#random shenanigans; dash games

[rosecoloredmuses]

((Jumping on the bandwagon lol. Using @merveiilles’s pic for Tsu because why not!))

[aces-to-apples]

Frankly I think Alistair being mildly shitty to that mage in Ostagar seems pretty in-character for the guy he is before the massive, life-altering trauma that is the Ostagar massacre wherein he sees all of his Grey Warden comrades, his beloved mentor/father figure, and his beloathed half-brother/convenient-target-of-projection absolutely torn to shreds by literal Thedas boogeymen. IIRC Morrigan and Flemeth both comment on his wack behavior after Ostagar and then by the time we get to Lothering Alistair just fully surrenders any and all responsibility (and, frankly, agency) to the player's Warden for the foreseeable future. It can then take anywhere from a couple IRL hours to the entire second act of the game for him to retake almost any amount of it back. And depending on the player's choices in dialogue, and especially whether or not they choose to romance him, we may only see flashes of that guy we met at Ostagar before he potentially morphs into almost someone else entirely (hardened!King!Alistair). All that to say, I don't actually think it's a useful criticism of "characterization" to bring up Alistair's glibness as compared to his behavior in the majority of the game because from where I'm standing (looking directly at his snottiness about Cailan, his complaints about being assigned to the Tower of Ishal, his Templar-esque focusing on Morrigan and Flemeth being apostates, his generally pretty brusque manner with the Warden recruits) it seems fairly in-line with the rest of his behavior at Ostagar.

[munsster]

i'm so so obsessed with the winter in hawkins series!! i love a loser!steve and the kids pushing the steve x reader agenda

LITERALLY ME TOO! i am so glad u like it. truly nothing and no one compares to poor babygirl loser!steve. and now because i’m crazy, i came up with a billion headcanons for winter in hawkins au.

robin was obviously definitely the first one to notice babygirls longing glances (does that make robin olaf or sven in this situation…)

of course, steve was catching strays from dustin long before but it was all conjecture for like the first month

once robin pinpointed steve’s desperation and utter infatuation with you, she was hooked and intent on finding dumb excuses for the two of you to be alone

aka robin is the WORST instigator and only encourages loser!steve

yes, she thoroughly clowns on him, but her heart says steve x reader ftw

the rest of the kids find out because dustin will. not. shut. up! about it

again, thanks to auntie robin only fanning the flames

(they came up with a group name for their shenanigans: the secret society consisting of everyone who thinks steve is her prince charming OR the prince charming project for short)

(dustin uses the full name every time)

(the main points at meetings include planning your wedding, drawing your future children, and anything anti-brad)

speaking of brad, steve still remembers exactly where he was when you told him you got a new boyfriend

he cried in his car after work that day

robin was in the passenger seat

she cried, too

that was really what spurred loser!steve on

before that, steve was minding his own hopeless romantic business, but the introduction of brad put emphasis on the ‘hopeless’ aspect

honestly, steve’s just glad he still gets to see you every weekend for game night

brad is not invited to game night

you don’t think he’d come even if he was

steve hates brad

regardless of br*d, steve is not shy about complimenting you on anything and everything

sure, it makes him a little blushy thinking about how you’ll react

with that dazzling smile he adores

and yeah, theres a tiny wobble in his voice when he gets your attention

but you don’t seem to notice

and if you do, you don’t seem care

(you always notice, and you think it’s sweet)

“i like your hair like that”

“really? thanks, stevie!”

oh he melts

whenever you compliment him back, he takes diligent notes

one time he wore the same shirt three times in one week just because you mentioned how it complimented his eyes

he also got a big head when you told him his sailor outfit makes him look dashing

sometimes the kids write out lists of really good and not at all embarrassing pick up lines

sometimes these lists suspiciously wind up in steve’s glove box or tip jar

one time a list appeared in his wallet

it’s weird that they practically pickpocketed him but it’s weirder that they had access to his wallet and didn’t take the twenty

robin has a secret scrapbook dedicated to you and steve

it has secret pictures (courtesy of el), ticket stubs, cute stickers, and random receipts

if you couldn’t already tell, everyone is very normal about the situation

steve gets to know you so well that you actually start saying things in tandem

he knows your ice cream order, your coffee order, what temperature you like the thermostat, the name of your first pet

he’s never been good at memorization but it feels so easy knowing it’s all attached to you somehow

he will often bring you random little flowers that seem so small in the palm of his hand

it makes him feel very proud when you tuck them behind your ear

even more so when you let him do it for you

one late summer night, steve hosts a sleepover

OR the kids begged and begged him to either ask you on a date or let everyone use his pool for the night and watch a scary movie and stay up really late and eat junk food

so because he’s a loser, steve hosts a sleepover

and his heart flutters when you show up on his dimly lit doorstep with a gaggle of children behind you

they push past the two of you and barrel straight towards the back door

you warn him, saying you’re pretty sure only two of them brought towels

he chuckles and assures you that they do this every time and he already has a stack set out

you laugh in response and he thinks this is what a heart attack feels like

just imagine how he survived the rest of the night basking in your company and the soft moonlight

you sat next to him during the movie and fell asleep on his shoulder and he swears he’s never been so still

and the movie was really scary

steve wishes brad wasn’t such a dick

especially because he’s made you cry now on a handful of different occasions

steve’s flattered that he’s the first one you call, but he’s heartbroken hearing your choked sobs through the receiver

it’s kind of like a routine the way you always apologize for dumping everything on him and the way he tells you he’d do it any time

for you

at this point, he doesn’t care how desperate he makes himself seem

he really cares about you

steve likes you, and brad could spare a couple teeth

but he knows you love brad blahblahblah que sera sera whatever

he should’ve asked you out when he had the chance instead of sulking and pining

robin still has hope three months into the relationship

she knows for a fact steve still has a raging crush on you

those big brown eyes give everything away

and the way he gushes about your phone calls and your cute sweaters

something happens and i’m head over heels

steve has your gift picked out a month before the holiday season

little does he know, you’ve got his picked out, too

“i saw this in a shop window and thought of you…”

“i remember you mentioning that you wanted one…”

they really are just two losers fated to fall in love

sigh

more like this

masterlist

[stoutguts]

I am such a firm believer, that if Soap and Ghost are an item/boyfriends/husbands,—then Gaz is Soap’s bsf, while Roach is Ghost’s bsf. While, Roach and Gaz would be together, (at least in my mind, I love GazRoach).

Soap and Gaz are incredibly chaotic together and get into all kinds of trouble. Motherfuckers cannot take ANYTHING seriously. Drinking and smoking together, (often getting wasted or as high as a kite, which often leads to more shenanigans). Doing drinking games or showing off smoking tricks to each other. Starting shit with random people just cause they can, Kyle joining Johnny at the demolitions site and in blowing random stuff up around base, pulling moronic or downright despicable pranks on everyone on base just for laughs, or messing around at the range, making their own crude targets to shoot or knife. Maybe even a bit of vandalism, arson, or other stupid stuff when the two are off-duty together,—but don’t tell Price that. They especially like to prank Roach and Ghost and get under their skins. Price often separates them on missions, because he’s afraid that they’re going to royally fuck things up somehow, if they’re together. Constantly sending each other memes they think the other would find funny. Or brainrotted, almost incoherent conversations over text at 3 in the morning. Sending each other dumbass voice messages or notes of them screaming, singing, or doing impressions/horrible attempts at voice acting. They also like to dunk on and make fun of the other members of the 1-4-1, or gossip about them to each other. They just love to talk shit. They both always need to know latest scoop or bout of drama on base. Both have ADHD, and are constantly in need some form of stimulation. So, when hanging out in person (and when they’re not getting up to nefarious activities)—They’re listening to music (hard rock and metal or alternative rock (like Korn, Slipknot, Muse, Radiohead, System of a Down, etc) often times, but they also both love pop (particularly Britney Spears, Kesha, Beyoncé, Lady Gaga, and Katy Perry),—while also watching YouTube, (random video essays they find interesting or entertaining, old YouTube poops, or Moist Cr1TiKaL/penguinz0/Charlie’s videos),—while also showing each other memes on their phones, while Soap also may or may not be drawing, while Gaz also may or may not be writing, while also buying random shit they think is funny off of Amazon.

