie hadn't been expecting was Randy and David, also in Paul's grade, to be waiting for him. 

He breathes out a wet sob and keeps walking, scrubbing his face harshly as their trailer in Forest Hills comes into view, almost home.

Eddie reaches into his pocket and winces when he realizes his keys are gone, alongside his backpack.

They must have fallen out of his pocket in the scuffle.

The backpack was a different story.

He limps up the steps of their porch, wincing as the fabric of his jeans pulls at the drying blood on his knee, and knocks on the front door.

"Comin," Wayne calls from inside, "coming, wasn't expectin' anyone-- Ed?" 

Wayne's face goes through a series of expressions, from surprise, to anger, before settling on concern. 

He leans down and brings his hands up to Eddie's face, turning it gently to see the damage.

"Who did this," Wayne says quietly, he stands up to his full height, looking around the trailer park behind Eddie while tucking him closer.

"It was at school," Eddie sniffles again, his voice growing tight, "I'm okay". 

Wayne looks down at him for a moment before shaking his head and moving out of the door to pull Eddie inside.

"Hurt anywhere else?" Wayne asks as he walks Eddie to the kitchen, one arm around his shoulder as though afraid the fourteen year old will collapse at any moment.

"I fell, my knee hurts," Eddie mumbles as he sits at the kitchen table in the corner while Wayne crosses to the cabinets and busies himself with grabbing two clean wash clothes and peroxide from the cupboard above their stove.

It's quiet for a moment while Wayne wets one of the clothes at the sink and makes his way back to Eddie.

He kneels on the floor, balancing his weight on his good knee while the other remains bent at a more comfortable ninety degree angle. His joints creak slightly as he gets comfortable but he still smiles at Eddie all the same.

"Won't you be sore after this?" Eddie sighs, wishing Wayne would just let him go to the washroom now to clean himself up. 

"You let me worry about that," Wayne grumbles as he reaches up to wipe the blood and dirt from Eddie's face with the wet cloth. It's warm from the water and Wayne's gentle hand.

"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Wayne asks softly, as he reaches for the bottle of peroxide and tips it into the second cloth. He tilts Eddie's face to dab gently at the now dirt free cuts.

Eddie sucks his teeth at the sting and closes his eyes.

He doesn't even know where to really start. 

Paul hadn't been the one to push him off his feet, that had been Randy, but that hadn't stopped Paul from laughing and calling Eddie a fairy. 

David had been the one to take his bag, dumping everything out into the dirt and ripping it until the zipper broke. 

Luckily all of his school books were still in his locker, but all of the campaign notes from his most recent D&D game had been in there, along with the worn copy of the Hobbit his mother had given him. 

All of it was still sitting in the mud and grass by the bleachers, stomped into the ground by David's white sneakers.

Eddie shrugs as Wayne leans back slightly. He takes Eddie's leg and slowly bends the knee at the joint, his eyes search Eddies for any sign of strain. The only sting comes from the way the jean material pulls at the drying blood from his scrapes.

Wayne breathes out and scrubs a hand over his tired face, his fingers catch on the grey stubble as they slide down and drop into Wayne's lap.

"I'll make an appointment on Monday with the principal," Wayne says as he stands up with a stifled groan, turning away from Eddie who shakes his head like a wet dog. 

"Wayne you can't--"

"Edward, what do you expect me to do? You come home lookin' like hell and you won't tell me what happened?" 

Eddie bites his split lip hard enough for the faint taste of copper to stain his tongue once more, how could he tell Wayne just what those boys had yelled at him as he sat in the dirt cradling his head, wishing he'd just gone home.

Wayne sighs loudly as he raises his face towards the ceiling, his lips move slightly but Eddie can't make out what he's saying before he looks back at Eddie, his expression worn.

"Okay, okay," Wayne murmurs, walking back towards Eddie, he pulls one of the other mismatched chairs towards himself and sits down, "I won't call, but you have to meet me halfway, alright?" 

Eddie hesitates, swallowing roughly, maybe there was a way to tell Wayne without telling him everything.

"There were some boys at school, um," Eddie picks at one of the holes in his blue jeans, pulling at the frayed thread absently, "I guess just, one at first but…".

His eyes burn suddenly as the words rip through him once again.

"He told me to come to the bleachers and then," Eddie's voice wobbles this time as his throat tightens, "there were more of them and they…called me--" 

Eddie shakes his head, ducking it down to hide his shining eyes, he doesn't notice Wayne coming closer until he feels a hand in his hair and the dam finally breaks.

Six years later, Eddie can still remember what his uncle told him that day as he cried in his arms.

"People can be cruel, especially when they don't understand, and sometimes that means being careful of who you open yourself up to. But you can tell me anything Ed, and I'll love ya no matter what. You always have home to come back to". 

Eddie knew people like Steve Harrington. He'd been around them his whole life. 

Sometimes they went by Paul, sometimes by Jason, or Billy.

But that didn't make them any less dangerous, any less capable of inflicting hurt on people that were different. 

So, Robin could say that Steve wasn't like that until she was blue in the face, because she was…wrong…

Wasn't she?

Taglist: @ihavekidneys @superchellerific @zerokrox-blog @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme @croatoan-like-its-hot @messrs-weasley @samcoxramblings @warlordess @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @lostonceandneverfound @shunna @fairytalesreality

Part Three now up!

[phantomtwitch]

For angstfest! I'm a little late, but here's one for a No One Knows AU.

They’re already moving as soon as he’s gone. 

Tucker grabs Danny’s legs while Sam picks up Danny beneath his arms and shoulders. He’s long past the point of being embarrassed about Sam being stronger than him, and they have to move fast as they drag Danny’s body into an empty classroom nearby. He mutters curses under his breath as the heavy classroom door bounces off his side, and Sam huffs and rolls her eyes. “Drama queen,” she accuses, and he sticks his tongue out at her as they carry Danny’s body the rest of the way inside and the door shuts with a too-loud slam behind them. 

But they’re not worried about the noise attracting attention. Most of the students are staying within their own classrooms, ignoring whatever odd sounds they might hear as the ghost alarm goes off in the background. The harsh, blinking lights cast odd shadows on Danny’s face, making Tucker queasy for a minute as they prop his body up against the wall below the whiteboard. 

“How long?” he asks, panting heavily and trying to catch his breath. 

“Two minutes and forty-five seconds,” she says with a grin as she sits down next to him. “Pretty sure that’s a new record.”

“Nah, we did it in two minutes and thirty-eight seconds last month, remember?” he says as he sits down beside her and starts to unpack his backpack. The defibrillator is buried at the bottom, tucked beneath his things. It’s the smallest one they could find that’s still effective, even if they’re not exactly using it for its intended purpose, and Sam carries another just in case. For a normal person, it wouldn’t be possible to restart their heart and lungs with an electric shock, despite what the movies claim, but for Danny? Electricity is the only thing that works, the only thing that will bind his spirit back to his corpse as it infuses and activates the ectoplasm flooding his blood stream. 

