#nearly posted these on the wrong account but i posted them as a draft first to check the tags... woops x_x

[darewolfcreates]

The doobles I did of nightlight in class :]

Violence and sadness undercut.

Most of these were drawn in class on days where I forgot to bring something to eat before class...

[local-diavolo-anon]

i apologise if i'm posting this much about the DLC but i am very excited

so theory time! this time about Glamrock Bonnie!

someone found Glamrock Bonnie in bonnie bowl and someonw else got his pieces from the gamefiles and stuck the model back together (the images are not mine, i have no idea who even psoted them ebcause they've been reposted a crapload of times, but i know the originals came from twitter)

i feel a bit sad than logically he was there the whole time during the main game as well and we simply couldn't see him

but also: He has claw marks on his chest, which i think pretty much confirms that monty is the one that broke him apart.

however. that's not nearly enough damage to decommission a glamrock animatronic, as we have seen.

hell monty looks like this in the dlc and he is still kicking (probably by the power of god tho) and i remember seeing THIS video some time ago, so let me bring you something a bit painful:

most people i've seen pinpoin monty's actions toward bonnie as envy and resentment, however in monty golfs whenever we see character cutouts or holograms Freddy is the one in the shadows, always. wouldn't have made it more sense for monty to try and attack someone he quite clearly disliked instead of bonnie? we know freddy and bonnie were close, so with some stretch you could even say monty was jealous of freddy's relationship with bonnie (but i'm not going to account that here) If the theory from that video is true and bonnie was the first and only trial test of the grlitchtrap virus on a full glamrock animatronic, what if monty noticed? what if monty saw that bonnie was acting weird, and when confronted him realized something was severely wong for a reason or another? and either to prevent the spread of the virus, OR simply out of self preservation he was forced to fight with bonnie? because if the mimic were to see someone noticed him, he'd likely try and make them disappear in one way or another so my theory-timeline is: Bonnie was infected, started acting weird, wandered around and ultimately ended in monty golf, monty saw him and went to him, then noticed something was wrong, bonnie attacked him to make sure nobody knew, and monty had to defend himself.

i'm fairly sure this is at least somewhat correct because Monty's claws can do some serious damage, and definitely more than what Bonnie's torso and head show. (edit: yes even without upgrade, Monty still has very big and sharp claws, realistically they could totally do that amount of damage, + in the original draft of the game, from Monty you were supposed to take his legs, and the claw upgrade was not a thing at all, yet it was always hinted he did caused bonnie's decommission)

all of this to say that bonnie more likely was decommissioned not because of the damage, but rather because because when technicians tried to fix him they noticed something had infected him, and to prevent any further spreading they were forced to deactivate him.

[biolizardboils]

Hey again.

I was saving this for when I'd wrapped some other stuff up, but it's taking too long. I'm just gonna say it while the words are fresh in my head.

The two-month break I've been on? I think I'm gonna stay on it. As in, stay logged off except on special occasions.

There's still things I want to finish here. I will answer what's left at @ask-the-all-consuming-void and bring it to a proper ending; The Secret Thing it was gonna segue into will go up, even if only as sketches and drafts; And there's another project I'm still helping with behind the scenes. But aside from those… I want to maintain my internet presence a lot less.

I've learned a lot about myself since I left: most importantly the hyper-empathy, compassion fatigue thing, and that being terminally online probably does more harm than help. There's trying to be a good, vigilant person, and then there's overwhelming oneself about things they can't control, with info that isn't always accurate. I've been doing the latter in different ways for years; late April/early May was a big wake-up call. Lesson learned: I've got to find balance, and I won't find it here.

The second-most important thing I learned is that… the reason I "joined" the internet in the first place? It's pretty much been fulfilled. Has been for a few years now, actually.

I made this tumblr in 2015, but I got my real start on deviantART and WordPress in 2011. Don't expect links; what people post in their preteens can stay between them and God lol. But I'll tell you what got me to make accounts: my confusion as a new Sonic fan. The way people talked about them, the way they talked to each other… it hurt to see.

I got it in my preteen head to set a better example. To not let my love for something become disdain for others of its kind. To explain instead of assume. And to assure anyone who'd listen that it's not shameful to like Sonic, that those who do deserve better, and that they could still have it better someday.

And now, 13 years later… we do. The hurtful stuff I saw back then is nearly gone now. When it does pop up, it's easier to counteract than ever. People realize how silly and petty and wrong it was, and can call it out accordingly. People can live a little truer to themselves, now that that shit isn't everywhere anymore.

I think that, specifically, is all I really wanted. Everything else—the reinvigoration of the characters and their world, the downpour in avenues once closed off by "cringe" and "not enough interest"—have been wonderful byproducts. I've been gassing up Sonic Movie 3 as the final step, but it's really more of a victory lap.

After realizing that, I just… don't feel the need to post so much here anymore. My self-worth and sense of morality shouldn't rely on what I do or don't type. I don't need to document every thought or choice I make and why.

The cause I've performed for since middle school no longer needs my time and energy, if it ever even did. I can just enjoy things in relative silence, and spend myself in other ways. Ways I've taken too long to get around.

Sonic Unleashed is what set me down this path. I watched it go from rejected at launch, to just divisive, to respected and beloved. I still wonder if, had it gotten a fairer chance, the current Sonic renaissance could've happened sooner.

But dwelling on that won't change anything. I'd rather dwell on how, this year, I got to scream Endless Possibility with hundreds of other people, loudly and proudly. No fear of who's watching, no need to self-sabotage. It meant the world to me.

There was a con in my area on June 23rd. I wasn't planning on doing anything that day until I heard about it. There was someone in attendance who helped me put a symbolic bow on this part of my life.

I think he did a wonderful job :)

I have one last thing to say before I go. That'll be its own post, so I can put it in the public Sonic tags.

Again, the stuff I've left hanging here will get finished eventually. But for now, this is goodbye.

Moots, followers: thank you so much. I will quite literally remember you all in therapy.

--BiolizardBoils

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts days 22, 23

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven’t written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. And then somehow it turned into “I’m going to write a single interconnected story utilizing all of these prompts” which ?????, what can I say, I am incredibly foolish and there's no limit to my capacity for self-deceit. Anyway, the first draft is finished (at around 88k words) and I'll be unlocking posts here on tumblr as I edit.

read from the beginning here

Day 21 here

***

28. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now."

121. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

***

Steph wasn't wrong. Tim really, really hated to apologize. Not because he saw it as losing face, or anything like that. It was because then he had to admit he fucked up, which might possibly mean he was a piece of shit. It just seemed like at some point he should be able to be the type of person who only caused harm because he meant to, and not because he hadn't slept in too long, like a cranky toddler.

But he was also not a chickenshit, so he suited up at home and left through one of the two concealed exits in the basement level as soon as he knew Damian would be on patrol. (And three nights in a row was a lot—he made a mental note to check the patrol rotation again when he returned home, because Tim wasn't the only one who needed sleep.)

He found Damian sitting on top of one of a huge stack of containers at the harbor, overlooking the ships being offloaded. Without trying to make the process soundless, Tim landed on the opposite end of the container. Damian's shoulders stiffened, but he didn't bother turning around.

Tim bit the inside of his lip, considering. He hadn't been able to work out the most appropriate method to begin this conversation despite all his brainstorming on the way over, so he'd finally decided he would just wing it. But now that the reality was staring him in the face—or determinedly giving him its back—he found himself nearly speechless.

Which was unacceptable. Right. When in doubt, dive in, and fix it later if it goes tits-up. (The part of his brain that offered constant commentary on his own thoughts gave the notion a hazy attribution to John Constantine, who was hardly a stellar example, but the principle was sound.)

Accordingly, he opted for the straightforward route. "I've come to apologize."

Damian gave a derisive tt but made no other acknowledgement.

"Would you mind taking your comm out for just a second? I'd prefer this not be accidentally shared with the entire crew."

He could tell Damian struggled with the concession, too angry to want to give an inch, but in the end discretion won out. He plucked the comm from his ear but kept his back turned. "Despite whatever Brown's inevitable gossipy meddling may have led you to believe, I do not require an apology."

Tim took a deep breath and paced a little closer, still keeping a prudent six feet between them. "I'm not here because of anything Steph said. I'm here because I fucked up and I need to make it right."

Damian snorted in contempt. "I assure you, there is no need. For me to accept such a thing would indicate you inflicted some sort of injury upon me. Which would imply you somehow developed skill and significance enough for that to occur. Which in turn is nonsense."

"Believe me, I'm well aware," Tim replied, and couldn't keep his tone from going dry as the desert. Damian's hands gave an inexplicable twitch at the words. "But be that as it may, we are still on the same team, and yesterday I acted like you were the enemy for no good reason. Yeah, you overstepped. But it was out of concern for my well-being and the safety of the family, so I should've been more understanding." He drummed one fist against his thigh, waiting for a response, but when none was forthcoming, braced himself and gave one more offering of vulnerability. "I was maybe still a little off-kilter from the dream. That one—ever since Insomnia fucked with my head, I've had the nightmare he gave me recur sometimes. Where it's not just Boomerang and my dad who die. It's most of us too. Except me. So I was definitely not at my best." A long pause, and still no sound. "I'm just gonna keep talking until you shut me up, but I'm pretty sure you're going to have to face me to do that, so . . ."

Damian's shoulders lowered the slightest bit. "Oh, I can think of many ways to shut you up right now, and at least three of them don't involve turning around." He did give a quarter-turn, though. He wasn't looking at Tim, but his body was angled so Tim could at least see his profile. "They do mostly involve some sort of bloodshed, however."

"What a surprise. Not that I'm saying I don't deserve it." Tim dared to come within arm's reach. "I really am sorry. I shouldn't have gotten so angry and I said a lot of shit I didn't mean." He had turned off the white-outs on his domino, but Damian's were still firmly in place, so Tim couldn't tell which way he was looking. His ear was tilted toward Tim and he was clearly listening, and that would have to be enough to keep going. "You were right. I was being a baby."

Damian's chin dipped, and he angled his face away again. "Perhaps you were correct about some things as well. I regret not bringing up the issue with you instead of Father. And . . . other actions." Color crept up his cheeks.

Tim drew close enough to feel Damian's body heat radiating against what little skin he had exposed. A sudden sensory memory assailed him: leaning his face into the crook of Damian's neck, pressed together in a line from chest to dick. A wave of remembered arousal washed through him and left him aching with its recession. "If I made you regret we fucked, I'm ten times as sorry. You shouldn't have your memory of that ruined by me having been a jerk later."

Damian shrugged, a quick jerky motion entirely at odds with his usual grace. "I cannot argue with the final accusation you leveled at me."

Tim's mouth twisted as regret carved a hole in his chest. "Yes you can. You should. Don't agree with Temper-Tantruming Tim. He's an asshole and he only tells the worst part of the truth. I don't regret fucking you, Dami. I'm flattered you asked me. I'd do it again in a heartbeat." Damian leaned toward him at the confession, every muscle betraying how badly he wanted to hear it. Tim suppressed a smile. He should have known praise would be his way in. "I'd fuck you right here, right now, if I could."

He reached out a cautious hand and grasped Damian's gauntleted fingers. Damian heaved a sigh of his own but didn't pull away. "I suppose you're aware that you could."

Tim couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. "Fuck you right here? Yeah, if I want Oracle to take video and give notes on my performance." He reached up to tap the tiny depression on his domino that cleared Damian's white-outs.

Damian met his gaze straightforwardly, but it clearly cost him some effort. "Then perhaps you should do it where she can't see."

Tim pretended to consider, but it was a done deal as far as his dick was concerned. "You think so?" At Damian's firm nod, he grinned. "Better head back to my place after we're done, then."

Movement down at the harbor caught his eye. A group of men were creeping toward a particular container, hiding behind others as they went. "Hey, there's something going on. Wanna take a closer look together?"

"Naturally. I have not been standing here for my health. Let's go."

But before they did, Damian brought Tim's knuckles to his mouth, and Tim could've sworn he felt the burn of the kiss even through the Kevlar that separated their skin.

days twenty-four, twenty-five, and twenty-six here

[evilroachindustrial]

Idk even if they're stepping back, I personally lost all trust for wotc for what they *tried* to pull

Especially considering unlike most cases with corporations pulling shit like this, there's so many alternatives to choose from

First off, immediately out the goddamn gate: Stop listening to that DnD_Shorts bozo and other ttrpg Youtubers. They’ve been proven explicitly wrong several time already about several things already by multiple actual Wizards of the Coast employees. They are not journalists. They do not work in the actual ttrpg industry. They do not know what the fuck they’re talking about.

Their source of “Just Trust Me Bro” does not make them credible. They know this is a hot button issue in the community and anything they post about it will drive their algorithm and get them views. The more shit they stir, the better it is for them.

Secondly, gonna reiterate this for the billionth time since it so hard for some folks to understand: I, and many others, actually like and enjoy 5e. Both as a system to play and create content for. 

But anyway, to my original point: 

Outside of the original Gizmodo journalist who reported on this, I don't believe the original leaked OGL 1.1 draft is actually available anywhere online to read for the general public. So from the jump, we're only able to rely on a secondhand account of what this leaked 1.1 draft actually included which, so far is the real salacious stuff (royalties, rights, etc)

And while this publicly released draft of OGL 1.2 is much more formally written, it's actually seems pretty standard from the looks of it. Take the licensing page Evil Hat Productions put out for their Forged in the Dark system for example.

Wizard’s is more formalized, but the verbiage and what it’s covering are incredibly similar to Evil Hat’s license.

Then at this point, Wizards is giving everyone what they wanted with this new draft:

The OGL 1.0a, while no longer the applicable license going further, will still be used for content published under it's license and will not have to update to the new OGL 1.x license (x because I have no idea what the official version number will be)

No one has to pay royalties to WotC on money in excess of $750k.

You retain your rights to your materials and no longer have to send WotC a copy of it.

This one is explicitly stated to be perpetual AND irrevocable, which what never the case with the OGL 1.0a, which was just perpetual.

Like, it's incredibly important to keep in mind that the OGL 1.1 was a draft. It was not official. It was not binding. It was a nearly month old work-in-progress document.

I can’t speak to the Holiday work schedule at Wizards but I would be very skeptical if that was even the current internal version being worked on at Wizards of the Coast, especially since Gizmodo got access from a non-WotC developer, which has me thinking WotC were likely sharing this draft with folks in the industry for comments and criticism on the updated OGL.

Honestly, between the cancelled subscriptions, Paizo & co. creating their own open licenses, all the bad PR, I’ll give them some benefit of the doubt that they know how thoroughly they fucked up with draft 1.1

So at the end of it, all I can really say is dear god, don’t listen to the clout-chasing Youtubers.

