#none of this is organized so I'm sorry if this is hard to read

[skrelpson]

Classic Skrelpson move: talk about something and then forget to elaborate on it

ANYWAY A lot of these ideas are like...well. ideas lol. So they might not be great/are contradictory you know you know

So there's two ways everything can be handled: it's just Deltora Quest but there is Pokemon also, OR a reformatting of the general story to be more in line with a Pokemon game. I don't know which one I like more, but seeing as how I'm just a tad more invested in Pokemon, I feel like I have more ideas for the latter so. uh. Reformatting the story to be more like the games is interesting, but I do feel like it detracts from some elements that were really cool in the original books!

(Just. so much text down below. Be careful)

Biggest change for that one: The gems are badges. You got the Topaz Badge, the Ruby Badge, Opal Badge, etc. Would they still have their magical properties? Yeagh. Basically, the idea is that way back when, the first king of Deltora went on a super cool Badge run and united all of the Region's people, taking their badges with their super cool properties. Radical. Then, in his honor, the Region set up Gyms and created a little ritual thing? Where young Trainers travel the Deltora Region in the king's footsteps, collecting mock Badges as a rite of passage. Their quest (hehe) ends back in Del, where they challenge the King to a battle. Doesn't matter if they win or lose, it's all about the symbolism I think. MAYBE there's an E4 (because I like the idea of former E4 Barda) But I have No Idea who the other members would be rn -_-

Anyway, The Shadow Lord takes over the castle, takes the original Badges and casts them throughout the land, while also just royally screwing up the Gyms. After this, the Gym Quest kind of peters out because like. The Region's going through an economic and physical depression.

I'm half tempted to rename the Shadow Lord's army to Team Shadow and the Resistance to Team Resistance but likeeeeee. Is that going too far I wonder ajgjdalhdfg

Anyway !! Here are notes for Gyms/Teams/Other fun world building bits !!

Topaz Badge - Forests of Silence - Gorl: Steel/Grass type! I'm thinking his Ace would be a Ferroseed. Also he is still a haunted suit of armor because I think it'd be funny. Probably took over the old Gym per the Shadow Lord's wishes

Ruby Badge - Lake of Tears - Soldeen: Maybe Water/Fairy? I think it'd be also funny if he was turned into a Gyarados too, then Lief challenges him to a match after the curse is lifted. His ace would be like. A Brionne?

Opal Badge - City of Rat(tata)s - Reeah: OKAY LISTEN. Instead of a massive snake. Reeah is a massive Seviper. When the City fell under, the former Gym Leader was killed, leaving his Pokemon (i.e Reeah) to just...roam. I think. Gym was originally Poison/Normal or Normal/Dark for reasons that will be clear later

Lapis Badge - Shifting Sands - The Hive: Again I think it'd be really really funny if the Gyms were taken over by/transformed into/became horrible monsters. Either the Hive is a bunch of Trainers all mentally linked, or it's a bunch of tiny Beedrill like in the anime who pretend to be Trainers using like...mirages? Not sure atm. (told you this was really barebones JDGFADSHLGFADSHL) Bug/Ground! Maybe Scizor/Kleavor as their ace.

Emerald Badge - Dread Mountain - Gellick: I kind of want Gellick to just be a man who has taken over the local Impidimp/Morgrem population and pits them against the talking Dragonite who live there. If I go with Reeah being Poison/Normal, then Gellick would be Dark/Rock- otherwise he’s a poison trainer for sure. Ace is like…a palpitoad. Or a Grimsnarll. Or a toxicroak.

Amethyst Badge - Maze of the Beast - Glus: OKAY OKAY I think it would be real funny if the Glus is just an overgrown goomy or something that had to adapt to living in the caves. The league gave the badge to the Goomy/Gastrodon's trainer, but during the decade long break the trainer passed away, leaving Snom to roam the caverns all alone. There’d be no gym battle. Lief just has to fistfight a large Goomy/Gastrodon.

Diamond Badge - Valley of the Lost - Fardeep/The Guardian: Absolutely Dragon/Ice. The hounds are Houndoom that don't fight. Ace? Uuuuuuhhhhh Haxorous maybe? Baxcalliber? This is where my ideas started to run out

Of course, then there's the alternate route of: Literally Deltora Quest but with Pokemon too. Most of this still applies, I think? Idk JKDGJLFDSGA

-=-

Teams for everyone else !! I liked the concept of each character specializing in one or two types with a few exceptions, so. uuuh yeah yeah (also begging crying pleading if you have any suggestions for team members hit me with them/silly)

-Lief: some mixture of Dragon, Fire, and Ghost. He would probably start out with a Charcadet that evolves into a Ceruledge. His type exception? I was thinking Honedge, but if he’s a Ghost type Trainer than that doesn’t matter. Maybe an Espurr.

Team ideas:

-Litwick

-Espurr

-Charcadet

-Golurk

-Morgrem

-Jasmine: Bug/Fighting, maybe? Her type exception would be Kree ig (who’s a Murkrow here!). She’d aboslutely use a Heracross I think. Riolu too. Filli would be a Joltik maybe

Team Ideas:

-Heracross

-Riolu

-Stufful

-Nincada

-Barda: Steel/Normal. Guy’s trying to stay low profile, but has a fuckngi Steelix. Type exception would be a Machoke, who’s his life-long partner.

Team Ideas:

-Steelix

-Machoke

-Slaking

-Obstagoon...??

-Dain: Poison/Dark. To start, he uses Dragon types too, but he loves them dark types. Ace is a Zoroark for sure (or a hydregion). His type exception? Probably the aforementioned hydreigon i think

Team Ideas:

-Hydreigon

-Zoroark

-Dragonite

-uh uh uh uhhhhhh (you can tell when my ideas were starting to run out)

-Doom: Dark/Fighting. Guy who has Bisharp and a Bewear. I don't have any idea what type exception he would have tho

Team Ideas:

-Bisharp

-Bewear (something something like father like daughter)

-Mabosstiff

-

-=-

Other notes!

-Ols are modified Dittos (PLEASE PLEASE THE ONLY FUNNY PART OF THIS AU/silly). Still got their grades- 1, 2, and 3. BUT instead of grade 1 Ols being unable to regulate body temperature, they can't change their face. So they got. That stupid grin. They get around this by transforming into people who have their faces covered by hair/cloaks/etc.

-Jasmine can probably speak to Pokemon in this universe, instead of animals. Makessss sense. ish.

-In the version of this that more aligns with a Pokemon game, Dain would show up more and act as like. a 'rival' character. I think.

-That bird bridge guy from book 2 is a Corvisquire prolly

-Gonna be real. Don't know what Theagan and her children would be like. My first thought is just weird, pokemon hybrids?

-=-

I should clarify that I have not read the original DQ series in a while....so there might be somethings I'm missing....anyway! That's the basics. Hope this wasn't too much of a waste of your time. 😎👍

I should talk about the Deltora Quest / Pokemon AU I made at some point (maybe it will motivate me to actually finish it)

[ghost-in-the-hall]

Fall For Me (Poly! Sleep Token x Fem! Reader) - Part II

Thank you to @spookyghostjelly for beta reading and letting me be insane in her DM's ❤️❤️❤️

WARNINGS: None

Part I ~ Part III

My Masterlist! ~ AO3 Link!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You sigh as you finish your closing duties, giving the door one last pull to make sure it was locked with a tired sigh. You walked around to the back of the building, heading up to your apartment that was very conveniently located on top of your store. You kick the door shut behind you, haphazardly throwing your shoes in the entryway. You put the kettle on the stove, leaning against the counter and looking out the window as you waited for the water to boil. Your mind immediately wandered back to Vessel, your short interaction had left you with so many unanswered questions. Where did he come from? Why did he choose this sleepy little town of all places to settle down? Was he actually part of a cult? He was so different from what you had imagined. Hearing all the reports in the paper you had been terrified to run into any of them. Vessel, in what scraps of his personality you had seen, seemed so gentle. You were snapped from your thoughts by the sound of the kettle singing.

"At least our mystery man has a name now." You chuckle to your empty apartment. You guess you would just have to wait and see what tomorrow brought.

Music blasted through the speakers in the empty store, you sang along loudly with your favorite songs as you worked on restocking the shelves. You groaned as you hoisted one of the heavy crates of produce off the counter. You screamed, oranges scattering across the floor as you lost hold of the crate. There standing at the door was Vessel. Seeing that he had finally caught your attention, he pointed to his wrist as if he was motioning to a watch. You paused your music and quickly headed over to open the door for him. "I'm so sorry, I completely forgot to tell you we close early tonight." You blurt out the second you open up. Your eyes land on Vessel, this was the first time you had been standing in front of him without the barrier of the counter. He was a lot taller than you had realized, you stumbled back slightly to put some distance between you and the absolute wall that was his body. "Every Sunday I have to restock the store, I close at four."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'll just-"

"No!" You exclaim, waving your hands wildly in front of you. "No, really, it's my fault. You come in and get what you need, just don't mind the mess. It'll take me a couple minutes to reopen the register." You motion him inside, he follows you hesitantly. He looks around the store, various pallets and stacks of crates are organized into neat categories waiting to be put away. From what he could see it was definitely more work than one person should be handling by themselves.

"Is it just you that works here?" You nod in response as you drop onto your knees to start collecting the oranges you had dropped. Your hand jerked back as your fingers bumped into Vessel's. Your eyes dart up to look at him, "it's my fault you dropped the crate, I'd like to help you pick up a little if that's alright." He says softly as he remains completely still. He could tell being so close to him made you nervous, yet it was somehow different than interactions he had in the past. You weren't scared, more… shy.

"You don't have to go to all that trouble, Vessel, really." You try to reassure him.

"And you shouldn't be alone trying to restock all of this inventory by yourself." You almost rolled your eyes at the statement.

"I've been managing just fine by myself for the last seven years, I think I can handle a spilled crate of fruit." He chuckles at your determined tone.

"I never said you couldn't," he returns to the task of picking up produce as he talks. "I'm saying you shouldn't have to. You work hard, I can tell by how meticulously your store is always maintained." He trails off for a moment, not exactly sure how to phrase his next statement. "I guess I'm just curious as to why you don't have any help."

"There isn't anybody I like enough to have them work here with me." You smile. "This place is my home, literally, my apartment's upstairs." He shakes his head with a slight laugh. "If they aren't someone I would invite into my home they're not someone I would want to spend hours upon end in here with them. Besides, I like working, it keeps me occupied." Vessel finishes helping you clean up. "You go get your groceries, I'm sure you have a long drive back to… your camp? House?"

"Camp works." He quips. You head up to the counter to get the register up and running again, knowing his supply runs never took long. You found yourself unable to tear your eyes away from him. The strange red sigil in the center of his white mask, the ornate detailing on the bottom edge, the black paint that covered every area of exposed skin, everything about him just made you curious. Your eyes snapped to your register as he glanced in your direction and you swore you heard the sound of him quietly chuckling. He carries his groceries up to the counter and lays them out.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"You can ask me as many questions as you want, I can't guarantee I'll answer." He responds bluntly.

"What made you decide to finally start talking to me?" He seemed a bit taken aback by your question, not expecting you to be so forward.

"It's no secret that a lot of people don't like the fact that we're around. Luckily, the only real nuisance we've had to deal with are the reporters, but I'm still worried about what would happen if we ventured too far into town. But, we needed supplies. We could only last so long on the sorry excuse of a garden we managed to start when we originally bought the land, your store is relatively close by and out of the way. As far as why I started talking to you, you're the only person I've met from this town so far that hasn't greeted me with hostility." Vessel laughs softly at your shocked expression. "I'm tired of running (Y/N). Tired of having to move from city to city every other month to try and keep ahead of the backlash from people who don't understand us. If I'm going to do that I need a place to come get supplies where I won't immediately get chased off, someone I can trust in my time of need… after some thought I think you might be that person. There's something special about you, I think we were fated to meet each other, I'm just not sure why yet."

"Well, I appreciate that." You can't help but smile at the admission. He trusted you. "If there's anything I can ever do to help you guys out, just say the word."

"Actually, there is something. Would it be alright if I start coming to grab supplies after you close, at least on Sunday's?" He asks.

"Of course you can. I was actually going to ask if that would work better for you." You admit with a chuckle. "I know that a lot of people around these parts tend to be pretty… close minded, to put it gently. I think it's smart for you to wait until you're ready to have those interactions." He nods his thanks at your agreement, collecting his belongings, and heading towards the door.