The Fentons could no doubt provide a scientific explanation as to why and how it works, but to Tucker, it’s an odd kind of magic, of horrifying necromancy as they forcibly, painfully force the electricity to run through him again, so similar to the accident that caused this problem in the first place. It’s only by chance that they know it works, having tried the defibrillator hanging on the lab wall in the basement after he came out of the portal and his body fell to the ground as his ghost hovered over it in shock. He didn’t give it much thought the first time. Tucker merely assumed the movies were right and that they restarted Danny’s heart. It wasn’t until later that they learned the truth. 

With practiced ease he pulls Danny’s old NASA t-shirt off, and then scowls as he notices that Danny’s wearing a new necklace with a constellation on it that Tucker probably should know the name of after being Danny’s friend for so many years but doesn’t. “Great. More stuff to take off. Wonder who gave it to him,” he grumbles, twisting it around in his fingers until he finds the clasp and removes it. He checks him over for any more metal and finds none. “How long now?” 

“Four minutes,” says Sam, and he nods. They worry one day it’ll be too long, that there will be no forcibly stitching his soul and body back together, that all will remain is a ghost and the body of a boy who’s been dead for longer than anyone knows. The longest Danny’s ever gone is thirty-three minutes, yet they were still able to bring him back that day even as it seemed to take longer than usual. But there’s no one they can ask for help or advice, no one that’s dealt with this before besides them and Jazz, and none of them trust the Fenton parents enough  to not shoot their own son in the face if they learn the truth. Because so far, at least, when Danny’s back he is alive again. He’s grown a few inches since this started a year ago. He’s been forced to get his usual haircuts, to trim his nails when they get too long. His heart beats within his chest, and he breathes and smiles and laughs like there’s nothing different, nothing wrong, and absolutely nothing out of the ordinary about him.

They shift Danny again, laying him down flat on the floor on his back as Tucker kneels down beside him and sets up the defibrillator and sticks the pads to Danny’s chest. There’s nothing they can do until he returns, so they wait, Tucker drumming his fingers against the side of his leg as Sam continues to glance at her watch every few seconds. “Did you hear that they’re remaking the first Nightmerica movie?” he asks, looking for any distraction he can. 

“Ughh, yeah,” she groans. “Which completely misses the point of why it’s so good in the first place. I don’t want a modern version with modern effects. I want cheesy 80s costumes and music and horror and the chance to cheer as stuck-up cheerleaders get murdered. I mean I guess there’s a chance they’ll keep the original charm, but I doubt it.”

“Yeah, there’s already rumors that they’re casting, like, Scarlett Johanson as Nightmerica,” adds Tucker. “Doesn’t really bode well.”

“Seriously? If she gets cast, I��m just going to nope right out, pretend it doesn’t exist, and hope everyone else does the same,” she says, and then goosebumps erupt across their skin as the temperature in the room drops precipitously as Phantom enters the classroom, phasing through the wall. 

He looks rougher than usual as ectoplasm drips from his arms and chest, deep claw marks gouging through the thin black and white hazmat suit he wears even now. His eyes are consumed with green light, his hair floating over his head and flickering like sparks, and there’s a faint hint of white beneath the dark suit, of the shape of bones even as Phantom is nothing but ectoplasm. “Rough fight?” he asks.

There’s heavy static behind each word. Talking to him like this is almost useless. They can’t understand the ghost speech, the odd echoes and noise and whirring, and trying to teach Danny sign language or morse code or any other method of communication when he’s whole again is worthless, none of the knowledge transferring to his ghostly self, the wall between his two halves too solid for even Phantom to phase through. They don’t know why Phantom is one of the only ghosts that can’t speak without the noise and distortion, that can’t make his words understood, but it’s a truth that’s held fast for as long as Danny’s been like this. 

But Tucker’s gotten better at reading his unnatural body language, the way he twists upside down and curls his tail around himself as his sharp, pointed teeth flash. “Sorry, man,” he says. “I wish you didn’t have to do this.”

They don't know why he feels compelled to fight the other ghosts. They don't even know what triggers the transformation, even as they've come to recognize the warning signs, like the odd vacant stare that sets in, the way Danny’s hackles almost seem to rise as he silently snarls. And it's not as if Danny can tell them.

Phantom whispers something in response, the words still lost in the static, and then he floats over to himself, putting a hand over his own corpse, because as hard as it is for Tucker to think of it that way, he knows, on some level, that’s what Danny's body is without Phantom. There’s no life in it, no presence, no spirit. It’s merely flesh, an empty vessel, and he shudders to think what could happen if another ghost found him like this, if he might be able to possess him somehow. 

"We're at nine minutes," says Sam, and Phantom lets out something like a sigh as he floats back into the corpse. Danny's eyes snap open, green and glowing, and they move quickly.

Unlike the one in the lab that was old and lacked the safety features of most modern AEDs, they had to make a few modifications to this one to get it to work. A modern defibrillator won't let someone shock a body with no heartbeat. Messing with the tech felt dicey, but they couldn't find any other methods to safely deliver a shock to him that wouldn't risk their own safety, too.

The pads are already placed, and he pushes the button, biting his lip as he waits. It delivers the first shock, but aside from a twitch in his shoulders and a confirmation from the AED, there's little to no sign it happened. 

A hiss of soft static, and Tucker understands the meaning despite the noise, a bitter plea for them to do it again. It takes three shocks before they see it, the strange white light around his midsection, and Tucker turns off the AED as he and Sam scramble a few steps back.

The light spreads, eventually too bright for them to bear the sight of it as little arcs of electricity dance along Danny's skin, and when it finally stops he's sitting up, staring vacantly. The daze won't last, but they take this moment to put away the defibrillator, removing the pads from his chest. Tucker puts the necklace back on, his fingers shaking as he snaps the clasp together. Much as he tries to act like this doesn’t bother him anymore, he can’t contain his relief at seeing Danny sitting up again, his chest slowly moving with each breath, his pulse steady beneath his wrist and neck. 

They've just pulled his shirt on when he blinks, and Danny looks down at his hands, wincing as he touches his chest. "I feel like I got run over by the GAV," he groans, and Tucker forces himself to chuckle.

"You might as well have. You hit the floor hard when you fainted," says Tucker. The injuries are never there, but some phantom pain always seems to remain as his ghost heals. "I'm sorry we never manage to catch you, man. I know it’s gotta hurt."

"It's fine," mumbles Danny. "How long was I out?"

"About ten minutes," says Sam. She doesn’t point out that they time this, now, down to the second. It’s not as if timing it changes anything, but it makes them feel better when they revive Danny in under twenty minutes. More than that and they start to worry. Tucker’s still not sure how Danny doesn’t have any brain damage at this point from the lack of oxygen. 