[rayofsunas]

s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

A/n: hello everyone! I hope your day is going alright, and that you’re doing well 🥰 I recently hit 300+ folllwers, like Sunday morning, and omg, that was the best thing to wake up too 🥺❤️ thank you those new and old for following and taking a chance with my account and sometimes trashy works 🙃 I’m gonna make a longer post at some point saying my thanks and discuss what I plan to do to celebrate 300 followers. It would really mean a lot to me if you guys chimed in if you have any ideas, after all, this is a thanks to you and I want you all to be involved! also, if you saw my recent rambles about how a draft was deleted, it’s referring to this post... what I had written got deleted TWICE in the span of FIVE MINUTES. gosh I was so pissed, I almost screamed. mobile tumblr is not it 😔 but here we are. I hope you like this. I tried to write this three times.... 🤡 also, since I am not a doctor or anything, I put a link to possible symptoms/what a “mental breakdown” is, that’s in the warnings, just click the link, it helped with my accuracy. 

Summary: s/o has a mental/nervous breakdown.

Parings: Xiao/Reader, Scaramouche/Reader, Albedo/Reader, Childe/Reader (all fem reader)

Warnings: angst, mental breakdown (panic attacks, stress, anxiety, ptsd, hallucinations, insomnia) fluff, swearing, mentions of death, mentions of injury

Word count: 3.5k (whew after tumblr DELETING this draft twice here we are folks ;-;)

requested by @mintyhuening​ 

​

Xiao

he knew you weren’t okay at all

Xiao knew the moment you locked yourself in your house

at first he thought maybe you were just temporarily feeling this way, but as the weeks passed and you hadn’t come out, he decided maybe not

coming from someone who enjoyed silence and solitude he could understand the distancing part, but it had been weeks, and even he needed socialization, so why hadn’t you come out?

you spoke to him through the door a few times, letting him know you were alright

he didn’t believe that though, sure you were alive, but not alright, he was mainly checking for confirmation to see if you were still alive while he thought of a good way to approach the situation

he didn’t want to invade your privacy, but he also hated the fact that you wouldn’t come out, not even to see him

it was lonely without you, he concluded

even for someone who enjoy solitude 

you were a careful creature, but never this careful and cautious...

were humans always like this?

eventually, he couldn’t stand it, and did find other ways to get into your house

he grew antsy after pacing outside your door for days

he found you huddled in your bed, a heap of pillows and blankets surrounding you

you were shocked to see him when he’d sat down on the foot of the bed, causing it to dip significantly 

“How did you get in?” You snapped once you saw who it was. 

“I have my ways.” He said raspily. With a huff of annoyance, you were back to facing the wall, away from the Adepti. 

“It’s dark in here.” He announced matter a factly, looking around the nearly pitch-black room, windows and doors covered by sheets and hefty duty curtains. “It’s how I like it.”

“It’s not healthy.”

“I don’t care, go away.”

Xiao was starting to grow impatient surprisingly, he truly just wanted to help, why couldn't you see that?

“Being passive is not going to help the situation, please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

He worried. If he said the wrong, would you push him away even further? If he said the right thing, would you even care? Did you want help?

Xiao moved closer to you, hand going to touch your leg, although it was underneath the blankets, you felt it and did have to admit the affection was comforting.

“Don’t do this to yourself,” Xiao said. “Your friends miss you, I miss you as well.”

Maybe if you weren’t cooped up here anymore, you would start to come around. The room and house all together were very stuffy, dark, and depressing, he despised it.

“It’s beautiful outside, come with me,” he'd whispered. “At least if you don’t want to be around people, could you allow me to take you to a secluded area?”

“The fresh air will do you good.”

You were thinking about it, you had to of been if you still cared. 

“Fine, mother.” He watched with hope in his eyes as you slowly rose from the bed, and began

The outside world was very very bright at first, enough to induce a headache. But you became used to it the more you were out.

Xiao stayed true to his word like you knew he would unless you wouldn’t have come. You were taken to a very secluded area, there wasn’t even a path or road to it, just green luscious grass, and crystal core everywhere, beautiful blue and orange ones; Anemo and Geo respectively. You weren’t sure where you were, somewhere between Mondstadt and Liyue, you assumed. 

The fresh air did wonders, Xiao had noticed. You seemed to open up. Telling him a little of the problem. You had told him about how life was just stressful right now, you hadn’t taken any commissions in weeks, spoken to any of your friends Mondstadt, hence why they had come to him, accusing him of kidnapping and brainwashing you. He was offended, nonetheless let them know that wasn’t the case. 

The ever so secluded Xiao would take you out more, slowly introducing you to crowds of people, and would still take you on daily walks to that secret place you now called your special spot.

It would take a while, he knew that, and you wouldn’t be comfortable doing everything that others around you did, maybe not for a while. He could respect that, as long as you allowed him to help and encourage you.

Scaramouche

being a harbinger was HARD, Scaramouche knew that, even if he didn’t admit it

admitting it was challenging, could lead to always being doubted or seen as incompetent. therefore, no one mentions how hard it is

he had been off doing his duties when he got news that you had lashed out at a few lower rank fatui on your team, resulting in you being called in to meet with The Tsaritsa... let's just say she went easy on you because you were one of her highest ranking soldiers, if not, she would've severely punished you

you were forced back to your sleeping quarters immediately to calm down, told to stay put until you could stop “lashing out like a child” as she had put it

you weren’t one to argue against The Tsaritsa, everyone knew that was common rule... so you walked back as calmly as you could without snapping at anyone else

when Scaramouche had heard how you acted, he was annoyed

the always so calm and calculated Y/n, lashing out at her fellow members? he couldn’t help but be annoyed, despite it being completely out of character of you

he had finished his duties relatively quick, wondering why you were acting so out of character 

when he got back, he found you in your sleeping quarters, pacing in front of the large windows near the furthest end of your room

you were still wearing your typical combat gear, though your hair disheveled and body language looking extremely anxious, he hoped it was not yours...

“What did you do this time?” Had asked the violet-eyed man, carelessly throwing his hat on your bed, lean arms folding across his chest.

No response. 

“Excuse me, I believe I asked you a question.”

A loud irritable huff.

“Be quiet for once in your life, Scaramouche.” You hissed, anxiously biting at your nails. “Sorry- I’m just trying to calm down, but my heart can’t stop racing.”

Scaramouche wasn’t the most in-touch person with his feelings, and out of all the harbingers, he was one of the more difficult ones to deal with.

Surprisingly, he had shut up, despite finding it difficult to hold his malicious comment back.  

“What’s wrong?” Your lover asked, more softly this time. 

“My mission today was... hard. I know you said it’s important for missions to just be a one and done; no hard feelings. And you know I’ve always been that way. But this one was different.” His eyebrows furrowed, his forehead creasing in annoyance. 

“I can’t help but think about what they did.” 

“Did you get what you went for? I heard you sought after information regarding that Knight, Aether.”

“Yes, but-”

“I’d call that a successful mission,” He stared intensely, casually moving to sit on the comfort of your bed. Of course, he wouldn’t take this seriously. “Any casualties?”

“None of our men, but-”

“I don’t see the problem.”

“There were children, three little children, and those idiots just slaughtered them.”

“Ah... I see.”

Despite stating he understood, he really couldn’t sympathize with what you were saying. Those children were enemies as long as they worked against The Tsaritsa. 

Your voice suddenly cut through the silence, staring directly into his eyes, “What if those were our children?”

“They weren’t.” Your eyes rolled at his comment. 

“But what if!” He rolled his eyes, mocking your previous action. 

“But they weren’t.” He mocked for a second time.  

“You’re not helping, Scaramouche!”

“You’ll never understand, unless you see what I saw,” He knew you were right to some degree, but even then would he feel bad? A mission was a mission after all.

“They were begging me to protect them, and the youngest, she would not let go of my arm and then the next thing I knew, they were dead.” You continued, left hand going to grip your right, he assumed to show him where and how the said girl had gripped you. You were still shaking, this time being closer, he noticed how bad it was. 

“They were pleading, I told them I would try my best, and then-” He had long ago stood, making himself present in front of you. His warm hands had grabbed your shaking ones harshly, ceasing the trembling momentarily. 

“Please, be quiet,” The sixth harbinger snipped. “I don’t like seeing you upset.” Although it sounded harsh, he was trying his best to make it sound how he felt, even if those feelings were minuscule towards this specific topic. 

“Although, I don’t agree with you about this particular concern of yours- I will do whatever you need to help you.”

Albedo

now, he may just be an alchemist, but trust me, Albedo sees the signs before anyone, he has some sort of familiarity with them due to his incessant reading

and it may have taken him longer to see the signs because of how busy he was, but he saw them

he was no fool to the likes of insomnia, in fact he knew it very well, often staying up very late into the night and morning, sometimes for days at a time

he was cooped up in his lab and it wasn’t as if his body wasn’t tired, cause hell he was, there was just s much more to learn and discover, his brain WOULD not stop, 

Albedo hadn’t known how long this had been going on for, but he was seeing signs now

ngl, he didn’t notice that you hadn’t been sleeping properly until one night he decided to accompany you in bed earlier than usual (It was three a.m, yikes), and found that you were awake still

you were lying still on your side of the bed, and if it hadn’t been for the fact that he reached over to kiss your cheek, only to see your eyes open, he would’ve assumed you were alright and asleep

“You’re awake?” The ashy-blonde man asked, sliding into bed next to you. 

“Can’t sleep.” You shrugged nonchalantly, scooting closer to him, seeking his warmth and comfort. 

“You should’ve come to get me, I would’ve come to bed earlier with you.”

“It’s alright, I peeked in to see if you were still alive,” You joked, he chuckled. “You seemed very busy.”

“Yes, but, I thought I told you to remind me when you need attention, I often get sidetracked and enamored with my work.”

“It’s quite alright, Albedo. As long as you’re sleeping.”

He hummed, whispering tired words of adoration in your ear. That carried on for a while, as long as talking about the day's work and whatnot, until you eventually questioned, “Can I play with your hair?” The gesture was sweet, and that did sound amazing right about now since he was on the brink of sleep, but just needed that little push. But weren’t you tired?

“Aren’t you tired?”

You sat up, climbing behind Albedo, gently placing his head in your lap. “I’ll go after you.” A soft smile adorned your beautiful face. “You need sleep, you stay up for Archon knows how long.”

He selfishly allowed his eyes to close and waited for sleep to accompany him while you began untangling his two braids and ponytail. You played with and braided his hair until he’d fallen asleep as you said. You stayed up the rest of the morning though.

Eventually, probably out of boredom, you fell asleep for an hour or two around five a.m. Though, unfortunately, you were back up before six. You busied yourself while Albedo slept, starting with cleaning his lab. Albedo often did not like people touching his books, paperwork, and findings, but after instructing you how to properly take care of his stuff, he welcomed your help with open arms, seeing as though his lab was ALWAYS in shambles from not having enough time to take care of things himself.

Albedo surprisingly woke up around nine, wavy hair surrounding him like a lion, you chuckled to yourself at the sight. “How did you sleep?”

“Alright, considering my sleep schedule is nonexistent a lot of the time.” You nodded, bumping shoulders teasingly. “How about you?” 

“Okay,” You said, immediately changing the subject. “I woke up early, so I cleaned your lab, I hope it’s to your likings, Kreideprinz.” You teased, bowing at the waist.

The alchemist waved you off, with a smile. “We’ll see about your organizational skills after you eat.” 

How had he known?

“You haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Albedo asked, heading in the direction of the kitchen.

“That obvious.” You wondered trailing after him. 

“You always wait for me, darling.”

- 

“You look exhausted.” Albedo’s concerned voice cut in through the smooth Mondstadt breeze. You had been so distracted with the discovery in front of you, you hadn’t realized your boyfriend was staring directly at you. “When was the last time you slept?” He glanced back down at the discovery, still listening, but if you didn’t speak soon he’d be lost in his world again.

“A day or two, but-” Albedo probably got whiplash from how hard he’d snapped his head to face you, but now he was staring at you with features reading nothing but shock, cerulean eyes blown wide.

“I think your bad sleeping schedule is contagious.” You joked, trying to make the situation lighter-hearted. He didn’t laugh. 

Albedo was more serious this time, proving it when he faced you completely. “What’s been going on?” His voice was soft, but he was extremely worried. 

Nervousness built up in his lover's body. “Nothing! I just-” You sighed. Might as well tell him the truth, he’d coerce the answer from you no matter what it took. “It’s been harder to sleep after my injury from that ruin guard. When it hit me, I banged my head against the concrete, and ever since I guess it’s been hard to sleep.” 

“You could've told me sooner. I would have stopped everything and anything for you.” Yes, that was true, that was the problem though. You didn’t want to be coddled like a baby

“I know, I’m not sure why I didn’t... Naturally, I don’t want to worry you.”

He moved closer to you so he could cradle your face in his hands. “You can always tell me anything you know that.”

“I understand that. You’re a busy man so-”

“From this moment on, my work will be dedicated to finding a cure for you.”

You panicked, not wanting to stop his work for the likes of what you were dealing with. “What? Wait no-”

“You can’t stop me, darling. You take precedence over everything.”

Albedo made it his goal to do whatever possible to help you. Whether it be spending days in his lab making concoctions in hopes of creating something that could safely aid you with sleep. Or he’s in the libraries, reading all the books on the wellness and health of humans. He’s already on top of it the minute you expressed your concerns. In the meantime, he’s going to make sure he goes to bed with you much earlier, and won’t go until you do, to ensure you’re resting.

We love sweet caretaker Albedo.

(I understand insomnia can have other causes, not just a mental or nervous breakdown, but it’s kind of implied when reader hurt her head that she’s not well.)

Childe

Childe is simply not going to know your not well, he just won’t, it’s not that he doesn’t care, it’s more so the fact that he has a hard time paying attention to anything other than his missions and duties, he does not want to slow down

you have to show signs or tell him to realize

he decided to take a break though, seeing as he did promise you dinner tonight. he told you it would be his treat, since he did have a bunch of Mora lying around that he simply had no other use for

he figured a nice dinner and trip to one of the nicer cities with more to offer would be nice, he would buy you anything you desired

it was nearing the time for dinner though, and the reservations had already been made, so when he was left waiting, let's just say he was irked...

if you didn’t want to show up, you would’ve told him, so maybe you forgot? he concluded that couldn’t be it

the last time he’d brought it up, two days ago, you had been so excited you couldn’t sit still nor stop talking about it

asking a few people around town if you had been spotted anywhere, some said you had wandered off to Luhua Pool, something about there being a myth about special healing properties within the water

now he was even more confused

one, you NEVER went to Luhua Pool, there was never a need to do so

two, special healing properties? why would you need that? were you hurt in his absence?

you were his family, and he loved his family more than anything, so if something was wrong, he’d do whatever it took to help you

he traveled from Snezhnaya to Luhua Pool in record speed

he did find you eventually, the sun was setting, but thanks to the glowing water he could make your form out easily

you were hunched over, in what looked like to be some simple greenish cloth dress, he couldn’t see what you were doing, and called out your name

no answer

“Hey, what’re you doing here?” The orange-haired teen asked, crouching down beside his lover to see what was wrong.