"Next Sunday it might not be just me, don't be intimidated." He dismissed himself with a chuckle, leaving you to finish restocking.

You pondered over who exactly he would be bringing with him. No one knew for sure how many members there were living in the woods, from what you had seen everyone except for Vessel dressed relatively similar. You were tempted to ask him throughout your daily visits, but you also didn't want to pry. As next Sunday arrived you kept anxiously looking up at the clock, waiting for closing time to roll around. You bid farewell to your final customer as you locked up. Just as you had pulled the key from the deadbolt you saw the familiar sight of an old, beat up pick up truck rumble into the parking lot. Vessel got out, talking to whoever was seated in the passenger seat before heading in your direction. You waved at him, opening up the door and stepping outside. "Is your friend coming in too?" You ask quietly as he gets closer to you.

"Yeah, he is. I just wanted to tell you something first. II isn't much of a talker until he gets to know people… He also has a staring problem." You laugh, Vessel returns your enthusiasm with a smile.

"If I can handle you giving me the silent treatment for a full week I think I can handle it big guy, don't worry." He waves at his friend to come join you. You waited in anxious anticipation as the passenger door opened, two heavy black leather boots thudding against the pavement as someone jumped out. The slam of the door echoes through the surrounding trees as you finally could see just who Vessel brought with him. II was a bit shorter than Vessel with a lean frame. His striking blue eyes met yours through the holes in his mask, black cloth with the same rune that adorned Vessel's, yet his covered the entirety of his face.

"II, this is (Y/N)." He slowly approaches you, you could tell he was studying you. He offers his hand which you timidly accept. His hand was warm around yours as he feigned the action of bringing your knuckles to his lips, his eyes never leaving your face. "Come on, I didn't bring you to flirt with her." You see the corners of II's eyes crinkle as he chuckles at Vessel's joke. He straightens up, moving swiftly to the door, holding it open and motioning for you to walk inside.

"Thank you II." You smile sweetly at him. Vessel claps him on the back as he walks past.

"We're here to help, what do you need?" He offers kindly.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you both to do that." II steps forward, offering you his arm. You cautiously take it with a curious expression. He leads you to your chair behind the counter, pulling it out for you to sit. He rolls up his sleeves, picking up the first box of stock he saw and searching for its tag.

"See? You don't even have to ask?" Vessel chuckles. You got your restock done in half the time you normally did with their help. Vessel stood in front of the register as you rang him up, smoking smugly. "Wasn't that easier than doing it all yourself?"

"What? You looking for a job?" You shoot back, you hear II breathe out a chuckle at your joke. You bag up his groceries, handing them off with a smile. "II, hopefully I'll see you next week." He nods his goodbye as he heads out the door.

"I think he likes you." Vessel jokes.

“He’s sweet.” You giggle. “If your whole group is this nice you’re welcome in my store anytime.” Vessel smiles at your statement.

“You’ll meet the others eventually, I think they’d enjoy getting to know you.” He starts walking towards the door, shooting you a flirtatious smirk. You waved goodbye to them through the window, catching II’s gaze as they drove off. The next night as you sat reading at the counter you smiled as the familiar sound of Vessel’s sputtering engine met your ears as he pulled into the lot. You looked up as the bell jingled over the door, your greeting froze in your throat as you realized it wasn’t Vessel who had entered the store.

“Hey II.” You couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face at the sight of him.

“(Y/N).” He greets you with a slight nod. His gaze traps you in place as his eyes meet yours, he saunters up to the counter, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“No Vessel today?” You ask, trying to keep your flustered state a secret.

“He had something to take care of today.” You could hear the gentle intonation of a smile in his voice. “Call me selfish but I wanted the chance to see you again.” You let out a flustered giggle. He leans his elbows on the counter, bringing his face impossibly close to yours. His eyes slowly scan over your features before catching your gaze. “He sent me with a list, think you could help me out?”

“Yeah, sure.” You stutter, making your way around the counter. He hands the list over to you, trailing behind you to hold everything you pulled from the shelves. You struggled to reach something on one of the higher shelves, a shiver ran up your spine at the sudden warmth that spread across your back as II stepped closer to you.

“Allow me.” He gazes down at you, bright blue eyes studying you for a moment. You feel his eyes on you the entire time as you scanned all of his groceries. You handed the bags over to him, his fingers brushing over yours. You smile bashfully as your eyes lock with his. “Hopefully I’ll see you soon.” He gazes at you playfully.

“Yeah, hopefully.” He bows slightly as he heads for the door.

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight, II.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List: @herripinkle @themultiverseofmars @wingsofeternitysstuff @mustluvecho @the-hole-in-terzos-shoe @jumpcauseimfroggy (if I missed you or you'd like to be added to the Sleep Token tag list, please let me know!)

[poetryandfluffycats]

can you please do mika x fem reader nsfw with him giving her lots of body praise bc shes insecure and calling her a good girl?

A/N: I finished this in like a day so very sorry if it seems rushed or half-assed, I just really liked my idea for it. enjoy!

Pairing: Mika Kagahira x fem!reader

Content: Lingerie is the best way to spice things up in the bedroom, at least that's what the lady behind the counter had said. Trying on lingerie with your boyfriend should be a fun experience, but your mind just can't comprehend that. Luckily, Mika is there to cheer you up, in his own special way.

Warnings: NSFW, oral sex(f receiving), public sex, lots of petnames(pretty girl, good girl, my girl), negative self talk, insecure reader

Words: 1.5k

NSFW oneshot under cut!

The dressing room was as stuffy as it always was, small and filled to the brim with posters and ads advertising the latest sales of the store you were in. Some tacky, cheap lingerie store Mika had dragged you into. The kind the sold the most outrageous designs made with the worst fabrics possible and then marketed to young woman as if it were some sort of high end luxury brand.

Colours of pink, purple, and green were scattered all over the floor, a sea of your failed attempts at finding a sexy outfit fit for you. A eye-shadow wearing teen behind the counter had told you that lingerie was the absolute best way to spice up your bedroom relations, but you figured out early into this fashion show that her words must have been a lie, because none of what you put on looked good at all!

"(name)? Why don't ya try on this one?" Mika's green head of hair poked through the thin curtain of the dressing room, in his hand a set of black, lace, crotchless panties and a matching bralette with tiny embroidered lace hearts over where the nipples would go. "I think ya'd look real pretty..."

You eyed him, then the clothes, then him again, before snatching the item out of his hands and hiding it behind your back, as if it were some forbidden object he wasn't allowed to look at. "I don't know, Mika... maybe we should just leave"

As if he were in compete desperation, Mikas bottom lip stuck out and he looked into your eyes with the biggest puppy dog expression he could muster. It was a look he used on you more than often, a look that always got him what he wanted.

"Please? I've been feelin' bad, since I don't buy ya nice things an' all. Let me do somethin' for ya just this once!"

With those eyes and that dopey grin, it was hard to say no to the man. How could you when he always looked so adorable? You didn't like to disappoint a face like that, and It wasn't like you were trying to! The main reason behind your heastaince towards the skimpy get-ups Mika has throwing at you was well, stupid in all reality, but you were worried he wouldn't like what he saw.

Yeah, stupid, but the whole time you stood in that tiny room surround by the tiniest pieces of clothing known to man, the only thoughts that managed into your mind were negative. Thoughts of how you looked silly, weird, thoughts of how it looked like you were wearing someone else's skin when the lingerie was on your body.

Sick, ugly feelings. Ones that made you feel like all the organs in your body were rearranging themselves.

"Do ya not like it?" You must have zoned out whilst changing, because Mika was now standing right beside you, eyebrows knitted in concentration-like he was trying to read your mind.

You gulped, eyes scanning over yourself in the dirty mirror. You didn't look bad, per say, but not practically good, ever. The lace of the panties sat comfortably around your waist, but the way the fabric hugged your curves in a way that nearly made them budge out didn't feel right to you. The embroidered hearts of the bralette were cute enough, and the way the bra itself pushed your breasts together was a nice touch, but again, something didn't feel right.

Didn't feel like you.

"Its not that, I mean, its nice, I'm just..." You trailed off, searching for the correct words to try get out what you were thinking without really explaining it in depth. Mika didn't need all your problems dumped onto him all at once, and there was nothing he could do about it even if you did. "I'm just not feeling it"

"Why not? Yer gorgeous! Most beautiful in the whole wide world!" His grin stayed, but there was a new look of confusion, and even a bit of sadness that filled his features. "Ya could be a model, I think. I'd watch any show ya were in, I'd be like, ya number one fan!"

"Don't say those sort of things" Hot red spread to your cheeks as you adverted your gaze to the ground. Compliments from Mika were a daily thing, that's just the way he was, but they still never failed to make you smile despite your personal internal struggles. "Not now, its embarrassing"

"But I'm right!"

The boy in front of you made a sound that could only be described as whimpering, pout on his lips widening to the point where you thought his cheeks might simply explode, before he lunged forward, arms wrapping around your middle and pulling you close into his chest. You stumbled a bit, almost falling out of his hold and flat onto your face, but managed to steady yourself by gripping onto his jacket.

"It's not fair" Mika whined into the crook of your neck, leaving feather-light kisses all down the bare skin. His words were muffled from his mouth being pressed so tightly against you, but you could just make out what he was saying. Just...

"Yer perfect, but ya don't know it" Another kiss, this one maybe with a bit more tongue and trailing further down your neck. "That's sad, but I don't like when yer sad. Can I help ya not be sad?"

Was this even the right place for such a question? Mika was a strange man-part of what attracted you to him in the first place was his eccentricities-but this? Was this normal in his eyes? You felt as if your legs might melt into a pool of jelly on the floor, the only thing keeping you upright being Mikas hands holding you in an embrace.

His hold was tight, but soft, his lips on your neck were light and loving, but also so rough and longing at the very same time. God, what were you to do with him?

"What are you trying to do?"

"Hm, dunno" Mika giggled, the precious sound bouncing off the walls. His hands holding you in place began to travel down your back, rubbing over every single bump and cervice of your spine as he slowly lowered to his knees. "I started thinkin' 'bout how I could help ya out, but uh, I got a wee bit excited, but that's okay. I know how to help ya now!"

"Mika, are you fucking serious-"

"Yup! Be a good little pretty girl for me, mkay?"

You barely had time to breathe before Mikas head dove in between your thighs, nose deep in the heat of the crotch less part of your underwear. He took a few deep breaths in, inhaling the scent of you like you were a fresh ocean breeze and he was a man who'd be stranded at sea without water for months. His tongue darted out to give a few tester kitten licks, before fully driving in and licking a full circle around your hole-which was dripping wet already.

"Imma make ya feel real nice, (name)" His voice was like a vibrator against your core, each word sending shivers of arousal up your spine and straight to your brain, clouding it with pleasure, making you forget all about those nasty thoughts of before. "Yer a good girl, so pretty, my pretty lady. Love yer taste so much~"

"Ah!~ M-Mika! We're in public!" You hissed, slapping a hand over your mouth as a moan threatened to slip from your throat. "We're gonna get caught!"

"Nah, don't care. Let em hear, then everyone'll know just how pretty ya are, yeah? And that ya got the best boyfriend to please ya"

A silent sob left your lips as the tip of Mikas tongue entered your hole, flicking up and down and teasing you just perfectly. He knew your body so well, knew where to press up on to make you squirm and whimper, where to suckle to make you scream, he knew it all. Like a mastermind of your body, one might say.

"Pretty, pretty, pretty" Mikas words were like a mantra as he worked. Each and every one of them had you spinning, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the knot in your belly grew hotter and hotter, getting ready to combust at any moment. "Gonna call ya pretty till the day I die, that okay? Yer the prettiest, and I'm the luckiest because you're the prettiest!"

"Christ! Mika! I'm-"

The knot finally snapped, a blinding white light filling your vision for a split second as heat flooded your body. Mika stayed in between your legs for a little while, lapping up all the juices that spilled out from inside you, drinking them like a fine wine. Once he was finished-and once your high was subsided, leaving you a panting mess in the dressing room-he licked one final long stripe up your pussy, wiping the area off with his jacket sleeve before pulling himself back up.

"So, we're buying this one, then?"

