#or like ... obsessing over other stuff

[hysieme]

[violent138]

HC that Crime Lord Red Hood routinely donates medical equipment, money, and well-trained black market medics (formerly employed by gang leaders he took down) to Leslie's clinic. He's also obsessive about updating or improving the generators at the clinic and wears her down in a way that Batman couldn't.

[everestgale]

Why?

[This is a direct continuation of my half-Opportunist angst half-Skeptunist comic from February "It was in your nature," it takes place right as the comic is ending. This is your spoiler warning! Also it's a lot shorter than my last writing attempt, just under 1000 words (rather than 4000 it was last time-)]

[If I can't finish making drawings for my favorite ship, I will write them instead. Beaming these birds, they won't leave me alone (T v T)]

[Content warnings: blood, dead body]

[Hope you enjoy!]

_________________________________________

So why did you–

Opportunist slid off onto his knees, the blade uselessly clattering beside him. He dragged his right hand and smeared a dark stain across the ground beneath; copper scent lingered in the back of his throat. His eyes froze in a dazed, petrified expression, locked onto the viscous pool of crimson. 

Why?

The question lingered, ringing endlessly in Opportunist’s head. His own inner voice sounded foreign, as though someone else from deep beneath kept asking why. That question would never have a clear answer now. How ironic, Opportunist thought, he would’ve hated that.

He will never hate anything again.

He will never ask anything again, either.

Opportunist winced, tasting the bile in his mouth. He tried to lift his body and stand up, but he staggered and tripped forward, his elbows now deep in blood. The deep indigo cloak loomed before his eyes, drenched and stained red. Opportunist tried to push himself away but lacked the strength–

Like always.

The stray thought got caught in Opportunist’s mind. He wasn’t always like this, no, he couldn’t be, he wasn’t weak, he was a sensible person looking out for himself, he had to–

Why?

A vision flashed before Opportunist; he suddenly sat at the kitchen table, waving a deck of cards in his hands at Skeptic. He was back at the card game night, the same night that Skeptic had ambushed him, tried to weasel his way into “cracking” Opportunist open like one of his many unsolved cases. He knew that Skeptic had tried to get close to him for a while, extensively studying his habits and mannerisms, but he couldn’t get a solid reason why. There had to be a reason Skeptic tried to get close to him… so naturally, what else would it be other than Skeptic’s vain attempts to find his weakness, to gain an advantage over him, to use it and abuse it against him–

Why?

Why would it be anything else?

Why?

Because–

Why?

…

Opportunist wasn’t sure anymore.

The very fiber of his being screamed at this creeping doubt; you fool, it thrashed in Opportunist's mind, he was a smart one, he knew too much, he planned to betray you. Better him than you.

As that thought crossed his mind, Opportunist's gaze focused on the body in front of him. For the briefest of moments, he saw blood-soaked brown feathers, rather than indigo, his body growing colder. He could hear a whistle; the sound of metal hitting flesh rang through the air, just as the sharp pain pierced down his back. That's what would happen, his very instinct whispered in his ears, better him than you–

Why?

The wretched question repeated itself, and another sharp pain arose, but this time, it was in Opportunist's heart.

If Skeptic truly schemed against him, wanted to gain the upper hand over him, tried to gain his trust to betray and backstab him later–

Why didn't you fight back?

Tears pooled in the corners of Opportunist's eyes; he squeezed them shut before his hands instinctively reached forward and grabbed Skeptic's lifeless body by the cloak. He brought it closer, acting on nothing but pure impulse and regret, and buried his face in one of Skeptic's wings, desperately clinging onto his dead flockmate.

Why did you let me kill you?

He let out a couple of quiet sobs, muffled by the soft flight feathers, still warm and comforting like they always were, almost like they belonged to someone living.

Opportunist could never let himself completely relax when he was with other people, he was so sure of it. And yet one gentle, fuzzy memory returned and lulled him out of this false confidence.

A nightmare. One brightly lit, stifling torch, surrounded by eternal, biting cold. He, no, everyone was supposed to celebrate its kind, blazing warmth… when it was the very thing that smothered life out of the air. Just as he was about to suffocate, Opportunist woke up with a shriek, shaking and desperately gasping. Everything afterwards was a blur to him, Opportunist could not recall what really happened that night… except, he distinctly remembered soft indigo wings, gently wrapping him in a warm embrace. He remembered relaxing into them, clinging to them, before drifting back to sleep. He remembered a gruff, but caring voice whispering something; he could not make out the words, but he knew they were tender… and honest.