“Cleaning.” You had said. That’s when his dull blue eyes traveled to what you were doing, watching with a confused stare as you scrubbed at what seemed to be clean hands.

“Hmm, I see...” He couldn’t tell if this was a prank or not, you usually played along with his teasing nature. “Are you ready for dinner?”

“Was that really today?” Your head lifted, leaving your hands to momentarily hanging in the air, water droplets dripping off into the pool.

Okay... so you did forget it seemed, which did shock him seeing as though you were over the moon, less than seventy-two hours ago.

“Uh, yeah, did you really forget? That’s unlike you! I’ve learned women don’t forget anything.” He teased, hand going to his chin. You hummed, turning back to do whatever it was you had been previously.

The harbinger frowned. “Do you still want to go? We can make it if we’re fast.” You sounded like a robot, much like a ruin guard, he concluded. 

“I’m sorry, not today, I’m dirty...”

Childe couldn’t help but chuckle, “Dirty? Sweetheart, you’re cleaner than most people I’ve seen, what’re you on about-” 

“The blood, it’s stained my hands, can’t you see?” Even after holding your hands to show him, he saw nothing resembling blood. 

“Are you playing games with me? Sure, it would’ve been funny any other day, not today though-” 

“You don’t believe me?” You sounded hurt, but whatever was going on, he wouldn’t feed into these... false hallucinations. “The townspeople said the same thing, they called me crazy...” You scrubbed even harder at your hands, letting out a frustrated huff. 

“I don’t see anything, I’m really sorry,” He said gently, reaching into the water to grasp your warm hands in his, “But if you continue to do that...I will see the blood.”

Childe was not sure what was going on, maybe some sort of PTSD? Although, he wasn’t sure where it could’ve come from... you’re not a harbinger or fatui, or anyone that is engaged in battle, etc. so it didn’t make sense. Unless something happened that decided to resurface now. 

He immediately took you home, hand in his to keep you from further scratching your hands. On the journey, you often asked, “Why are you even touching me? There’s a lot of blood.” 

He didn’t want to have to feed into whatever was going on, worried he’d damage you somehow, and he didn’t want to make you sound crazy, so instead he said, “Because I love you.”

When you both arrived home, he’d immediately laid you in bed, saying you appeared tired before going to search for a doctor.

Child will see every and all doctors in Teyvat and will pay whatever amount necessary to figure out what’s wrong, that’s for sure. Doesn’t take orders from the harbingers (not like he was anyways) and opts to stay close to you at all times. 

He decided to keep his teasing to a minimum, though he found that sometimes things slipped out accidentally, he’d do anything in his power to help you.

1.18.21, rayofsunas 

[multimilfs]

Alma Peregrine x Fem!Reader: You, Me, and My Two Left Feet

Summary: ghostsunderstoodmysoul requested “Hi, sun! I love your works and I am delighted that your requests are reopened as it means more fun to read your next fics. You write about so many wonderful women that I couldn't decide which one my request would be about 😅 But I would like to finally ask for a fic with Alma. The reader always insists that she has two left feet, until Alma finally invites her to dance under certain circumstances. I don't know if they are dancing something calm, while whispering nice words to each other, or something more passionate that arouses more emotions in them. It’s up to you, I will be very grateful for anything you write. Thanks in advance and have a wonderful day! 💖” 

AO3

A/N: The way I drafted this all up and posted it to the wrong account the first time. Absolute clownery.  

Warning(s): None 

In a single day, there are 86,400 seconds.

Thousands of moments to make your own or to use in aid of someone else. Endless possibilities coming at you and passing, over and over again, day after day. An infinity of choices.

You thought about it often; the passage of time. How you had all of these seconds and still hadn’t harnessed them for yourself. Instead, you let them pass, taking your courage with them. The one thing you had never let yourself act on.

Now it was building again. Like tiny grains of sand, slowly shifting into place. A single grain becoming a castle. Solid and strong. Marred only by the waves that would lap at the shore. Your courage was right there, just waiting to be used.

Waiting for the right thing to say to a certain Ymbryne.

Alma was walking up to the house, a distinct blip on the horizon. You were overjoyed in her return. But the emboldening feeling from earlier was fading. Each step Alma took toward you was a wave; lapping at your castle walls, pulling away the grains of sand you’d relied on.

“You should tell her.” A voice said next to your ear. You couldn’t help but jump, letting out a shriek of surprise.

Emma was crouched next to you, trying to hold in her laughter. Something none of the other children were bothering to do. You were glad to see them so cheerful. But embarrassed that it was at your expense.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” You said, looking away from the young girl.

“Right. So you’re not planting these flowers for her?” Emma teased, “Come on, Miss Y/N, I’m not blind.”

“Never said you were.”

“So you’ll tell her, then?”

“Absolutely not.” You stated.

Emma rolled her eyes, though the teasing smile never left her face. She gave you a look that you could have sworn she learned from Alma. You just raised an eyebrow back.

“You’re not the only one with secret feelings, Miss Y/N.” She pointed out.

“What are you two whispering about?”

Alma’s voice broke the two of you from your squabble. You looked up to see her standing on the porch, watching the two of you curiously. A blush spread across your cheeks. The last thing you wanted was for her to learn of your affection for her this way.

“Nothing at all, Miss Peregrine.” Emma smiled.

The ymbryne narrowed her eyes. Both of you knew that she’d caught on to Emma’s lie. She could the slightest change in tone from a mile away. To your relief, she didn’t pry any further.

“Hm,” Alma hummed, “Could you let everyone know that it is time to wash up for dinner?”

“Of course.”

As quickly as she’d appeared, Emma was moving away to do as her ymbryne had asked. The rest of the children followed. You wondered how she’d managed to sneak up on you. Her shoes were so large, it was nearly impossible for her to sneak anywhere. You’d probably been too caught up in watching Alma to pay any mind to your surroundings.

Speaking of Alma, the woman had stepped off of the porch to come crouch next to you. She silently admired the freshly planted flowers. Then she turned her curious gaze to you. You couldn’t help it, you melted. The natural curiosity and joy in her eyes made you feel so full of love that you could burst.

“What prompted the flowers?” Alma asked gently, tracing one of the blooms with a nail. You watched it as if in a trance.

“I thought they would look nice. Plus, the children needed something to do.” You smiled.

“Well, they are beautiful. You and the children did an excellent job.”

You smiled, looking down at your hands as you smiled. The flowers would vanish with the resetting of the loop, but the thought didn’t bother you much. You’d plant them everyday if it would make her happy.

Caught up in your thoughts, you were startled by Alma delicately tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You met her eyes suddenly. The unabashed affection and warmth there nearly disarmed you.

There was a moment of silence where you considered throwing it out there. Throwing your feelings into the open, letting her take the reins from there. But you couldn’t. The fear of ruining this moment of peace stopped you.

“Come inside and help with dinner.” Alma said softly after the moment had passed. Her hand cupped your cheek, lingering there, before she stood up and pulled away. You felt the loss keenly.

Doing as instructed, you followed her inside. The children were still being collected. The house was silent, save for the occasional creak. It was nice. Comfortable. Though you knew you would always prefer the children’s chatter to this, and so did Alma.

The first alert to incoming children was the sound of feet on the floorboards. Running feet. From the pattern and sound of them, you guessed it was Claire. And you were right when her hands suddenly clutched at your skirts.

“Hello, Claire.” You smiled without turning around.

“How did you know it was me?” The girl whined.

She, as well as some of the other peculiars, tried to sneak up on you. To confuse you. None of them had managed, yet.

“The pattern of your footsteps gave you away.”

You whirled around and picked her up suddenly, making her giggle. A large smile spread across your face. You placed a kiss on the top of her curls, locking eyes with Alma briefly.

“If you want to make me think you’re someone else, maybe walk slower or walk extra quiet so I won't hear you.” You explained.

“I’m raising Peculiars, Miss Y/N, not spies.” Alma said.

“They could be both.”

Her eyes snapped to yours at break-neck speed. They were sharp, a warning clear; this was not territory she wanted to venture into. You let out a sigh.

“We’ll continue our lesson later. For now, go get washed up for dinner, please.” You said to Claire, who did as she was told.

Dinner came and went in a flurry of laughter and clinking cutlery. Rather than get ready to view Horace’s dreams though, they stayed put. You and Alma shared a confused look.

“Miss Peregrine, Miss Y/N, we were thinking that we could do something else this evening. Instead of watching Horace’s dreams.” Olive suggested.

She looked between the two of you, anxiously awaiting an answer. The rest of them looked to Alma. You tended to leave the decisions up to her in the end.

Alma looked thoughtful, before raising an eyebrow in your direction. You gave her a single nod. The older children let out the nervous breath they’d been holding in. Now, you waited eagerly to see what the ymbryne would decide.

“What did you have in mind?” Alma asked finally.

“We could practice the dancing forms Miss Y/N told us about.” Millard suggested.

The children spoke excitedly between themselves, the younger ones nodding a little too much. With the older three avoiding your eyes, you guessed this wasn’t an impromptu suggestion. They had planned this. You couldn’t figure what they gained from this.

Until the children paired up, leaving you and Alma to dance together.

You hazarded a glance in her direction to see that she was already watching you. She didn’t say anything, holding out a hand.

“Oh, Alma, I have two left feet- I’d hate to step on your toes.” You said.

“Nonsense, darling. It’s only a simple waltz.” She wasn’t going to take no for an answer. It was emphasized by the way she drew your attention back to her hand, empty and waiting for yours.

The gazes of the children burned into you. Shyly, you placed your hand into her’s.

Emma placed the needle of the phonograph onto the record. The crackling of the record played as the prologue to a beautiful, instrumental piece. Playful and full-bodied. It felt as if the music was dancing with you. Too bad that you were distracted, focused entirely on the feeling of Alma’s hands on you.

“You don’t have to avert your eyes from me.” Alma whispered in your ear, barely audible above the music.

“I’m simply enjoying the music.”

“Mm, is that so? It looks more like avoidance to me.”

With a smile on your face, you finally met her eyes. The feeling that overcame you was the reason you’d avoided her eyes to begin with. It reminded you just how deeply, madly you were in love with her. And it made you want to shout it from rooftops.

“Better?” You asked breathlessly.

“I do prefer looking into your eyes. They’re too beautiful to be hidden from view.”

You felt yourself melt inside. Everytime you thought you couldn’t fall more in love, she proved you wrong.

“Better to hide them and manage a dance, than to step on your toes.” You said, trying to hide the bright blush on your cheeks.

“You love to belittle your dancing, but you’ve never faltered.” Alma pointed out.

“Well, in that case,” You grinned, before playfully stepping on one of her feet.

Alma let out a surprised noise, giving out a huff of laughter. Your smile only widened. Never one to be out done, she copied your movements, stepping purposefully on your toes. She made a dramatic show of it too. Her mouth was pressed in a thin line, as she was trying to keep from smiling. Trying to maintain her serious Ymbryne demeanor.

“Why, Alma, it seems that you’re the one with two left feet!” You gasped out playfully.

She opened her mouth to respond, but she came perilously close to breaking her act when she did. So she opened and closed her mouth a few times. Like a fish, though you weren’t brave enough to say so. Her resolve was holding strong. In a last attempt to get her to break, you gave her a dramatic kiss on the cheek, perilously close to her lips.

It did the trick. She released a burst of laughter, unlike anything you’d ever heard before. If you were being honest with yourself, you hadn’t known that she could laugh beyond the small chuckle she’d grace everyone with. The difference was startling. Though not unwelcome, quite the opposite, in fact.

“You’re too much.” Alma commented with a smile, finally calming down.

“That’s fair.” You agreed.

The both of you smiled, Alma releasing the last of her laughter, when you made eye contact abruptly. It felt as if the world dropped away in an instant. All that was left was you and Alma, glancing heavily into each other's eyes.

“You’re beautiful when you laugh,” You blurted out. Alma raised an eyebrow and you realized how it sounded, making you rush to fix it, “I mean, you’re beautiful when you don’t laugh too- I just mean that, well, um- Okay, I’m really bad at this. You looked really beautiful when you laughed but you’re.... Always beautiful.”

A light blush colored her cheeks, though she didn’t look away from you. Instead, she moved forward ever-so-slightly, making your gaze drop to her lips. You were overwhelmingly aware of the distance between the two of you.

“Is that all?” She whispered.

“No… I-I love you, Alma.”

Her eyes flickered to yours, bursting with warmth and affection. The corner of her mouth turned up in a smirk.

“I know.” She said, before finally closing the distance.

Upon her lips meeting yours, you froze. You couldn’t believe that you weren’t dreaming. It felt surreal, until you realized how long you’d been still, and finally kissed back.

You felt Alma smile against your mouth, making your heart stutter in your chest. The organ felt like it was bursting. Full of the greatest happiness and love known to the world, peculiar or normal. It was a feeling you wanted to hold onto and never let go of.

If given the option, you would have kissed Alma until you ran out of oxygen. You didn’t want to lose the feeling of her lips on yours, not even for a second. But Alma needed air too. You couldn’t justify depriving her of something so basic just to suit your own needs.

Her lips were swollen and her cheeks bright red. It was the most disheveled you’d ever seen her before. Knowing that you’d been the cause of such a thing made you feel proud.

The sound of distant voices captured your attention. You looked around the room, only to realize the children had snuck out at some point. It made you wonder how long you’d been locked in your embrace. You and Alma shared a sheepish smile.

You began to move towards the doorway, to let the children know they could come back in, when Alma cleared her throat.

“I love you too, Y/N.” Alma said, making you freeze in your journey. You turned to see her looking at you with all of the love in the world.

Briefly, you considered pulling her into another kiss. Getting lost in the feeling of her in your arms. Of overwhelming your senses for as long as you could endure it. You were seconds away from doing it, when there was an exclamation from the other room.

“Enoch, stop touching my headband!”

It was Claire’s voice. She sounded furious with the older boy. You couldn’t help but shake your head, no matter how old they were realistically, they would always act like children. It made you hold out a hand to Alma. Which she took.