[mewintheflesh-2]

Without You

Rating: Teen and Up audiences

Archive warnings: None

Characters: Francis Mosses, Original Characters

Tags: Unrequited Love, heartbreak, Song: Without You (Strawberry Guy), Crushes, Unrequited Crushes, Francis Mosses has sensory issues (briefly mentioned), minor blood and injury, Francis deals with the qualms of being a retail worker (kinda), men crying, emotional hurt, hurt/no comfort, not beta read, Reader is gender neutral.

Word count: 1,800 (rounded down)

Summary: Francis wasnt having a good time.

And you're not about to make it any better

Also posted on Ao3

Francis sighed solomly as he gripped the now empty milk carrier. Hard enough to leave imprints on his hand and whiten his knuckles.

His black leather shoes clicked and clacked against the cold, concrete sidewalk. The sunset painting everything around him in a golden light. It'd be nighttime soon.

He lifted his free hand to his head and clutched his sweaty hair from underneath his hat. He was so tired. He just wanted to get home and sleep.

But he mostly just wanted to talk to you.

Even if you only really talked through that thick, protective window, youd been making more and more conversation with eachother each time you spoke, getting to know eachother more and more each day.

It wasnt long before Francis' lovesick brain fell head over heels.

It was everything about you. The way you looked, with a smile rivaling the warmth of the sun, and just as dangerous to his heart and mind. You always seemed to know exactly what to say to him to pull at his heart like a puppet on a string.

If he didnt know any better, hed say you were doing it on purpose.

He wouldnt mind either way.

Francis slugged up to the reception window, a weight lifted off of him at the sight of you at your desk.

He pushed his ID and Entry Request inside the letterbox for you to receive, planting his hands on the metal shelf jutting out of the wall just below the window; watching you expectantly with a simultaneous aching and soothing feeling in his heart.

After a minute of shuffling papers and opening folders, you look up at him.

"Hello, Francie." You smiled warmly at him.

There it was.

That nickname.

God how it made his heart swell. 

'Francie.'

Such a cute nickname

and it was just for him, gifted from you.

"How's your day been?" You tilted your head slightly at him, setting down and organizing his identification and sliding his profile back into the appropriate folder.

Francis looked at you for a second before frowning. "Not great." He sighed as he shook his head softly, looking down at his shoes.

Your eyebrows knit together in concern, a frown adorning your lips.

"I'm sorry, Francie. What happened, if you dont mind me asking?" Your voice was so warm and soft as you leaned in closer to the window.

It made Francis' heart flutter for a second before he had to think back to all that had happened earlier.

"It's just a lot of little things building up. I'm probably more upset about it than I should be." Francis looked down at his hands, and then up to you.

The expression on his face was just killing your heart. 

"Im all ears." You speak softly as you push your chair in closer to your desk, and by extension, the window.

"If theres anything you need to say, then say it. Its always nice to get things off your chest, dont you think?" You smile softly at him, pushing your chair closer to your desk, and closer to the window by extension.

"Are you sure?" Francis looked around, almost worried. Surely he'd be taking up your time on your job if he did that, right?

"I have all the time in the world-- and I'd rather be talking to you than anything else right now." You assured, that deadly warm smile on your lips again.

The words made Francis feel warm and soft.

A small smile appeared on his face for a brief, fleeting moment. 

 Francis stared at you for a moment, as if asking for approval to speak.

You nod.

He sighed, looking down at the metal shelf infront of him as his ungloves hands tapped at it, wondering where to begin.

"Its just- work has been just awful today.  Someone had left their dog outside, as soon as it saw me it wouldn't stop chasing me, i tried to run away, but it eventually caught up to me and bit my leg.

It wouldnt let go until I had to pry it off of me. And even then it didn't leave me alone for awhile. Not until it's owners came back to take it off of me." 

You frowned, trying to open your mouth to speak, but Francis kept talking.

"And because of that dog, i dropped and broke multiple milk bottles on the sidewalk. So after the dog got taken off of me, i tried picking up the glass since I didn't want anybody accidentally stepping on it because of me, but the shards cut me. Badly. Even through my gloves."

He held his hand up to the window for you to see. There were bloodied bandages wrapped around his hand, and several smaller cuts on his bare fingers. 

You cringe at the sight.

"I had to take them off to clean the wounds, and everything has just been sensory hell ever since." Francis' face draws to a grimace.

"And to make things worse, I had to deal with people yelling at me for being incompetent for losing their deliveries."

He clenched his jaw, his expression doesn't look anything but sad.

"Even though it wasn't even my fault. I'm not the one who left their dog outside. And just to top it off, I've had a horrible migrane all day, and It's just-" He inhales and groans,  collapsing onto the metal shelf infront of him.

"I just want to take a break. I just want to rest."

He mumbles as he tucks his face into his folded arms.

Silence, for a moment.

"Francie........... That's awful-- I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?" You frown sympathetically as you push you chair forward even more, squishing yourself against your desk and placing a hand on the window infront of you.

Francis lifted his head to look up at your hand, and then at you.

"I think talking to you and going to sleep is  enough for me to feel better." Francis smiled briefly before registering what he'd said, casting his gaze anywhere but you after he realized what he'd spoken.

You laugh softly. "If you say so."

Silence for a bit, as Francis regains his composure.

He lifts himself up, slowly propping himself on his elbows on the shelf, leaning his head on his knuckles, huffing out a breath of air.

"...How was your day?" He asks after a beat, head tilted curiously.

You smile, retracting your hand from the window. "My days been pretty slow, but im meeting someone later, so im pretty excited for that."

Meeting someone?

...

Francis blinked for a second. His expression faltering to a look of sadness for just a moment.

No. Surely you didnt mean it like that.

"Meeting someone...?" He echoed.

"Mhm." You smiled softly at the thought. "We met just a few days ago. He seems pretty nice, I'm excited to get to know him more." You lean your head on your hand, mirroring the man behind the glass.

"A-ah.......... Congratulations." Francis did his best to refrain from letting any indication of his emotions fall upon his face as he straightened himself out; but he couldn't help but frown. 

"Francie? Are you alright?" You tilted your head the slightest bit, voice a catalyst of concern for the man standing on the other side of the thick, protective glass. 

"Mhm. I just remembered something. Apologies." He held the brim of his cap between his pointer and thumb, pulling it down over his eyes the slightest bit to avoid looking at you. But he really couldn't help himself.

"Oh, alright. Is there, uh, anything I can help you with?" Your voice was calm and careful in a way that just broke poor Francies heart even more. "About what you remembered- I mean." 

"No, no. It's fine. Thanks for the offer." He shook his head softly, forcing a small smile as he looked down at the shelf infront of him.

"Of course, Francie." Your eyebrows knit together in concern. "Just let me know if there's anything I can do for you. You can tell me anything." 

"Mhm. Thank you." Francis took a quick glance at the door, before looking back in your direction-- though nowhere near directly at you. You put together he was probably signaling to you that he wanted to leave now.

"I'll see you tommorow?" Your voice was soft, sweet, a delicacy and a curse to Francis' ears.

There was a light buzzing noise as you pressed the button to unlock the main entrance. 

"Mhm. Goodbye." He waved at you softly, only actually looking into your eyes for a brief, fleeting moment before walking away. 

"Goodbye........." You spoke quietly, a soft pit in your stomach as you watched Francis dissappear through the doors.

You were so caught off guard by his sudden change in behavior you nearly forgot to lock the door again.

He usually liked to stay for as long as he could.

Was it something you said?

You frowned, leaning back in your chair and fidgeting with some papers.

You'd have to ask him about it tomorrow.

Again began the waiting for your neighbors to return to their apartments.

Francis opened his apartment door with shaking hands, keys jingling as they were set on his kitchen counter.

With a heavy sigh, he flicked on his lamp, enveloping the room in a warm yellow glow, trying to keep his composure.

Slowly but surely he kicked off his shoes, grabbing and throwing his hat onto his dresser.

Just as he was about to unbutton his uniform he was hit with a sudden disgusting, sickening feeling in his chest as tears welled up in his eyes.

He shook his head, eyes squinting involuntary as he let himself fall onto his bed.

He lied there, staring at the ceiling, trying to ignore anything he was feeling.

But no matter how many times he tried, something still peeked through.

He inhaled sharply through his nose as he flipped himself over onto his stomach, nestling his face into his soft pillows.

The feeling in his chest was too intense to bear, he could feel his breath become sporadic, unsure if it was because his face was buried in his pillows or otherwise.

He inhaled sharply once more, this time followed followed by a small Hic as his throat began to close up.

No, no, he wasn't going to cry. It's not that big of a deal. He's fine. He should be happy for you if anything.

But. With everything that happened up until that point. He really couldn't help himself from letting his emotions get the best of him.

Hot tears soaked into his pillow as his hands clutched at his hair violently, hissing in pain as his wounds flexed open.

He grits his teeth, another hic escaping his lips as he opened his eyes into the pillow.

Nothing but a warm, yellowish void.

 He pushed himself up and flipped onto his side, curling into himself, yanking a blanket over his shoulders before clutching his head, throbbing in a burning pain once again as he cried quietly.

He didn't even turn off the lamp before he'd passed out.

Silent, steady breathing, wet cheeks illuminated by the soft yellow light of his lamp. 

Tired eyes, finally getting their well deserved rest. 

An aching heart, beating slowly, deep inside his chest.

[downwiththemutantnjnjaturtles]

Donatello's First Love—Splinter's Talk

mostly bayverse, could be 2003 if you squint hard enough. did it a little different with this one compared to the others :0 word count: 1.6k

Spanning his messy corner of the Lair, Donnie's many monitors mounted to the wall were alight with a blue glow. The same few camera feeds rotated between the locations outside of their home and other places, monitoring, and allowing surveillance to take a backseat in his mind while he worked. At his desk, he gently squeezed a pipette into the mouth of a breaker, waiting for the reaction he was looking for to occur. 

"Interesting," he mumbled to himself, "I wonder what happens if I were to supercool the mixture." 

He placed the substance in a tray and prepared another batch, this time, much more concentrated. There wasn't much to do around the house besides experiment with the materials he'd salvaged. That was fine; he enjoyed the process, and filling notebooks—and his walls—to the brim with chemical equations, notes and mathematics that hardly anyone but he could read. 

Careful with his large fingers to not drop the pipette, he sucked a few drops up from the test tube, going in to add to the mixture. He squinted, almost there. And then the startling alarm pinged on the screen next to him, making him jump and squirt the chemical on his work surface. He quickly wiped up and looked over at the computer. "'Motion detected: [y/n]'s apartment complex'," the screen read, switching camera feeds to one of the multiple tiny cameras he had set up. He only put cameras where he thought it mattered; he was paranoid about an ambush, and even more so at her place than theirs, now that she was coming and going from the Lair. The likelihood of their enemies finding out her association with them was about a fifty-seven percent chance, fifty percent too much for Donnie.

He scanned the monitor for signs of anything suspicious, but it turned out to be only a friend dropping by with a key to put a package inside, with [y/n]'s permission. 

"Oh," he muttered, suddenly feeling silly. He made sure the person left her apartment—and locked it back—before quickly switching the feed. That was his one secret nobody had managed to catch him out on yet. Even so, he felt slick and a little guilty for spying. But, justifiably, they needed to know if she ever was in danger! He dismissed the notification and rotated the feeds manually. "Whoops. Sorry, [y/n]...yeah, I'll just switch that back." 

He shuffled around to resume his work titrating. Except Splinter stood curiously behind the desk, eyes trained close on the monitors, and then Donnie. Donnie flinched—Splinter usually didn't come in or near his lab. In fact, none of his family normally bothered him when he had his nose in his work, because none of them understood it. Not even Leo bothered to try to get the details. The details went over their heads. 

"So, Donatello, what is it you are working on?"

"Oh, Master Splinter," Donnie greeted him, glancing back to make sure the monitor was no longer on the door to her apartment. He picked up the pipette and test tube he'd knocked over before, "What is it?"

"Refer back to my last question," Splinter replied. He leaned calmly against his cane and looked all around the cluttered lab. Notes taped, tacked, even glued to walls. A whiteboard full of impossible equations, various pieces of technology in disrepair he'd picked up from trash and things going to recycling. Quite the mess, but Donnie knew where everything was. Splinter cocked his head slightly. "What disorganization," he commented.

"Disorganized to you," Donnie corrected with a smile, "but I can find anything I'm looking for—it's actually 'unorganized', implies that it never was organized. The definition of 'disorganized' suggests that something once was organized but now isn't, but I never once had this place in order," he rambled. 