He felt comfortable. 

The most comfortable he had ever felt in his entire life.

And yet Opportunist could not find the strength to trust him.

So why did you believe in me?

Was it for the same reason that Opportunist's heart broke as the blade hit Skeptic's back?

…

No.

No.

No, no, no, Skeptic, you fool, you– Opportunist could not let that thought linger for too long, for if it did, then that means…

Then that means Skeptic–

No.

loved–

No.

Opportunist jolted away from the lifeless body. 

No. 

He wiped the blood off his hands before brushing off the leftover tears. He took a shallow, ragged breath before he lifted his own body off the ground, the smallest movements requiring sustained effort. His heart ached as his wobbly legs moved him away from the pool of blood beneath his talons. But he couldn't let himself–

No.

Opportunist knew he wasn't safe right now. With Skeptic gone, the flock surely would erupt into chaos. And several of them would surely suspect Opportunist–

Luckily, he had a plan.

Whatever other thoughts or feelings or regrets wanted to surface, Opportunist buried them deep beneath. He had to keep going; he had to come out on top; he had to ensure his safety.

Better them than you.

It was in his nature.

[spagheddiesquash]

my take on human jawbone…. (featuring human ricket in one of the doodles)

EDIT: reblogs >>> likes!!! if u like this feel free to reblog it so more people see it!!!!!

[catamations]

A silly Kieran drawing because I’ve been obsessed with him lately :3

[hypogryffin]

Your art is so flipping pretty, and I just adore how you style all of the persona characters! But my question is, are there any other fandoms/works of art that you want to post or start rambling about? I hope you have a lovely day! (o゜▽゜)o☆

you can have those?

[ittybittybumblebee]

the plunge

[originalcontent]

I can't find art of my ship anywhere so I GUESS that means I have to make it myself, here are some doodles.

[seventh-district]

“Why’s he call you Darlin’?”

on my knees begging my brain to stop trying to associate this song with Sam

[wildsaltair]

day 82171862568: do I still love Maximus? yes. yes, I do

[e-the-village-cryptid]

has anyone else noticed the little cords braided into bix's hair i literally just noticed them for the first time

i love them

and a blurrier shot but you can see there are multiple cords per braid!!

possibly some metal rings or something on this side????

[bcdrawsandwrites]

[ID: A Team Fortress 2 fanfic banner in the style of the game’s achievement icons. Pyro and Spy's hands, holding a lighter and a cigarette respectively, are shown on a dark gray background. Their hands and the flame on the lighter are orange, while the lighter and cigarette are a mix of yellow-white and dark gray. The lighter is lighting Spy's cigarette. On the left of the banner is the chapter’s title in yellow-white, reading “CHAPTER NINE: GOT A LIGHT?” /end ID]

Flickering

Fandom: Team Fortress 2 Rating: K+ Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Friendship Characters: Spy, Pyro, Sniper, various other mercs Warnings: General references to trauma, panic attacks, TF2-typical violence Fic Description: After the events of the comics, the mercs try to go back to how things were, but it’s never that easy.

Spy can see his teammates going through their own struggles… but something seems to be very, very wrong with Pyro in particular.

And since no one else seems to be doing anything about this, Spy makes it his mission to get to the bottom of what is troubling Pyro. For no particular reason.

Beta Readers: @mechmolar, @gonturan0, @junuve

---~~~---

Chapter 9: Got a Light? Summary: In which Pyro lends a borrowed lighter.

---~~~---

Another day, another pointless battle.

Spy was still getting paid, and he'd actually gone home the previous night to sleep in his own bed for once, so he couldn't complain.

This match was a simple payload, and they were defending against the BLU team. Everyone was getting ready in spawn, including Spy, who was sharpening his butterfly knife. Sniper, as well, was off in a corner sharpening his blade, though Spy couldn't tell where his eyes were looking due to his sunglasses, and he looked away from him, casting a glance instead at Medic and Heavy. Amusingly, Archimedes was perched on one of Heavy's fingers, cocking his head at the merc, who laughed in response. Demo and Soldier were preparing their sticky- and rocket-launchers respectively, while Engineer was running Pyro through some strategy he had planned. Pyro was nodding along, paying attention, it seemed.