“Let’s go take care of our children.” She said with a dramatic sigh, making you laugh.

In a day, there are 86,400 seconds. And you intended to spend every one loving Alma Peregrine.  

[softluci]

hello yes can i just say i l o v e d your gen z hcs and may i acquire more

for starters, i am not religious, but i am PRAYING you don’t think i was ignoring your ask. i’ve been thinking about it since i got it, it’s just that i’m a college student with worms for brains, so hopefully you understand. this is something that i’ve had on my mind for a long time [i’ve been at this on and off for months], and it most definitely can be associated with/attributed to gen z. 

for a fleeting, wonderful period of time, there was a trend on tiktok that went, “buss it, buss it…” are you familiar? 

that should be enough of a summary, right? ah—for future reference, “o7” is like a saluting emote, for anyone who might not know. reader is g/n as usual, enjoy!

[a/n: so because this is so long, this part is going to be, like, the lore, and then the actual headcanons will be right here]

trendy 

the two things most corrosive to the human spirit are easily named—capitalism and boredom. while it would be easier and less taxing to explain the former, the latter was the problem at hand. it’s not that there was nothing to do in the devildom—quite the opposite, actually—it was just that you wanted some time to yourself every now and again. the trouble with trying to take time for yourself in a completely new location, the residents of which are always enamored with you in one way or another, is that there isn’t anything to do. the house was full of adventures for you to take—the trap door under the rug in the library, the other trap door under the dining room table, the small door behind the couch in the living room, and whatever other poorly hidden doors your seven roommates thought you didn’t know about. 

trouble was, you didn’t want to leave your room. you, intelligent creature that you are, knew that the chances of you running into mammon or satan or beel or asmo were all too high, and even higher were the chances of you agreeing to spend time with them if they asked, and you knew they would. what were you to do? 

you stared at your ceiling from your bed, d.d.d. resting on your stomach as you let your mind wander. your d.d.d. was full of things for you to do, the devildom’s ethernet at your fingertips, but you weren’t interested in finding new things right now. you wanted something familiar, like—like your phone. 

what was the point of lucifer taking your phone, anyway? it’s not like you could use it—being here rendered it a useless brick of glass and metal, so it wouldn’t have been a big deal if you still had it. it was funny, though, that you couldn’t use your actual phone when it was still possible to access the human internet from down here. 

at least, you assumed so. 

how else would levi be able to keep up with his human idols, get tickets for their shows—the works, you know? luckily, you were fully capable of asking. 

d.d.d. now in your hand, you rolled onto your stomach and found your messages with levi, nails clacking against the glass as you tried to reach him.

hey, you texted, can you help me with something?

his reply came faster than you expected: ?? what do you need 

how do i access human websites and apps, you asked, rolling onto your side. you know how to, right?

lololol, it’s not possible :p

a grunt, more aggravated than you’d care to admit, escaped from the back of your throat.

don’t lie. 

a few minutes passed with no response, and you wondered if you were too harsh. 

“he’s a sensitive guy,” you mumbled, inhaling deeply. “i probably came on too strong or something.” 

just as you started typing out an apology and a, “forget i ever said anything,” you got a response. 

a vpn and a proxy site. 

a smile crept onto your face as air came out of your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you could muster. 

can you set it up for me? 

after another few minutes of no response, you sit up, wondering how you could’ve possibly fucked up a second time, your d.d.d. buzzed. 

levi sent you a file and a link, with a host of instructions. 

click on the file and it’ll take you to the vpn you need to download. don’t worry about bugs or anything, i made it myself. 

you let out a low whistle, flopping onto your back once more. 

“this guy gets up to more than i thought,” you said, eyebrows raised. “someone get this man some physical affection.” 

you continued to read, growing more fond of him with each sentence.

once you install it, pick the country whose network you want access to. from there, you’ll have a list of that country’s most used applications available for you. again, don’t worry about bugs. 

what’s the link for? you asked, excitement getting the better of you. 

for when you download internet applications. it’s added security, paste the link in before you search anything or you’ll trigger the firewall alarm. 

you blinked. 

you’ll trigger the what? 

i’ll trigger the fucking What? 

levi’s response was the fastest one yet: the Fucking Firewall Alarm. barbatos’ design. he has no idea i know how to bypass it. just do what i said. don’t try to solve any potential issues on your own, come to me for everything.

roger that o7, you replied, thanks levi ^_^

yeah, yeah. come to my room for a hxh binge tomorrow night.

you snorted. what a fucking nerd—in the greatest way possible. 

of course bestie :] ily

ily2 normie -_- 

in his room, unbeknownst to you, levi felt like he made a mistake of some kind. it’s not that he didn’t trust you, it’s just that you had a tendency to end up in undesirable situations, even if it wasn’t always on purpose. he was probably just worried over nothing, or so he tried to tell himself, but whatever. this isn’t even about him.

you sat up once more, this time leaning against your pillows as you started setting everything up. everything went so quickly that you barely wondered if all of this—subverting hell’s firewall, personally designed by a man eerily similar to a 2D crush from when you were in middle school—was worth accessing a few silly apps from the human world. 

a few minutes later, your d.d.d. now a much, much cooler copy of your phone, any and all thoughts of regret and hesitation were absent from your mind. 

your first order of business on your upgraded d.d.d. was logging into your tiktok account, however surprising it was that you even remembered the password. you put your headphones in and adjusted your volume, going back into the dumpster fire that is your for-you page with open arms. 

after around half an hour of stifled laughter and small, offended gasps from being targeted by the algorithm, you came across a rare dancing video. the person on your screen was in casual clothes, making minor, silly dance movements as the music dwindled, only for them to drop into a squat in time with the music, suddenly dolled up. you shot forward, taken aback by their transformation and by their dancing post beat drop. did you watch it on a loop for a few minutes? well, that’s nobody’s business but yours. you clicked on the sound in hopes of finding similar videos, and much to your relief, there were plenty. about ten videos in, a smile still on your face, you got an idea. 

you slipped your headphones out, arbitrarily looking around your room, before whispering to yourself, “i could—i could do that. i could totally do that.” 

and you were right. you had nice clothes and makeup from various shopping occasions with asmo. your room had led strips, courtesy of levi ordering the wrong ones and being so kind as to give them to you. you could do it. 

levi was the only person you’d spoken to since you retreated to your room a few hours ago, and the lights have been off the entire time, which meant that if you worked quietly enough, everyone else had reason enough to assume you were asleep. good! how could you possibly explain what you were doing getting all dolled up at, like, 11:00 on a wednesday night? you couldn’t, even a little bit—not in a way that convinced anyone, anyway. 

come midnight, you were sitting cross legged on your bed, watching your final product. not to be vain or anything, but you were looking very respectfully at yourself. since when could you move like that, anyway? the wonders of being alone, you supposed. 

you didn’t post it publicly, electing to save it as a draft just so it would save to your d.d.d. maybe you’d post it once you were back in the human world, when your friends wouldn’t swarm your comments asking where the fuck you were. 

yeah, lucifer told you, “everything was taken care of,” but regardless of whether or not you believed him, you knew it wasn’t a good idea to risk finding out if he missed something. 

boredom creeping up on you again, you elected to go through the messages on your d.d.d. it would be better to make yourself laugh before you were fully bored again, right? you stood up and stretched, opening the group text with the adults. luke doesn’t know about it; he thinks the one with everyone is the main one, and everyone lets him think that so he feels included. 

walking around your room in small circles, you scrolled up to the older conversations and read through them, rolling your eyes and chuckling to yourself. very rarely did they talk about anything of importance. it was mostly diavolo, barbatos, and simeon making quips and jokes at lucifer’s expense for everyone to see. it was gold in its purest form. 

you contemplated sending one of the many cursed things sitting in your camera roll, just to keep them on their toes, but just after opening your gallery, you resigned not to, figuring it would be best to leave him alone. 

you stretched again, the hold on your d.d.d. a bit looser this time. it nearly slipped out of your hands, but you caught it, tossing it onto your bed. as soon as you resigned to start getting ready for bed, you turned back around and picked it up. 

there was no rhyme or reason to your actions; if someone in that moment were to ask you why you did it, you would’ve said, “just ‘cause.”

human intuition is a wonderful thing.

your d.d.d. was still on, still open to the group chat. you’d sent something, evidently a second ago, as indicated by the time stamp. the thumbnail was of you, in casual clothing—the casual clothing you were wearing before you got dolled up, actually. huh. 

huh. 

the weight of your mistake came crashing down on you in full force, a chill sinking into your skin and running up your spine.

you were suddenly acutely aware of the concept of time, how it was of the essence and you had absolutely none to waste.

what were you to do? it wouldn’t be long before your favorite person saw it. you had to do something. 

you could say nothing. you could tell the truth and say it was an accident and that you were embarrassed, but that was even worse than saying nothing because it meant you were set to be the target of teasing you didn’t even wanna try to imagine. you could say it was an accident and be confident about it, telling them, “enjoy!” but that was a dangerous game to play, and you knew it. 

well, i do admire you for taking time to think, but, unfortunately, there was a checkmark next to your message. oh, a number as well—eleven. you just can’t catch a break. what were they all doing up at this time, anyway? it was a school night🤨. 

[musicanddancingthroughlife]

Shklance - I Died

I feel like I basically dropped off the face of the planet, and for that I apologize. I have no excuses, except stress and mental health have been a huge problem lately and I’ve just been trying to find balance in my life. I can’t promise anything in the near future, with holidays coming up, and I have finals in like 3 weeks, and then my husband and I are moving at the end of the year, and then my little sister’s wedding is a few weeks after so I’m helping with that, and basically my life is just a mess right now, but I am still working on stuff, comments are always welcome and really do help to get me motivated, and hopefully I can get back into the groove of writing daily and posting weekly!

This story is probs gonna be a part 1 of 2. Hopefully. As is, I wanted it to be a stand alone, but I’ve been drafting it for almost a month now and I just want to throw it at you guys. So know I’m working on a part 2, where they talk about the whole thing and you see everyone’s reactions to what happened. This was actually a request someone made of me on my Ao3 account, but I’ve always loved reading stories dealing with everyone finding out about Lance dying. Just never thought I could do it justice haha. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

---------------------------------------------------

Lance knew that this was going to be an emotional day for all of them, but seriously, this was a little overkill. He knew he shouldn’t have gotten out of bed today.

Sure, it was the one-year anniversary of the day they all saved the universe, ended the war that had gone on for decades, blah blah blah, but getting up also meant that he was going to have to see everyone again.

Not that he wasn’t thrilled to see them! He and Hunk especially had been waiting for this day for months, and he couldn’t wait to see Pidge and Matt again, either. Last Lance had talked to them, they had been working on some seriously neat stuff. They were sure to be a lot of fun.

Hell, he had even been looking forward to seeing Allura again, even though things had never really been the same between them after Allura broke things off. Though, considering how hurt he was still feeling about their break up, it was probably a good thing she had canceled last minute. She’d said that she needed to focus on helping the universe heal. Lance had wanted to go with her, but she rejected him. He knew she was trying to be kind, telling him that he “deserved the time to rest” and that she “knew how much he’s been missing his home planet.” But really, all it had done was serve to remind him that he wasn’t actually necessary.

Not like Shiro and Keith were.

Allura hadn’t had any problems taking them with her, even though everyone else (even Keith) and agreed that if anyone deserved the down time, it was Shiro. Especially since Shiro had seemed a little weary when he accepted the invitation from Allura. Personally, Lance believed the only reason he agreed to go was because he knew that Keith wouldn’t be happy staying in one place anymore, and of course, there was no way they were going to allow themselves to be separated again, not after everything that had happened…

And Lance was even looking forward to seeing Keith and Shiro, since he had probably missed them the most. But he also knew that it was going to be hard. It was always hard seeing them together, but knowing that they’ve been doing so much good out in the universe, that they’ve gotten to see so much more of those worlds than he had… That was going to be hard.

Not to mention Lance still hadn’t managed to shake the crushes he’d had on them for so long now.

Or the fact that while everyone else was off changing the universe, traveling the galaxies, creating newer and better technology and inventions, Lance had done nothing? Okay, so farming wasn’t nothing. And no one could deny that Earth needed some TLC after the trauma of the war had nearly destroyed it. But as much as he enjoyed the simple hard work involved, that didn’t mean he didn’t understand it was stupid. It was pathetic. His friends were still fighting, in their own ways, and Lance felt as if he had simply given up. He couldn’t figure out what he wanted to spend his time doing, what felt most worthy of his time and attention, and so he had allowed himself to fall back on something easy.

And he wasn’t sure that he could face his friends while knowing the truth about himself, that he was a coward and had no mission or goals in life.

******

So, maybe Lance was a bit of a drama queen, because things had actually been going better than he expected. Everyone looked good, older and more experienced. Hunk had even grown out some facial hair, though it was a little sparse coming in. Lance knew that wouldn’t be the case for very long. The most shocking was Allura’s news about expecting a child (Keith and Shiro had passed it on in her absence). That hurt way more than Lance thought had a right to, but he tried hard to suppress that pain until he could process it in private. Possibly while crying over a tub of ice cream.

And as far as their actual dinner and celebration went, well… it really had been inevitable that their discussion would become heavier. And, as usual, Lance couldn’t keep his own mouth shut.

“We had some good times, though, right?” Lance laughed easily, trying to direct the conversation back to something lighter, something easier (at this point he’d had a couple decades to cement his masks, and he was good at pretending like nothing was wrong). “I mean, we might have been injured, and tortured—”

“Lance,” Hunk warned. He darted a quick, concerned look to Keith and Shiro, but thankfully neither of them looked too worried. Instead, they were staring at Lance with such sappy looks Hunk was irritated Lance wasn’t paying enough attention to notice on his own. A shared glance with Pidge told him that at least he wasn’t alone in his annoyance.

Lance continued thoughtlessly, “and I mean, maybe a couple of us died, but hey! In the end, it all turned out okay, and look at everyone, living their best lives!” (Lance was firmly ignoring the fact that he had spent most of his free time leading up to today pouting in bed. No one else knew, and therefore it didn’t count.)

Pidge opened her mouth, but Shiro spoke first. His brows were furrowed, and his nose had scrunched up a little. Lance wanted to melt at the cuteness of it. “Did someone else die? I thought I was the only one. Who else died?”

Lance’s jaw snapped shut. He couldn’t remember if it had even been brought up or not… It had to have, right? There’s no way his friends – his team – had just gone on for this long without knowing! He thought they were just ignoring it! Things had been crazy, and they’d never really gotten a chance to slow down and breathe, let alone discuss everything that had happened. And that was fine! That was to be expected! But now he was supposed to believe they just didn’t know??? Did that mean they didn’t care? That they didn’t notice all the nightmares that had become the norm after his death? The way he was jumpier for months after that battle? And if that were the case, then was it even worth bringing up now, so long after it had happened?