"Donatello," Splinter interrupted. Once his son got talking, it was hard to stop him. He just had to interject to get a word in. "What is it you are doing? You have been very unfocused lately. This is strange for you."  

"Unfocused" was an understatement. With a mind already running miles per minute, he was getting caught up in his own head. Getting his work station back to a functional state, he set up his tube tray, answering, "Titrating these and writing out their chemical equations. The brain's like a muscle, gotta exercise it and stay sharp," he said. And with all that sharpness, he was only half-suspicious as to why Splinter was suddenly interested in what he was doing. 

Splinter nodded. "Then I must not have seen miss [y/n]'s apartment complex on your screen. Carry on." 

Donnie froze, watching Splinter out of the corner of his hazel eyes. His stomach dropped. So, it was one secret—they weren't going to understand, he was just as protective of their home, too! What if she couldn't call the police, or even them in time if someone broke in? Her apartment wasn't in a good area, Donatello already didn't like that. What if someone grabbed her? He couldn't put his mind at ease without knowing. 

"I—well, this was a recent development, you see," Donatello stuttered, fidgeting with the purple wraps around his hands. He realized then how weird it all looked and panicked. He'd never meant for it to go this far; his cautionary measures just kept escalating more and more with his feelings for her. "I swear, it's just outside of her place! I would never put a camera in her apartment, that would be creepy, and way overstepping," he explained. "I told her I'd always look out for her and that she can count on me."

"Oh, I suppose it's no problem, then, since she gave you such consent," Splinter said, looking away momentarily to scratch his chin. His eyes snapped back over to his anxious son and popped a hairy brow up as he knocked the end of his cane on the floor to grab his attention further. "Is that right, Donatello?" 

He wanted to go into his shell. I'm busted, this is not good. "Don't tell her! So, I, um…I didn't exactly…" The thought trailed off. He didn't need to finish that sentence for both of them to know. 

"Precisely my point. Now that we have made that clear, would you like to tell me what this is really about?" 

"No! I mean, I will, since you're asking, but—agh, I swear, I'm not a creep," he said. "I just wanted to make sure she'd be okay. That's it." 

Splinter crossed behind his desk, slipping an arm around his son's shell. Donnie wanted to pull away. "Come with me. Let's take a walk." 

He led them out of the Lair into the tunnels outside their home. They could loop around easily and end up back at the Lair, and Splinter knew Donnie was going to resist talking if the others could be around to hear. Sometimes, you must play on other people's terms, he thought, listening to the quiet drip echo as they ambled through the sewer. He figured it was time to do a little damage control, although he normally pledged not to interfere with his sons and them making their mistakes. However, he didn't want to see Donatello make a potentially hazardous one to himself. 

"Now, you must understand, my son, you cannot know everything at once," Splinter said, avoiding an accusatory tone. "You have a brilliant mind, but you certainly don't tend to see the obvious." 

"What do you mean, master?" Donnie questioned. The "obvious" being under any other circumstances, his actions would definitely be seen as "creepy". The notion flew right under his radar as something to worry about, as their circumstances were anything but normal. 

"Of course, you are a young man, you want to watch out for the one you love," Splinter pointed out. Donnie cringed, even though he hasn't made much of an attempt to hide that fact. He was excited to explore something new, why should he have hidden thos feelings? He didn't shout them to the world. But it was well-known among their family that he'd beaten his brothers to the punch when it came to her, and no going for it was an unwritten but understood boundary. Still, this wasn't a conversation he was prepared for have tonight; his mind was still back at his lab.

"About everyone but Michelangelo has noticed you've been retreating to your lab more often recently." He chuckled. "And your antics around her are obvious, again. Loosen your grip a little. You are annoying your brothers vying for her attention." 

Donnie felt a rush of embarrassment come over him. Yes, he was showy—expressive, maybe too quick to whisk her away to demonstrate his new inventions, the stuff he'd discovered. Donnie knew he could hyperfixate on and obsess over things; she was on his mind more than not. As for annoying his brother, he wasn't the strongest, but he was the smartest. He was much more eager with his staff and putting his siblings back in their lane when she was around. The electric component on his weapon came in handy for quick corrections, and goofing around. 

Through all of that, he remembered having a moment of clarity when she was inspecting his computer setup one night and the camera almost flickered to hers, to which he scrambled to shut it off. Conveniently, he brushed that aside. 

Donnie lifted his goggles, rubbing his face sheepishly. "I guess you're right," he admitted. 

"The things you do for love," Splinter shook his head. "Be sure you do not push her away by accident. You are fortunate I had the mind to come talk to you about this before you made a mistake and a fool of yourself. Consider it a fair warning," he said as he looked over at his son, who waited quietly for him to continue, "to not overstep." 

"I understand, loud and clear." 

Splinter nodded in agreement, "Good. I trust you will take this advice well. You have a good heart and good intentions, Donatello, do not be clouded by your mind. Your brain is not your only quality."

"Thanks, master Splinter. I'll let up on it," Donnie relented with a small smile. He was still uncomfortable, feeling a bit dumb. He always was so caught up on making predictions, keeping everything running smoothly and safely that he didn't always consider how that worked for other people. Just because it made sense to him, didn't mean it made sense to them. Note that for later, Donatello, he reminded himself. He turned around to head back to the Lair. 

Splinter stopped to take in a little sunlight from the grate above his head, stopping Donnie in his tracks. "Oh, and Donatello," he called. 

"Yeah?" 

Splinter assumed parental status, and Donnie knew that scolding tone all too well. "Tell her about it, or turn that damned camera off." 

~wooOoOOOoooOooOooo partitionnnnnnn~

Side rant: I actually hate it when people portray Donnie (except for 2012 iterations) as shy and unconfident. He is literally the opposite in 2003 and Bayverse. Donatello is not "a little baby uwu" and I'm tired of people making him look so meek 😭

[otdiaftg]

WHAT'S NEXT:

The out pouring of love for this blog has swept me off my feet. I knew the logic behind the follower count, but this weekend proved to me without a shadow of a doubt just how much this fandom cherishes these characters and this story.

I am overwhelmed with adoration towards every. single. one. of you.

I took the weekend to finally recoup after the whirlwind of this past year but wanted to take a moment now to answer some of the questions I've seen pop up and to inform you all of what my plans are for what's next.

FREQUENTLY ASKED QUESTIONS:

WILL YOU CONTINUE THE ACCOUNT THIS YEAR?

This took me a long time to ponder and I wanted to make sure I was in the correct headspace to answer it. Short answer: No.

Long answer: All For The Game is near and dear to my heart. And the reason I began this account was because the dates for 2023 matched that of the dates they were meant to be in 2006. To continue it in the year 2024 would mean the dates would be completely wrong and a lot more logistics would have to occur beforehand.

But also-- I'm not the best when it comes to technology, especially when it comes to BOTS so every post that was published was typed out, formatted and scheduled by hand by me. I did not have help. I did not have proofreaders, or editors, or managers. I contacted all the artists myself, sorted through every single page of the artists to find matches to the story, read and re-read the books for exact or guesstimation of dates/times, and made a hell of a lot of typos on the way through all that.

There was probably an easier way that I could have done all this. But I didn't/don't know it. So that all boils down to: It’s a long and tiring process.

Don't get me wrong, it was worth all the hours. And all the sleepless nights I had getting everything done and out. I already thanked my support network, but without my wife and my best friend being there to make me another cup of coffee, walk our dog, do the chores and generally make sure I didn't crumble from the pressure -- none of this would have happened.

So, putting myself through that again, after everything that has happened this year alone-- felt like it would cheapen the experience I had when the dates won't even match.

That being said.... 2034 isn't that far away. >__>

WILL YOU BE DOING AN OTDITSC?

Short answer: No.... sorry.

Long answer: As stated, it is VERY hard to organize what and how I did. HOURS spent researching, organizing, scheduling, etc. Time spent away from my family and other hobbies. NOT time I regret (need to keep prefacing that) but time I want back now. At least for a little bit.

It also doesn't sit right for me to start an OTDITSC when I know some people are still waiting for their copies. There are so many of us out here (as I've come to find out) and I don't want to exclude people's enjoyment and connection that this account gives. I also feel like the more posts about TSC out there, the harder it is for those who are (lets say) waiting for the physical copies to block/mute spoilers. We can say a tag is enough, but this is the internet. And that's not always true.

And lastly, personally, TSC is still SO VERY NEW. It's not even complete yet and we don't 100% know when the next one will be published. I don't want to start something, get to the end of the timeline, and than have a huge gap between posts that will potentially be moments in the second book. It doesn't feel fair to their story, to myself, or to the followers of this account to have incorrect information for something I love so dearly. If I'm doing it. I want to do it right.

SO, WHAT'S NEXT?

Well. A lot. For me personally, as well as this account. I don't want to leave everyone in such a finite way. I love this fandom. I love its art and writings and the abundance of talent and joy that it exudes.

So first, for myself, as well as those artists who agreed to help with this account, I want to post, for the next 40 days Artist Highlights (that means this account will still be active until Friday, June 7th).

Every day, I will post about an Artist and the work that I wanted to post but couldn't fit in. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, these artists are the reason this account thrives. Art, in a multitude of forms, speaks in a way words can not. And these artists prove that.

I'm excited to show them off for a couple more weeks at least. They are all wonderful people.

AND, FINALLY:

To also tie us over, I am opening both my personal account as well as this account to questions.

Questions regarding the process, the story, the best movie out in theaters, whatever. I will be answering your questions (as fast as I can) until that last Artists Highlight day (Friday, June 7th). After this day, I will leave the questions answered up for a week, and then remove/delete them from this account. I want to make this more of an archive of sorts and will be updating the Timeline Page as this progresses as well, so you can move freely within the timeline.

Keep in mind that I am only one person, have a family and a full-time job-- so answers may be sporadic, but I will answer them.

This has truly been such a pleasure. And whether I get questions or not, I see you and I appreciate you. I hope your life is filled with everything you ever want, everything you need, and that you never let it go.

🦊 🧡- Kelysium

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hey, I really appreciate your answering sex ed questions and was hoping you might be able to help me out. Sorry for the long tmi I'm about to give but I don't know how to ask this except by listing out everything relevant I can think of.

I'm afab (cis-ish in the sense I don't particularly see myself as a woman but don't bother trying to get other people not to, but that isn't really important here) in my mid 20s and a virgin, and I don't know much about sex drive but what I do makes me feel like maybe there's something off about mine? I used to consider myself bi ace until I realised I did feel some degree of physical attraction to women that I don't to men so now I call myself a lesbian but the attraction I feel is still very... vague? Like, I'll see a pretty woman and get some kind of rush of feeling, but it's not really a particularly physical feeling of arousal (though I am autistic so it could be I just don't recognise it as physical because of interoception difficulties), more like... sorry if this is an inappropriate metaphor but. More like the urge to pet a really cute cat. I've made out with women and it felt vaguely nice (certainly nicer than with men which I've also done but it was awkward and vaguely uncomfortable) but no more than that. I don't get anything from my physical partners biting down on my neck or nipples or other common erogenous zones though I feel like they expect me to, and kissing is kind of nice but kissing with tongue feels awful. I'm not sure if I'd ever actually want to have full on sex, the thought of letting someone near my sex organs sounds unpleasant. I sometimes masturbate by rubbing my clit and there's a moment that feels like a climax where it gets really hard and sensitive and I used to think that was an orgasm but reading your recent description of an orgasm I'm actually pretty sure I've never had one. I've never had the urge to stick anything in my vagina, only tried it because I heard if it causes pain it might be a cause for medical concern (it didn't cause pain - it felt kinda nice, not anything special though and certainly not something I'd do without prompting). When I masturbate there's only one specific non sexual scenario that gets me off (though maybe about once a year at most I can successfully get off to sexual scenarios with fictional characters but never with real people and it isn't as effective). I used to masturbate more than I do now (I know it dropping off suddenly can be a cause for medical concern but it wasn't sudden, just spikes of activity getting gradually shorter and rarer - I can think of months when I'd do it every night to fall asleep but those are very much outliers scattered across the years rather than my baseline, which is occasionally doing it absentmindedly while falling asleep but very rarely intensely and on purpose). I probably should have sought out more sex ed at some point but sex just never felt very important to me.