Danny hums, flexing his fingers for a minute as the ghost alarm shuts down. "I . . . Doesn't it seem like this is getting worse? I can't even remember seeing a ghost. I . . . I never can."

"You know this messes with your memory–"

"Yeah, but that makes this seem more like I'm having seizures or something, not fainting. And it's always one of you or Jazz when I wake up, which seems weird, maybe? I just  . . . Maybe we should tell my parents," he whispers, and Tucker's heart aches.

"I don't think that's a good idea–" begins Sam, but he cuts her off.

"--why not?" He looks between the two of them, scowling, his fists now clenched. "What aren't you telling me?"

He and Sam exchange a long look. It always comes to this eventually, yet despite their best efforts, it's pointless. Some part of Danny refuses to hear the truth, to acknowledge that he died or at least half-died in the portal, and within an hour he always forgets they even discussed this at all. They don't know why. They've proven over and over again that they accept him and love him despite how he’s changed. But the wall is still too solid to break through.

They should explain it to Danny again anyway. Tucker knows that. But he's so tired of repeating himself, and he knows Sam is, too. Jazz says his psyche needs more time to process and accept the truth, but it's been a year with no sign of things changing. 

Sam eventually sighs, forcing the words out. She's always been the strongest of the three of them in more ways than one. "A year ago, you had an accident. You were hurt badly, and we saved you, but–"

The door swings open suddenly, and he sees Mr. Lancer there, the relief evident on his face. "Lord of the Flies! Is everyone okay?" he asks as he takes in the sight of the three of them on the floor. At least the AED is back in Tucker's bag and out of sight, since Tucker doubts Mr. Lancer would be willing to ignore what that might signify if he saw it. 

"We're fine," says Sam. "We thought we heard the ghost and hid. I'm sorry we worried you."

"Somehow that always seems to happen with the three of you," he says with a frown, clearly questioning it, but thankfully he doesn't push it further. "But I’m glad that you’re safe, at least, and now that the ghost is gone you three need to get to class."

"Okay." They stand up, and Tucker can see the worry and distrust as Danny clenches his jaw and refuses to look at them as he heads out into the hallway. But that’s not the worst part. No, it’s knowing that by the time lunch rolls around, Danny won’t remember his suspicions or his fears. They’ll be pushed down, slowly hidden beneath the protective part of his mind that refuses to let him know the truth, and instead of questioning why he constantly faints whenever there’s a ghost, why he has strange aches and pains, and why he often sets off his parents’ equipment even when he’s human again, he’ll talk to them about the latest video games and movies and gossip and homework. 

He desperately wants his friend to know the truth. It hurts, even as he knows they’re not lying to Danny about what’s happening, that they’ve tried to explain it before. And despite how naturally taking care of his body comes to him and Sam now, despite knowing the signs that herald Phantom’s emergence, Tucker knows they can’t keep this a secret forever. Inevitably, they won’t be there one day, they’ll miss an obvious sign, or someone like Lancer will walk in a little too soon. And once they learn the truth, he and Sam and Jazz know that Danny will be taken from them as he’s locked away in a lab by the GIW or his parents and becomes some gruesome science experiment, tortured as he can’t even remember the reason why. 

More and more Tucker’s beginning to think they’re running out of time. They need to find a way. They need to get Danny to understand who and what he is so he can protect himself, because Tucker’s not sure how much longer he can keep up the lie, too. 

EDIT: I wrote a Part Two, it's here.

[not-poignant]

Raphael has a very poetic and grandiose way of speaking that is absolutely not the norm for day-to-day life. How do you get in the mindset to come up with his dialogues? They're perfection and I just can't even imagine how long it would take to do one paragraph of the way he talks, but you're writing an entire story with him...

Oh I love this question because I can answer it, lol sadlkjfsda

Okay so, Raphael's character is tough for me.

Normally I do a lot of dialogue research before starting to write a character in fanfiction and original fiction, but Raphael actually gets proportionately very few lines that really show his full emotional range (compared to say, Astarion), and he's got an incredibly specific way of talking that sounds similar to Astarion but at the same time is very different.

They share enough similarities (calling people darling and dear for example) that it's easy to fall into the trap of giving them the same 'voice.'

I find Astarion's voice a lot easier to 'get' and I feel like I can hear him better when I'm writing him. But Raphael I'm taking into emotional spaces we simply never see in the game, and then I have to really guess how he'd sound (like coming up with the idea that the theatricality vanishes when Raphael is genuinely panicking).

I ended up listening to a lot of interviews with Andrew Wincott, the Voice Actor for Raphael who is an incredible actor and extremely articulate. He was very clear in one of his interviews that one of the reasons he was selected to play Raphael was because, in part, he already sounded like him. Obviously there's differences / skill in changing cadence and more, but for the most part, Andrew Wincott uses similar vocabulary and talks in a similar manner to Raphael naturally, so I had an abundance of interviews that I could then listen to in order to get a feel for Raphael's voice. I picked the things that felt more 'Raphael' and added them to my dialogue notes.

I often have to go back and edit Raphael's dialogue. Sometimes it's very simple things, I had him say 'much more' in the chapter I'm editing right now, and I edited it to 'far more' because I think he'd just phrase it like that. Sometimes I expand a sentence into an entire paragraph.

I've also leaned a lot from Korilla's transcripts in the game, which have been super useful. They really cement, more than anything, how much he loves lullabies, nursery rhymes, children's tales and more.

HOW TO DO DIALOGUE RESEARCH:-

If you're new to dialogue research, it mostly involves listening to - and watching a character and then literally taking notes of how they talk. The things you observe are:

The tone of their voice - Fast or slow. Loud or soft. Musical or flat. Theatrical or matter-of-fact. High or low. Questioning or complete statements. Considered or hedging (i.e. very well constructed sentences, or a lot of pauses, ellipses, broken sentences). Rambling or concise.

How often they talk - Some characters actually say a lot with very little. Raphael is actually a lot of observation and facial expressions and eyebrow movements in between his dialogue. Little smirks, hand gestures and more. Do they interrupt or let people finish their sentences? Are they comfortable with silence? I find Raphael oscillates between long theatrical paragraphs, single sentences or words, and then a lot of silence. He's actually not very conversational, in that you can have a conversation with him, but I doubt he'd see the point of two hours of small-talk. (At this point you might be realising that dialogue research is also character research, how a character talks tells you so much about a character.)

The words (and metaphors/subjects) they use - This is a big one and I'm going to break this down a little bit more:

How they pause if they don't know what to say. Is it 'um' 'uh' 'ah' 'hm' 'mm' 'mn' or nothing at all (or something else) because they've mastered self-control over their dialogue? If Raphael says 'ah' he does so on purpose.