Ghost and Roach are just the types to play cards together, or maybe watch a movie, or play a board game. (They particularly like watching horror/thriller movies or rom-coms. They like Candy Land, Monopoly, Battleship, Life, and Clue in terms of board games. While, they’re favorite card games are Slapjack, Poker, and Go Fish. They also like playing Chess, Checkers, The Oregon Trail, Exploding Kittens, or Cards Against Humanity from time to time). (Both are extremely competitive, and will often get into petty fights, whether it’s a case of one or the other being a sore loser, or one accusing the other of cheating). Maybe even going out to a local Tesco’s together for a snack run or some fast food drive thru at 1am, or they’ll have a day at the mall, mostly window shopping around random stores or getting something to eat at the food court. (Both are heavily food motivated). Something low-key or chill is really always their go-to. The occasional sleepover. They love to do each other’s nails or hair, or attempt random makeup looks they’ve found on Instagram or something for shits and giggles. They’re also gaming buddies. They’ll play stuff like Minecraft, GTA, Sea of Thieves, Left 4 Dead, Team Fortress 2, (some of Gary’s favorite games). Or they’ll play DND, Overwatch, or some first-person shooter game together (much to Simon’s delight). Roach will even just watch Ghost play rhythm games like Project Diva, Guitar Hero, or Geometry Dash—Or dark fantasy RPG games (Simon’s favorite genre of video games), like Dark Souls, Bloodborne, Skyrim, Elden Ring, or The Witcher. Lots of deep conversations, either over text or in person that’ll last for hours, (might end in one or the both of them crying, and hugging it out/comforting one another). They also often call each other just to check in, and just to hear each other’s voices when they’re apart or when they’re not together. Roach being like the only person Ghost feels comfortable opening up to, besides Johnny or Gary just being the person he’s closest to outside of it’s partner. To be fair, they bond by just being in each other’s presence/they just enjoy each other’s company. No words need to be spoken between them for them to have a good time.

It’s the best though when all 5 of them get together, (Soap, Ghost, Roach, Gaz, and Yuri), as it’s the perfect amount of chill and chaotic at the same time. Super Smash Bros, Mariokart, or Mario Party is always best with five players, after all.

Yuri being aroace, and his friends are all that he needs. He’s able to handle both the chaos and peace. Though Nikolai is his true best friend. The two going way back, and are brothers in arms through and through. Having met when Nik was still in the army. A good portion of it is that they’re bonded through shared trauma. They have a father and son sort of relationship (Nikolai being much older than Yuri), and care about each other deeply. In fact, they’d die for each other, they’re that close. They mostly keep in touch via text and phone calls (not by choice), but will meet up together at a bar or tavern every now and then.

Price and Laswell being best friends and also going way back, like before they even joined the army/CIA. Having met each other in high school. Price, Nik, Laswell, and her wife having dinner parties. Chatting about old times and catching up with one another every so often. They try to call to see how the others doing every now and then, though they much prefer seeing each other in person. Sometimes they’ll even go mini-golfing or bowling together as a double date kind of thing.

Also, Yuri is such a slept-on character. People forget about him/that he exists, and I wish he was appreciated more. :(

[feyhunter78]

kinktober request: 2, 12, 22, 24, & 31 with miguel? sorry there’s so many but i just had the idea of a college!au where reader goes to a halloween party and miguel goes, too, because they’re kind of friends (maybe miguel always thought she was cute but then he tutored her for a class and they started to become close as a result?) & he likes her and wants to make sure she’s safe but reader has a mask kink & also has a huge crush on him so she finds it super hard to be around him when he’s wearing his costume and spends most of the night hiding from him & eventually he corners her and finds out why she’s been running & shenanigans ensue 👀

This was such a cute and fun idea!!!! I am making a new rule though, y'all can only request 3 or fewer numbers bc I'm not, and I did not fit all those into a one-shot💀 (I did throw in a hint of breeding kink at the end there for you though nonnie)

Meg's Kinktober - College!Miguel + #12, 18, 24 Mask kink, AU & Costume/Lingerie

You like Miguel, you’ve always liked Miguel, since the day your chemistry professor suggested Miguel tutor you. Dr. Alice was a romantic at heart, you swear, or maybe she saw you staring dreamily at the back of Miguel’s head instead of paying attention to her lectures. Either way, your grades improved, but your hopeless crush on Miguel did not.

You can’t say you regret coming to your best friend’s boyfriend’s roommate’s costume party, but you don’t not regret it. You’re having a fun time, you look hot, the music surprisingly doesn’t suck, there are snacks, and the drinks don’t have an overwhelming taste of alcohol that chokes you with every sip. But Miguel is here. You didn’t even know he knew Josh, and yet there he was, dressed as Spiderman. The mask attached to his costume is off at the moment, hanging from the back of his neck, which gives you at least a bit of relief.

He spots you, smiles and waves, making his way over to you. You hold your red solo cup tighter, painting on a smile and preparing yourself for Miguel to tower over you as he talks about something…usually you lose track of what he’s saying and just stare into his eyes.

“Y/N, nice costume, sexy vampire, a classic.” His eyes drag up your figure in a way that surprisingly doesn’t feel gross? It’s like he’s admiring you, not sizing you up or undressing you with his eyes.

“You know me, I love a classic costume.” Also, it was cheap and easy, your favorite kind of costume.

“Classic costume for a classic lady, I like it.” He says. His hands are covered by his costume, it’s a bodysuit, you can tell that now, see every outline of his abs and biceps. You dare not trail your eyes lower, already feeling your face heat up.

“And you went for Spiderman, like every other guy at this party.” You say, taking a sip of your drink for courage.

He smiles sheepishly. “Guess the movie was pretty popular.”

“Guess so.” You echo, wishing your best friend would come and drag you away before you burst into flames.

“Wait, you haven’t even seen the full thing yet.” He smiles, it’s charming, excited, devastatingly handsome, then he pulls the mask over his face.

You freeze, staring up at him, trying to swallow, but your throat is as dry as the Sahara. Taking a long swig of your drink, you clear your throat and nod. “Looks great, I like it.”

“It’s pretty cool, huh?” Miguel asks, flexing and posing in a bunch of obnoxious ways that make you laugh to keep him from noticing how your eyes follow the lines of his muscles hungrily.

“I—I have to go find my friend; I’ll see you later, Miguel.” You tell him, before dashing off, frantically searching for your best friend, so you can scream about how hot Miguel is, and how you’re going to die if you don’t leave right now.

You finally find her, and she calms you down, gets you another drink, ropes you into playing some random drinking game, sufficiently distracts you until she’s pulled away by her boyfriend. Then you’re alone, acting like a crazy person, dodging Miguel, hiding from him, and flat out acting like you don’t hear him calling your name.

It’s after you come out of the bathroom—all the drinks and snacks really ate at your dark lipstick—that he finds you.

The hallway is dark, a small nightlight at the end, multicolored lights from the party at the other. It’s quieter here, the music a bit muffled, no one screaming or talking.

“Found you.” He says that stupid mask still on, his arms caging you in, your back to the wall.

“Hey Miguel.” You say awkwardly, smiling up at him as you try to figure out a way to escape him.

“I’ve been looking all over for you, cariño, thought you might’ve gone home.”

You shake your head. “Me? No, I’m a certified party girl.”

You can’t see his face, but you know he’s giving you that look, the one that means he knows you’re lying.

“So why haven’t I seen you around then?” He asks, his voice has a slight rasp to it, you assume from yelling over the music to be heard.

“I’ve just been busy, visiting with other people.”

He dips his head down. “Too busy for me? I’m hurt.”

You roll your eyes. “Okay, Mr. Popular, I’m sure you were standing in the corner all by your lonesome because you couldn’t find me.”

“All the corners were taken, too many people making out.” He says flippantly, humor coloring his tone.

“That’s too bad, I was meaning to go stand in one like a creep later.” You joke, relaxing slightly when Miguel lets one arm drop from the wall to adjust his mask.

“We could share one?” Miguel offers.

“Then we’d have to make out. Come on Miguel, it’s like a rule, and I don’t think either of us want to do tha—”

Miguel’s free hand tilting your chin up stops you.