Anyway I guess my question is. Is all this normal? Am I actually ace after all? Do I just have a low sex drive? Is any of this cause for medical concern? Do you have any idea how I might be able to actually get an orgasm, if what I thought was that actually wasn't?

hi anon,

all of this is incredibly normal. what I'm hearing is that you kind of like kissing women and aren't particularly interested in sex? that's awesome. kissing women is great, strongly recommend, and if that's all you're interested in then that's just dandy. no need to pretend to enjoy anything just because a partner expect you to; a polite "no thanks" will suffice, followed by kicking your partner to the curb if they don't listen to the no.

whether or not you call yourself asexual is up to you, that's none of my business and I can't pick for you. there actually isn't a secret barcode hidden somewhere on your body that will reveal your Real True Sexuality, you can just pick whatever words you want that kind of get the gist at any given time. would calling yourself asexual feel nice or helpful to you in anyway? if so, awesome! does it not appeal to you at all? okie dokie! don't do that then.

literally nothing you have described sounds like something that would be cause for medical concern, unless I missed something that's regularly causing you any physical pain or discomfort.

I think focusing on orgasms isn't that important, actually, and you can actually just touch yourself in whatever way you want for as long as it feels good, and then stop when it doesn't!

[fuckyeah-bears]

not that i truly care what rando losers on tumblr dot com think about me but i did just get an obnoxious as fuck message telling me about how internet activism and sharing things online isn't actually activism, trying to shame me into not posting as much or "torturing myself" by watching and sharing pictures and videos of what's going on in gaza. and it pissed me off enough to say this:

One, Palestinians have asked people to share and boost their content. That is a direct fucking ask from people in Gaza and Palestinians around the world. I will keep watching and sharing these photos and videos because it is what we have been asked to do by the people who are themselves experiencing genocide. Yes, it is depressing, yes it emotionally and mentally fucks me up. 100%. But i will keep doing it.

Two, literally none of you have ANY fucking idea what i am doing in real life to fight for Palestinian liberation. I don't need anyone on tumblr dot com's validation or approval and i'm certainly not stupid enough to dox myself online when every zionist shitbag, the police, and every employer out there is already trying to do that. but believe me when i say i have dropped pretty much everything else in my life to fight as hard as i fucking can to stop this genocide and work towards the Palestinian liberation.

Three, everyone needs to be doing shit in real life to fight to end the genocides going on right now. Only posting online does not count as activism, true. So take your conversations offline as well. Talk to people you know about Palestine, Sudan, and Congo. Read books and learn the histories. Write to and/or call your elected officials and government leaders and even the fucking bureaucrats. Join local solidarity and action groups working towards Palestinian liberation: Dissenters; DSA; JVP; SJP; AMP; IfNotNow are all US based groups that have local state chapters (idk too many groups outside of the US, sorry international friends). Participate in BDS, personally boycotting brands yourself, demanding your schools, workplaces, organizations, institutions, and governments divest from Israel. Attend rallies and protests and disruptions and vigils. Write to your local, state, and larger newspapers and demand they cover this genocide without bias, call them out for their shitty zionist reporting; write op-eds and letters to the editors. Sign up for webinars. If you can't leave the house or attend in-person events, you can make signs and banners for people and groups who can go. Start or join a campaign to pass a ceasefire resolution in your town/city; testify at town/city council or public comment about it & write to your local elected leaders. Donate to Palestinian and and relief orgs and charities if you can. And yeah, keep fucking sharing and uplifting and boosting Palestinian posts and voices online. The media is trying to repress the fuck out of them, so you we need to do our part to make sure their voices are seen and heard as widely and as loudly as possible.

And four, don't be a pretentious dick to strangers on the internet. You don't know shit about what people are doing in their real lives. This is just common fucking courtesy

Free Palestine 🇵🇸

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hi Raven!

I’ve read your recent writings for the Fellow blog event (the one where Fellow meets Jamil and the one where Fellow is informed of who exactly was in the NRC Playful Land group) and that’s got me curious.

I know this is mostly speculation, but who do you imagine Fellow’s ex-employer to be such that he would be so casual about the identities of his marks? People like Jack, Ace, and Trey are ordinary and come from ordinary families. I would understand for the likes of Vil and if you stretch it, Cater, who while rich and/or influential (or are the children of such people) can still be considered ‘regular’ rich kids. My point is that sadly I feel it wouldn’t be hard for their kidnapping to be labelled as a tragic disappearance and swept under the rug.

But then concerning others such as Kalim, Leona, the Tweels, Ortho, and such, it would spell much trouble for the kidnappers? As Jamil put it to Fellow, them disappearing isn’t a matter that can simply be hand waved away. I have no doubt that Fellow’s ex-employers aren’t small time crooks and actually have power, but surely that power has its limits in the face of what they would have to deal with. They wouldn’t be incurring the wrath of one force, it would be many. Many forces, I might add, with the power and resources to track them down even through unofficial means. As a side note, Book 6 showed us how Idia was willing to destroy the world for Ortho.

Then again, it could just be Fellow’s hubris getting the better of him such that he has vastly overestimated the capabilities of his ex-employers? He seems to me like someone on the lower rungs (sorry Fellow) of the Playful Land criminal endeavor and wouldn’t be privy to the details or who exactly is involved. I dunno, maybe I’m thinking too much into this. But it would be nice to hear your thoughts on the matter!

[Referencing this post and this post!]

Yes, Fellow is very small fish to fry compared to his employers. We learn in his Playful Dress vignettes that Fellow only took up the Playful Land gig because he happened to find a job posting for it that pays well. It's not likely that he has a lot of say in what goes on if they were looking to hire just about anyone willing to do the dirty work, despite claiming to be the park manager.

While he doesn't seem to know the exact details of who the more influential boys of the group are, he at least knows about their affiliation with THE prestigious Night Raven College (which is partly why he targets them in the first place). However, Fellow does still demonstrate complete assurance that they can get away with their entire operation. I think this is the result of two factors. One is, as you may have suggested, Fellow not knowing much about the inner workings of the organization (and thus having no knowledge of its limits). The other is far scarier (and seems to be more likely to me due to the evidence we have on hand), which hints at a criminal underbelly in Twisted Wonderland that holds even more money and influence than even the Asim family has. The latter is implied, as Fellow brags quite often about his benefactors and even discusses the construction of the park as being the result of many powerful mages. Cater also mentions early in the event that Playful Land has been trending on socials lately, but this also implies that NONE of the people that went missing after going to the park made headlines or drew suspicion to Playful Land. This means that not only do the people behind the park have money, but somehow also the far-reaching power to control literally every bit of information on the web about them. Let's not forget too that they SOMEHOW have the technological capabilities to jam and limit Ortho's capabilities, even though this guy was made by a genius inventor.

Now look, I'm not saying that frightening organizations like this don't exist in real life. To deny that is to be ignorant. What I am saying is that for game like Twst (where several of the main characters are from very crazy wealthy families), it's asking us to do a LOT of suspension of disbelief in order to sell the story. This is just the beginning of my list of gripes with the logic of Playful Land. If you want to read more of my thoughts on the subject, you can check out this post!

[ikindamaybewanthertositonmyface]

Hi. My name is Dahlia, and last month my father sadly passed away. His death hit us all pretty hard. I'd always just assumed he'd be with us at least another 10 to 15 years based off of how long his parents lived... It's hard not having him here for so many reasons, most of them emotional reasons, but also financial. So for some reason, and we never knew this until after he passed, but my Dad did not have a will. So not only is all his money, which isn't much anyway, all tied up in legal knots right now. But also his condo, which is where me and my fiance live, is currently in probate, and could be for up to a year before we're able to get our name on the deed.

The big problem with this is that my father's condo is in a 55+ community, and now with him gone, we're only being given another 2 months to move out of here. And the thing is, we have no where else to go. None of our family, as little as there are, have any room for us, and until we're able to sell my father's condo, we have no money with which to buy a new place. Or to even rent somewhere. Neither of us have jobs at the moment, and despite my fiance trying hard to find one the past few weeks, she has thus far had no luck...

I have pretty bad anxiety, so this all has me panicking quite a bit... Especially considering we are both Trans and live in Florida. Living on the street could very well be a death sentence for us...

So a friend of mine recommended I create this Go Fund Me in the hopes that some of you who read this might be willing to help out. I created one a few years ago to help with some debt I was in and it helped me escape that situation, so I'm hoping all of your kindness might just help us out of this situation as well.

I put the funding goal at 10,000, but hopefully we won't actually need that much, I just felt it was better to be safe then sorry. If you are able to donate, even if it's just like 5 dollars, every little bit helps, and I and my fiance will be eternally grateful to all of you. Thank you for hearing me out.

[rosanna-writer]

Love at First Sight's for Suckers (1/5)

Summary: [A Feysand Newsies AU] Rhysand had a reputation. A big reputation. But fortunately for Feyre, a newsie selling papers on the streets of Velaris, tabloid gossip about the handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir means business is booming. That is, until the city's newspaper magnates get greedy, Feyre finds herself an unwitting labor leader at the center of a strike, and Rhys becomes an unexpected ally... Warnings: None

A gift for @the-lonelybarricade, for @acotargiftexchange! @lbs-secret-santa is me!

LB, creating this for you has been such a blast, and I am definitely the luckiest secret santa in the world to have such a gem of a giftee. It's rare for someone to have both a talent AND a heart as big as yours—you're truly the High Lady of Feysand, not just because your fics are incredible, but because of the way you make new writers (including me earlier this year) feel immediately welcome and how you handle fandom nonsense with such grace and tact. I'm so glad to call you a friend <3

And sorry for an author's note that reads like an annoying award show speech, but there are SO MANY people I want to thank. The event organizers did such a thoughtful job creating an event that brought so many people together across the fandom; not just secret santa/giftee pairs, but people reaching out to new betas, roping new friends into secrecy shenanigans, and getting hyped about other gifts! @iambutmortal, @thesistersarcheron, @itsthedoodle, @wilde-knight, and @ablogofsapphicpanic have been the best betas/saucy Rhys pun brainstormers/secret keepers/DM screaming session partners, and the daily headlines would not have happened without their beautiful brains. I had SO MUCH FUN watching the excitement and creative energy grow and grow in the lead up to this reveal. And also @reverie-tales, thanks for being my unwitting cover to throw LB off my trail!

Anyway, you can find the first chapter Here on AO3 or under the readmore. Happy Holidays!

One Heir to Share? Rhysand's Rita's Threesome

Baring it All at Starfall! Rhysand Stuns in Daring Deep-V Shirt

Rhysand's Baby Blues: Heir's Latest Fling Spotted Shopping for Baby Clothes

Future High Lord’s High: Witchberries, Fae Wine, and Wild Starfall Benders in the House of Wind?

Lady of the Night or FUTURE Lady of Night? Rhysand's Girlfriend Shocks Royal Family at Nynsar

Un-Rhys-onable: Night's Heir Refuses to Kneel to High Lord

Heir Head! Rhysand Forgets Alphabet During Library Community Service

Rhysand had a reputation.

A big reputation.

Perhaps that was why after selling him the newspaper every day for the better part of a year, Feyre Archeron had long since decided that he was far too full of himself to be ashamed of anything.

As he did every Saturday morning, Rhys appeared on her corner like clockwork, wearing last night's clothes and his trademark smirk. If Feyre wanted to know what lucky male or female had gone home on his arm, she'd only have to check tomorrow's society pages, which were always breathlessly detailing the exploits of the Night Court's handsome, charismatic, hard-partying war-hero of a High Lord's heir.

Not that Feyre cared. There were more important things to worry about than Rhysand's love life, like where her next meal was coming from. She only kept up with it because his scandals sold papers like nothing else.

And she definitely didn't feel a stab of envy every time she read about his latest fling. That would be pointless—a lesser fae shadow-wraith like Feyre would never be Lady of the Night Court. The stir Rhys's Illyrian mother had caused made that obvious enough, even if she was the High Lord's mate.

"Good morning, Feyre darling," Rhysand drawled, the way he always greeted her.

"It's noon, Rhys," Feyre said. The nickname might have been overly familiar, but Feyre had noticed his eyes glittered like stars whenever she used it with him. And besides, after being up since dawn, she wasn't inclined to fall over herself currying favor with someone who'd just rolled out of bed.

"Then let me be the first to tell you that you look delicious this afternoon."