Filler words. Things like characters saying 'like' in a sentence. 'He was like, 'I can't believe it'' etc. This is very similar to how they pause, but it's the things people say to get from point A to point B. People who don't do this have often had training or think very hard about what they're going to say before they say it. But people say 'like' or 'and then' or 'well' or 'i realised that' or 'i thought that' etc. to carry them on. Some are more acceptable than others (people do just have realisations for example).

Profanity. How often do they swear, and how intentional is it? Some characters only swear when they get hurt or stub their toe or get angry. Some characters swear all the time for fun. Some characters only use some swear words and not others. Be specific. Be aware that some swear words are cultural! This includes blasphemy. In Faerun they use 'gods' and 'gods damn it' more often than we use 'god' or 'oh my god.'

Vulgarity. This is useful for Raphael (and Astarion) because he's very happy to be vulgar. This is like... how comfortable are they talking about sex, about sexual subjects, being crude, being seductive, flirtatious? And if they use it, do they use vulgarity to shock, seduce, scare, threaten, or for humour?

Salutations and farewells. How do they greet people? Silence? A calm hello? (A lot of greetings are omitted in dialogue but this is still good to know). How do they say hello, goodbye. How does that change between friends and enemies and strangers?

Single word sentences. This might sound weird, but sometimes when a character hears something that shocks them, or needs to acknowledge something, they may say anything from 'huh' to 'yeah' to 'fuck' to 'okay' to 'all right' to 'sure' to 'go on' to 'indeed' to just laughing out loud. The list goes on. Raphael is team 'indeed' lmao.

Sentence structure. Raphael's sentence structure is - when he's most comfortable - gently provoking, teasing, vaguely threatening, and makes liberal use of simile, metaphor, fairy tale, rhyme, sayings, colloquialisms and more. Raphael talks like someone who knows someone could quote him at any moment lmao. But from here, how a character structures their sentences can be helpful to know. Go back to 'the tone of their voice.' Those notes will give you an idea of structure.

Emotionality. How emotional are they? Do they have rage rants? Joyful giggling dialogue? Do they infodump with little emotion? Or with sheer excitement? Does their dialogue feel fake or real? Opaque or transparent? Some people wear their hearts on their sleeves, and others will never be able to say 'I love you' in anything other than actions. Raphael's emotionality in dialogue is more present in his anger and irritation, and also when he feels triumphant and/or turned on.

The symbols, sayings, colloquialisms and metaphors themselves. Not all characters use these. But some people/characters will talk through analogies, colloquialisms. This is actually Raphael's biggest dialogue departure from Astarion, imho, aside from the fact that Astarion is a lot more emotional with his dialogue.

Take into account their culture, ethnicity, conceits, upbringing, education and the people they're close to:

This one is vital. Firstly, some people tend to 'absorb' elements of those around them. A person raised by affluent people will often 'sound affluent' and a person raised in poverty will often have dialogue that reflects this and if they don't there will be reasons for that. It might be a conceit (some people self-teach themselves different accents), it might be education, it might be training, it might be the subculture/s they've entered into, and so on.

~

When doing this research, you'll end up with a kind of master-list of actual words and probably some sentences you've written down, along with a lot of notes. You can also do this for any original characters you're making at all, you're just then making it up based on the character, and this research will also give in many ways the shape of the character.

It's a fun exercise and I highly recommend everyone tries it literally for people who don't exist and also observe your friends and family, and do a dialogue cheat sheet for some of them. It's pretty eye-opening! Even one page will teach you more than nothing at all. You can go deep and write many pages, or you can do what I do and keep it lean at 2 pages. Anyone who struggles with characterisation I suggest at least try this exercise, because anyone can put on a YouTube video and/or streaming service or even a favourite Tiktoker and start doing dialogue research! It's a way of building a character from the top down while also getting information about their foundations.

[serpentface]

Do you conlang? I was wondering if you had naming languages (or possibly even more developed ones) for pulling the words you use. I tried to search your blog but didn't find anything, wouldn't be surprised if the feature is just busted tho. Your worldbuilding is wonderful and I particularly enjoy the anthropological and linguistic elements.

Ok the thing is I had kind of decided I was not going to do any conlanging because I don't feel like I'm equipped to do a good job of it, like was fully like "I'm just going to do JUST enough that it doesn't fail an immediate sniff test and is more thoughtful than just keysmashing and putting in vowels". And then have kinda been conlanging anyway (though not to a very deep and serious extent. I maybe have like....an above average comprehension of how language construction works via willingness to research, but that's not saying much, also I can never remember the meanings of most linguistic terms like 'frictives' or etc off the top of my head. I'm just kinda raw dogging it with a vague conceptualization of what these things mean)

I do at least have a naming language for Wardi (and more basic rules for other established languages) but the rudimentary forms of it were devised with methods much shakier and less linguistically viable than even the most basic naming language schemes, and I only went back over it LONG after I had already made a bunch of words so there's some inconsistencies with consonant presence and usage. (This can at least be justified because it IS a language that would have a lot of loanwords and would be heavily influenced by other language groups- Burri being by far the most significant, Highland-Finnic and Yuroma-Lowlands also being large contributors)

The 'method' I used was:

-Skip basic construction elements and fully move into devising necessary name words, with at least a Vibe of what consonants are going to be common and how pronunciation works -Identify some roots out of the established words and their meanings. Establish an ongoing glossary of known roots/words. -Construct new words based in root words, or as obvious extensions/variants of established words. -Get really involved in how the literal meanings of some words might not translate properly to english, mostly use this to produce a glossary of in-universe slang. -Realize that I probably should have at least some very basic internal consistency at this point. -Google search tutorials on writing a naming language. -Reverse engineer a naming language out of established words, and ascribe all remaining inconsistencies to being loanwords or just the mysteries of life or whatever.

I do at least have some strongly established pronunciation rules and a sense of broad regional dialect/accents.

-'ai' words are almost always pronounced with a long 'aye' sound.

-There is no 'Z' or 'X' sound, a Wardi speaker pronouncing 'zebra' would go for 'tsee-brah', and would attempt 'xylophone' as 'ssye-lohp-hon'

-'V' sounds are nearly absent and occur only in loanwords, and tend to be pronounced with a 'W' sound. 'Virsum' is a Highland word (pronounced 'veer-soom') denoting ancestry, a Wardi speaker would go 'weer-sum'.