When Engineer finished talking and went to select a wrench, Spy approached Pyro. "Starting to feel better, are we?"

Pyro looked up, startled, but slowly nodded.

"Good. Perhaps this match may yield more color for you."

It had no response for this, only watching Spy as he moved to the starting gate. Spy paid the Pyro no mind—he would like to concentrate more on the match, for once. He might check on it once or twice, but it usually did well enough in the matches without his help.

Once the gates opened, Spy hurried out toward the BLU team's base. He activated his Cloak and Dagger as he waited for the other team's gates to open, and listened, hoping to catch any sort of planning from the opposite team. Unfortunately, all he could hear was the sounds of whooping and laughter as the other team wasted time. The rest of his team got into position, waiting to ambush the BLU team when the gates opened.

When they finally did, Spy rushed forward and de-cloaked, backstabbing a soldier before he got the chance to turn around. There was then a soft click behind him—one he was all too familiar with, and that made him strain to run faster. Not fast enough, unfortunately, as the sound of a blast preceded an intense heat on his back. "Fire, fire, fire!" he screamed, bolting for the small stream just outside the BLU base, but his own Pyro reached him first, sending an air blast that wiped out the flames instantly. He gave Pyro a grateful nod, though all he could think was that someone had better swiftly kill him before the match was over so the respawn would fix his suit.

He was so consumed with this thought that he nearly missed when Pyro nodded back with the tiniest hum of acknowledgement. It only registered when Pyro ran past him to air blast the respawned soldier's rocket back into the enemy base.

Spy left the Pyro to it, heading for the payload but making a quick detour to hide and disguise himself first.

"Oy, lad," came a voice, and he realized Demo was nearby, readying to launch himself. "I didn't know ye were capable of smilin' with that fancy suit a' yours burnt to a crisp."

"Merely thinking of the revenge I'm plotting on the freak that set me aflame," Spy lied, whipping out his disguise kit. He selected the soldier that Pyro had taken out as he would be stuck in spawn for a while longer, and hurried back out into the fray.

The match progressed as usual. In a mixed blessing, Spy got his wish, and was taken out by a sniper. That was about the only good thing that could be said for the time being, as the BLU team was approaching the third checkpoint, inching even closer to their base.

Spotting Engineer struggling to haul his toolbox ahead of the BLU team, Spy whipped behind cover, turned invisible, and crept into the tunnel and behind the enemy, backstabbing the heavy that had nearly taken out the Engineer.

"Much obliged," Engineer panted as he rushed out of the tunnel. In a matter of moments he had the sentry up, and it mowed down the BLUs that were making their way out.

For once, the battleground was quiet—or quieter than usual. Spy crept behind cover again, waiting for the other team to rear their ugly heads, and watching for any signs of the enemy spy. The others were watching as well, Engineer occasionally swinging at the air in case the spy neared his sentry, Scout holding his bat at the ready, Medic preparing his ubercharge near Heavy.

The silence went on for what felt like longer than it should have, and the mercs couldn't help but exchange a few baffled glances. It was Scout who broke the relative silence:

"Well, where are they? They give up, or—?"

As though in response, a distant, wild scream echoed through the tunnel.

"Guess we scared 'em," Soldier said, leaning back with a toothy grin.

Spy, however, cast a look around the battlefield, taking note of their teammates. He did a quick headcount; the only ones he couldn't spot were Sniper—who was likely in a nest somewhere—and Pyro.

Before he could think on that further, there was another shout from the tunnel, which preceded the scream of a rocket that Scout narrowly dodged. Spy's heart hammered as adrenaline filled his veins, and he went invisible, bolting out of his hiding spot to creep behind the oncoming enemy lines. Several BLUs were scrambling out of the tunnel, directly into the sentry fire. Only the last two—a scout and a demo—balked before coming in range of the sentry. Spy had his sights on the demo, but paused when they looked back before looking at the tunnel's exit again.

"That sentry's gonna cream us, but I ain't goin' back there," the scout said with a shudder.

"It's dead now, lad," the demo replied, though his voice trembled.

"You sure? After that, I ain't gonna be surprised if it rises from the dead and—"

"Don't say that!"

Spy frowned—they seemed to be talking about Pyro. It must have really been throwing its all into the fight—more so than it had prior, somehow.