Lance’s face was burning, the warm flush traveling up to the tips of his ears, and possibly all the way down his neck. He could feel his eyes welling up, but he brushed it away, pretending his face palm in order to hide the movement. He glanced at his friends, unsurprised to find Hunk staring at him intently. Pidge was muttering to herself, obviously trying to determine what had happened on her own. Lance couldn’t even bear to drag his gaze to Keith or Shiro.

He tried to get out of answering Keith.

“Oops haha, must’ve miscounted, I meant to say that one of us had died,” Lance laughed again but unlike earlier, this one was decidedly uncomfortable. “Because. Obviously. One of us… did. Sorry, Shiro. But like, you died. That happened. And it was weird and we got a weird clone out of the deal, which was weird – did I say that already? – and like he wasn’t a great dude, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead, you know? You’re much nicer than that clone was, he was kind of a jerk. No offense, Shiro. I mean, not that you’re the clone or anything, cause you’re Shiro, and that was Not-Shiro—”

Oh dear God why wouldn’t they shut him up? Lance was so busy panicking about what he was saying that he didn’t notice Shiro and Keith slowly standing, approaching him from each side. But Hunk and Pidge could almost see the concern rising off them.

“But he was mean, and he yelled at us a lot. Although I guess he really spent most of his time yelling at me, which really, makes sense, but again, not something you would’ve done, Shiro, so I’m glad you didn’t stay dead or anything, because Not-Shiro was a terrible replacement and—”

“Shiro yelled at you?” Keith had come close enough that he could lay a warm, gentle hand on Lance’s shoulder. Lance almost flinched at the contact, it had been so long since someone had touched him like that. Sure, he saw his family way more often than he had while they were fighting in space, but, come on. They were fighting in space. He never saw them back then! Anything was an improvement over that! Anyway, the point was, he knew he was lonely. He ignored it. It didn’t matter. His friends were happy, his family was safe.

“Weren’t you listening when I said it was Not-Shiro?” was all Lance could think to say. Keith rolled his eyes.

“Why did he yell at you?” Shiro asked. Lance shrugged.

“Lance had some good advice to share. Though honestly, I’m thinking that Lance’s plan just wouldn’t have suited the clone’s purposes and he wanted to make sure that Lance would stop pushing. So he yelled, knowing that would be enough to shut Lance down,” Hunk said. He shot Lance an apologetic look as he did so. Smart, because Lance was Not Happy with him. Now wasn’t the time to share petty hurts!

“Personally, I believe it was because if anyone was going to find out he wasn’t really Shiro, it would’ve been you,” Pidge shrugged. And really, et tu, Pidge? This wasn’t fair at all. Not to mention, now Lance could feel the now-familiar guilt from knowing he hadn’t been able to tell.

And that was what finally had Lance speaking up. “Oh come on, guys, that’s not even the worst any of us suffered out there! Lotor joined the team! I died! Shiro died! Keith left! We had bigger things to deal with!”

There was a brief silence following this, long enough for Lance to squeeze his eyes shut and briefly mutter “Fuck” to himself, and then—

“What do you mean, you died?”

Lance’s ability to make things worse every time he opens his mouth really should be considered a wonder of the world.

He opened his eyes hesitantly to find that everyone was watching him intently. Tears were welling in Hunk’s eyes, and Lance knew that if he paid too much attention to his friend, then he would break almost instantly. He avoided looking in that direction, lips pursed shut, determined to stay quiet now. But they were just as determined to make him talk.

“Lance, please, what happened?” and since when the hell does Pidge beg? That’s just wrong. But effective, because that wrongness made Lance jerk his head up, eyes accidentally locking with Shiro.

He looked so sad…

“It really wasn’t a huge deal, I was just saying that there was a lot happening. It was pretty much impossible for all of us to keep up with each other, what with Lotor and Allura, and Keith disappearing then coming back, and the search for Shiro… and Hunk, Pidge, you guys had a great team thing going on there. That was a lot of fun! And then remember Coran had us playing Monsters and Mana? Good times!”

“You played what?” Keith asked, confused. Then he shook his head. “Stop distracting us, Lance. Answer the questions.”

“Um. What questions?”

Keith’s face hardened, eyes doing that dangerous flinty thing that Lance had always loved to see when he got mad. But before he could say anything, Lance’s phone went off. He really did try to hide the relief on his face as he stood, but the way Shiro set his jaw made him think he was not successful.

Before Lance could answer the call, he felt his phone plucked from his fingers. He lunged for it, and Keith slipped it into his own back pocket, out of Lance’s reach. Even worse, his lunge for it brought their faces way too close. Lance jerked back, face flaming a bright red, but he felt himself crash back into Shiro’s firm, solid chest. He started to stammer apologies, but Keith’s hands settled on Lance’s shoulders, pulling him away, and then he and Shiro pushed him back down into his chair. As Shiro moved to kneel next to Lance’s chair, Keith held him there, grounding and sure. He leaned down, putting his mouth close to Lance’s ear and then murmured “Please. We need to know. We’re horrible friends for not already knowing, but we’re asking now and we need you to tell us. Let us help.” And Shiro gripped Lance’s arm, thumb smoothing against his darker skin, making it harder and harder for Lance to want to move.

Lance knew that they were blowing this out of proportion. But he still felt touched. He’d thought they were just ignoring his death because other things were happening at the same time, but maybe that wasn’t really the case. Maybe they truly hadn’t known. Maybe Allura had never said anything, and Lance, expecting Allura to say something, hadn’t said anything either, and so maybe they just didn’t know. Maybe sharing it now would be okay.

[katzkinder]

I've kind of been thinking about this for a bit, and rereading (again) C3 arc has just cemented it further for me

Servamp has a lot of important messages in it, but one that kind of gets... I don't want to say overlooked, but it does seem to fall by the wayside, even in real life, is forgiveness as an act of self care, rather than an absolution.

What I mean by this is how things like guilt, hate, and regret hold us down and prevent us from thriving as people. The first major example we get of this presents itself in Kuro.

Kuro has been wallowing in his doubts and regrets for two centuries when we meet him. It has exacerbated his depression to the point that not only does he refuse to feed himself, he also refuses to make his own decisions. Only once Mahiru helps him to confront that he made a choice he considers wrong is Kuro able to let go and move forward. He later on thanks Lawless for not forgiving him, because that grudge, the emotional pain he caused someone he loves, is what kept his worries in forefront of his mind and prevented him from rationalizing his decision to the point that he believed his own lie.

Now, C3 arc in particular has not one, not two, but three examples, at the least, of this coming into major play as well.

The most obvious examples are:

Touma

and Shuuhei

Once Touma finally learns to let go of his anger and his hatred towards his parents for the way they abused him, he's able to move forward as a person and do what he needs to to care for the individuals in his life who have loved him, namely Tsurugi. I have a post that’s been sitting in my drafts for over a year now about how Servamp deals with the concept of “breaking the cycle of abuse” that focuses on Touma because of how important the way Strike handles his arc is, because I got distracted and then never went back to it, laughs.

Meanwhile, for Shuuhei, his overwhelming and all consuming desire for revenge nearly cost him the life of not only himself, but also deeply, deeply hurt his best friend. Once he lets it go, he saves not only himself, but Shamrock, Iduna, Freya, and the lives of every single person, human and subclass, inside C3 by leading them through the most efficient routes to safety during the collapse.

The third act of forgiveness as self love can be found in Iduna. Yes she is holding herself accountable for the sins she has committed in creating what she now realizes to be incredibly vile weaponry, but rather than pity herself, she takes the encouragement others offer and moves forward to save people rather than hurt them. She forgives herself for unwittingly pushing Shuuhei to the brink and giving him the tools to become a monster, and in doing so, saves both him and herself, whether that be in a literal or a metaphorical sense.

Forgiveness does not mean forgetting

It just means not giving the people who hurt you the power to keep doing that

Even when that person is yourself

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Umm maybe one with Cal (obvi lol) where he randomly posts you. Maybe you've been dating for 3 years and they only see blurs of your face or the back of your head when you go see him or go to events with him. And its a long ass caption about how you're that BITCH and he loves you so much. And then you see and are like "bro wtf" and you ask him about and he shrugs it off and says he wanted to world to see his world

So, I’m a whole dumbass and accidentally deleted the first draft of this. But I managed to save it, even though I have the memory of a goldfish. I hope you enjoy. 

Take a gander at my masterlist!

Reader Insert. No specific race, gender, or sexuality! 

__________________________________

Gratitude

Calum’s body is sprawled across yours. His head is on your chest. His arms are wrapped around you, meeting at your back, hugging you like a child clutches onto their favorite stuffed animal. But it’s you. And you are no stuffed animal. Your fingers lightly drag through the blonde but turning brunette strands. They’ve started to curl in around each other. You wonder if he’s ever going to ask you to cut his hair, if you guys will join the cull of people in desperate times. He has clippers and guards under the sink. It’s not like he hasn’t resorted to the buzz at home before. You’re not going to push it though. There’s enough to worry about as it stands. 

There’s promotion before the album’s release and now after too. There are interviews at all times of the day it seems. There was shooting at home for the ‘Wildflower’ music video. If it’s not something he brings up, you’re definitely not going too. There’s plenty already to worry about. Maybe even too much to worry about. But you’re glad that Calum’s found a moment to rest. It’s evaded you though, for the moment and for the last couple of days if you’re honest. Even with a pretty consistent sleep schedule, you still find your mind racing. Like there’s not plenty of time for that during the day. 

Reaching up, you grab your phone from the edge of the back of the couch, right on the ledge. You placed it there not worried about it falling, when Calum first collapsed into you. You figure there’s nothing wrong, for the moment, to expose yourself to some blue light and social media. It all feels like a fog though. Twitter is nothing but the same memes, the same ads, the sameness of everyone ghosting into a void where sometimes the void echoes back. And down and down you go, liking some tweets here and there, but to no avail to find any real distractions. Occasionally, you snort at a meme, but it’s just a quick chuckle. 

You turn to Instagram. You’re bound to have the same results, something so mind numbing it can’t even numb anymore. And as the app loads, you watch all the people with icons shuffling across the top of the screen. You tap on the first one and let it cycle all the way through, before repeatedly tapping through them. You pause at ones that look interesting, watching them all the way through. One hand drifts back down to Calum’s head, scratching ever so lightly at his scalp. He burrows deeper into you, squeezing you in his arms just a little. 

Swiping away from the stories, you scroll the posts and not even three posts down, you notice the photo of yourself. Then you see Calum’s account as the culprit. It’s of your silhouette mostly as you twirl under streetlights. You remember then the photo was snapped. Just eight months into your relationship and you had been given a promotion at work. Calum wanted to celebrate by grabbing a quick treat from your favorite bakery. It was late and you felt like being a little fancy, and stopped by a bar just to grab one drink. One celebratory drink. And as the two of you exited, rain started to fall. Rain in L.A. isn’t too common and you had to bask in the moment, just for a moment, since it was so light. So you started laughing as you spun around the sidewalk. You hadn’t even noticed Calum snapping the photo until you saw it as his homescreen two weeks later. 

There are several blue dots at the bottom of the picture. So you swipe left. This photo is of you, too, but your face is mostly hidden by Duke’s body, just a portion of your forehead and eye visible because of the angle. It had to be from a year or so into the relationship given the style and length of your hair. And you nearly laugh at yourself for thinking that a year was so early on, now that you’re three years into this. But god, it really was early on. Now you can’t picture your morning routine without Calum being grumpy and without Duke whining to be let out and Calum pouting that Duke’s steals all your attention. You always rectify the pouts with two kisses to his forehead and never less than those two kisses either. 

Taking a quick moment, you look around for the old man and spy him curled up at the end of your feet. And you have to grin. He’s never too far from Calum at all when Calum’s home. You turn your attention back to your phone and swipe again. The next photo is of half your face. A little blurred thanks to Calum’s shaky hands and questionable photography skills. But you can tell, thanks to the grass below and the wristband this was from the Coachella adventures. You swipe again. It’s your full face, hidden by some shadows as you laugh from the top of the ladder. From the ventures of painting the bedroom again, it was nothing drastic but still, took you and Calum two days to finish the painting. As you swipe again, there’s one last photo, of you three days, grinning hard into the camera while leaning against the kitchen counter. You were just waiting for the water to boil and listening to a podcast before starting dinner. You noticed Calum coming into the kitchen and when he mumbled for you to look up at him, you saw the phone and smiled as hard as you could. 

As time goes on, things get clearer. Being with you just makes sense. And I know when you see this, you’ll probably be a little mad. Duke, I’ll need to share that bed with you. I can only hope it’s big enough.  I’m not sure why it’s hard to say to you right now, face to face. You’re just on the couch and I’m just at the kitchen table. And I know, I’m a pretty private guy. But something about being with you just makes sense, so much damn sense. It’s just been us, when the road got narrow and when it was all too easy to walk, hell, maybe even run along, we still had each other. No relationship sails smoothly and no planes out there that’s ever flown doesn’t hit some turbulence. Every time though, we’ve come out stronger and together still. There’s no important date for this, the 3rd anniversary has come and gone, but there seems like no better time to say thank you. So, thankyou. Thankyou. Thankyou.  

You don’t realize there are tears until one slips down your cheek and splashes onto the phone screen. Your inhale is shaky and you’re trying to swallow down the sobs. They still come through, like coughs from your chest and you’re sure you’re trembling. Calum feels you shaking, squeezing again unsure if you’re moving out from underneath him. “Five more minutes,” he mumbles, readjusting the position of his head. 

He doesn’t miss the sniffle though and when he sits up, eyes admittedly still puffy with sleep, and sees you with one hand over your mouth and tears streaking your face, he panics. “Baby? What the hell happened?” He’s cupping your face, wiping at the tears and soon, he’s sitting completely up, and against the couch cushions. You pull your leg out from behind his body. Calum waste no time to tuck you up into his arms, chin resting on the top of your head. “It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

“I saw the post,” you manage to get out, now able to control the emotions racking through you. 

His grip slackens. You hear the rumble of his soft laugh. “So is the couch cushions my source of warmth tonight?”

You have no problem with Calum posting photos. You just hadn’t expected him to post something like that. Pushing up to your knees, you gently cup his cheek. He reciprocates the tender hold. “No, I was just shocked that’s all. Came out of left field.” His thumb clears away the stray tears and yours just gently brushes along the stumble that’s started to prick through his skin. 