You look at his eyes, or where his eyes should be, behind the mask. “Miguel?”

“Who said I didn’t want to kiss you?” He says, voice low, soft, heated.

It sends a shiver down your spine, heat pulsing down to your core, and you blink owlishly at him. “Oh, I just thought, um…”

He pushes the mask up, only enough to expose the lower half of his face, and leans further down ghosting his lips over yours. “You just thought what? That I wouldn’t want to kiss you, that I don’t dream of hearing my name fall from your lips as I feel every inch of you with my hands, with my tongue if I’m lucky?”

He looks so good, the red of his mask highlighting the vibrancy of his tanned skin, his muscles so clearly defined by the skintight fabric.

“No, I didn’t think you did.” You admit breathlessly, tilting your head even further up to meet his lips.

It’s an explosion, a dance, a drug, and you want more. You loop your arms around his neck and pull him closer.

Miguel responds in kind, his large hands grabbing your thighs and hoisting you up, foot nudging the bathroom door open.

It’s even quieter in here, and you can hear the sound of the lock being turned, before Miguel’s lips descend down your neck. He sets you on the sink, cool marble against your skin, one hand groping your breasts, the other slipping between your legs to toy with your clit, his teeth nipping at your throat.

“I thought I was the vampire.” You joke weakly, eyes fluttering shut when Miguel yanks your legs further apart, slotting himself between them, his cock hard against you.

“You can be whatever you want as long as I can be inside you.” He groans, his skilled fingers tugging at your nipples, twisting, plucking, brushing until you’re squirming against him.

“Okay, okay, yeah, fuck me, please Miguel.” You say, your hands anchoring themselves on his suit, fingers digging into the stretchy material.

He moves to rip off his mask, but you stop him.

“Leave it on.” You tell him quietly, core throbbing as he watches you, a smile toying at his lips.

Finally, he laughs and tugs the mask back in place. “Full of surprises, aren’t you?”

“Oh, is now not the right time to reveal I’m actually a chemistry genius?” You’re trying to be funny, trying to tease him, but it’s hard when the sound of his zipper is accompanied by a low groan and the feeling of his cock sliding past your entrance.

“You’re a genius chemist?” Miguel asks, his tone far more joking than yours as he slides fully in, his free hand on your lower back pushing you closer to him, ensuring you take every inch.

“Yeah, won prizes and everything.” You say, gasping when the tip of his cock brushes against your sensitive spot, your walls fluttering around him.

“Smart girl.” He says, before he pulls out and slams back in, wrapping your legs around his back, and slotting his lips against your own.

You melt into him, letting him fuck you rapid fire, thick cock dragging against your walls, tip bullying your sensitive spot, his tongue searching every inch of you, as his hands hold you in place.

“You’re so pretty, y/n, I’ve wanted this for so long.” Miguel’s voice is low, words breathed against your lips, moaned into your mouth. “Wanted to take you in the fucking lab, in your apartment, in the library.”

“The library?” You’re half horrified, half intrigued.

He shifts his hips, pushing you further against the mirror, his fingers back on your clit making you see stars. “Yeah, wanted to bend you over the table in the study rooms, keep my hand over your mouth so no one hears you. Maybe make you try some calculations with me between your legs, tongue stuffed in that pretty pussy of yours while you try to keep a straight face. Don’t want anyone to walk in on us, right?”

You moan at the images he’s placing in your mind, the adrenaline of keeping quiet, of biting your lip while Miguel eats you out like a five-course meal, rushing through your veins. “No, no, don’t want anyone to walk in.”

Miguel chuckles against your lips. “No, you’re too much of a goody two shoes for that, huh? My good little girl, letting me fuck you in the bathroom. Gonna let me eat you out? Finger you during lab while the TA’s not looking?”

“That would be so unsanitary.” You tell him, hips moving in time with his, chest heaving as the coil within you winds tighter and tighter, your skin scattered with pleasure, your mind turning to mush when Miguel bites down on your pulse point.

“You’re right, plus I don’t want anyone else seeing you like that, I want to be the only one seeing how pretty you look before you come, only one getting to hear you moan for me.” Miguel says all this so easily, not even breaking his stride as his hand shoots out, slams against the mirror, giving himself stability to piston into you.

You cling to him, head tucked into the crook of his neck, moaning and mewling for him, his name a constant chant on your lips.

“That’s it cariño, come for me, scream my name, let this whole party know who’s fucking you.” He urges, a renewed fervor in his thrusts in the way his lips attach to your neck, marking it with dark hickeys.

And you do, you finish hard, screaming his name, the sound barely muffled by his neck. Miguel finishes afterwards, pulling out and stroking himself, cum splattering in the sink. He turns the facet on quickly, and you make a face.

“You’d rather that go in you?” He asks, free hand pulling off the mask, his eyes searching yours.

You slide off the sink, legs wobbly, your hand shooting out to grab Miguel’s bicep for support. “Maybe.”

His eyes darken and he turns off the faucet. “Yeah? You up for a round two?”

Kinktober masterlist

Miguel TL: @miggyoharaswife, @badbishsblog, @imisshim2much, @wanderlustingcastaway, @lynn-9703, @sleepyamaya, @erensbbg, @sweetea85, @ilovemiguelohara, @natthernandez, @stxrrielle, @ihateuguys, @jenniferdixon05207, @blep-23, @minimari415, @emerald-09, @violet-19999, @kenchosaikuo, @groovycass, @youcantseem3, @lovefks, @nightshxdex, @dusstory, @munsonssecretblog, @kirke-is-my-name, @starbearieee, @chatoicboy, @needsleep3000, @witchy-lizard, @cxmeiloorun7, @justrandomlolidk, @chimpkinnuggies, @alicefallsintotherabbithole, @loser-alert, @wwwellacom, @ryantryan6969, @lollipopin, @youcantseem3, @a-cult-leader, @verexi, @purpleskiesandroses, @they2luv1naia, @sophiaj650, @idolautism, @rheannajrs, @merakiq, @rexs-wife, @sukaretto-n, @twilight-loveer, @f1shb0nez, @callsign-blue, @marcelineormars

[satoshi-mochida]

‘Swashbuckler action game’ En Garde! announced for PC

Gematsu Source

Fireplace Games has announced “swashbuckler action game” En Garde! for PC. It will launch via Steam in August. A demo is available now.

En Garde! began as a student project back in 2018. The reception from the community led the team to establish itself as Fireplace Games and recreate En Garde! from the ground up as a full game experience.

Here is an overview of the game, via its Steam page:

About

From the forgotten pages of history, comes Adalia de Volador! Legendary swashbuckler. Dashing adventurer. Hero of the people.

Play as Adalia in her daring escapades full of sword-fighting, satire and shenanigans. Challenge the cruel Count-Duke and oppose tyranny with panache!

Beautifully painted locations, charismatic characters, and an astounding amount of battle banter will transport you to the golden age of swashbuckling comedy!

So, sharpen your sword, grab your boots and hat, and embark on a hilarious, action-packed spectacle!

Key Features

Fencing With Flair – Parry, riposte and lunge your way to victory! Fight with style to fill your Panache Meter and unlock special skills! But you’ll need more than your sword to win the day…

Adapt and Improvise – Challenging, ever-changing fights push you to rely on your cunning and acrobatics to disturb your enemies. Learn their weaknesses to toy with them and express your fighting style.

Experiment with the Environment – Combat areas are playgrounds full of opportunities to create mischief and gain the upper hand. Surprise, stun, or evade enemies with a variety of objects – from rolling barrels to falling chandeliers.

Arena Mode – Unlock zany game-changing modifiers and new fight situations in the arena mode. Play and replay randomized scenarios to test your skill against waves of enemies!

Theatrical Characters – A flamboyant cast dazzles the screen! Adalia and her rivals react to each of your actions, exchanging witty one-liners during the flow of the fight.

Story Episodes – Discover the tales of Adalia, with unique challenges to complete and secrets to uncover. Fight through marketplaces, dungeons and palaces: the world’s a stage for your epic duels!