Feyre rolled her eyes, positive she looked the farthest thing from delicious in her threadbare leggings and sweater. If it were anyone but Rhys, she would have been sure they were being cruel. But he had enough of her goodwill that he could pay her teasing compliments and not end up with his teeth bashed in for his trouble.

"Did you give them anything interesting to write about last night?" she said, leaning back against a streetlight and crossing her arms over her chest.

Rhys picked at an invisible piece of lint on his tunic, which almost had Feyre rolling her eyes a second time. Despite being in last night's clothes, he didn't look the least bit disheveled—probably some spell he'd cast to ensure he looked irritatingly perfect as always.

"Mor needed a wingman again," he said.

Feyre relaxed, relieved at his answer. Rhys's equally beautiful cousin was the subject of plenty of headlines of her own, and the two were frequently seen together. The people of Velaris were fascinated by the pretty blonde former Hewn City princess–when the Herald ran a story about her, Feyre just had to shout "Morrigan" to turn heads and make sales. If the lead story was about her, Feyre could probably afford to eat tomorrow.

It had been a while, though, since Rhys had been spotted with someone new on his arm. Or with anyone other than Morrigan, his sister, or the two Illyrians he called his brothers actually. Feyre had rolled her eyes at the rumors of a secret relationship or a hidden love child—if you asked her, the most likely explanation was that there were only so many attractive people in Velaris with a weakness for violet eyes. Rhys was bound to run out of people to fuck eventually.

"Is that the truth?" Feyre said, a teasing smile playing on her lips. "Or did you actually find someone to settle down with?"

She'd meant it as a joke, but Rhys didn't smile. There was something hungry, almost predatory, in the way his gaze slid over her. Feyre found herself flushing, even as she stared right back. "Would you care if I did?" he said.

It felt like a challenge; Feyre lifted her chin. "Of course I'd care if you stopped causing scandals. I'm a newsie, and gossip sells papers."

"Of course," Rhys said, something in his expression seeming to shutter. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a gold coin, handing it to her. The value was far more than a single paper was worth, but he'd always insisted she keep the change.

Feyre pulled a paper from the bag slung over her shoulder and handed it to him, longways so there was no chance their fingers would touch. She'd let that happen once, and his fingertips brushing hers had sent a crackle of electricity along her skin that she'd been thinking about ever since. Her mind replayed it almost daily—and frankly, Feyre found that embarrassing.

She pocketed the coin. "Pleasure doing business with you."

When Rhys spoke again, he dropped his voice to a low, sensual purr that sent shivers skittering down Feyre's spine, heat washing over her despite the autumn chill that cut through her tattered clothes. " Everything is a pleasure when it comes to you, Feyre."

He flashed her one last feline smile, and Feyre tipped her cap as he winnowed away, trying not to blush. With her other hand, she fingered the coin in her pocket. It would go under the floorboard with the rest of the ones she'd stashed away. Only a few more until she could afford the one-way ticket to the Continent that she'd been dreaming of.

Velaris was wonderful— if you could afford a big, strong door to lock out the hustle and bustle. Feyre certainly couldn't, and she was dying to get away.

A flash of auburn hair and a shout of "High Lady!" across the street pulled Feyre from her thoughts. Lucien was striding towards her, a half-empty satchel of newspapers slung over one shoulder and carrying another paper bag in his hand. She raised a hand in greeting—she'd stopped cringing at the nickname a long time ago.

"Is the new spot over by the docks working out for you?" she said when he got closer, even though she knew the answer. Lucien could sell papers anywhere; he didn't even need the eyepatch and the sob story about being an Autumn Court orphan who'd found his way to Night—just his brilliant smile was enough.

Lucien shrugged, the gesture far too elegant for someone who'd spent his morning selling newspapers to sailors and fishmongers. "I can make anything work."

"Then why did you come looking for me?" Feyre said. With unsold papers still in his bag, there had to be a reason. The newsies bought the papers from the distributor each morning, starting each day operating at a loss until they'd sold enough papers to recoup the cost. Lucien still had work to do if he wanted to turn a profit.

He pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Isn't gazing upon your beautiful face reason enough?"

"You sound like Rhysand."

"And you're saying that like it's a bad thing. Trouble in paradise?"

Feyre resisted the urge to roll up one of the papers in her own bag and smack him with it. Lucien had overheard her speaking to Rhysand once and apparently decided the prince was in love with her. Ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous.

"Rhysand isn't—"

" By the Cauldron, he'd follow you around like a lost puppy if you'd let him."

"He's just a flirt," Feyre said, the edge to her voice making it clear she didn't want to talk about this anymore. "What did you need me for?"

"Someone needs to finish my pickles," Lucien said, pulling a sandwich out of the paper bag. He handed Feyre half, along with the entire side of pickles it had come with, then sat down on the curb to eat, stretching his long legs out in front of him.

Feyre nibbled on the pickle, the first thing she'd eaten all day, and thanked the Cauldron for a best friend who hated them and shared them with her. Putting her papers aside, she sat down next to him. "Thanks, Lucien," she said, unwrapping her half of the sandwich. Lunch would be on her next—that had been their unspoken agreement for years, even when meals were sporadic and infrequent.

They lapsed into silence, more intent on eating than talking. It was comfortable, a much needed rest after a morning spent shouting headlines at passersby. Feyre's feet already ached from standing all morning.

After a few minutes, Lucien balled up the now-empty wax paper. "Now that you're fed, I think it's safe to mention that you're needed over by the Rainbow."

"Again?" Feyre said with a sigh.

"Bron and Hart are fighting over the same spot. The High Lady should step in."

Feyre wasn't sure when exactly it had happened, but at some point, she'd found herself the unofficial leader of the newsies of Velaris. She'd always kept an eye out for newcomers and lended them a hand—advice on selling papers and navigating the city was all she had, but Feyre shared freely. When there was a problem, she was usually the one to resolve it.

At some point, "High Lady" had gone from an ironic nickname for a poor girl on the streets to a mark of respect for a young woman who took care of her own.

"I'll talk to them," Feyre said, finishing her food and standing up.

Lucien started to thank her, but Feyre had already called on her magic, her body becoming nothing but shadow. Incorporeal like this, she could slip through walls and travel unseen—and crucially, it was faster than walking. As a lesser fae, it was the only magic she had at her disposal.

Even in the brightest sun, Velaris was full of shadows. And for better or worse, Feyre had made them her home.

***

Rhysand had planned to give himself time to read the news before he was due for a meeting at the House of Wind. Yesterday, he'd told himself he'd be up early enough to look over the agenda ahead of time. He'd wanted to be prepared, and his father would have his head if Rhys was late for official court business again.

But somehow, the High Lord's ire seemed incredibly far away last night, when the Cauldron only knew how many drinks he'd had and Mor was dragging him back to the dance floor at Rita's again, and dawn had nearly broken when he'd finally stumbled home.

Late or not, though, he still had to see Feyre.

The most important part of his day had become buying the paper from her. It wasn't about the news and never had been—every day, Rhys hoped that would be the day she finally took an interest in him that went beyond trading a few teasing remarks and rolling her eyes. He'd never flirted so much, so painfully obviously before, just to have it all go ignored like water off a duck's back.

And that had already been going on for a few months before the mating bond snapped.

Their fingers had brushed as she'd handed him the paper. Perhaps that brief touch skin-to-skin had been all it had taken for the urge to claim and taste and scent his mate to hit him with all the force of a brick to the head. Before he'd done something stupid, Rhys had winnowed away without an explanation or a goodbye.

After that, Rhys had resolved not to tell her, at least not until she showed some sort of interest back. But in the months since, he hadn't gotten her to even blush. And even if by some miracle, she did want him that way and accepted the bond, there was no guarantee she wouldn't resent him after a few decades as future Lady of Night. Her indifference was painful enough—Rhys wasn't sure he could withstand her hating him.

For the short flight to the House of Wind, Rhys let the chill in the air clear his head of thoughts of Feyre. He was supposed to focus today. Some of the city's most powerful merchants had asked for a meeting with his father, and as the High Lord's heir, Rhys was expected to be in attendance too.

The meeting room was already full when Rhys walked in, brushing his windswept hair back into place. From the head of the table, his father glared daggers at him.

Rhys ignored it, dropping into the empty seat that had been left for him. "I hope I didn't miss anything interesting."

He kept the smirk plastered on his face, even as his father pushed past his shields to speak mind-to-mind. We'll discuss this later. For now, get through this meeting without embarrassing me further. That's an order.

Rhys made a mental note to let Mor know he'd likely have to cancel their plans to go to the theater that night.

One of the merchants—Rhys had met him before but had forgotten his name—gave him a cold smile and said, "We were just discussing economic policy."

"Carry on, then," Rhys said.

As the meeting droned on, Rhys forced himself to focus, even if the subject matter was painfully dry. One day, he'd be High Lord, and if he wanted to be the sort of ruler the Night Court deserved, one who made things better, he needed to be knowledgeable and willing to listen.

But even then, he wasn't immune to letting his mind wander. At some point, he'd found himself thinking about how the sunlight had brought out the gold in Feyre's hair, when the sound of his name brought him crashing back down to reality.

"…but you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Rhysand?" one of the merchants was saying, the sneer in his voice obvious.

Rhys felt his father's eyes boring into him, and it was clear this was some sort of test. He was supposed to be handling something, and Rhys didn't want to think about what sort of punishment might be in store for him if he made it obvious he'd stopped paying attention.

"Would I?" Rhys said, arching a brow in a way that he hoped looked imperious.

"With how many headlines you've been the subject of? I think by now you'd know a thing or two about what sells papers. If it weren't for you, we'd have gone under after the War."

Rhys's hands curled into fists under the table as he recalled exactly who this merchant was—Pulitzer, a newspaper magnate, the one who'd been complaining that circulation was down since the Treaty had been signed. Peace, apparently, was boring.

Peace that Rhys had bled for, had nearly died for when he'd been captured by Amarantha's army. Not that any of that mattered when profits were down.

"Then a bit more gratitude is in order," Rhys said, his voice low and deadly and all command, sounding every inch the future High Lord he was. It was so brief that Rhys nearly missed it, but his father's lips quirked up in approval. "If you have a request, I suggest you word it carefully."

It quickly became clear that Pulitzer and the rest of the owners of Velaris's major newspapers had come to grovel. Even if Rhys couldn't bring himself to care, it was true that the Night Court's newspaper industry was bringing in less money since the end of the war. They'd come to petition his father for assistance.

And to Rhys's relief, the High Lord's answer had been a quick and resounding no.

Of course, Rhys knew his father's answer had been more about safeguarding the Night Court's wealth more than anything else. That much was obvious when so many of their citizens were struggling, even in Velaris. It was something that Rhys vowed to change one day.

But Rhys's relief didn't last much longer. His father had told the newspaper moguls to figure it out themselves, and they'd quickly agreed that to fix their bottom line, they'd raise the price for the newsies who bought the papers to distribute each morning.

Newsies who were barely getting by as it was. Newsies who were already going hungry and sleeping outdoors even as the weather got colder. Newsies who'd been orphaned or disabled after the war and couldn't find decent work.

Newsies like his mate, and Rhysand certainly wouldn't stand for that.

[lets-try-some-writing]

Okay, in regards to your Unicron is a parent to humans post, when you mention Unicron possessing an animal, I imagined a squirrel. Not some epic beast... I imagined the alien god of destruction sleeping at the center of the Earth as a squirrel.

But it fits. Squirrels are agents of chaos.

Squirrel runs into road, no one, not even the squirrel knows what's gonna happen. Squirrel gets under your vehicle's hood, chews the wires and makes a nest. Squirrel gets into the walls of your house, chews the wires and stores and insane amount of nuts. Squirrel gets cornered, jumps at you like a mad lad.

Could you imagine if Unicron just decided, "I'm a squirrel today and I'm going terrorize the Cybertronians and my brother can't even get mad cause chewing wires is what they do." Or "Hey, I'm a squirrel and travel-sized. I now shall nest in Raf's hair and protect the children this way."

Sorry this a wacked out thought that made me laugh, and felt compelled to share.

Dude I laughed for a solid minute reading this-

Agents of Chaos

After finding out about his surprise offspring, Unicron became protective immediately. But he quickly discovered several things, those being: He couldn't move or act all that much if he wanted to keep his spawn alive. His children quickly became fearful of anything that was abnormal to them. And lastly, fragging with the Cybertronians on his surface was far more enjoyable when there was nothing they could do to stop him.