“I just love you, that’s all. And we’ve been together for three years and I can see three more together, and three more after that. And three more after that. And three more after that. And three more after. And hell, twenty after that. Just wanted the world to see my world.”

“Calum Thomas, you’re so fucking cheesy, but goddamn do I love you.” He gives a quick smile before you capture his lips, hands cupping both cheeks. And soon you trail them up his nose, kissing between his brows, over each eye and then kissing twice on his forehead. 

-H

[theoriginalladya]

100 Days of Writing - Day 11

@the-wip-project asked:

How do you create your characters? Do you make a profile of them? Do you know your character before you start writing the story?

Over my years of writing I've found a number of different ways to develop and keep track of my characters as they show themselves. I can't say I have one specific way that works - it's all dependent upon the story, the characters themselves, and their purposes in the story. But there are a few general things I can share. I guess you can say that they fall into a 'profile' for them?

I'm not an artist, so I tend to rely on images I can find online for 'face claims' for characters. If I have a really good idea of what they look like, and most time I do from the beginning, or nearly the beginning, I try to find an image that is as close as possible to represent them. I am a very visual person - I need to see them to be able to write them. So some sort of facial image - a photograph, artwork, etc. - always helps

Many of my notes end up in notebooks - mostly handwritten, though I do use Word and OneNote to help organize different things about my stories, too. I usually go handwritten at first - something as simple as scraps of paper, a stack of post it notes, even an old college notebook that barely has any pages left. If it's a character I know will be a biggie in my story, or my main character, I'll invest in a new/unused notebook for them. Some are fancier than others (depending on my mood and finances at the time), but all contain descriptions of the character, little snippets of dialogue I've thought of for them, notes about their plots, character development exercises so I get a better feel for them, notes about their background/family, ideas for their character development I don't want to forget to put into the story, etc.

I mentioned 'character development exercises' - but that's just a fancy way of saying 'ideas about how they progress from the beginning to the end of the story'. Events in their life. Problems they have. Death, sickness, drama, etc. Interaction with certain characters. Sometimes I start noodling out bits and pieces of their interaction well before I've even got a plot sorted out for them, and I don't want to forget that, so I write it down. Again, in notebooks, or sometimes in Word, because typing happens almost at the speed of thought, right?

So, basically, anything and everything I know about my characters ends up in a 'notebook' or 'document' and 'file' somewhere at some point. It all sounds a lot more organized than it really is, but it helps.

As for knowing a character before I start? Most of the time, I do know them, at least well enough to have a good grasp of how they speak, react in certain situations, etc. That works really well when I get the idea for a character first.

Other times, I start with pretty much a blank page and just write. In these instances, it's the idea of the story that hits me hardest, and I have to start writing it down to see what characters want to get involved. It's more of a challenge, especially for someone like me who is more visual inclined, but it works well enough the few times I've tried it. This is kind of what happened when I started writing my Robyn's Hoode story. I mean, we all know who the major characters are, but it begins with a battle up in Northern England/Southern Scotland involving two minor characters for whom I had a very vague idea - Robin's father, Marian's father - and that's it. By the end of that chapter, I had a much better idea of who they are (even if one doesn't survive).

(example below the cut because this got long)

To the east, lying against one of the outer walls of the castle of Alnwick, Gilbert spotted him. Or, rather, spotted the standard raised above. Several bodies blocked the rest from view, one on bended knee, but all hovered in a semi-circle around what could only be a body. Hugh’s body. Lips tightening into a thin line, Gilbert pressed onward. Refusing to see to it personally would not change the grimness of the outcome, no matter how much he wished it.

Purpose and authority marked every step, and those gathered soon parted, making way for the lord of Loxley. His eyes dropped immediately, and for once in his life, Gilbert cursed himself, wishing he was wrong. Hints of crimson bled through plates of mail on his chest, and dribbled down Hugh's cheek and chin like a burbling babe’s drool. Inevitability and acceptance shone clear in familiar green eyes, and Gilbert knew without a doubt it wasn't meant to be.

Dropping to a knee beside the litter, he reached out a hand, bracing it against Hugh’s shoulder. “You had to go and split our forces,” he murmured with a hint of humor despite the severity of the situation.

Hugh, eyes slowly finding the blue of his friend’s, coughed out a laugh, ignoring the fresh spurt of liquid staining his lips. “You… you know me, my… my lord,” he rasped through labored breaths.

Gilbert’s hand tightened over the armor. “That I do, my friend,” he replied. For years, Gilbert relied on Hugh’s battle savvy tactics when taking to the field. Most times it the outcomes were successful, leaving he and his men relatively unscathed. Hugh was a natural when it came to tactics, and Gilbert could honestly say he had learned quite a bit from him over the years.

“M-my… lord…?”

Hugh’s eyes closed tightly as he struggled to speak. Death was stalking him, and surely wouldn’t be long in arriving. “What is it?”

“Will… Mari…”

Gilbert sighed heavily. Moving his hand from Hugh’s shoulder, he took his friend’s hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “Your children will be safe,” he promised without hesitation.

“T-take them?”

Hugh’s eyes opened, finding his, but Gilbert didn't miss the clouds now present. “God and King Henry approving,” he replied, “I will make them my wards. Your lands, your children, your legacy. They will live on. Fear not on that account, my friend.”

Hugh struggled to inhale, what air he could take in rattled alarmingly. His lips moved as he struggled to speak, mostly likely his final words… but nothing save one long, drawn out, exhale of breath escaped.

Gilbert remained as he was for a long, expectant moment, but when Hugh’s chest no longer rose and fell, he understood. “God go with you, my friend,” he murmured, gently settling Hugh’s hand over his chest, the hilt of his sword loosely in his grasp. Rest in peace, my friend, and watch over us who remain.

Pushing himself to his feet, Gilbert searched around the area for Roger. He stood nearby, out of the way of those gathered around Hugh. Nodding to the lad to gain his attention, he walked over to join him. “Help with the arrangements for Sir Hugh's body to be returned to my estates,” he said. Searching the area again, he asked, “Where is my horse?”

“This way, my lord,” Roger replied, guiding him down to the left and in the direction from which they’d come. “My lord…?”

Finding his steed, Gilbert accepted the reins and pulled himself up into the saddle with assistance. Several others, mostly of his retinue of bodyguards headed to assist with Hugh formed up nearby. “I will meet you there, Roger. I have a stop to make on the way home.”

In this instance, the only thing I knew about Gilbert when I started writing was that he is Robert of Loxley's father and that he and Hugh FitzWalter were good friends. Also, that Hugh was one of his knights. For Hugh, I knew even less. Eye color is the only thing that I really got for him - and still have, for that matter, all these years later. However, seeing as Hugh doesn't survive, I felt comfortable enough to at least draft out this chapter.

But, like I said, every story, every character is different. Ideas can be triggered by a picture, a song, a word, a certain piece of food, a scent, a part of a dream - it really doesn't take much with my muses! lol

[alixanonymous]

How A Demon Commissions An Angel ~ A Daminette FanFic ~ Chapter 4: A Plan In Progress

From: DoWhatISay@email.com

To: Marinette.D.C.@email.com

Date: November 3, 2021 5:00 P.M.

Subject: I Accept Your Terms

Dear Ms. Dupain-Cheng,

I do not delude myself into thinking we will be able to magically solve each other’s problems but it does seem as though we both lack certain qualities the other does not. If you’re offering the chance for me to stay where I am, I would be a fool not to take it and I am not a fool. If I can also help fix your unfortunate situation, I will do so. 

Let me know where we go from here.

- Damian W.

From the phone of Marinette Dupain-Cheng:

The Ladyblog 

A Retraction Of An Earlier Article Nov 4 2021 

I’ve decided to take down an earlier article entitled “MDC Stole My Best Friend’s Designs!” following contact from the legal team of Jagged Stone. It was wrong of me to make accusations without proof and I will endeavor to provide evidence to back any claims I make on this blog in the future.

- Alya Cesaire, Creator of the Ladyblog

Chat Name: Aunt Penny

Aunt Penny: Are you sure you don’t want us to pursue any further action Marinette? That statement hardly seemed sincere and was not nearly sufficient considering all she’s claimed. We can help you know.

Me: It’s fine Aunt Penny. Anything else wouldn’t be worth the trouble. It’s not her fault anyway.

Aunt Penny: You know I don’t agree with that but okay, if you’re sure. Just remember the lawsuits have already been drafted.

Aunt Penny: By the way, Jagged’s suit was a real hit at the charity dinner. Not that we ever had a doubt. Have you been thinking about creating a new website?

Me: That’s great to hear. I’ll think about it, okay?

Aunt Penny: That’s good.

Chat Name: Alya

Alya: Girl, I know what you’re thinking but just because I had to post that statement doesn’t mean Lila’s lying. She just can’t release any proof because she wants to do the right thing and keep MDC’s identity a secret. She’s being the bigger person!

Me: She always is.

Alya: Don’t be like that! Please Marinette. Stop letting your jealousy cloud your judgement.

Chat Name: Uncle Jagged

Uncle Jagged: Pens told me that you dont want to sue i get it, lawsuits are totally not rock n’ roll but feeding that liar and her friends to fang is always an option!!!

Me: No, Uncle Jagged.

Uncle Jagged: fine…

Uncle Jagged: i got so much applause for your suit at the stuffy dinner btw.

Uncle Jagged: of course I told them all that my talented young niece made it.

Uncle Jagged: even had a billionaire’s son begging for a referral but dont worry i turned him down for you 

Me: What?! Why?!

Uncle Jagged: trust me, Mari, he was totally not rock n’ roll. not rock n’ roll at all! just rude

Chat Name: Adrien

Adrien: Hey Marinette, did you see the apology on the Ladyblog?

Me: You mean the retraction?

Adrien: Well, yes. 

Adrien: Look, Marinette, you’re not going to do anything else right? She took it down.

Me: She took it down because “she had no proof” not because she knows Lila lied. She’s still convinced even after Jagged’s legal team got involved although we both know the truth.

Adrien: I'm sorry.

Adrien: Even my father feels bad, he knows how much rumors like that could damage an artist’s reputation especially without proof.

Adrien: But he’s still convinced Lila’s someone I need to associate with and if you try to expose her again it’s going to be like every other time and I don’t want things to get worse for you.

Adrien: I’m sorry Mari.

Adrien: I just can’t help you while my father’s still on her side.

Google Search History: 

Gotham Charity Dinner 2021 Photos

Patricide but for uncles

What is it called when someone kills their uncle?

How to know if a friendship is toxic

From:Marinette.D.C.@email.com

To:DoWhatISay@email.com

Date:November 5, 2021  5:05 P.M.

Subject: The Plan

Hey Damian!

Sorry for the delay in responding. I don’t know if you saw but MDC had a bit of a problem to deal with yesterday. So here’s how I see it. Our plan has two parts: the commission for your brothers and then us trying to help each other out with our people problems.

For the commission: You already gave me the measurements which I’m trusting are up to standard since I’m not flying to America any time soon. Next I need to know exactly what you want me to make for each of your brothers: Grayson, Todd, and Drake, the measurements say are their names right? Then I need to know who you think wants a sweater and who wants a jacket and your ideas for the design. I’ll draw up some designs based on the information and send them to you for approval with an estimate of the cost. (Normally I’d also send a non-disclosure agreement beforehand too but considering how this all started I’m guessing you’re not going to give me your real name for the paperwork, are you?) After they’re approved I’ll need you to deposit half the sum in my account (Information attached) and I’ll use it to buy the materials.

If I can get all of this done in the next week or so, it should leave me about a month to finish the pieces before sending them out (An address will not be optional fyi). Sounds good??

For the other part of our plan: the way I could see it going is when one of us has a problem we could use the other person for sort of a different perspective. It’s like in those cartoons when the character has those two little people on their shoulders, do you know what I’m talking about? One’s good, the other’s bad and they’re both telling the person to do different things. Not that you’re bad I mean and not that I just assumed that of the two of us you’d be the bad one…  I’m not saying any of this right. I just mean it like I said before, I could learn a thing or time from someone who isn’t too concerned with pleasing everybody. (I didn’t mean that as an insult by the way. I actually find it kind of admirable.)

So, here’s an example of a situation I could use your opinion on: today I started to wonder if one of my friendships is no longer healthy anymore. I have this friend who is the only other person in our class that knows Lila’s lying. At first he convinced me that her lies weren’t hurting anybody and that as long as we both knew the truth then it didn’t matter what anybody else thought. Eventually, we both realized that that was no longer the case when she almost got me expelled, but by then she had convinced his father that I was a bad influence on him. So now he’s forced to play nice and keep her happy to please his father.

It’s hard because even though I know he knows she’s lying, he can’t tell anyone else so no one believes me when I try to tell them. Now she’s made good on her promise to turn everyone against me and so I have to deal with all her antics by myself while she stands by his side with the rest of the class. I know he’s in a bad position but it still doesn’t make me feel better when he texts me asking if I’m okay after  something happens while at the same time whenever we’re with other people, he keeps his distance so she doesn’t report him to his father.

I guess I’m just tired of trying to make him feel better all the time. However, whenever I think about ending our friendship, I feel guilty because it’s really not his fault. His father wouldn’t hesitate to pull him from school and then we couldn’t be friends anyway. I feel like a good friend would stick by his side. I don’t know. What do you think, Damian? 

I guess that’s just how I see this going then. I rant about whatever I’m having to deal with and you tell me if you agree with how I’m handling it and vice versa. You mention some type of incident with a classmate right? Do you want an outside opinion of that or has your family’s sufficed? Or is there anything else you could use some advice on? I guess we’re just making this up as we go. I mean I suppose there aren’t any rules about relationships that started with one person trying to blackmail the other, right? :P

Hope to hear from you soon! Love,

Marinette

P.S. If this is going to work, you can’t just ignore me when I call you out on being (for lack of a better word) snobbish, Mr. Postscript.

Hello, it’s me again. I just spent like an hour working on chapter nine so my headache’s making itself know again but I wanted to at least post a chapter today. Thank you to anyone who’s been reblogging, liking, or replying to these! It makes the unenjoyable task of reposting worth it! More chapters soon!

Master List

[vapaus-ystavyys-tasaarvo]

On Sad Loudhailer Guy from the 2012 movie

So apparently there’s an old post about this guy doing the rounds now where people try to defend him because... he looks sad?

The original poster’s blog has unfortunately been deactivated and Tumblr seems to be glitching out when I try to reblog it indirectly for some reason so I’m just gonna make my own post. Here’s a link to a reblog of the original. I’m responding more to the OP than that reblog but like I said, the original url is deactivated so I can’t even link to it.