"Listen, lad," the demo continued, "I don't want to die like that again to that—"

"Then die like this to my knife," Spy whispered, decloaking behind the demo and backstabbing him.

"WOAH!" the scout cried, reeling back, and Spy backed up, whipping out his gun. For a brief moment he hesitated—the outfit was a blue mirror to their own Scout, but that was the same for all of them. This wasn't his Scout, this wasn't—

The scout's bat came down, knocking the gun out of his hand. But just as the young man drew the weapon back with a smug chuckle, an arrow shot through his skull, sending him careening to the ground.

Letting out a breath, Spy scrambled for his weapon and grit his teeth. Foolish.

While he'd been distracted with the demo and scout, the enemy spy had managed to sap their sentry, and the enemy heavy had survived the previous fire, taking out Engineer. Spy went invisible just as the BLU pyro swung around the corner. He narrowly dodged the flames, only for a jar to shatter on his back, shorting out his watch. "Oh, for—" was all he managed to get out before a rocket slammed into him, splattering his reeking remains on the side of the tunnel.

When Spy came out of respawn, the first thing that came to him was relief at no longer being covered in jarate. His second was the realization that he was not alone.

"...right? You're all right now, Smokey."

Engineer and Pyro were standing near one of the spawn exits. Engineer had a hand reaching out to Pyro, but he came short of touching it. Meanwhile, Pyro's head was lowered, but it was shaking itself before straightening.

"All right, there you go. Get on out there!"

Pyro nodded, hurrying out the door, while Engineer hung back, scratching his head. When Spy approached him, the Engineer looked back, and Spy raised an eyebrow pointedly.

Engineer sighed. "When I respawned here, it was freaking out. Dunno how long it had been there."

"Was it having an... episode of some sort?"

"Think so. It was sittin' there and breathin' real hard, clawin' at its throat."

So it hadn't just been fighting harder than normal. Something must have set off one of its episodes, which obviously freaked the BLUs out. "Well, it's fine now, but I'm not so sure about us. Let's move." With that, Spy hurried out of spawn, the Engineer at his heels.

Upon arriving at the cart, however, he found the tides of the battle had turned once again as the rest of the team was successfully pushing the BLUs—and their cart—back. It didn't take eleven pointless PHDs to see why.

"I'll be," Engineer murmured as he came to a stop beside Spy.

Pyro was charging at the BLUs, who were fleeing before its pilot light was even lit.

With a snort, Spy skirted around the edge of the battlefield, scoping out another hiding spot for the time being. Perhaps they weren't doing so badly after all.

Both teams continued to trade blows for a while, but the BLUs were hindered by their focus on Pyro, only making a true push once it was taken out again. Unfortunately this didn't last much longer, and the enemy team seemed to eventually lose its fear of the Pyro as the match continued as normal.

It was a good while before the RED barely came out the victor. The humiliation round was a great deal shorter than usual, fortunately, as their foes bolted the second their time was up. Spy managed to pick off the enemy pyro, much to his satisfaction, while Demo let out a whoop at blasting the heavy to bits. The rest fled in terror, barely escaping Pyro, who chased them through the tunnel before turning back.

Everyone returned to their base, tired but more-or-less happy. There was no noisy party tonight, though Demo did buy drinks as usual. When he shoved a bottle at Spy, however, Spy held up a hand in protest. "I don't plan on crashing my car on the way home," he said.

Demo waved him off. "Ah, drivin' sober's for the weak," he spat, before offering a bottle to Engineer.

Rolling his eyes, Spy moved past them and toward the barracks. He stepped into his room, scanned it, then nodded—nothing here he needed to bring home. He hadn't been in his smoking room today, so there was nothing that needed checking there. While there was technically nothing preventing him from leaving, he found himself heading into the lounge regardless. A baseball game flickered on the TV set, which Scout and Soldier watched animatedly. Demo, Sniper, and Engineer were drinking together on the couch, while Heavy and Medic sat on opposite sides of the room, which baffled Spy until he heard Medic make an odd cooing noise at his pigeon. Archimedes perked up and took off, zipping across the room over to Heavy, who held out his finger for him to land on. The bird looked at him expectantly before flying back over to Medic, and looping back and forth a few times until Heavy followed him across the room.