With these thoughts in mind, Unicron devised the perfect avatar with which to protect, interact with, and care for his young while also making life difficult for everyone else and not drawing too much attention to himself. He searched the other organisms on his surface for days until he found it, the perfect avatar.

The squirrel.

It was chaos incarnate but so common in most places that it would fit right in even if Unicron used it for nefarious purposes. His chackling caused the earth to shake in places as he chose his first subject and took control of it. And while he did have some initial issues piloting the body of the small monster, he quickly got the hang of it and moved to meet the three among his many children who required his attention more so than any others.

Opting to go to Rafael, Unicron in the body of the squirrel quickly took up a place in the boy's arms, earning him a startled squeak and awed touches in response. Unicron chittered, oh so pleased with himself as he spent days refusing to leave Rafael alone, eventually gaining his avatar a place as the boy's pet, just like he planned. Then once he gained a solid foundation from which to work with, his avatar, now named Chitters, snuck into Rafael's school bag and snuck into the base that way.

Rafael was too busy working on his homework and chatting with his Cybertronian guardian to notice as Chitters wormed his way out of the bag and Unicron directed it to begin causing chaos. Unicron didn't want to totally sabotage the Cybertronians who called themselves Autobots, not while they were keeping his children safe. So he didn't direct Chitters to harm anything of importance, but he most certainly did go out of his way to make life hard for everyone. The squirrel quickly gained the ire of the entire team as Chitters tore into wires connecting to certain consoles in the base (never the groundbridge of course. Unicron couldn't risk harming his children after all). Chitters also stole small components from Ratchet's workspace and a few of Bumblebee's video games.

By the end of the day Chitters was banned from base and Rafael took him home with no small amount of guilt. Of course no matter what Rafael did to try and keep Chitters from getting into base, it was useless since Chitters snuck in by hiding on Jack and Miko of by straight up waltzing into the base via Unicron's aid. The abominable squirrel swiftly became an unstoppable pain in the aft that none of the team could do anything about and accepted since the squirrel kept coming back.

Optimus eventually accepted that he was being cursed and merely sighed when his datapads disappeared randomly only to be found later bitten to shreds by a determined squirrel. Ratchet however never gave up trying to hide his small items and tools, even when they were repeatedly found and stolen by Chitters at Unicron's behest. Arcee stopped fighting back when Chitters clambered all over her and gnawed on her outer plating like an irritating but ultimately harmless scraplet. Bulkhead and Wheeljack took to booking it in the opposite direction whenever the "demon squirrel" came near. Unicron abused their reactions until he laughed himself into a stupor, even more so when the two wreckers began carrying tower shields to try and fend the Chitters off. Bumblebee valiantly tried and failed to keep Chitters from destroying his video game controllers and very nearly crushed the squirrel in outrage after the fifth time he had to replace his controller.

Bumblebee: YOU DETESTIBlE VERMIN!

Chitters/Unicron: *destroying yet another controller* This is what you deserve you abominable creation of Primus!

Bumblebee: *chasing after the squirrel* PERISH!

Chitters/Unicron: MWAhAHA!

Every single member of the team hated the squirrel with a seething passion. At times Optimus, usually ever merciful, contemplated taking the squirrel out back and putting it down in the most gruesome way possible. His contemplative thoughts nearly became reality once when Chitters got into his personal datapads that he usually kept hidden away. Those were his only remaining items from his time as Orion and he may or may not have blasted much of the wall into scrap as he widely shot at the squirrel. That day Unicron learned Optimus's limits and he did not touch the Prime's personal items again. He wanted to cause chaos, but he didn't want to earn the true ire of Primus's chosen vessel.

The team hated Chitters and the children knew it. So eventually Rafael tried in vain to let the squirrel go for the sanity of everyone. Long story short, he failed. No matter what he did, Chitters always came back and nestled in his hair like an unwelcome louse. Unicron wasn't upset in the slightest at the children gathering together to try and attempt to get rid of his avatar. In fact he found it to be a fun game to find a way to sneak his avatar back into the Autobot base.

Of course not everything was fun and games for the chaos god, though he greatly enjoyed messing with the Autobots. The Decepticons were a real threat, one that loomed over the children every time they left base. As such Chitters followed the children whenever they left and proved to be far more dangerous than anything else out there once the squirrel got on a Decepticon. Unicron would not tolerate anyone touching HIS children, especially not a disgusting spawn of Primus.

Vehicons that got too close found a rapid squirrel in their joints, tearing away at cables and wiring while somehow managing to not be squished as the Cybertronian flailed. Starscream was met with a rapid squirrel to the windshield once when he attempted to bomb Bulkhead, and simultaneously the children. The seeker ended up crashing into a wall and very nearly being blown to bits. Knockout got scratched one time by Chitters and swore off touching the children ever again. Soundwave straight up avoided the squirrel and didn't bother with the human children upon seeing what Chitters could do. Breakdown once tried to squish the squirrel, but no matter how many times he attempted to, Chitters got back up and tried to maul him. Megatron very nearly got his optics destroyed once when he got too close to the children and has since put out a kill on sight order for the rapid avatar of Unicron (not that any heed it).

Seeing all this the team were suspicious as pit in regards to the squirrel. Ratchet tried to drop a weight on the squirrel only for it to bounce off harmlessly, earning awed and shocked expressions from the medic. Bulkhead and Wheeljack attempted to blast Chitters with a flamethrower only for the squirrel to brush it off and continue onward and chase the wrecker duo who screamed like human girls. Bumblebee made his own attempts to murder the avatar through various means ranging from but not limited to sniping, acid, drowning, crushing, and even suffocation. But nothing ever worked and in the end after months of enduring Chitters, Optimus knelt before the squirrel, glared at it, and ordered Unicron to get the hell out of his base until he behaved.

The chaos god obliged, not even hesitating after he very nearly sent the Prime into a rage when he touched his datapads. A few days later he returned and nestled in Rafael's hair again.

Optimus knew that Chitters was an avatar and the rest of the team sensed something else was off, but they never commented and focused their efforts on what needed to be done. They only really attempted to kill Chitters when they devised a new potential method of extermination. At which point they would try it out on Chitters just to see if it would work or not (which it never did).

[cutefoxgirl2992]

Time for my Qi Rong fic semi-masterpost, AKA all the fics I've read that have characterized and delved into Qi Rong's character in a way very few TGCF fans do. Consider this a Qi Rong bible if you will. None of these are in any particular order, these are just fanfics I fell in love with through Qi Rong's characterization. 1. My Nuisance by FallLover

Honestly an amazing fic with amazing Qi Rong characterization. He may not be part of the main pairing in this one, but the comparisons between Yin Yu and Qi Rong are absolutely beautiful and delve into both characters' motivations and ideas post-canon. It also acknowledges Qi Rong's hatred brought by betrayal and his self-harming tendencies. Honestly an amazing fic, even in QuanYin isn't your cup of tea, specifically for the amazing characterization. 2. When the Sun Comes Up I'll be There With You by lordydoo

Once again, amazing Qi Rong characterization, and also provides some much needed Guzi stuff. It may be Qiurong, but most of the fic is Qi Rong-centric as he navigates a new life. The story's realistic while still retaining the original novel's character motivations. Qi Rong is insanely well written in this fic, and you can tell the author put a lot of thought into his backstory and reasons he is the way he is. Also, Xuan Ji wingwoman. We love girlbosses.

3. A Lesson in Sans-Serif by pearliegloom

Honestly I could write an entire other post about this one fic, it's my personal favorite. Besides being accurate characterization, I'm an absolute sucker for Qi Rong goofy times. Qi Rong says fuck abusive parents in this fic and honestly he's just so iconic. This one doesn't delve that deep into Qi Rong's backstory or anything, but goddamn we really need funny Qi Rong-centric fics.

4. To Change is in a Human's Nature, But a God's? by Vexxed_Imp

Another rare long Qi Rong-centric fics. Sorry for the amount of Qiurong here, but I think all my Qi Rong fans would know how hard it is to find Qi Rong fics outside of a ship context. In this one, Qi Rong ascends to godhood and deals with god stuff. Honestly it's very entertaining and a great long read with a great premise. I wish there were more "Qi Rong becomes a calamity/god fics" but just like his fans, there are very few. Honestly, even if you're not a Qi Rong fan, this fic's great for building up Heavenly Official characters and the general vibes of heaven.

5. Pretext by foxflowering

First, only, and last NSFW entry on this post. This fic's short, but it really made me fall in love with stinky lesbian Qi Rong. I was gonna keep this list SFW only, but this fic deserved a spot on the masterpost based on its sheer chaotic energy. Reading this fic made me feel like Qi Rong was a girl I passed by in high school or something. She's written extremely realistically to the point it was uncanny. If you love urself some stinky fem Qi Rong, this is probably the fic for you.

Alright, that's it for now. I'd include more, but good Qi Rong-centric fics are extremely hard to find, especially if it does not include a ship. Feel free to reblog with more fics, I just wanted to list these five for any Qi Rong enjoyer who's having a hard time telling which fanfic is actually Qi Rong-centric and which fic is a Hualian fic with Qi Rong cussing in the background. Have fun!

[ruinationz]

ao3 suspended my FUCKING account until like 10 DAYS after the tadc pilot releases :sob:...all over some stupid request posts...anyways read my writing

wowzers i wanted to write pomni x caine but made it edgy. eek! the personal traumas the humans have!!!

thx you @bambi-on-the-ps3 for the help again

(again, like on the starstruck fic i'll probably like explode you if you say gross things about this ship.)

desc from ao3:

the amazing digital circus? the amazing digital GAY.

(or: pomni loves caine, and caine loves pomni! absolutely none of pomni's unresolved past traumas from the real world are here to rain on their relationship parade, right?)

(...right?)

ok i srsly need to set these things up better uh UNDER THE CUT! WRITING:

Caine, you're being followed by the ghost of what you can't absolve.

Say, you wanna go somewhere?

So does she. Her ghost.

But she's not dead, no. She's just going through hard times.

You wanna know 'why?',

But lately...Something's hanging off of your tongue.

"...MAY I ASK YOU A QUESTION, MY DEAR?"

After what had seemed like an eternity of mustering up the courage to do so, Caine had finally managed to get a hold of Pomni just as the troupe was settling down from another one of the circus's many performances.

A soft, confused hum came from the jester in response to the words he stumbled out, almost as if she hadn't expected to be asked anything at all that night as her gaze met the ringleader's own.

"S-Sure, what do you need...?" She replied, the corners of her mouth turning up into that usual timid smile that nearly made his heart melt in his chest.

The ringleader hesitated for a moment, wringing the staff in his hand as he took the time to gather his words together, before looking Pomni in the eyes and asking:

"...IS...IS ANYTHING...WRONG, MY DEAR?"

The eager curiosity in Pomni's eyes dulled into realization, and Caine watched the jester cast her gaze to the floor as the smile faded from her face, an uneasy silence filling the room.

...

"...It...It's nothing, Caine. I'm okay, really." She finally muttered a reply after a second or two, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her tone as she bit her bottom lip and continued to look away from him.

He would have frowned at her response if he was physically able to.

'It's nothing'? Oh, don't play these games, my dear...

Pomni, please, just let me help you...

I know that there's been something upsetting you. All I want you to be is happy...

Why is she hiding all of this from me? What else does she have hidden? Have I not been doing enough? How long will she keep this up for? For goodness' sake, I'd rather see her upset than acting like this...!

...

...No, that's a nasty thought, and you know it.

Focus, Caine. Just continue to be there for her.

...

...Is it me who's been bothering her?...

No, it can't be me. All I need to do is let Pomni know that it's alright to talk to me. That I'm always available to be her shoulder to cry on. That she can be vulnerable with me.

...

...Just as I have been vulnerable with her...

Pomni...I want to help you...

I really do...

He gave a sigh as he closed his eyes and shook his head, loosening the grip on his staff.

...Perhaps it would be best to not pressure her into it.

...

"...I-I'm sorry if I...w-worried you-"

"NO, NO, NO! NOT AT ALL!" Caine's thoughts came to a halt as he quickly snapped his head up to reassure Pomni, waving his hands back and forth.

"PLEASE, PLEASE DON'T FEEL BAD, MY DEAR...IT'S FINE, IT TRULY IS."

"...YOU KNOW..." He began to change the topic, switching his staff to his left hand as he reached out to gently place the other on the side of Pomni's face.