-'Ch' spellings almost always imply a soft 'chuh' sound when appearing after an E, I, or O (pelatoche= pel-ah-toh-chey), but a hard 'kh' sound after an A or U (odomache= oh-doh-mah-khe). When at the start of a word, it's usually a soft 'ch' unless followed by an 'i' sound (chin (dog) is pronounced with a hard K 'khiin', cholem (salt) is pronounced with a soft Ch 'cho-lehm')

-Western Wardin has strong Burri cultural and linguistic influence, and a distinct accent- one of the most pronounced differences is use of the ñ sound in 'nn' words. The western city of Ephennos is pronounced 'ey-fey-nyos' by most residents, the southeastern city of Erubinnos is pronounced 'eh-roo-been-nos' by most residents. Palo's surname 'Apolynnon' is pronounced 'A-puh-lee-nyon' in the Burri and western Wardi dialects (which is the 'proper' pronunciation, given that it's a Kos name), but will generally be spoken as 'Ah-poh-leen-non' in the south and east.

-R's are rolled in Highland-Finnic words. Rolling R's is common in far northern rural Wardi dialects but no others. Most urban Wardi speakers consider rolling R's sort of a hick thing, and often think it sounds stupid or at least uneducated. (Brakul's name should be pronounced with a brief rolled 'r', short 'ah' and long 'uul', but is generally being pronounced by his south-southeastern compatriots with a long unrolled 'Brah' sound).

Anyway not really a sturdy construction that will hold up to the scrutiny of someone well equipped for linguistics but not pure bullshit either.

[sionnaach]

“What is happening?”

Nico slinks up beside Percy, who is sitting with Annabeth and watching a group of campers dancing out on the open grass.

There's country music playing from somewhere. What is going on.

���Line dancing.” Percy informs him with a grin, still watching the crowd. “Will was teaching the younger Apollo kids. Now half the camp is involved.”

Half the camp might be an overstatement, but the number is slowly growing as more campers wander over to see what’s going on.

“What.”

Nico cranes his neck. Sure enough, a familiar head of blonde curls is standing nearly a head above the rest of the campers (Will had another growth spurt that summer and finally broke six foot. He also was not about to let Nico forget it), as the head medic (and now dance instructor, apparently) guides the small gathering through a set of simple, repetitive steps.

He throws in a couple of high energy jumping, spinning movements with a laugh that earn him a slap on the arm from Kayla, who had been trying her best to follow her older brother until that moment.

Nico is in disbelief as it dawns on him; Will can dance. Talented a healer Will may be, the son of Apollo is famously, catastrophically - and those are his own words - lacking in the department of his father’s creative talents. Nico has watched Will trip over the ground, his own feet, and honest to Gods thin air more times than he can count and yet here, as the music changes to something a bit more upbeat, Nico realises that Will is showing off, with a series of complicated movements that only a few other kids, who have evidently done this before, can keep up with. Even Nico, with all his battle training, has trouble following.

Will looks up and catches his eye. Nico didn't think the smile on his tanned, freckle-covered face could get any brighter, but it does. Will waves to them, says something to Kayla, then jogs over.

“Hey!” Will passes a glance over Percy and Annabeth, but when his blue eyes meet Nico's, they don't stray. Nor does the bright, eager smile on his face.

Nico can hear the muffled laughter from his friends.

His ears are burning.

“Would y'all like to join in rather than just standin’ around?” Will asks, a little breathless. His eyes never leave Nico, even though the question is clearly directed at all of them.

Nico feels a little breathless, too.

“Nico would!” Percy says with far too much enthusiasm, and shoves Nico’s leg, right in the joint of his knee, sending him stumbling directly into Will’s arms as Will reaches out to steady him.

“Woah, careful.” Will grips his arms, voice low as he helps Nico to right himself while his heart does a series of complicated movements of its own.

Nico can feel goosebumps where Will is touching him, and he jumps back like he had been electrocuted. He turns to Percy with a near-murderous glare. Percy smiles serenely back.

“I don’t dance.” Nico answers flatly, directed more at the son of Poseidon, but behind him, he hears Will scoff.

“Bullshit, di Angelo. I’ve seen you sword fighting.”

“Yeah, Nico. And what is sword fighting, if not an elaborate dance between two - or more, in this case - people?” Percy adds helpfully, elbow on his knee and chin resting in his hand. He has the audacity to waggle his eyebrows at him.

“Exactly. Thank you, Percy.” Will is grinning, blissfully ignorant to the blatant ribbing occurring before him. Percy waves his hand and ducks his head with a smug smile.

“I think it would be fun.” Annabeth adds innocently, and Nico gives her a look of utter betrayal. He was expecting this from Percy, but has been hoping that Annabeth would have some sympathy towards him. She meets his eyes with a smile, before looking to her boyfriend. “We’ll join in a bit, Will. You two get started.”

Will shoots her a pair of finger guns, because of course he does. “I’m holdin' you to that.”

(“Will we?” Percy asks her, once they’re out of earshot

Annabeth grins. “No.”)

Still glaring daggers at his friends for their treachery, Nico feels a brush against his arm, and he looks down to see Will’s hand retreating. Looking up, the head of the Apollo cabin is watching him with a soft, hopeful expression.

“Coming?”

Nico groans internally. Damn Will and his stupid puppy eyes and damn him and his Stupid, Enormous Crush. He looks up at the sky, and sends a quick prayer to his father and any other god who might be listening to smite him now before he makes an even bigger fool of himself, because he just can’t say no to this boy, can he?

He sighs and resigns himself to his fate when nothing happens.

“Fine.”

With a smile that is nearly blinding, Will reaches back out to grab Nico’s arm, and all but drags him towards the crowd.

[truebluemenace]

I don't normally write angst/whump/hurt no comfort like this but the idea wouldn't leave me alone.

Tails has a bad time in this. Sorry

1.8k words

All things considered, it didn’t take them that long to find Tails. There had been a time, admittedly before the two of them had any other friends, when Eggman had kidnapped Tails for days. It had taken Sonic a long time to even track the man down, let alone break into his base and rescue his friend.

Things were different now. Sonic was stronger. He had friends to back him up.

Sure, maybe the idea of kidnappings was a little more concerning now than it had been before Sonic’s six month… vacation. But what had happened then wouldn’t be repeated.

Especially not with Tails.

He had only been missing for a few hours when they found him. Or, more accurately, Sonic found him. Once he, Knuckles, and Amy had breached Eggman’s base, his friends let him rush off to find Tails without question. They’d stay behind and cover for him if any badniks tried to impede the rescue, but they knew how anxious Sonic was to get to Tails. Trying to keep him from getting there first would not spell out good results for anyone.

The cells were easy to find. Eggman usually built at least one or two into any new bases he developed, and it was simple to locate them if you were familiar with Eggman’s architectural style. They were normally underground and close to the center of the base. All Sonic had to do was find an elevator deep enough in and, sure enough, the cells were just outside of the doors when they opened.

The smell of blood and medical supplies hit his nostrils, and his heart started hammering.

“Tails?” he called out; the closest cell was empty, so he had to move past it to an adjacent one before he was able to catch sight of the fox.