Award-Winning Passion Project – The game was first prototyped as an award-winning and much-loved student project. The original team has reformed and expanded as Fireplace Games to increase the scope, sweep and grandeur of En Garde!

Watch the reveal trailer below.

Reveal Trailer

[icyrambles]

one of the things i find consistently weird about transformers as a piece of media is how the decepticons keep being the bad guys without any really attempt at reworking them as a faction

pretty much every continuity that exists has the decepticons filling the role as the primary antagonists. here's a list of the tf media i've consumed over the past year; g1, animated, prime, cyberverse, earthspark, rotb, first 2 bayverse movies, idw1 + idw2, the first 5 issues of tf skybound, shattered glass, the first 10 episodes of rid15, and a few episodes of armada and beast wars. and literally all of those have the decepticons fulfilling the role of antagonists.

now i'm specifically not taking issue with the fact that the decepticons are the bad guys. that's not my problem here. my problem is that the franchise as a whole seems to have a problem with actually developing the decepticon characters and the faction as characters/concepts worth being antagonists

this isn't a dash on the existing pieces of transformers media just to be clear, i enjoy cartoonishly evil shenanigans as much as the next person (my favourite character is fucking tarn for goodness sake). instead please read through the rest of this post as a single person's critique of a tonal inconsistency throughout the franchise of transformers

with the more recent pieces of transformers media attempting to paint the decepticons in a more sympathetic light (see cyberverse and earthspark) i noticed a core writing flaw with how the teams behind these works tackled making the decepticons more morally grey characters.

and that's the fact that they decepticons are still just as evil as they are in the original g1 cartoon, just with a little more grey paint thrown over their war crimes. it's one of the main writing flaws i have with both idw1/2 and earthspark.

because those writing teams really want you to view the decepticons as less evil. they really want you to watch/read through their content and see the decepticons as a group of individuals who, while not right in their actions, still deserve to be treated as more than a villain of the week.

and i agree with this sentiment. i think the decepticons should be more than villains of the week who need to be defeated at all costs. i think the decepticons should get the opportunity to be fully developed characters with hopes, dreams, aspirations, flaws, and emotions just like their autobot counterparts.

but there's a problem with how these writing teams interact with the decepticons. and it's the fact that they're still the bad guys. even if you give megatron a redemption arc in earthspark, there's still the looming implication that he, along with an army, invaded a random planet and potentially killed millions. (it's a kid show i'm not expecting them to go into detail with all of megan's war crimes, but earthspark does imply that megatron did fuck up a lot of earth's shit)

idw does a slightly better job with this, showing that the autobots have their fair share of war crimes, but the decepticons are still the primary antagonists throughout the comic's run.

even shows that paint the decepticons as purely the bad guys have tonal issues with how they're written

taken animated for example. the autobots get to be fully developed characters with personality traits outside of just being the good guys. bumblebee is impulsive, he likes video games and racing and being a little shit, he's not a beacon of virtue. prowl is antisocial, he doesn't like communicating with his team, but he fucking love nature, he loves meditating. he has a whole backstory about wanting to avoid being drafted into a war for fucks sake.

but the animated decepticons don't get that. there's nothing about blitzwing or lugnut or starscream that makes them uniquely suited to being in the decepticon cast. none of them get to have defining character traits outside of being decepticons who need to be beaten.

the same can be said for prime.

while i don't particularly think that any of the tfp characters are written well, at least the autobots have reasons for their personalities. arcee is a jaded bitch because she watched both of her partners die right in front of her. optimus is distant because he lost his best friend to differing ideologies. ratchet is grouchy all the time because he's constantly running low on fuel and is probably worried about his only family dying horribly in a war while he sits on the sidelines.

but the decepticons. they're just evil. megatron gets so addicted to power that he hypes himself up on the space equivalent of hard drugs for most of the series. soundwave.... he's there i guess? shockwave decided to violate the laws of nature for shits and giggles because the series never decided to expand upon his character except for evil scientist. starscream gets to be a sniveling coward who gets beat up whenever he appears and we never learn why he acts this way.

time and time again, transformers has an issue with writing decepticons as anything more than the bad guys.

and the reason why i take issue with this, isn't just because it's "bad writing" it's because the decepticons have a habit of having backstories that involve being discriminated against and it leaves a very bad taste in my mouth when the group of people who are more than often classified as second class citizens on their own planet get lumped into the role of "bad guys who want to steal and murder and pillage" when they want to change the system that is actively discriminating against them

and this all sounds like a lot of complaining. and it is. but i do have a method of trying to remedy this mess. two ways actually

#1: the hard way. (aka, this is the harder of the writing solutions because it requires viewing the decepticons as more than villains)

instead of having the decepticons being a group of revolutionaries who loose their way and become evil and genocidal seemingly for no reason other than "oh well revolutions don't really work and anyone who starts one just wants to cause problems against the system" why don't writers actually try and view the decepticon faction for what it is in most cases a group of people who were heavily discriminated against and who want to change their planet to actually treat them more than objects.

cybertron is shown to be a shitty planet to live on in more continuity, i can find it perfectly believable that people would want to change the system through radial reform.

show me why the decepticons became the way that they are. don't just tell me that megatron was always a bad person who wanted to become a dictator. that's stupid and highly uncreative after it's been done 15 times in a row in every single continuity

i would highly prefer a series that takes place from the decepticon perspective. i wanna know more about them. why is starscream constantly trying to overthrow megatron? is it because he thinks megatron is a bad leader? does he have a plan for how he would change things if he did become leader? if he's just doing it because he's egotistical, does he have a backstory that made him the way that he is?

give me decepticons with hobbies and personalities outside of wanting to kill everything.

#2: the easy way (this is easier because it doesn't require radical re-imagining of the decepticons as a whole)

just make the decepticons the ruling class. genuinely, just make the decepticons the people in charge from the beginning. you wouldn't have to imagine that many changes. megatron can still be a warlord intent on conquering the galaxy (it's just re-framed through the lens of him always being this way instead of having to learn violence is a solution), starscream constantly vying for the throne is now much easier to understand because the faction isn't rising up from the lower class, they were always in power and starscream wants more of it.

it even works out for the autobots because them being the lower class rising up against a tyrannical force re-contextualizes their desperate want to defend planets being attack by the decepticons. they're not just doing it because it's the right thing, they're doing it because they know what it's like. and that makes their motivations seem more sympathetic than a fucking god complex of saving the "tiny pathetic humans who can't defend themselves"

the decepticons being purely the bad guys is actually the reason why i'm not gonna read the rest of the skybound comics. i have no interest in another comic that is functionally (at least from the five issues i've read) just a bloodier, more violent g1. it's disappointing that instead of trying to explore the existing transformers characters through a different lens other than "evil" tf writers keep making the decepticons the same old bad guys.

this franchise has so much potential for interesting stories, cyberverse proved that to me when they allowed the autobots to team up with clobber, dead end, and soundwave, but it's being held back by the pervasive trope of the decepticons being the bad guys in every single story

[writeforfandoms]

Pangolin shifter pangolin shifter

(This is definitely not pangolins propaganda I swear)

Because A) they’re goddamn adorable

B) imagine a lil pangolin walking around doing the 👉👈 thing pangolins do

C) perfect bowling hall for uh idk chaotic times

D) apparently they can dig through concrete? I implore you do consider the tomfoolery and shenanigans that would send Price to an early grave

Anyway yeah all this shifter stuff keeps popping up on my dash and honestly I cannot complain it’s amazing 🫧 going back to read waking lions after this because all your work is just chef’s kiss

Okay friend this never showed up because Tumblr is a hellsite so I literally just found this. Stupid hellsite trying to keep me from my shifter au asks!!

Okay, pangolin shifter. That is a fascinating idea. Pangolins are super cute. And also, yes, perfectly shaped for tomfoolery and shenanigans.

Just imagine digging random holes in the concrete, for fun, and watching people trip. It becomes something of a game, trying to catch any of your team tripping. Price definitely sighs like this is the worst possible thing. (Even if he finds it funny.)

And the bowling ball thing... I'm cackling. Can you just imagine Gaz and Soap getting into mischief with pangolin shifter? They'd be the most annoying trio on base.