"Hey, could you get your freakin' bird out of the way?" Scout took off his cap to examine it for a second; it was clean, but he shot a glare at Heavy and Medic anyway. "Some of us are tryin' to watch the game!"

"No," Medic said simply, and smiled as Heavy approached. "Good work, Archimedes." He offered the bird a small handful of seeds, which Archimedes pecked at greedily. "Now, again!"

Heavy returned to his seat with a laugh, and their little game started over.

Spy watched a moment longer before realizing that Pyro was nowhere to be found. Frowning, he passed through the lounge and headed for the base's exit, only to pause when he realized he was being followed. He didn't need to look back to know whom it was. "What is it now, bushman?"

Sniper drew closer, though Spy refused to look at him. "You choked out there."

An image of the BLU scout flashed through his mind. "I don't know what you're talking about," he said, and resumed walking.

“I think you do.”

“And what would you know about that?”

Behind him, Sniper sputtered before letting out a growl, blurting out, "It happens every time I step in water."

Spy paused.

"My heart starts hammerin' and it's like—it's like I'm there again, in that bloody bunker, waitin' to be blasted in the chest and not wake up in respawn."

Something the Medic had said came to mind. "Shellshock."

"Yeah." Sniper went quiet for a moment. "I'm not the only one."

"Obviously not. Why are you wasting my time with this?"

"...Look, mate." Sniper inched closer, his voice lowering. "You weren't alone in that hallway, back in that robot base."

Spy's eyes widened. His lungs inhaled the fumes from the burning robots, and his breath caught in his throat.

"You're not the only one who saw Scout—"

Something bolted down his spine, his face felt hot, and he whirled around before he could stop himself. "You leave Jeremy out of this!"

Sniper stepped back, holding his hands up.

It took Spy a moment to realize he'd shouted. His head was burning and his breathing was heavy, and Sniper was staring at him, his expression unreadable behind those stupid, tacky—

He whirled around, and stormed out of the base, nearly missing when Scout poked his head around the corner. "Yo, someone talkin' about me?"

As he stepped out onto the porch—which had been rebuilt after the bread monster incident—the warm twilight greeted him, practically scalding against what little skin he had exposed. Letting out a hissing breath, he leaned against the wooden railing, staring down past the tracks below. His breathing still came heavily as he thought of multiple ways he could kill the Sniper—planting a knife into his back, shooting him in the head, knocking him out of one of his stupid sniper nests...

The acrid smoke from the robots was still filling his lungs, and he longed to exchange it for a different kind of smoke. The next thing he knew, he had pulled out a cigarette, and his hand once again tried to grab a lighter that was not there. Stupid—he had more of them at home, but he kept forgetting—how could he forget, he smoked every day, how could he do this—how could he choke out on the—

A soft hum shattered through his frantic thoughts, and he jumped, nearly dropping the cigarette into the gorge below. But the following familiar click made him realize what was being offered, and he held out his cigarette gratefully.

At his side, the Pyro held out the lighter.

Spy stared at it before lighting his cigarette, and took a long drag. The familiar taste and burn eased his racing mind, and he held it in for a moment before breathing it out. "Merci," he sighed.

Pyro nodded.

After waiting for his racing heart to calm a bit more, Spy looked back at the Pyro, then examined the deck. A few chairs sat out here, and the floor was littered with ashes. "Is this where you've been hiding out?"

Again, Pyro nodded.

"I see. Not so bad now, since it's stopped smelling like spoiled bread," Spy remarked. Though now that he thought about it, it did have another odd smell around here, aside from the toxic waste barrels below. "And what have you been up to?"

Pyro whipped out a wooden kebab stick that it had evidently swiped from the kitchen, flicked open its lighter, and set the stick aflame. It gave off a distinct cedar odor. Ah, that explained the smell.

"Yes, fascinating," he muttered. Though he had to admit, it was oddly hypnotic watching the fire slowly eat away at the wood. But he shook himself. "Pyro, during our match today..."

Looking up, the Pyro stared directly into his eyes. It tilted its head very slightly to the right.

"Did something... happen? I couldn't help but notice you seemed... distressed when you came out of respawn."

Pyro continued to stare. Without looking away, it snapped the still-burning stick in half, dropped it, and whirled back around to face the railing.

"Merde!" Spy hissed, stamping out the fire before the deck was set ablaze. "Fine! I'm sorry I asked."