He couldn’t prevent a gasp from escaping at what he saw, eyes going wide as he immediately plucked a quill from his head, plunging it into the lock on the cell with a significant amount of urgency.

Tails was lying in the corner, curled into a ball, trembling. Sonic couldn’t see what the cause was from outside the cell with the way Tails was lying, but he’d also caught the sight of white bandages with splotches of red soaking through.

“Tails, it’s me, I’m gonna get you out,” Sonic spoke as he fussed with the lock. Lock picking was not his specialty, and his inefficiency made his stress increase. He let out a frustrated grunt, kicking the bottom of the door as he kept fiddling with the detached quill in the lock.

The little pile of golden fur began to shift, unrolling from the ball he’d been in to look up. “S-Sonic?”

Tension drained from Sonic’s body at the sound of that voice. If Tails was conscious, everything was so much better than it would be otherwise. “Yeah, bud, it’s me.” He took a moment to pause his lock picking to look over at his little bro, and sucked in a gasp, almost wishing he hadn’t.

There was a haunted look in Tails’ eyes. It was like a shadow had fallen over them, despite the almost too-bright lighting in the cell. He didn’t seem entirely present, either, as if he was in a kind of daze. Any relief Sonic had felt evaporated in an instant. His little bro should not look like that. He dropped his focus back down to his task.

“Just hang on for a minute, I’ve almost got this open…”

“Use two quills.”

Sonic looked back at Tails again. “Huh?”

“Use two quills,” Tails repeated, now starting to shuffle around into a sitting position, back against the cell wall. It let Sonic see that the bandages were wrapped around Tails’ hips, but he couldn’t see more than that. “One to put tension on the lock and the other to move the pins.”

Sonic snapped his fingers. “Thanks, bud! I knew I was forgetting something.” He plucked another quill from his head and got back to work on the lock, noting that Tails didn’t perk up at his lighter tone like he’d hoped. Something was definitely wrong.

The first pin popped into place. Tails would be out soon. “What did Eggman do? How badly are you hurt?” he asked as he kept working away at the lock.

He didn’t expect Tails to whimper. The sound made him freeze. “Tails, bud--” He cut himself off when Tails whimpered again. The kid flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. Okay, this wasn’t good. Sonic focused his full attention on the lock.

After a few more clicks, he was able to turn it and open the door. Immediately he rushed to Tails’ side.

He wasn’t prepared for Tails to cower away from him.

“Hey, buddy, it’s just me,” Sonic said carefully, kneeling down on the floor next to him and holding his hands out. “Whatever Eggman did is over now. I’m getting you out of here.”

Tails shook his head, still not looking up at Sonic, still squeezing his eyes shut.

“At the very least I need to know how hurt you are,” Sonic tried to reason, reaching out a hand. “Can I see—”

“DON’T!”

Not expecting such an outburst, Sonic jumped, startled. Tails’ eyes had flown open and he, somehow, pressed himself further into the corner where he was sitting.

This was not going well.

“Tails, I need—” He cut himself off again when Tails flinched at the sound of his name. Was… was there something wrong with the name? Every once in a while, Sonic would ask his brother if the nickname was still okay, to make sure it wasn’t bringing up bad memories unnecessarily. Every time, Tails insisted that he liked the name, that it was better than “Miles”. But maybe Eggman had done something to change that opinion?

His eyes drifted down to the bandages around Tails’ waist. They were wrapped loosely around the front of his body, in a way that suggested they were simply holding in place the more important bandages on the other side. Tails’ back. Or, more accurately…

“He did something to your tails.” It wasn’t a question. The fox kit was positioned in a way that hid his tails from view. Now that Sonic had put the pieces together, it was obvious.

The whine that Tails let out was enough confirmation he was right.

“C’mon, bud, let me see,” Sonic tried to coax gently, unsurprised when Tails shook his head immediately. He forced himself not to sigh. He understood Tails’ sensitivity about his tails, but in situations like this, it could be a problem. He had to change tactics. “Alright, I don’t have to see right now. But are you too hurt to walk? I need to know if I have to carry you out of here or not.”

Tails just shook his head again.

“No? No what? No, you can’t walk? No, you don’t need to be carried?”

Tails didn’t answer, just sniffled.

It was easy to forget, sometimes, that Tails was just a kid. With how insanely intelligent he was, and how easily he kept up and fit in with his older friends, it wasn’t always obvious just how young he was. But Sonic knew better than anyone that he was just a child still. And on occasion, in rare situations like this one, he had to be treated like the age he was, and not the age he acted.

“Kid, can you look at me?” No reaction. “C’mon, just for a second?”

Two baby blue eyes opened slowly and met Sonic’s. There were emotions there that he couldn’t read, and that scared him. Sonic knew Tails better than anyone else on the planet; it was rare that he wasn’t able to read him flawlessly at this point.

“I’m still not sure what Eggman did to you, but it was bad, wasn’t it?”

Hesitation, then Tails nodded. Gaia, he looked absolutely miserable. Sonic was about ready to track Eggman down and make him pay, but Tails needed him right now. He had to hope that Amy and Knuckles were giving him a bad time for him.

“I’m not sure if you’re more hurt or more scared, but it’s okay to be feeling those things,” Sonic continued. He wasn’t sure if he was getting through to Tails, but he hoped he was. “You’re gonna be okay though. Whatever happened, it’ll be much better once we get out of here, but that means we actually have to get out first. Which is why I need to know if I have to carry you or not.”

Tails held his gaze in silence for a few seconds, biting at his lower lip. Then he turned his head away. The arms wrapped around his torso tightened. “It’s not gonna get better.”

Oh, Sonic’s heart could break at that. What the hell did Eggman do to his little brother in such a short amount of time to break his spirit like this? “Yeah it will, li’l bro, you’ll see—”

“No it won’t!” Tails didn’t yell as loudly this time, but it still startled Sonic. “You can’t say that, you don’t even… you don’t know what he…” The kid’s breathing started to accelerate, the signs of panic evident. Sonic was completely messing this up.

“Tails,” he said, wincing as he caught the flinch at the name again. “Please just let me help you get out of here. Whatever happened, we can find a way to fix it once we’re safe.”

Tails shook his head again. “It can’t be fixed,” he insisted, voice wavering.

“I doubt that’s true—”

“It can’t. It can’t.”

“Bud—”

“He took it.”

Sonic froze. “...What?”

Tails sniffled. “It’s… he…”

Realization dawned on Sonic like a bucket of ice water being poured over him. He pleaded to every god out there that what he was putting together was wrong.

“Your tails…” Sonic said, feeling like he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, Tails lunged forward and wrapped his arms tight around Sonic, burying his face in Sonic’s chest and letting out a wail. His entire body was shuddering with the force of his sobbing, the wetness of his tears soaking through Sonic’s fur in only a few seconds.