Thank you so much!! I always love hearing your thoughts 💖

[theknightmarket]

Okay uh...this is the first time I'm requesting any egos but I just have to. You're the best writer for them I've ever had the pleasure of reading from. So I'm thinking maybe some Yancy and reader (preferably if they're from Heist) pulling some shenanigans around Happy Trails and slowly Yancy realizing his feelings? The shenanigans can involve the guards, Yancy's friends, or even the warden!

"Came for the accent, stayed for the crisis."

In which Yancy and a convicted thief run their own April Fools' Day. 

TW: cursing

Pages: 20 – Words: 8,500

[Requests: OPEN]

The sounds coming from the corridor may have made any outsider think this was a theme park, which, while not all that different in context, was incorrect - if only for the fact that the rollercoasters, ring-toss games, and Ferris wheel were swapped out for sticky tables, rusty metal bars, and subpar plumbing. These may not have been mutually exclusive, but in Happy Trails Penitentiary, you would have better luck tracking down a perfectly innocent prisoner than a waffle. Or, for that matter, someone who wanted to be free. 

Happy Trails was notorious for being one of the only prisons in all of America that nobody wanted to leave. It wasn’t any different, there was still a fair amount of police brutality and a difficultly established hierarchy, but there was one thing that no other jail had that this one did. 

And that was not a something, but a someone: a young man who went by the name Yancy. 

Despite him having spent the majority of his life in a cell, nobody knew if that was his real name, or just a random thing someone had given him once. By the accent, he definitely wasn’t an Englishman, but that, too, was up to interpretation. Some said he was from Ohio, some said from Boston, but all agreed that it didn’t matter anymore. He was in Happy Trails Penitentiary, now, so who cared where he was born? 

Thus, this became his home. Yancy spent his days and nights in the confines of the walls, and he cherished the moments he spent with his friends, hell, family. It didn’t matter that he couldn’t leave, nor that his choices were limited in a lot of things, because he was with the people that he loved doing the things that he loved. It was a difficult task to imagine life outside, and it only sweetened the deal when you arrived. 

You knew next to nothing about prison-life when you first got kicked up the ass here, which, granted, was a lot more than he could say for your friend. You were a confusing pair, to say the least, but he wasn’t sure if you would adjust well. At first, admittedly, you didn’t; you picked fights and messed with the guards, and when your friend disappeared? Hell had no fury like you scorned. Yancy didn’t even know if you were still at the prison with how often you were chucked in solitary. 

Eventually, though, you settled down. You seemed to realize that this was where you were, and there was no changing that. You chilled out, got better, tried making conversation. Yancy was the first to welcome you properly, because he’d been where you were. A freshly-sixteen high school dropout was like early Christmas for the prisoners, until he found his group and made the place more homely. There was no denying the stray convicts who could make your life hard if you got on their bad side, but the vast majority were small time criminals who just didn’t want to leave. 

After your botched heist, you fit right in. 

And, yeah, you might be asking how this whole origin story resulted in yourself and Yancy getting chased down the hallway by the prison’s Warden, himself adorned in a pink afro, sunglasses, and the loudest shirt on the market. You weren’t exactly sure, either, but that didn’t stop you from squeezing Yancy’s hand and pulling him through a doorway. Your state-issued shoes clacked against tile, squeaking giving you away in a heartbeat. The sleeve of your jacket whipped past the Warden’s hand, and yet, against the prospect of being caught, a smile dashed across your face. It matched the one on Yancy’s mouth, soon to be interrupted by an accented laugh. 

You nearly let out a ‘woohoo’ in excitement, but you considered that too far, and you needed to catch your breath enough to get back to the Warden’s office. That thing was a fort right now, both of your faces were beet red from the running, amongst other reasons, and you were becoming awkwardly aware of your grip on Yancy’s hand. Getting caught was not an option, lest you wanted to face a month of solitary for this stunt – even though it was probably warranted. 

It all began at the very start of this morning when the sun barely peaked past your barred window and the guards had yet to wake everyone else up. You treasured this period, because it was the only time you were given free reign of what to do. Sure, during free time you had things to do, but you had to be doing things, whereas now was the perfect time to lay in bed, staring up at the top bunk and be at peace. A yawn broke the silence from that very place, but you considered the source to be the only thing that made a shorter rest worth it. 

“G’morning,” Yancy called sleepily. Even as early as this, his drawl was still present. 

Your response was more chirpy than usual, “Good morning, Yancy.”

His eyebrow’s rose unwittingly as he swung his legs over the side of your bed. “What’s got youse all hyped up?” He couldn’t think what made this day special. It wasn’t visitation day, it wasn’t Christmas, and it definitely wasn’t your birthday – so what was he missing? 

“Because,” you practically sang, strapping on your shoes and tying your jacket around your waist, “today is the first of April.”

Before Yancy’s feet could touch the ground, you secured your hands on his shoulders and grinned. He might have been scared had he not trusted you with his life, so he just returned the smile in appreciation of your mood and rolled up his own sleeves. 

For a second, you were confused. You didn’t expect much, maybe a laugh or a little sound of realization, but Yancy didn’t seem to know anything about what you were talking about. 

“April Fool’s Day,” you stated. 

His expression only shifted into concern. 

You, albeit overdramatically, gasped and moved your hands from his shoulders to cradle his jawline. “Yancy, have you never heard of April Fool’s?”

Not giving him time to respond, you assumed he hadn’t and knocked your forehead against his. With your eyes closed, you failed to notice the flush that exploded across his cheeks, the color blooming like a flower where your breath touched his skin. 

“What are we going to do with you,” you muttered, and by this time, Yancy’s entire face was beet red. He could say the same to you because this was not entirely out of character for you. You always had been touchy with him after becoming friends, and five months was enough time for this to be habit. 

He was stuck in this purgatory until you finally stepped back, not removing your hands however, and exclaimed, “You’re coming with me!” 

Bluntly, he replied, “What?”

“You’re coming with me.” Although you didn’t expand on that idea, you still took Yancy by the elbow and tugged him towards your corner. A while ago, you had designated the two available corners of the room for personal belongings, and yours had stayed concealed by a blanket for the past week. It had worried him slightly, but the guards were unperturbed, so he thought it fine to not ask any questions. Coming towards it now, though, he wished he had. 

“Prepare to be amazed,” you whispered, and you grabbed a corner of the fabric. 

In one, fluid movement, you ripped it away and threw it back onto your bed, revealing below what could only be described as an armada of materials. Yancy was stunned, and he stood completely still with his arms hanging limp for the next few seconds while he took in the pile. 

Multiple folded bedsheets made the foundation - some spotted, some plain, some covered in either blood or grenadine from the kitchen – followed by cans of neon paint and bags of fake moustaches on top. This, accompanied by a worrying number of handy tools, gave him pause and reason to ask, “Was’ all this for?”

Your grin grew manic in the short amount of time for you to remove a paint can without everything clattering to the ground. “This,” you lugged it to the desk, “is what we’ll need to enact the best pranks anyone could think of in a prison.” By the blank look on his face, Yancy still hadn’t a clue what you were talking about, so you started to explain.

“April Fool’s Day is celebrated by, uh, not a lot of people,” you admitted, “on the first of April every year. Nobody really knows where it came from, but that doesn’t stop it from being one of the most fun holidays in the year or me from going all out.” You removed a paintbrush from the stack of tools sitting next to the mismatched pile, and, after peeling the can open, dipped it in.

Yancy edged into view, slotting between the bunk bed and the desk, to ask, “Don’t you think we’re gonna get in trouble for dis?” 

You laughed, looked at him, and he quickly found comfort in your reassuring smile. It was like a tender fire sparking in the dark, a campfire that he could curl up next to and fall asleep until the next day. This tended to happen a lot, and it’d picked up recently, like the wind warning of the future. He didn’t want it to be a bad sign, so he stuck with what he knew; it made him happy to see you smile, he liked being happy, so he liked you, and there was nothing more to it. 

“We might.”

His smile wavered. 

“But you don’t have to worry about that.” You bounced towards him and tapped his jaw. “I’m an expert at this.” 