Okay, this portrayal is obviously unique to the 2012 movie so I'm not going to bother talking about his counterparts in the Brick, in the stage musical or in real life. Also I have nothing against Hadley Fraser, all I know about him is that he was a pretty good Grantaire in the 25th anniversary concert.

That said, here are my issues with this post:

1) If you don't like watching children being murdered, DON'T MURDER CHILDREN.

Seriously, who's forcing him to kill Gavroche? And even if there was a gun to his head, saying he must kill this literal child, he still shouldn't kill a literal child. But there wasn’t and this was 100% unnecessary. He made that choice. He could have told his men to hold their fire or even just given a few warning shots and left it at that.

The post seems to imply that Gavroche just had to be killed, which... yikes.

2) If he's so upset about having to kill the students, why didn't he take Enjolras and Grantaire as prisoners?

They were unarmed captives, there was absolutely no reason to execute them. They should have been arrested and given a trial.

National Guards killing their prisoners IS historically accurate but they didn't do it because they were ordered to, they did it for revenge and for fun. Infantry officers, who were apparently less bloodthirsty, had to stop them from killing all of the prisoners at Saint-Merry.

3) The fall of the barricade wasn’t inevitable from the start.

There was literally no way this guy could have known for sure that the revolution would fail. There was nothing inevitable about it when Sad Loudhailer Guy first arrived at the barricade. It had literally just started! If this guy didn't want the revolutionaries to be killed, he didn't have to actively fight to destroy their chances. He didn’t just show up when the fight was nearly over and there was nothing he could do, he was right there fighting them from the beginning!

There were officers in real life who did actually negotiate with the insurgents and did in fact leave them alone at least in the beginning of the insurrection, just to wait and see. As far as I know they weren’t even punished for this.

He could have even, you know, defected and joined the insurgents if he really admired them so much. Several national guards did do that! But this guy chose his side. He isn't willing to die fighting for the republic but he sure is willing to risk his life fighting for the king, apparently!

4) Are you SURE about that firing squad bit, though?

So I can't say I know exactly what would happen to a National Guard officer who refused to follow orders. But based on what I DO know I find the idea that they'd just be straight up executed for that really unlikely.

The National Guard was a citizen militia, technically including all male citizens between 20 and 60 years old but most of the population would in fact be part of the reserve. Those drafted to active service were mostly wealthy middle-class men who had the leisure time to participate and the means to equip themselves. Refusing to serve would result in a few days in jail – which isn't great, don't get me wrong, but it's actually a lot less than you'd get for dodging the draft right now in my home country for example.

The National Guard was also known for being a decisive force in revolutions, losing their support would be horrible news to a government. So I feel like executing them for simply failing to follow an order would probably be a baaad political move from the king.

I also really feel like with the decent amount of research I've done concerning the aftermath of the June Uprising, I should have run into at least SOME accounts of this happening if it really was the case. And I've seen nothing. Maybe I just haven't done enough research but I'd definitely like to have a source on execution being a real threat (just for refusing to slaughter your own countrymen!) before leaping to conclusions.

I mean unless you just prefer to decide that the 2012 movie takes place in an alternate universe where this was the case, just so you can feel bad for this guy... well have at it, but that's YOUR headcanon and you don't get to shame people for justifiably hating a child murderer.

Also I'd hope that by now we knew better than to repeat the "just following orders" rhetoric.

Yes, people who do terrible things are people too. That doesn’t make them less terrible. And yes, I like having moral greyness in my fiction too. It’s okay to appreciate a morally grey character without having to justify it by “proving” that said character is actually a good person. It’s okay to have problematic faves.

TL;DR: Sad Loudhailer Guy wasn’t some kind of victim of circumstances. He had a choice and he chose to participate in repressing the uprising and to shoot a child and to kill unarmed prisoners. Nobody forced him to do those things. It doesn’t matter how he felt about it, actions matter more than feelings.

Sorry about the salt, my patience for these kind of arguments is just entirely spent at this point.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing Prompts Day 1

From this prompt list. I set a goal of writing at least 150 words per day in 2024, which sounds pretty pathetic but if you take into account the fact that I haven't written any fiction since 2019 it felt like a feasible target. Anyway I've finished the first draft (it topped out at 88k words) and will be unlocking each post as I edit.

***

"So how do you want me to fuck you?"

***

Tim was crawling under the bed in his old room in the Manor, looking for an external hard drive he'd misplaced ages ago, when the door slammed open and then slammed shut again with just as much vigor. He nearly hit his head on the bedframe, but managed to keep that much dignity before slowly rising to his feet.

"Damian?" It had been a long time since they were at each others' throats as a matter of course, but the instinct to view Damian with caution remained. Admittedly, that was due to other reasons now rather than out of fear for his life.

Damian nodded at him in acknowledgement, eyebrows furrowed. "Drake."

Tim stepped closer as he realized that what he'd first interpreted as anger (teeth gritted, muscle jumping at the hinge of Damian’s jaw, redness crawling up his neck and into his cheeks) looked like a different emotion altogether. He hadn't recognized it at first because Damian so rarely allowed himself to appear embarrassed. "What's wrong?"

"I—I require something of you." Tim gave him a dubious look in automatic offense, and Damian hastily changed tactics. "I request something of you. I have a burden which must be shed and I believe you are an tolerable associate to help me do so."

Tim moved closer still, enough to reach out and touch Damian, except that the other's clear wariness kept him from making any sort of gesture. "Sure, you know I'm happy to assist.” A lie, but a useful one until the truth needed to be spoken. “What's the problem?"

Damian squared his shoulders and fixed his gaze somewhere over Tim's left shoulder. "I have yet to engage in sexual relations with anyone. I am asking you to take care of the problem."

Tim froze. He didn't kid himself that he'd heard wrong, because his brain couldn't have come up with a more inconceivable combination of words no matter what the circumstances. His initial, inconsequential response was to think, Well, that's several suspicions I had confirmed, in one fell swoop.

This might explain some stuff. Damian had been acting weird for a few weeks now.

First came the drone. Or rather, Damian dropping the drone in front of Tim’s face onto the desk where Tim was working in the Cave.

“May I help you?” Tim had drawled, not that he actually wanted to.

“I would like to request your expertise.”

Tim had whipped his head around to stare at Damian in shock. “You. You what?”

Damian must have known how bizarre it was for him to ask for any help whatsoever from one of his least favorite people, but he met Tim’s gaze with nothing but defiance on his face. “I would appreciate your help in repairing the broken traces on a circuit board in this drone. I could do it, of course, but I have other demands on my time.”

Tim, stunned into wordless compliance, had pulled the drone closer and given him a nod. Damian nodded back in acknowledgement, turned on his heel, and left without further ado.

So that had been strange.

But then came the weapons smuggling case.

It was unusual for Jason to ask for assistance from any of them with his cases. Damian seemed an odd choice for helper as well, although the two shared a great deal of experiences, if at disparate times. Still, Tim hadn't thought about it much until Damian sent him a folder of crime scene photos from a recent weapons deal gone wrong, along with notes on the leads he'd found.

The accompanying message had read, Your help in examining the scene for further clues would be useful.

Intrigue didn't prevent Tim from texting Jason to be sure the request had actually come from Damian. It was weird enough to be suspect. But when he got confirmation, the case had instantly sucked him in. It was a multi-pronged operation with both northern and southern arteries, its heart in Gotham, and exactly the sort of conundrum guaranteed to get Tim’s full attention.

This current situation was definitely a step up on the Damian Weirdness Scale.

Tim’s heart seemed to have split itself into multiple pieces and was now pulsing madly in his throat, his ears, his palms. His dick, too, because God forbid he make anything easy on himself. 

Damian must have interpreted his shock as a desire to be persuaded, because he continued at a rate of speed that suggested the words were being forcibly shoved through his teeth. "It's rapidly becoming a liability. I don't want to go pick someone up anonymously when Father will almost certainly find out, because he manages to find out everything humiliating. Anyone else whom I might consider is currently partnered in a monogamous relationship. You are unattached at the moment—unless you have been keeping the truth a secret even my detective skills are unable to uncover, which is of course impossible. And judging by some indiscreet things your former partners have said in the past, you are at least moderately competent in these matters. You are a logical choice for my sexual denouement." He darted a sideways glance at Tim's face, and just as quickly redirected his gaze out the window as his cheeks blazed a darker shade of crimson. "I would consider it a satisfactory training exercise if you were my sparring partner."

"What kind of sex are you picturing exactly where I'm your sparring partner?!" Tim demanded before he could think better of it, then shook the resulting images away from his brain and started over. It would be irresponsible to ignore all the signs that Damian was highly uncomfortable, the red flags ranging from defensive anger to having foregone contractions. "Damian, I'm flattered, but—you're only twenty. What do you mean, a liability? It's not that big of a deal. It's not like you're being sent on honeypot missions, right? Please say no." Damian wordlessly shook his head. "Okay, so . . . what's the rush?"

At that, Damian met his gaze with sheer fury. "The rush is that I want to. Now are you going to help me, or not?"

Tim glared back, an answering surge of rage coming to his sanity’s rescue. Of all the people to actually consider fucking, Damian had to be one of the worst prospects. He'd probably stab Tim if he felt like his technique wasn't up to par. “Absolutely the fuck not. Now get out of my way.”

And he stalked out, hoping that Bruce hadn't replaced the bugs in the hallway lately.

***

After making his demands, Damian retreated into ignoring Tim when at all possible and speaking like Mr. Darcy but with a bigger stick up his ass when it wasn’t. It made things kind of weird with the single case they shared, but Tim decided it was a relief to have everything else back to normal.

The problem was, now he was noticing Damian.

He seemed to have settled into his adult height, having outstripped Tim a good five inches ago. (No, Tim wasn’t bitter. At all.) His newly broad frame boasted muscles nearly as thick as Jason's but lithe and flexible as Dick’s. And those eyes. It would’ve been hard for anyone attracted to men not to notice, but somehow Tim had managed until Damian forcibly brought the matter to his attention.

He was trying not to stare at Damian changing the tires on his motorcycle one night after patrol when his desk chair spun in place with a sudden well-placed kick from Stephanie. He put his feet down in time to face her scowl. 

“Oh my God, Tim, are you listening to a single word I’m saying?” she demanded.

“No,” he replied without thinking, then ran the past several minutes back and amended, “Sort of. When did Babs want to have us over for movie night?”

Appeased, Stephanie started to reiterate the plan. Behind her, Damian’s face relaxed into an almost-smile as Alfred the cat hopped on his lap and yowled plaintively. 

“How did you get down here?” he asked, soft-voiced, caressing Alfred’s head. The cat started purring loudly enough for Tim to hear from his seat. “And don’t bother complaining to me. You’ve got plenty of food, where it’s supposed to be.”

Tim swallowed, watching Damian’s hand move down Alfred’s spine, gentle as always when it came to his pets.

“Seriously.” He jerked his gaze back to Stephanie to see her rolling her eyes. “You’re obviously exhausted. Please go home and get some sleep so we can have a conversation.”

“Uh-huh.” She started toward the showers, and he called, “Sorry!” after her because that had been an asshole move, even though he hadn’t meant to do it.

Involuntarily, Tim looked at Damian again, only this time Damian looked straight back. Bruce was gone on Justice League business, so it was just the two of them now.

They stared at each other in silence for a minute, then Tim found his words. “Come here.”

To his surprise, Damian actually rose to his feet and approached, though he stopped a good three feet away. His face was blank, but his fingers tightened into fists against his thighs.

Tim gulped against a sudden dryness in his mouth because it had been a while and the baby had grown up really fucking hot. He idly wondered what it would be like to grab those wide shoulders and pull him close. Fortunately his voice came out unruffled, even though it sounded far away. “I’ve been thinking. Since the last time we talked. Do you still want me to . . . to do what you said?” “Yes,” Damian said, almost before he finished speaking. His back had straightened to military attention.

“Okay.” Tim stood up and rubbed suddenly damp palms down his thighs, ignoring the fact that his costume was designed to repel wetness so it wasn't really an effective gesture. At least it spread the sweat out a little. “Why don’t you give me a head start and then come over to the Nest tonight? Unless you’re too tired.”

Damian gave him a jerky nod, a single bounce on his toes giving away his nerves. “That would be fine.”

“Great.” Tim had to resist the urge to wave or something equally dorky. “Uh. Yeah. See you there.” He turned on his heel and retreated as fast as he could without breaking into a run.

True to his word, Damian gave Tim plenty of time to shower, head home, and eat before he knocked at his front door like a civilized human being. When he swung the door open, Tim spotted telltale wetness around the edges of his hair that meant Damian had showered before coming over, too.

"Come in," he invited, then shut the door and re-armed the security system while Damian kicked off his shoes. "You hungry? Thirsty?"

Damian scoffed. "I see no reason to delay the main event with meaningless niceties."

Tim rolled his eyes as he started to lead the way to his bedroom. "Don't be a brat. I prefer to at least display a modicum of social skills with my partners. Courtesy begins outside the bedroom, and should extend into it too."

"Spare me the lecture. I'm here for a physical act, not instruction in other types of human relations."

Tim spun to face him at the bedroom door, extending his arm to block it when Damian would have continued past him. He narrowed his eyes and jabbed Damian in the chest with his other hand, ignoring his look of outrage. "Excuse me. This is part of the physical act for me. I'm sure lots of people are different, but I can't enjoy getting naked unless I know I'm with someone who bothers showing me the bare minimum of respect when we're both fully dressed. Is that gonna be you, or am I kicking you out now so I can get some of the sleep I need way more than I need sex?"

Damian hesitated, and Tim tried to look bored with the delay. Finally, Damian swallowed, hard enough for his Adam's apple to bob visibly, and dropped his gaze. "I apologize. I recognize that you're doing me a favor. I’m uncertain of my skill set in this arena."

Tim allowed his surprise to show on his face. "Thanks. For being honest with me, I mean." That much wasn't easy for anyone in the family. Damian really had been growing up, in more ways than one.

Damian nodded in acknowledgement. Tim let his arm drop, and Damian walked past him into the bedroom, sitting at the foot of the unmade bed with his legs close together, hands folded. Tim closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked the windows too, just in case anyone got the bright idea to drop in uninvited. Turning back, he saw Damian hadn't moved an inch, but was watching Tim with singleminded focus.

Something needy and grasping lurched in the pit of his stomach. He shoved it away, and immediately felt guilty he had to do so when Damian's hands tightened on each other till the knuckles went pale.

"Hey." He knelt at Damian's feet, put his hands over where Damian's were knotted together. "You wanna stop now? If you're having second thoughts—"

Damian flipped his hands, quick as thought, and held Tim's in a loose grip. "I am not. I simply do not know what to do. In my minimal previous experience, we engaged in the precursors to this sort of activity without any previous discussion or planning, so this type of interaction is outside the scope of my experience."