He wrapped his arms tight around his little brother, rubbing his back in a way that he hoped was soothing, gently shushing him and instructing him to breathe. But Sonic felt like he might need someone to console him, too, because he now had a clear look at what had happened.

At the base of Tails’ spine, there were bandages with just enough blood soaking through to be of note. They would have to be changed as soon as they could.

Because where there should be two tails, now sat only one.

[sphylor]

cw: blood

Today's practice had turned out way more stressful than Dew had expected. Papa was caught up in some ministry business so the ghouls were left to go through songs and choreography by themselves. Dew was a little bit thrown off by this news but it was fine. They had done loads of ghoul only practices before and done everything they needed to do. But there was an air of what Dew could only describe as silliness hanging over the other ghouls today and it was making it hard to get damn near anything done. 

“-and then I told him that I didn't even work there!” Swiss exclaimed as Phantom and Cirrus doubled over with laughter.

“So you had this poor guy follow you around the whole store trying to get your attention?” Cumulus giggled as she wiped a tear from her eye.

“I don't even know why he did it!” 

There was another eruption of laughter and Dew eyed the instruments that his bandmates had abandoned to go listen to Swiss’ story. He looked round at the other ghouls and saw the same level of disinterest in practicing. Rain had sat down on the edge of Mountain's platform and pulled out his phone and headphones while the earth ghoul absentmindedly drummed out a beat and stared out the window. Aurora had even linked her phone to one of the speakers and was playing some new hit pop song. Everything was so loud and disorganised. Dew tried to get anyone's attention, but between the laughter and the music and the sound of Mountain's drums no one could hear him. Or they were all just ignoring him. 

“Guys can we get on with the fucking practice? We start touring in a month and we still have so many things to go over.” Dew raised his voice and everyone went quiet. Aurora turned off the music and everyone got back into position. Dew felt guilt start to grow in his gut at all the sheepish looks on his bandmates faces. But he shook his head and looked at the setlist they needed to practice for the first show. “Okay let's just start from the top because Papa isn't here.”

They got through the first few songs without a hitch but when they got to the first solo in Faith, one of Dew's hands decided to cramp and completely fuck up the whole thing. Dew stifled his cry of pain and everyone stopped to see what happened. 

“I'm fine. Let's just start again.”

Dew tried again but his fingers weren't cooperating. He kept fumbling the notes as his hand continued to ache even after the cramping stopped. He was getting increasingly frustrated with himself. Everytime he messed up the solo he went back to the start and tried it again. He didn't even notice when the other's stopped playing when he started to do that. He also didn't notice his glamour slipping and, with what seemed to be a deafening twang, Dew's claws sliced straight through several strings.

The sound of his only blood rushing through his head was the only thing he could hear as he stared down at the guitar. One of the strings must have caught his hand as it snapped and Dew watched the blood drip down his wrist, staining his sleeve. 

Phantom rushed over and tried to take his hand. “Dew, you're bleeding! Let me fix that for y-”

A deep, guttural growl cut the quint off as Dew snatched his hand back and threw his pick to the floor. He would have thrown his whole guitar to the floor too if he didn't know how much it would cost to replace it. So he just shoved it on its stand and stormed out of the room.

As he marched down the corridors he could feel the hot tears start to stream down his face. He was such a fucking idiot. Phantom didn't deserve that. None of them deserved the brunt of his temper. The guilt made his stomach churn and he wanted to scream. He wrenched the door to his room open and slammed it shut behind him, before launching himself into bed. Grabbing the nearest pillow, he screamed into it until his throat was raw and his head hurt. 

After that, he realised that the feeling of his clothes sticking to his sweaty skin was just too much and he practically ripped them off his body, throwing them across the room and not caring where they landed. Then he remembered the cut on his hand and saw how much blood he had got all over his bed. It was everywhere. All the thrashing about he had done had caused the wound to keep reopening and bleeding all over his sheets and blankets and pillows. Dew practically jumped away from the bed and just stood there, too overwhelmed by everything to do anything. The tears started again and Dew just didn't know what to do. He fell to the ground and sobbed. 

[cream-and-tea]

now that i’m pretty solidly more than halfway through the book i’ve started to think very seriously about what changes i’ll make when editing Lay Me Down and have come to the following two important conclusions:

agnes’s internalized homophobia neeeds to be worse

pallas should make WAY more pretentious literary references than they currently do

[cherryfennec]

opened docs after a while and forgot how much lore i actually wrote, (power-up or general world building) and even though some of these are old i was actually kinda cooking with half of these untitled files and there's no way im letting them go to waste

an honorable mention to my unfinished fic draft with almost 3k words atm about mario, luigi and the chaos heart that i made november last year and forgot about since

[returnsandreturns]

“Do you feel like I’ve awakened you sexually?” Foggy asks, leaning against the doorway of Matt’s office and only remembering after he says it that Matt doesn’t know he’s spent the last fifteen minutes thinking about the fact that he might have awakened Matt sexually.  

Matt raises his head slowly.

“. . .excuse me?” he asks. 

“I was just thinking about the last couple of months,” Foggy says, moving to sink into one of the chairs in front of the desk, “and. . .I don’t know, I’m the first guy you’ve ever slept with and it seems like you’ve really. . .taken to it?”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about when you’re supposed to be doing paperwork?” Matt asks, with just the hint of a smile. 

“Yes,” Foggy says, “which, by the way, I wouldn’t have to do if you hadn’t dated Karen and driven her away to a more fulfilling career.” 

“Well, watch out or I’ll do it to you, too,” Matt says, huffing out a laugh, leaning backward a little. 

“No, you won’t,” Foggy says, reaching out to take his hand, lacing their fingers together. “I don’t know about you, but I’m kind of ridiculously committed to this situation.”

Matt opens his mouth to say something then shuts it again, cheeks going pink when he ducks his head to smile. 

“Some things might have been awakened,” he says. 

“I’ll take it,” Foggy says, squeezing his hand. “Do you want to awaken something in the office right now? I could use something else to avoid doing that paperwork.” 

“No sex in the office,” Matt says, laughing.

“Unless it’s an emergency,” Foggy says.

“. . .unless it’s an emergency,” Matt concedes, nodding. 

So far, emergencies have included adrenaline highs after winning a case, drowsy sex in the kitchenette during an all nighter and one time that Matt wore pants that were a little too tight in ways that distracted both of them to no end. 

“I’ll go finish,” Foggy says, sighing and getting up to press a kiss to the top of Matt’s head then softly on the mouth when Matt raises his head for it. “I’m going to be thinking about what I want to do with you later, though. Any thoughts?” 

“I would,” Matt says, solemnly, “love to be inside you.” 

“. . .okay, that’s really feeling like an emergency to me,” Foggy says.