If the Pyro heard him, it didn't acknowledge it; it only stared out at the tracks below, the same as Spy had done earlier. Its hands held the railing in a tight grip.

Spy sighed. "You could have indicated you didn't wish to discuss—" He cut himself off, realizing abruptly what this whole conversation was sounding like. Imagining himself stabbing his knife straight through Sniper's stupid sunglasses, he turned away.

A shaky hum made him pause.

Looking back, he saw Pyro looking over its shoulder, back toward him.

Frowning, Spy approached the Pyro again, standing beside it. "You do wish to discuss it, then?" he ventured.

Pyro looked back down at the tracks, but did not protest.

"Something happened, then." Obviously. He pulled his cigarette away for a moment, breathing out a stream of smoke. "Was it something the BLU team did?"

Pyro nodded, then shook its head.

Spy sighed. "I see." He didn't, but he thought it over for a moment. "It was not... solely what the BLU team did. There were other factors?"

Pyro nodded.

Okay, they were getting somewhere. Not very far, but it was something. "Are you able to articulate what it was?"

This time it tilted its head one way, then the other. Uncertain, then.

"Whatever you did gave them quite the scare," he remarked, trying to keep some levity in his voice.

To his surprise, the Pyro shivered in response.

"You were scared, too?" he guessed.

Pyro nodded, then balled its hands into fists, pounding them against the railing.

"Scared and angry." When Pyro nodded, Spy hummed. It made sense, he supposed, based on what he'd seen. If Pyro was scared and angry, like a caged animal, it would follow that it would be savage enough to terrify the enemy team. "Well, you're no longer scared and angry, are you?"

Pyro tipped its head.

"You made something positive of it, no? You were quite effective against the BLU team today."

Sighing, it shook its head, and turned away.

So much for that route. Spy dropped his cigarette butt to the ground, lightly stomped on it, and kicked it off the porch. "Well, whatever caused your episode, I suppose we can hope it won't happen again." When the Pyro did not respond, he turned to leave, only to pause. "Have you had any luck with your colors, lately?"

Pyro made no further noise or gesture, so Spy sighed and began making his way back into the base. There wasn't much else to be gained from hanging around here.

As he was stepping back through the door, however, he heard a soft hum from behind him, and stiffened when someone grabbed his wrist. "What?!" he cried, and turned to see the Pyro shoving some crumpled-up sheet into his hand. This accomplished, it let him go, and he yanked his hand away. "...Merci," he grumbled, and stared down at the paper. Perhaps it wanted him to throw the scrap away for it. Snorting, he stormed out through the door, shoving the paper into a pocket, his thoughts only on returning home.

Spy headed out to his car in the darkening lot and entered it, prepared to leave the base for the night. But, feeling the paper in his pocket, he frowned, realizing he hadn't tossed it as he was heading out. Though... come to think of it, why had Pyro not simply burnt it itself, if it wanted it disposed of? Brow furrowed, he pulled out the paper again and, after a moment of hesitation, smoothed it out.

It was a transparent scrap of tracing paper that had been ripped off of a larger sheet, and it was covered in crayon scrawls. After a moment, Spy recognized it as something Pyro had drawn a few days ago—a lineup of the mercs. In spite of the childish medium, it was well-drawn, with each of the mercenaries being broken down into comprehensive shapes and simple colors—more triangular and pointy shapes for the Sniper, boxy shapes for the Heavy, rounder shapes for the Engineer, and so on. Even he himself was depicted with pointier shapes, though not in an unflattering way. But something struck him, and he squinted at the drawing in the dim light before punching on an overhead light switch.

The mercenaries were all rendered in color, but for most of them, it was not their standard colors. Engineer seemed the exception to this, being rendered with the most accurate colors to how he appeared in real life—or as close as crayons could get, anyway. Soldier was fairly bright as well, though with tinges of gray on him. Further down the line, some of them appeared with more colors than others. Sniper especially seemed mostly gray, but then... at the very end of the lineup, Spy stared at the drawing of Pyro and himself.

Both of them had been rendered in nothing but shades of black and gray.