Tim folded his lips in tight, considering. It was hard not to overthink this, to ask all the questions whirling in his head that he just couldn't help having, but none of the answers were things he was entitled to know. Damian had asked for a favor, and no matter what standards Tim had for courtesy, he was no stranger to casual hook-ups. This was a transaction between acquaintances. Coworkers? Sort-of friends. 

"Okay. Let's start with this, then. What are you already comfortable with? What have you done before that you liked?" He shrugged. "How do you want me to fuck you? That's figurative 'fuck,' by the way, penetration isn't necessary for sex to happen."

"I know that." Damian gave him a withering glare, but his heart clearly wasn't in it. "I enjoyed kissing. Both on the mouth and elsewhere. I enjoyed being touched anywhere that isn't ticklish, like the bottoms of my feet. I enjoyed frottage. I haven't done much more besides."

Tim tried not to sound as incredibly turned on as he was at the moment and likely failed miserably. "Anything you didn't like?" God, the mental image of Damian grinding against someone—probably Jon but who knew—until he came was enough to make him lightheaded. 

"I am not comfortable . . . being penetrated." The color in his face was bright enough to glow in the dark at this, but he pressed on. "Either by myself or anyone else. Anything else, for that matter." His lashes lowered as he stared at Tim's hands, still laid quiescent under his own. "If you change your mind, knowing that, I will understand."

Tim freed his hands so he could rub Damian's thighs, watching closely for any reaction. The pulse point in his neck beat a little faster, and his pupils dilated a bit, but those both seemed positive. "Not at all. There's a lot left on the menu if that's the only no you have. Of course, you'll probably find out you have other limits as you try more stuff, but we'll keep it basic tonight. Are you okay with doing the penetrating? Or trying it out?"

Damian nodded, fast and eager. "I would be willing to try."

Tim suppressed his smile, in case Damian thought he was laughing at him. Honestly, that was pretty cute. Not a term he was used to applying to Damian, but this night was already full of surprises so why not one more? "We can try, then. How's your stamina?"

One big shoulder jerked up. "Typical for one of my experience and age."

So probably about five minutes, max. "No worries. That just means your recovery time is great, too." Tim slid his hands up again, and this time skimmed one higher so he was palming Damian's obvious erection. It felt like he'd grown up proportionate everywhere, which was nice. “What about condoms? It’s been more than six months for me and we both have Bruce’s health screenings to deal with so . . . is it okay if we go without?” 

Damian shrugged with obviously faked casualness. “I don’t believe anything could get past Father’s tests. It’s all right with me.”

“Great.” Tim fiddled with his pants button. "Why don't I blow you so we can make you come right away, and then we can work our way up to the rest?"

Damian's voice came out breathy. "That would be acceptable."

Tim couldn't keep himself from giving him a Robin grin, sharp edged and cocky, as he opened Damian’s pants and pulled them and his underwear out of the way. Damian's eyes widened with shock as Tim closed his fingers around his dick. Uncut and thick and fucking gorgeous, already dark with arousal. Tim's mouth was watering at the thought of sucking it. "Let's see if we can get this whole thing a little bit past acceptable."

day two here

[aelaer]

[1/2] Now this is an actual ask as in asking for help. 👀 I have a problem with Steve and Tony. I spent too much time too early on reading anti/not-friendly post-CW fics about 'Team Cap', and because of that I have been unable to see Tony as a flawed human or Steve as a good person. It's a pattern I've become too familiar with, and even recent stories are often going into that sense. I have been trying for some time now to do something about it, but either the method was bad, or I couldn't

(I tagged a couple people in this post – if you were tagged, the question directed to you is wayyyy at the bottom! Feel free to ignore of course.)

You really hit me with a doozy with this ask. I might offend someone for not thinking the exact same way as them with… everything this topic entails… Steve, Tony, anti-fics. Followers from last year know what happened last time I talked about poor and OOC characterization in fanfic, lmao. Beware The Easily Offended! This Is A Critical Thinking Of Your Hobby Zone! I Am Being Critical Of Specific Types of MCU Fanfic!

Please don’t click the read more button if you can’t handle an opinion that might not match yours. Really. I’m fine with discussing different opinions in a mature manner but if you have issues with people saying they don’t like a specific type of plot, this post is not for you. (The read more button doesn’t appear on the original post for followers using the mobile app, but it works on desktop and in all reblogs. If you don’t see a cut and don’t want to read, just skip it, please).

Yeah. Okay. Moving on. Can’t say folks weren’t warned.

I’ve had this in my drafts for several weeks because of the abuse I got the last time I wrote something critical about certain plot points used in fanfic. I was definitely a bit reluctant to look at this specific topic from an analytical and critical look as I remembered that, but hey, it’s really easy for a coward to use a sockpuppet account and throw abuse. It’s harder to be a minority voice with stark opinions contrasting the popular trend. I’m okay with having a minority opinion amongst the MCU fandom.

(PS - you’re welcome to disagree with my opinions, so long as you’re respectful about it. Remember there are individuals behind the screens!)

Concerning Character Flaws

So the thing about really well-written characters is that they are flawed in some manner. Anyone who thinks Tony or Steve exist without flaws – and I mean real flaws, like arrogance, believing they’re always right, short tempers, and other *real* character flaws that both of these characters have – well, if they don’t think they exist with these flaws, how well do they know the character?

You don’t have to know a character well to be a fan of said character – there’s no rules about that – but if you’re going to write fanfic, and that fanfic entails the character you love against a character you don’t particularly like, I’d say any writer looking to do anything resembling a good job would do their due diligence in figuring out the strengths and weaknesses of both characters before writing the characters themselves. These mental lists of characteristics should be equal for both characters. No, “good abs” is not a character strength if you have no physical aspects in the other character strength column. You don’t have to like a character to still write them well.

Even professionals don’t follow this rule when, say, shows get new writers or comics get different writers, so you might consider me silly expecting those dabbling in fan fiction. But yeah, if an author wants me to take a story seriously as something with quality, I expect the characters to resemble themselves in some manner.

(This level of resemblance varies when you purposefully choose for the protagonist to be evil, be in a completely different time period, etc, but authors who do this *well* still get core personality traits solid, even if morality is out the window or the profession is entirely different. I have a lot of examples from the Sherlock fandom of total AUs that pull this off well – haven’t read nearly enough AUs in the MCU to have a good collection here).

But a resemblance of character, of capturing the three-dimensionality of a character, is what anti-fics simply fail to achieve. The characters they’re anti against usually suffer cases of Flanderization, if they’re not completely out of character altogether in showing traits that were never displayed in the canon, ever. I don’t know why anyone would be interested in such stories, myself, and remain baffled at their popularity. Is there some sort of enjoyment in seeing such a 2D rendition of a character in what is otherwise meant as a serious work and provides absolutely no sense of proper conflict between two characters? Not for me; it immediately takes me out of the story and when it gets too much, I abandon the story. It’s just not enjoyable for me. Turning a canon protagonist into a strawman is just lazy writing and offers nothing to the writer’s favorite, preferred character.

Concerning Steve’s and Tony’s Flaws

Every real human being has some sort of personality flaw that is decidedly unattractive. Some people are really good at showing it very rarely (and are some of the best human beings), but with these two characters we see them at their greatest heights and lowest of lows. Ironically, they actually share a lot of the same flaws, but display them in different manners in canon:

Both men believe they are the best man for the job and will do it without consulting someone who could actually fight against it - or go completely against them. Tony with Ultron is the easy example here. He’s the smartest man in the world and can tackle the issue of protecting it on its own. Steve, same issue, and his job is “helping Bucky”. *He’s* the one who can handle Bucky, the only one who can handle him - big thing in both WS and CW. If both of them had utilized their friends and allies a lot more, a lot of issues could have been avoided.

Both men are sometimes hypocritical. Steve promotes teamwork in all his speeches but again with the Bucky situation. Just… everything Bucky, man. Tony signs the Accords and immediately goes against them with what he gives to Peter, who most assuredly did not sign them (tangent: if he HAD joined the Avengers at the end of Homecoming, I have no idea how that would have gone since Peter would have had to reveal his identity to the UN and then there’s the whole ‘still a minor’ thing, and yeah, Homecoming’s end scene just makes me go nuts). But anyway, their occasional hypocrisy is one of the most realistic aspects of them because most human beings are hypocritical sometimes.

Both men are sometimes arrogant. Tony’s self-explanatory with his genius-playboy-philanthropist-billionaire. One thing he does not suffer from is low self-esteem in regards to his abilities. His arrogance comes from his genius. Steve’s arrogance lies more in his deep-seeded belief that he is on the moral high ground – and one reason I think a lot of people dislike him so much, because moral superiority is very much a faux pas in this day and age for some millennials and many Gen Z folk. He has a very, very solid sense of what is right and what is wrong, and that rubs some folks the wrong way. Tony is more morally fluid – but he is not by any means immoral.

Both of them have a really solid list of strengths as well. As this ask specifically is looking to find the good in Steve, I specifically Googled pro-Steve articles for you to click at your leisure (and one with both). If you need to go back to canon, I highly recommend rewatching The First Avenger and The Winter Soldier, which introduces Steve brilliantly and then lets Steve grow further in the second film.

(Note: I actually prefer Tony to Steve in terms of personal favoritism, but how a very loud segment of Tony fans have treated other characters has led me to be more vocal about the strengths of others, especially Steve and Wanda. So Tony might be in my top 5, but mean-spirited Tony fans have moved me to be a champion of other characters, if only to show other fans that there are indeed Tony fans that do like the other characters and treat them – and their fans – with respect).

Bringing Balance (to the Universe…) Fanfic-Style

This addresses the second part of your ask in regards to the fanfics. And this is where I started running into trouble, too, mostly because, well, just how many Stephen and Steve fics are there? Yeah, exactly. Stephen’s my main guy. So I did some research, outsourcing, and reading.

Here’s two I knew of before cuz Stephen’s in them in some capacity:

Identity Theft by KitKat992 - it stars Peter and both Tony and Steve play integral parts from what I recall. Good story too, very engaging.

A Dysfunctional Senior Year (series) by ApolloLoki97 - this also stars Peter and has a large Team As Family aspect, so it shows the entire Avengers team as just decent people. My favorite part is naturally part 3 because Stephen comes in that one, haha.

And to find other stories, I went into the Anti-Accords tag. It was nice to find fics that didn’t have such a love of hypocritical authoritarianism. Aannyyyyway.

Making Sense of Chaos by SparkedtoLife - mind the tags. Seriously, it’s heavy duty. Yet another Peter fic because he’s way more popular than my favorite character, qq. Lots of Netflix Marvel characters too! Anyway, deals with not only Tony and Steve really well (and has a different dynamic with Tony that isn’t IronDad, so that was a nice change of pace), it also deals with the Accords situation very realistically. And none of those are even main plot points. If you can handle the very serious, sensitive subject that is the main plot point, I highly recommended it. It’s a very masterfully done work.

Atlas by nanasekei - Stony. Treats all characters with respect and both Tony and Steve as three-dimensional, flawed humans with some serious self doubts. Also highly agree with the author that Thaddeus Ross sucks and is basically one of the biggest people to blame for Everything Going To Shit.

Homecoming by an orphaned account - Some Stucky. This is a lovely one-shot of things I basically wanted to happen when the team got together again but didn’t. Sigggghhh. Everyone is definitely in character in this one, traumas and healing and all. And look, another person realizes that trusting Ross is a really horrible idea.

Locks Not Replaced by Riverdaughter - first this writer has a Tolkien-based username so yay. Anyway, the fic starts off by Tony realizing that he almost killed Steve during the fight with his repulsors, and it was only Bucky that stopped him. Do people seriously think he’d survive a shot to the face with that power? This is one reason the ‘Steve tried to kill Tony’ people piss me the fuck off. What do you think those repulsors shoot, fucking rainbows? Honestly, guys. Anyway, mini rant over. This fic is great. Author comes in with a Cap favoritism but treats Tony well, and honestly Tony turning a blind eye to everything and ignoring Ross is what I like to think happened in canon (he clearly dislikes the guy). And also I love the Robin Hood parallels. Love love love. I think this fic is my favorite of the ones listed in this section.

Meeting Your Heroes by Riverdaughter - naturally after reading that fic I went to explore more and found this gem. She’s not incorrect in saying Tony wasn’t a good mentor at the beginning - I think he had his own growth after Peter’s actions in Homecoming especially (though even through Homecoming he was trying, just… not always successfully lmao). Anyway love these two together. It’s great.

Photograph by slytherclaw420 - A scene we deserved in Endgame and didn’t get. Sigh. Definite IronDad feels here. Hopeful Steve, rebuilding of a friendship.

And uh, an honorable mention of sorts:

Balancing the Scales by MoonFire1 - I’m not recommending this fic for good characterization or plot. It really doesn’t have either. The fic was written in retaliation for the nasty Tony fans completely trashing Steve’s character. You should only read this if you want to see the argument from “the other side” and if you want to see an anti-Tony fic like you’ve seen anti-Steve fics. Don’t harass the author though. This is presented as a counterargument to anti-Steve fiction, for those interested to read the other sides arguments. I don’t like the nature of the fic, but I loathe that “not Steve friendly” has 30 fucking pages of works with tens of thousands of kudos, so one anti-Tony fic (with a comparatively small three pages under that tag) really doesn’t compare. Ugh. I hate the anti culture in this fandom so much. Loathe it. It’s such a nasty energy! Why would you indulge in such negativity? But as I’ve mentioned before, I appreciate authors aware enough to tag it so I can avoid it. I wish that part of fandom culture didn’t exist, but well, can’t change it. Just can criticize the fuck out of it on my blog. Maybe encourage people to think less one-sided in the process if I’m lucky.

But there’s probably more good characterization Steve fics to be found, so I am forcefully recruiting two people via tag:

If you’re looking to dabble into Stony fics with good-guy-Steve, if anyone would know of any, I’d imagine it’d be @babywarg.

You don’t know this person, but @cairistiona7 has actually known me the longest of anyone here on tumblr (half my life! HALF! She even knows my real name :P She betaed a LOTR work of mine a decade ago I ended up never fully publishing… thanks again for all your help there…). Anyway, she’s a big Bucky fan, and Bucky friendships is the best thing. So if anyone would know any wholesome Bucky and Steve stories, it’d be her. (Or really I’d take any of your recs, Cair, as I’ll probably enjoy them as well).

I hope this was helpful to you md, and that I didn’t piss off too many of my followers in the process of answering this lol.