He had to trust you, it wasn’t as though he had a choice in the matter, anyway. A long time ago, he had decided that whatever you were doing, it would be fine in the end. Letting his shoulders and smile relax into a more natural one, he teased, “Like you were an expert at heists?” 

“Hey—” you flicked neon paint onto his shirt, staining it a slight green, “—I am an expert at heists, I got that part down to a T, I just don’t know how to pilot a helicopter.” 

“I think that’s part of the heist.”

“Nah,” you shrugged and did your best to reseal the paint can, mostly hitting it with your fist until it was in the rough shape it had been at the beginning but with a brush sticking through a hole. 

Yancy let one last, boisterous laugh through his lips, before you started to delve into the plan. 

You would admit that your plan seemed farfetched when you first brought it up to your cellmate and ironing out the details and getting the logistics down was a chore, but Yancy was quick to offer up his help. You appreciated it, trying to not let it slip that he lowered the risk of you getting caught a significant amount, and you reconstructed the plot to include the favors of his connections. Your improv skills had degraded since getting incarcerated, but that heist was a thing of beauty if you considered the need for thinking on your feet – which, you did. Half of that thing didn’t even have a plan, it was just ‘get in, get out, go home’. You faltered at the ‘go home’ part, of course, but you digressed. Your improvisation skills were needed now, and you had employed them well by the time of the breakfast bell. 

Keeping maniacal giggles to a minimum, you were the one to pull Yancy towards his main table, where his group of friends met you. None of them had the full picture, except for yourself and the ringleader, so they were all giddy with anticipation. They asked questions about who the victim was, why you’d chosen them, and you tried your best to answer them without giving too much away. Yancy, meanwhile, was somewhere else. 

Conducting the plan had been like a script – it was easy, efficient, and only needed muscle-memory from him to work fine – and that meant his mind was left to its own devices as his body helped you out. Every time you turned to him or asked him over your shoulder to pass him a screwdriver, he couldn’t take his eyes of you. He flailed his hand for the tool and handed it to you soon after grasping it, just so that he could watch you work. It was a reward for a duty he was unaware he had performed, but he must have done it well, because what a reward you were. Your company alone made his heart flutter, and he considered a doctor’s visit when your hands brushed. He ignored that they were breaking a lot of the prison’s rules, and, instead, the only thought at the front of his mind was that this, spending time with you… it was nice. 

“You ready, Yancy?” 

He blinked. Returning to the present, he waved away those feelings and moved his attention to his friends, including you, who were looking at him in excitement. 

Not sure what he was agreeing to but placing all trust in you, he nodded. 

Immediately, you pounced off the table, a tiger on the hunt, and everyone else watched on. Your shoes skidded against the tile as you carved a path to a particular guard. He stood alone, and, just as you had arranged, next to the breaker. Poor choice of the prison to put the box in the cafeteria of all places, but you weren’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you nodded to the man and twisted on your heel to watch the hall. 

Chatter dropped, rose, and then dropped again, as if in sync with the flickering of the lights, before it flipped on its head – the fluorescent bulbs completely cut out, but a panic swirled. Guards, prisoners, even Warden Murder-Slaughter himself came out of his office and exclaimed some southern curse. It didn’t demand all of the attention, though, because that belonged rightfully to the spider-webbed convict leaning against one of the walls, helpfully, in the center of the room.

Jimmy the Pickle was your victim, and to answer Tiny’s question, he deserved your first prank of the day for punching one of your only friends through a goddamn wall. You would have done worse, but then you’d never have met Yancy and the gang, so you had some things to thank him for. Not enough to get him completely off the hook, of course, so a little neon paint was light punishment. 

A myriad of doodles and names adorned his body – more befitting of a graffitied high school yearbook – but the swirly mustache, horns and ‘nerd!’ worked here, too. 

From his seat atop the plastic table, Yancy could only watch the Jimmy’s reaction, mainly of confusion and then immediate rage as he stomped off to find whoever did this to him. Luckily, it was in the opposite direction to you, who was rushing over in quick step to slide next to him. Even coated in shadows, you were unabashedly red, and, when you turned to meet Yancy’s gaze, grinning ear to ear. If you weren’t in public, you’d be laughing like a maniac. The hushed chortles were evidence of this. 

“That was amazing,” you sighed, once the lights crackled to life and the restless gossip of the prisoners returned to normal. 

“We doing another one?”

Yancy’s eagerness caught you off guard, as did his sudden proximity to you. You didn’t know why he was so ready to pull another prank, but you decided that, if he was having fun, who were you to put a stop to that? All he was asking was to pick up the pace, and to deny the sparkle in his shimmering eyes was to deserve the death sentence. 

“Sure,” you conceded, “gimme a second to grab the blankets.” With that, you sprinted off again, almost stumbling over your own feet to get back to your cell.

His eyes trailed after you, fighting back the instinct to catch you with how many times you nearly tripped. You were worryingly similar a newborn deer – no control over your feet and even less knowledge of your surroundings. It was a strange and unfamiliar impulse that pushed him to lean forward on his seat, but a well-known pressure on his shoulder kept him down. 

Sparkles McGee peeked into view on his left. “You sure know how to pick ‘em, boss,” he joked, though there was the underlying tone of not joking. 

“Whady’a mean?”

“I mean, your new ‘pal’.” 

Having been practically raised inside the confines of a prison, Yancy wasn’t all that good at social cues. Sarcasm was difficult for him, bluntly told jokes he had a hard time figuring out, but the jumping of Sparkles’ eyebrows and the wink upon saying ‘pal’ didn’t leave much up to interpretation. That blush from earlier returned tenfold when he realized what his friend was insinuating. 

“I-It ain’t like that,” he responded quickly, but he didn’t entirely believe the words coming out of his mouth. 

“Uh-huh,” Bam-Bam joined in with a poorly disguised giggle, “and you don’t look at them like a love-sick puppy.” 

“I don’t!” It came out much more defensive that he had meant, but it was still the truth, wasn’t it? 

Tiny’s hand came to rest on his upper arm before she whispered, “Yancy, it’s okay.” 

“We’re just friends, guys,” Yancy still persisted, and he took off from the surface before they could think to stop him. Standing tall in front of his group, shoulders levelled and voice as sturdy as he could get it, he wished them a good breakfast and all but fled the cafeteria, hands tucked in his pockets and a scowl on his face. 

For the better half of an hour, he took to wandering around Happy Trails. He trusted his feet to take him wherever they felt he should go, while his mind relayed the conversation. He wouldn’t lie to himself, right? What point was there to convincing himself that he didn’t have feelings for someone – there wasn’t one, so, clearly, he didn’t have any to hide in the first place. To him, that made the most sense. Of course, his stomach flipped, and his heart pounded whenever you were around, he would risk ten years of solitary to stand close to you, and he was pretty sure he saw heaven in your eyes, but that didn’t mean anything special, right? Just plain old friends.

Why did it hurt to say that?

“Hey, Yancy!” 

Ordinarily, he would be annoyed at someone interrupting his brooding, but tilting on his heel revealed it was you who called his name. 

Yancy let a grin spread across his mouth while you bounded up to him. If anything, you’d be the puppy in the relationship – but you weren’t, because it wasn’t like that.

Skidding to a stop, you looked out of breath. A sudden fear of you running a fever toppled him, and he brought a hand to your forehead with little forethought. You weren’t too hot, but you should have gone to the medical bay, all the same.

“I’ve been looking for you,” you huffed, one half out of fatigue and the other out of annoyance.

“Ah, sorry,” he muttered. He didn’t expand on it, and you didn’t press, so you just moved on to shoving a pile of blankets into his arms. They were surprisingly soft for being in a prison, but, then again, he hadn’t a clue where you had gotten them from.

“I took them from the Warden’s office.”

Oh. Well, that was that. It explained where you got them, but it also made fear flicker about in his mind. The Warden would surely notice they were gone, what if you were caught, taken to solitary confinement, chucked out of the prison altogether? Just the thought shocked him to his core, and he stayed completely paralyzed while his thoughts ran wild. 

As if you could sense his inner turmoil, you pressed your hands against his jawline – a habit you’d long since picked up to calm him down. 

“Yancy, we’ll be fine,” you promised, “it’s just a bit of fun, we’re not gonna do any serious damage to the place. It’ll all be back to normal tomorrow, so the Warden won’t have anything to be mad at us for.”