“I want you in bed,” Matt says, standing up to grab him gently by the waist. “I want to spread you out on the pillows and get you ready for me and make you beg–” 

Foggy interrupts him by dragging him into a rough kiss, grabbing Matt’s hair and gasping when Matt tightens his grip on his waist and slides his hands down to his hips instead.  

“. . .the paperwork can wait until tomorrow, right?” Matt asks, breathlessly.

"Yeah," Foggy says, pulling him toward the door. "They'll keep."

[velvetjune]

Spoilers for Alan Wake 2: the final draft—trying to figure out who wrote the dark poems that are found like manuscript pages and painted near the overlaps/murder sites. might be a case of “is it alan, scratch, zane, or the grandmaster? yes”

[r0bita]

I hate reminding myself about this, but I gotta get it out of my chest before it comes back to my mind and gives me a headache at a bad time.

I think what really really gave me a lot of disgust towards the Dororo 2019 fandom, besides the increasing amount of transphobia and occasional ableism, was the fact that their attitudes towards Dororo's character changed so drastically after the "gender reveal" that they just ignored his actual importance to the story.

The moment the audience found out about Dororo's gender, a lot of the fandom's perception of Dororo's role as a main character and his relationship with Hyakkimaru's went from being a child war survivor and being sworn brothers/in a genuine partnership to being a "damsel" and "possible love interest" (It was bad enough that Dororo is very obviously a small child and lot of people were very lax about the fanon groomy behavior. Very distressing, in my opinion).

The whole experience with the fandom came off not only as transphobic, but also incredibly misogynistic and predatory towards Dororo's character.

No matter how many times I go back to the 2019 anime, for the purpose of trying to enjoy it again, it is often times ruined by other people percieving Dororo as less than what his character was meant to be, someone to root for in a survival story and watch grow up into his own person.

[deejadabbles]

hi deeja! song for writing prompt: somebody else by the 1975!!

Send me a song and I'll write something for it's ~vibe~

My brain heard those first lyrics and went "Oh, pain and heart ache? Guess I'm going to put Echo through torture :) :) :)" Thank you for this, I think I actually needed to dive into some angst ;w;

Warnings for: just general heartbreak, past relationships, mentions of physical and emotional torture and explorations of trauma (takes place right after Echo's rescue), and no happy resolutions

Echo's head was still spinning.

After the harrowing escape from Skako Minor, his body was depleted, aching in a bone-deep emptiness he couldn't explain. His mind, his soul, felt like they were out of his body, hovering in empty space.

Hovering in that endless void of numbers and calculations.

"No, stop, don't go there. You're safe- you're out! Rex came back for you, Rex saved you! Everything was going to be okay."

That's the thought Echo forced into his mind. And it helped that Kix was there, by his side. The medic was a godsend. He hadn't needed to say anything, about the droids, about how feeling their cold metal on his skin made him want to scream and throw up and cry and shut down all the same time. Echo didn't need to explain, Kix had sent them out of the med bay immediately and it was only warm, human hands that examined him, that cared for him.

Even still, as he lay on the hospital bunk, he couldn't help but yearn for a certain pair of careful hands. Of loving hands. Hands that always knew how to soothe him.

"Kix," his voice barely sounded like his own, raw and sore, "I need a comm link."

The medic, who had been looking at his vitals like a hawk, met his eyes, "What's that?"

"I need to contact her, need to tell her I'm okay." 'Need to hear her voice, need to tell her I love her'

Something in the way Kix's face slid into something somber put him on high alert, like sensing a hidden enemy. Echo's body tensed as he watched Kix set his data pad aside. The look in the medic's eyes, the way he stepped towards Echo, it was like he was scared of spooking an injured tooka.

"I...don't think that's a good idea, vod."

"Why?" he didn't mean for it to come out like a growl, but there were a thousand different thoughts running through his head now. Were you okay? Was there some reason Kix didn't trust him to contact you? Was-

"Echo." Kix's tone was firm, but not unkind, and maker, the sadness and pity in his eyes made Echo want to scream. "Brother, you were gone for a long time."

'No.'

"We- everyone thought you were dead...."

'No!'

"...She thought you were dead, for a long time."

Ringing filled his ears, drowning out whatever Kix said next. His soul felt like it was drifting again, mind fading to black as realization bombarded him all at once.

Of course you had moved on. Why wouldn't you? Why would you hold on to a ghost? To a corpse?

Why would Echo be allowed any shred of his old life?

It was just another loss. Another thing they had taken from him. Another part of him that was sawed open and ripped from his person, like his limbs, his mind, his humanity.

After all this, how could he have hoped that he could still have you?

~*~

The Bad Batch was rarely on Coruscant, according to Hunter, but their ship was in need of repairs and here they were.

When Echo had mentioned a few adventures he and the 501st had at 79s, the others insisted they show him this spot, eager to unwind during their rare shore leave.

Echo was already a few drinks in when Crosshair goaded him into being the one to get their next round. "If that scomp limb doesn't get the barkeeps attention nothing will," he had said, eyeing the extremely crowded bar. Echo wanted to say Wrecker was sure to get more attention, but decided he'd take the chance to stretch his legs.

He was just in the middle of waving someone down when he saw it.

Echo would recognize that jacket anywhere, it was one of your favorite things in the world, your statement piece, and so distinctly you.

You.

You were on other side of the bar, and he felt like an idiot. How could he not think he'd run into you here? How could he have agreed to come when he knew this was your go to nightly spot?

How could he risk seeing you with him.

You were smiling, laughing at something he whispered into your ear, his arm wrapped around you warmly. You were smiling and laughing in the way Echo used to make you smile and laugh.

His body felt too tight all of the sudden, warm and sweaty and shaky, and before he knew it, Echo was bursting out the door, his body moving- running of its own accord.

Echo hadn't been aware enough to realize that you had spotted him too, not until he stopped in his tracks at the sound of your angelic voice.

Again he was moving as if someone else was controlling his body as he turned. There you were, backlit by the neon lights of the city, eyes wide, fist clenched over your heart, and your whole body was shaking.

You looked just as perfect as he remembered. More so, even.

"Echo," emotion broke the name in half when you said it, and Echo felt his body come alive. "Echo, is that really you?"

This was wrong, this was all wrong.

You were out of his reach, out of his life, gone. You were the past he couldn't wallow in. You were the love and touch and body he wasn't allowed to want. Your love and touch and body were somebody else's now.

And it wasn't fair of Echo to ruin that for you, or for that somebody else.

As much as it pained him, if you showed any signs that your heart was still his, Echo would break it, right here.

That's all he could do, for your sake, for his, and for that somebody else.

[zoebelladona]

words are being written for this thaluke fic 👁

i'm calling it my fleece quest luke au to keep it short. but the fic will probably be titled lightning in a bottle. the gist of it is luke, not a traitor this time around, goes on the golden fleece quest in a desperate attempt to save thalia