[aaabatteryy]

apologies to all the people that followed me for bsd stuff and are now watching me spiral into gravity falls and my occasional deadpool x wolverine (poolverine? i forgot the ship name) reblogs

[necrotic-nephilim]

Sorry if this might be a rude question but why don’t you just make a seperate account for your nsfw fics?

not rude, it's a valid question! tbh it's a combination of a couple reasons.

i started posting anonymous dead dove batcest fics long before i had the balls to make a tumblr. at first i was content to just leave them unassociated with each other because i didn't really care about them being tied to me. i made this blog to actually show solidarity to my partner who wanted to make a sideblog for Sandman comic stuff so we could cheerlead each other and be brave together, since i've wanted to make a batcest sideblog but i've been nervous about actually having to get it going. (mal ik you're reading this go be brave and actually make your blog so i can cheerlead you damnit-) only did it dawn on me then that i should probably mention the fics i've written on the blog after like, three of them were posted anonymously. and it would've annoyed me to have half of them anonymous and half of them not, because notifications for them would've gone in different places. i could go back and take my fics off anon if i wanted to, but i can't switch the account they're on without taking them down entirely and that'd fuck over people who have them bookmarked already.

which, ties into my second reason, if i made an entire second ao3 account it'd be harder for me to see notifications, reply to stuff, and post things for both accounts because i'd have to constantly switch. and honestly i'd be terrified of accidentally posting on the wrong one on a brain fog day. posting fics is always the most tedious part of writing them for me lol. it's easier for me to stay logged into one account and have all of my stuff in one place for me and just use the anonymous collection when i feel like it. if ao3 pseuds worked like tumblr blogs, where you can't see all my side blogs but i can, i would've used pseuds, but since you can see all pseuds on an ao3, i felt it was a moot point.

and the last reason is i just feel more comfortable being anonymous on ao3 because of the rise in anti culture. on tumblr it's very easy for me to just filter that out and find the people i want to follow and block the people i don't. i don't mind getting hate, on tumblr or on ao3. but i think, for whatever reason you want to blame it on, there's been a massive boom of antis on ao3 who are very entitled about how they read on ao3. i tag extensively, but i just feel safer from getting targeted attacks if everything i write on ao3 isn't attached to one profile. if people like a fic i wrote, want to find more i always link my tumblr in the notes, but if an anti wants to get huffy with me, they can't easily track down my other things. they definitely could if they wanted to, but being anonymous on ao3 just makes me feel more secluded, in a weird way. it's like saying "if you want you can come find me but on here i'm just a weird faceless guy throwing stuff in the void". i've used ao3's anon feature a lot, actually, i used to be a hydra trash party dumpster kid back when that was in it's prime.

i also used to be vaguely popular on a different tumblr blog and my main ao3 and while i think it'd definitely be cool if i got a decent chunk of followers on this blog too, i don't really miss having fanfiction do so well i got targetted hate on all of my fics from the same people, i had my fics stolen, etc. it was really exhausting for me. i have 120+ works on ao3, not counting what's anonymous, and that level of exposure tires me, even when i use my main ao3 to post things that aren't trashy. it's just a weird feeling knowing so many people are subscribed to you on ao3 and what if you post something they won't like because you jumped fandoms again, or you're posting something niche, or you don't think it fills enough fandom tropes to be well-liked. i used to obsessively think like that, and it made me not write the things i wanted to because i cared about numbers. and i don't want to slide back into that hole. writing on anonymous is mostly to remind myself i wrote this for me, and if other people like it, they can come find me, but i don't have to perform like that anymore. if i get a really weird fucked up idea, i can write the really weird fucked up idea. at the end of the day, just makes me more comfortable! but i get it's a super confusing set up from an outsider perspective so, i really don't mind the question, thank you for asking!!

[as-rare-as-trees]

Hi, uhm, don't know if anyone can help but I'm looking for a post I saw once and sadly did not save: it was a detailed analysis of Will as a character and his trauma, general behaviour etc, going through his relationship with his mom and all that happens at chb. I think it was a repost of a twitter thread, but I'm not that sure :( .

Does anyone have any idea what I'm talking about/who the poster might be/where I can find that? Or actually if you also have other similar posts or stuff you can suggest? Thanks <3

[spaciebabie]

Confession, I was fully prepared to always see springtrap on my dash 24/7 even though I was here for Freddy Fazbear Dad, I thought 'This gives them joy, I shan't say anything because they need it' Now I'm a little worried that I haven't seen springtrap posts as often.

well tbh i was insanely depressed all of last year so yeah that was expected. i am also currently obsessing over two other fictional old men atm so....LOL