"WE HAVE PLENTY OF TIME UNTIL THE NEXT ACT, SO...WHY NOT DO SOMETHING NICE TOGETHER?"

He tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in an expression that made up for his inability to properly smile. "YOU KNOW, TO CHEER YOU UP?"

...

Pomni's worried expression seemed to soften as a smile returned to her face, and Caine felt the temperature of the jester's face grow ever so slightly warmer as she reached her own hand up to rest it on his.

"...Yeah...We could do that."

[iwritenarrativesandstuff]

Hello! Hope you don't mind the random ask 🥺 You said after the newest episode that Mushitarou is one of your favorite BSD characters; could you talk a little about your thoughts on him/why you love him/his arc? He's one of my favorites too, and it makes me so so sad how underrated he is, because imo he's one of the most well-written and tragic characters in the entire series, despite how little screentime (pagetime?) he gets :' ) I wish more people would talk about him. Really hope that changes after the next episode 💚

I honestly almost screamed when I got this ask YES I CAN TALK ABOUT MUSHITARO. I CAN TALK ABOUT HIM ALL DAY.

Ok well first of all he is the poor little meow meow. Pathetic scrunkly man. I'm sorry but you can't deny that it's true. Even in-universe, it's like he's the BSD world's chew toy. He keeps getting kidnapped by different organizations with like. No breathing room in between. Give him a BREAK. Funnily enough, I enjoy and usually like to poke fun at these kinds of characters, but they're not typically my favourites. Mushitaro is, by far, an exception to my usual favourite character types.

Second, I am a lover of bittersweet tragic storylines. Yeah. Honestly, the way the storyline built to the slow reveal - I knew immediately after Poe mentioned the water droplets that they were his tears, and I was starting to suspect what was really going on, but the way it was unraveled was so, so painful and beautifully done. Even knowing it was coming today when I watched the episode, it still hurt.

Thirdly, Mushitaro's circumstances raise some intriguing questions we still don't have answered. He was captured by the Seventh Agency and made to work for them with his ability - he considers them a worse alternative to Dostoevsky and refers to them as tyrants. (We also know of another shadowy organization that takes on ability users with useful skills for nefarious purposes, V. V also somehow managed to not be discovered by either the government or Ranpo in 13 years. I'm not saying there's a connection there but... but... there might be. 👀) Anyways, point is, there's stuff goin' on there. And I wanna know. (Also I like the motivation parallels with Ango very much.)

But most of all, I fully agree with you - he is very well-written. What I love most about his character is actually the way his narrative showcases what I believe to be some of the series' character writing's biggest strengths - to excellent (and heartbreaking) effect.

Characters are often revealed to be quite different than what their initial introductions would suggest. Later revelations serve to recontextualize earlier character cues - these early cues are often misleading but not outright lies.

To be clear, this isn't a hard or particularly unique thing in character writing - in fact, this is... kind of a minimum requirement. Your audience should be able to go back after the fact and notice new things about characters that you only get on re-read. But I find BSD is interesting for this because these initial impressions don't frequently tell you what these characters actually value - the "establishing moments" are often incredibly misleading. Mushitaro is an excellent example of this.

The best part of the perfect murder arc is the way it slowly unravels piece by piece - and as it unravels, more and more, we get to see the real Mushitaro. He starts off with these terrifying facial expressions, bragging and boasting about how he is the "detective killer" and how none stand in his way, cackling like a shallow cartoon villain. There's not much there to suggest a deeper character. Then there's the first flash to Yokomizo's murder, and Mushitaro appears to revel in it and the idea that he can't be caught. Another flashback shows him making these arrogant demands of a literal terrorist, like all his tableware being silver and porcelain and having access to a library of occult books for his study. Ok dude. This all paints the picture of a selfish individual, primarily concerned with expensive things and money and image - all things that perfectly fit Ranpo's initial conjecture as to the kind of person behind the Kindaichi murder. And just like Ranpo later says, it's a little too perfect.

The reveal builds slowly but surely, and Mushitaro's built-up image as a dramatic, remorseless murderer crumbles. Because he didn't kill out of hatred at all. He killed Yokomizo because Yokomizo asked him to do so. Because this, and the legacy of a mystery that transcended fiction into reality, was his only friend's dying wish. It was enough for Mushitaro to delay his escape just to fulfill it - what Ranpo refers to as a kind of willing self-destruction.

What Mushitaro ultimately values then is honouring the wishes of those he cares about and repaying those he owes. He will take the secret of Yokomizo's ultimate mystery to his grave. He used what he likely thought were his last moments alive to grab the transceiver and warn Ranpo about the danger the Agency was in. He only decided to trust Ango after Ango admitted his use of the Seventh Agency was to honour Oda's memory and wishes.

So, going back and re-reading his intro again, it becomes more clear that he was suffering from a kind of cognitive dissonance. "But wasn't he just playing the role he was supposed to?" No. He wasn't. The first flashback to Yokomizo's murder is much more violent and ends with Mushitaro cackling and going into a full villain monologue when there is no one else around but him. There's no one to perform this role for - except Mushitaro himself.

Both the killing and the ensuing grief stemmed from the exact same source - Mushitaro loved his friend deeply. But there is, I believe, no small amount of bitterness too, for the way they argued frequently, and the way his friend asked this of him. It's practically irreconcilable in his mind, and so Mushitaro leans into his role as the evil perpetrator who hated Yokomizo to such a degree that I honestly think he started to believe it - Mushitaro, with two narratives in his mind running parallel to each other that are fundamentally conflicting, tried to make a monster of himself. Insisted on being the monster, at least until Ranpo made it impossible for him to deny the true motive behind his actions - protecting his friend's last wish.

Fittingly for the climactic reveal of a mystery storyline that blurs fiction and reality, Mushitaro's real-life grief was his perfect fictional role's undoing.

Is he boastful? Arrogant? A bit of a coward? Absolutely. But Mushitaro is no monstrous villain - he is a man unable to confront his grief over his friend's death, and who, ultimately, doesn't intend any real harm.

Because other than Yokomizo, revealed as an agreed upon assisted suicide - Mushitaro never murdered anyone.

2. Characters are not cured of their pain and trauma. They continue to struggle with it during their development and it actively impacts the way they view and interact with the world around them.

Mushitaro's story is heavily themed around grief and his consistent denial of it's effects on him. At first, he denies by embodying the role Yokomizo wanted him to play - it seems to the point where he legitimately started to lose it. He's slipping when we first meet him. In a weird way, for as much as Ranpo tore his perfect crime apart... I feel like he also saved him, in a sense. The dissonance he was experiencing likely only would've gotten worse if he had not been forced to speak the truth aloud.

After that point... the denial focuses solely on the idea that Mushitaro doesn't miss Yokomizo at all. That he's doing just fine and Yokomizo should be jealous (he's far from fine; he doesn't even see a point in going outside anymore now that he won't be able to see his friend) and that he hated him (he doesn't. he never did. but he has to. he can't deal with it.).

Another thing I really like about his arc is that Mushitaro's grief also clearly stems from the entire thing being traumatic for him - but neither Yokomizo nor Mushitaro are demonized or victimized for this; rather the situation is just shown as it is. It's nice, that the story allows the reader/viewer to draw their own judgements. Both had their reasons for their actions - Yokomizo was already dying and wanted to go out in a way that was meaningful to him, while Mushitaro chose to fulfill this wish in spite of the cost to him. They both mutually self-destructed, in a way.

The narrative doesn't frame either as the villain. It doesn't fully frame either in victimhood either. It's a tragedy all the same.

Mushitaro continues to see and hear Yokomizo wherever he goes, not because he can't get rid of him... but because he never wanted him to be gone in the first place. Stabbing me would hurt less I think. :/

3. Characters often grow and change before they consciously realize it or have any sort of "epiphany".

This ties in a lot with the ongoing theme of uncertainty, and I above all really like this aspect of the series. BSD has characters grow and change and try to be better, do better by themselves and others... without being sure of the outcome. Sometimes before they're ready to consciously admit a change is necessary. There are few epiphanies. The characters are forced to slog through hardship and only then suddenly realize how far they've come - for better or for worse.

Mushitaro does change, even in the short span of time he is a focus character. I love the first little signs of it too - Mushitaro, who doesn't even like mystery novels, uses a trick Yokomizo told him about to help himself, Atsushi and Kyouka escape. Look at him :')

Afterwards, he starts to wonder if he can see Yokomizo whenever he enters a locked room - as in, if connecting to the memory of his friend through what he loved in life will mean that he keeps that memory alive.

And as annoyed as he is with Poe's attempts to get him to write a mystery... a part of him is happy to be around people that he could start to consider his friends. Enough that the Yokomizo he hallucinates wonders if maybe he doesn't need him there anymore. And finally Mushitaro bursts.

But this is actually good. He's finally past that denial phase, the part that had him talking about hate when really he missed him all along. Thing is, he'd already been developing and changing by this point, in that he needed the growth to come to terms with this truth, and it was not the truth that drove the growth.

In a sense, Mushitaro working through his grief and uncertainty led him to a brighter outcome, one where he has more friends and can start anew. He lost the closest person in his life. But his arc continuously asserts that in spite of the fact that he will always miss his friend, Mushitaro himself is still alive. And he should live that life - both moving forward and keeping the memory of his friend with him.

Odasaku believed that writing a novel was to write people. Poe was so insistent on getting him to write because it's a way of seeing the people we want to see anytime we want.

What a beautiful character arc, that began with fiction as an escape from real-life pain, and concluded with fiction as a means to work through it and with it instead.

Plus he's just such a funky little dude.

I. Love. Mushitaro.

[suvidrache]

hard times

age in bio when interacting. minors do not interact.

Word Count: 570 | Read it on AO3 | masterlist

Summary: meeting havik for the first time.

Havik stood guard near the water building in Chaosrealm. The only thing separating the building from the public, besides Havik, was a large wall with a metal gate. Havik had taken it upon himself to keep the waters safe from Seido. Their guards had been coming into Chaosrealm and forcing the water into an organization, prohibiting it from living its best chaotic life. The Chaosrealmers hated how organized the Seidans were and how they forced others into compliance with their rules and beliefs. He stood guard, ready to fight those that dared to threaten Chaosrealm.

You wandered into the realm, unsure of where you were. You walked slowly as you tried to figure it out. Occasionally, a person would come up, touch your arm or shoulder, and run away. You didn't understand. You wandered some more and overheard a conversation, none in a language that you understood. You continued walking until you came across a ball of light. You looked around. There was no other way to cross to the other side. The cracks in the ground were full of bubbling lava. You stepped into the colored ball, and it pulled you over to the other side. You looked around before continuing to walk. You found a man standing around. He didn't appear to be doing anything.

"Hello?" You said to him as you stepped closer.

"Hello, I'm Havik, a cleric of chaos."

"I'm Y/N. Where are we?"

"In Chaosrealm." He said without asking any questions.

"I got lost. Do you know where I can find any help?"

His eyes narrowed at your question. "Why must you continue to force order upon me?"

"I'm not trying to force you to do anything. It was just a question."

"Chaosrealmers hate questions. It is a way of forcing order, as questions must always be answered. I do not know what you seek, so I can not help you."

"I'm sorry for hurting you. I'm just trying to find my way back to Earth."

"Come this way." He said as he led you through Chaosrealm.

It would be hard to have a conversation with him, but it didn't stop you from trying.

"The Chaosrealmers, I can't understand their language."

"Most people don't. You have yet to learn the ways of chaos. All Chaosrealmers speak backward."

You continued to say things to which Havik sometimes responded to, and other times, you'd have to reword your sentences to get a reply from him. You barely knew him, but that didn't stop you from liking him and wanting to know more about him.

You turned to him. "I wish to see you again." You waited for his reply.

"I am always here." He said, and you stepped into the portal and made your way home.

You would take frequent walks to Chaosrealm, often talking to Havik and learning more about him and the realm he lived in.

One day, Havik finally asked you on a date. Sort of.

"Let's go on a date."

"Alright, let's go." You said as he led the way to a restaurant. From there, you both got to know each other better. It was hard for you, and you would apologize anytime you asked him a question. Havik, however, had no issues not asking anything. When the date was over, Havik gave you a hug before heading off to his realm. You smiled and told him you would see him again.

© SUVIDRACHE — do not copy, translate, modify, or plagiarize my work. reblogs are appreciated!

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