Goddamn your reassuring smile, there it was again! Saving him like a knight in shining armor in his time of need. 

After taking a few deep breaths, he nodded back to you, making eye contact and avoiding biting his lip. 

Another laugh from you. “There you go, Yancy!” Another knocking of your foreheads. Another blush. 

There was a moment in the day when everyone was on edge. For the past few hours, a group of people were protected at all times. Now, however, nobody was safe. They’d glance up at the ceiling, waiting for the tiles to give way and unleash hell – they’d train their eyes on every exit and entrance as if daring a biblical flood to rush through – they’d mutter to themselves about who they thought the next victim would be, and send pitiful looks to the poor soul. 

The blindless a thief experienced was burned into his memory, his assumed death playing heavy before he had been able to throw the bedsheets off of himself. One of the guards still stared scrutinizingly at her fellows for any sign of them actually being a prisoner in disguise, and the general consensus of treating this like an infiltrated war base had been reached after the guard dogs were released on the officers’ private quarters. Any trust between each other had crumbled to the ground due to the actions of two wayward convicts. Yancy and yourself became names to fear amongst most of the occupying forces, to the point that Yancy’s gang had been separated and sent to their cells to stop them from conspiring with you. It was havoc, and there was just one more idea bouncing around that would be the end-all-be-all of the night. 

“Yancy, I have a plan—” you swung yourself up to his bunk, “—and it’s gonna be amazing.” 

While you made yourself comfortable, your cellmate leaned against the wall with his arms behind his head, trying his best to appear relaxed. The events of the day took a toll on his heart rate, but that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. His first attempt in April Fools’ Day had been a raging success, not only in the pranking department, but in the, well, you department. Nearly every second had been spent with you, laughing about people’s reactions, and plotting your next mission, you leaning in just close enough that he could feel your breath on his ear as you whispered the best ideas. What made it all better was the fact that, even though you both knew you could do this alone, you had chosen to do it with him. A grin stretched across his face as he thought back on how many times that you’d asked him to do the little things, like passing him items or giving him a leg up. All those times that you could have just improvised, but you didn’t; you chose him.  

However, as much as he was still trying to appear relaxed, it was becoming considerably harder to do so when you found that the comfiest place to be was slotted between his legs and looking up at him from his lap. You didn’t seem to mind the proximity, going so far as to push yourself further up him, but Yancy was certainly aware of your arms resting beside his thighs and the pressure of your head on his stomach. Now, it was a harder venture not to flush. 

“So,” you began, and he was suddenly reminded of why you were in this position in the first place, “this is me spit balling, feel free to chime in with stuff, but I think we should go after the Warden.” 

A grimace overtook his face. He usually loved your ideas, but the Warden? Number one, it was unimaginably dangerous, and, number two, he had his own reservations over risking his relationship with the man. It was no secret that he was the closest thing Yancy had to a father figure, and, as much as he hated to admit it, he relied on the Warden as a backbone. Take away him, and all of his confidence would go down the drain in a second. On the other hand, though, this was you. Yancy could trust you, he was certain of that, and what reason did you have to put him in the line of fire? 

The internal conflict must have been visible on his face because you were quick to bring your hands to his jawline and smoothen out the stubble. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you pointed out in the softest tone you could muster, “I just think it would be nice to go out with a bang. It’s your choice.” 

It was at that second that - with you staring up at him, calloused hands pressing down on his jaw, the assuring twitch of your mouth, and the gleam of rigid determination in your irises – Yancy came to a revelation. It wasn’t sudden or surprising, it was more like when you zone out in a car and then notice that an hour has passed and you’re already there. Like expected clarity. 

Yancy would do anything, as long as it meant being with you. 

Now, he wasn’t entirely sure what that meant in relation to anything else, but this was an undeniable truth as stark as a glistening geode surrounded by rock. If that was all it was, then it was good enough for him, but if that meant something more, he wouldn’t fight it. How could he when it was someone like you?

This conclusion settled in his mind, he leaned forward barely an inch and pecked your forehead. “Youse is gonna be the death of me.” 

Despite the dusting along your cheeks, you laughed. The metal of the bunk bed almost seemed to get warmer with your unadulterated joy, and Yancy found himself unable to resist giggling along with you. His shoulders bounced, you smiled wider, and you only began to calm yourself down when you realized you hadn’t even told him the plan yet. 

“First of all, we’ll probably have to haggle for the stuff, but I think putting the Warden into 80s clothing would be a great time for everyone.” It was anyone’s guess as to where you came up with this stuff, but he nodded along anyway. “We could go for a wig, those stupidly curly ones that you can stick a comb in—oh, and if we can, we should try and get a pair of roller-skates on his feet, ‘cause it’d be really funny, and—” 

Your mouth was moving, and sound was coming out of it, and you were making your plan up on the spot, but Yancy paid it little mind. He was focused on the way that you shifted as you talked; your hands moved centimeters at a time, like you were subconsciously acting it out as you went, your fingertips pattering along his skin as you did so. While you spoke at a normal pace, the cogs in your head visibly spun a mile a minute behind your eyes. The determined gleam had shifted into passion, a look he’d only seen once before, and yet it was a very recent occasion. 

You’d been laying side-by-side in the air duct, waiting for an unsuspecting victim to walk underneath your blanket trap, when you’d filled him in on the traditions of other holidays not widely celebrated. Guy Fawkes Day, a lot of independence days, and pancake day, which was the only self-explanatory one out of the bunch you told him. All of these, you had inane knowledge on, but the look in your eye when you ranted about them had him drifting off, just like now, only to inspect the way it danced along the black and white ridges, disappeared under your eyelashes and…

He probably should have been paying attention. 

He only snapped back to reality when you were interrupted by a yawn. Your hand disappeared from his cheek, a sensation he felt his eyebrows fold in at, and covered your mouth. An attempt to continue was, again, cut off, and it only succeeded at making you more annoyed. 

“Youse, uh, youse sleepy?”

You shook your head, opened your mouth, and promptly yawned again. Yancy raised an eyebrow. You huffed.

“Nope,” you replied, and he waited for another sign of your tiredness. 

It came, and you were forced to accept that you may have been a bit fatigued by the day’s events. 

“We can go to sleep, if you want?” he offered. 

“But you don’t do pranks on the day after April Fool’s. It’s tasteless.” 

“Just a nap, then?”

“Yancy,” your tone was pleading but the intent wasn’t there. It dismantled seconds after he pulled those puppy-dog eyes, a tactic you were certainly familiar with after the many times you fell to it. 

And now would be no exception. 

Huffing, you slouched in your makeshift seat. Yancy’s striped sweatpants were surprisingly comfy for a prison uniform – or maybe that was just him. Either way, you were content to slip into a dream then and there, completely forgetting that you were still on Yancy’s bunk and him holding you up. Not that he minded; he, too, was happy to relax into the cushion, trying to avoid jolting you too much in your slept. Technically, it wasn’t lights out just yet, but your pranking had thrown everything into disarray. It would take a week to get it all back to normal, and the guards would probably stick you in solitary next year just to save themselves the pain. 

He laughed to himself, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek. You were pleasantly warm against the cool air of the cell. What a panic you’d made – his little imp. 

He drifted off without pausing to think. 

To say that you were startled awake would be an understatement; your eyes blew wide, you fumbled in surprise, and your face almost made great friends with the concrete floor. If it hadn’t been for Yancy gripping your waist before you could fully fall out, the scheme from earlier would have all been for naught. Heart racing and breath still rapid, your gaze flitted from wall to wall, checking your supplies and wondering what the hell woke you up in the first place. 

Your answer came not a minute later, when an officer came strutting down the hallway with a baton that he was helpfully clacking against the bars with. The hallway was dim, and the rest of the prison was silent in your sector – it must’ve been lights out, if the guard yelling, “Lights out!” wasn’t anything to go by. 

Internally, you groaned. Had you missed your chance? God, and it would’ve been so fun, too. All people had were the memories of you two vaguely terrorizing the prison, not the big blow-out you had wanted. Your hair dusted against the wall as you flopped backwards. 

“It’s too late,” you muttered, disdain evident and disappointment lacing it all. 

In another scenario, Yancy would have grimaced and tried to raise your spirits. He would have told you about the songs he’d practiced, or the up-and-coming movie night the prison was planning. However, this was not another scenario. 

Instead of letting you wallow, Yancy dragged you with an arm around your shoulder down the ladder and onto stable ground. You moved like a fluid, as you always did when you were annoyed, and simply watched as he got to his knees and checked underneath your own bed. 

“I don’t think dust bunnies will help us,” you tried to joke, but it fell on deaf ears. Instead, Yancy was fixated on bringing forward the small lockbox he had stored down there since before you had arrived. He’d never had to use it before, leading it to be shoved right at the back. Even now he was having trouble finding it with the darkness of a sheltered hiding place. 

While Yancy ran his fingertips at the edge of the wall, you inspected your stash of equipment. This plan was a spur of the moment kind of thing, so none of what you had would be helpful, but the nap would have given someone time to steal what you rightfully bartered for. A quick glance over suggested nothing was off, though you didn’t remember getting pink paint, and you checked off your mental inventory as you went. 

“Ah,” Yancy mumbled, pushing himself out of the space and towing a medium sized box with him. Time must have meddled with his memory, because it felt slightly bigger in his hands than it had before. Then again, people had the poor habit of growing. Brushing the thought aside, he sat back on his haunches and clicked it open. 

“Uh…” 

Yancy wasn’t always this unsure, as if bravado was in his blood, but this definitely knocked him off his high horse. What should have been an unassuming lockbox with nothing but a few lighters, combs, and a jagged, old key, was, instead, full to bursting with bright clothes and accessories. If that wasn’t weird enough, it was exactly as you had described during your plotting phase; a curly wig, practically doused in pink, a flamboyant, open-chested t-shirt, and roller-skates. Sweat dripped down his back when he considered the implications, but you merely dashed forward and removed the afro. 

“This is great!” you exclaimed, swiveling to Yancy and wrapping your arms around him.

Yes, you were aware this meant someone had broken into your cell while you were sleeping, and, yes, you recognised someone overheard your entire plan, but did you care? Hell no! You had all the materials you needed to pull off your best prank yet, and if you found the person who provided them, you’d probably shake their hand and spare them from future endeavors. The best clue you had was the small, bright pink mustache painted on the inside wood.

A manic grin blazed across the bottom of your face, and you squeezed slightly tighter in excitement. He patted your back, less enthusiastic but happy that you were. He was more concerned with an intruder hearing last night’s – or this night’s – moment. Lips pursing and hands coming to rest on your waist as you pulled back, he wondered why he held it so close to the chest. 

“Come on,” you whispered. Your hand collected his, and, with the key in your other hand, you escaped your cell to wreak even more havoc.

 

A ticking of a clock pricked up the hair on his arms, the slow patter of rain outside the window tapping the inside of his ear, and every other little sound sending off warning bells in his mind. Warden Murder-Slaughter stared at the front door, as if his glare alone would keep him safe. It was the only defense he had – except for the wooden planks bolted to the windows and the dozens of locks on the single entrance. He couldn’t be blamed for his paranoia, if it could even have been considered that, as he’d seen with his own two eyes the consequences of not being vigilant, and he did not like what he saw. 

So, his eyes drying from not blinking, the Warden accepted having to be awake for the night, just to see himself make it to the next day. It would be the April 2nd, then, and he would be free to wander the halls of the prison like he owned the place, which he did, and it was shameful that he was forced into hiding in his own goddamn office. 

The burning embarrassment wavering in his chest didn’t stop him from flinched when knocks arose on the door. His hand twitched, he fought back blinking, and with the most confidence he could muster, the Warden called out, “Who’s there?”

A pair of shadows cast from underneath the door shifted. “Uh, just me, sir.”

The Warden wasn’t stupid; he knew that when people said ‘just me’ that it probably wasn’t just them. It did sound like one of his lackeys, but he wasn’t willing to take any chances with wayward prisoners on the loose. 

“And you would be?”

They made a sound of disappointment, like most of his staff did when he didn’t recall their name, though they answered all the same. “Jacob Dalt?”

“Middle name.”

Unseen, Jacob shook his head. The Warden had never been so paranoid, and yet, there he was, cornered into his office with the fear of God in his heart. "Markus."

“First pet’s name.”

“David.”

“Social security number.” 

“Sir!” The handle rattled and the door shook, but Jacob stayed behind the door. “Look, sir, if you don’t want to come out, that’s fine – but it’s getting late, and we’re all worried about you. You’ve been in there for the entire day, you haven’t even shouted at the guys upstairs for the lights, yet, and we know how much you love doing that. Just,” there was a vague fist hitting the door, “are you okay?” 

The Warden was pretty sure he could trust the boy, nobody could mimic the overzealous care of that guard, so he rose from his chair with a huff and dismantled all the checks and balanced he had installed to keep himself safe. It was a full minute before he swung the door open and waved him in. 

“Yes, I am fine,” he replied as he re-did all of the locks, “I’m just on edge.”

“I can see that.” 

Jacob flipped around with a concerned smile, while the Warden focused all of his energy on getting the door secured once more. Both of their backs were turned to the rest of the room, which meant more than a few things; the swiveling chair was unoccupied, the window was clear to the outside, and the vent above the desk was out of their view. It was flawless timing, and you didn’t even need to bribe a guard.

Encouraged by your descriptive hand gestures, Yancy dropped as subtle as he could to the worktop, hoping that his shoes wouldn’t make a sound and sprung to hide behind the fake plant in the corner. You pushed yourself out seconds after him, and, lucky for you, the clicks of metal against metal distracted the two others enough for you to hop to the ground and crouch in the leg hole. The sight of your partner was worryingly familiar to you, causing a twitch in your attention, but the spark of adrenaline burst through you in the next moment. 

After gently shoving the chair further away from you, you were able to listen in to the conversation. Nothing stood out to you much – the guard was talking about the Warden’s health and that of the prisoners – until all of the security measures had been returned and the boy offered a single piece of advice. Take a nap. It was perfect, almost too perfect, really, but as said before, you weren’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth, and it appeared neither would the Warden. 

The man, sighed, waved the officer away, and was forced to fiddle with the locks for a fourth time when he realized he had no way out. It only worked in your favor, because he was slowly getting more pissed off at the situation you’d worked to create. Proud was swelling in you, and you tried to remind yourself where you were so you wouldn’t get swept up in it all. You were in the middle of a mission, the chance of getting caught and Yancy’s reputation on the line. 

All the pieces lining up bolstered your confidence so much so that, when the Warden came to sit back in his chair, you didn’t move. Instead, you stayed flat against the wooden panel and steadied your breath as he flopped into the comfortable hold of old leather. You were tempted to grab ahold of his feet and yank, but the sane side of you told you it was beyond stupid. 

Yancy, meanwhile, was panicking. You weren’t even supposed to be out of your cell, much less the Warden’s office. If he were to find you, there would be hell to pay, and sweat dripped down his neck as he thought what would become of you. Solitary was a granted, but you might get kicked out onto the streets of normal society! He couldn’t imagine anything worse – although, he also couldn’t figure out why. He liked you, he knew that, but why did the mere possibility of being separated shake him so much? He had half a mind to rush out and distract him so you could escape, and it irked him that he didn’t know why it seemed natural, like there was no other choice for him. 

“Yancy,” a voice hissed at him. Heart thudding in the chest, he glared through the leaves only to see you waving at him from the side of the desk. The Warden had fallen asleep quickly, and, based on him sleeping through frequent rehearsals late at night, would continue to be until you woke him. 

Doing your best not to giggle too loudly, you withdrew the pink afro and sunglasses from your shirt, a moment for which Yancy made sure not to look. There it was again, something had changed and, for some reason, even though he’d seen you get changed plenty of times right in front of him, it was awkward to spot a single inch of your collarbone. Was he sick? Had he caught something from last night’s food? His mulling over left him dazed and delirious when you snapped your fingers to get his attention. 

“You okay there, Yancy?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, squatting to get on your level, “jus’ think I’m, uh, comin’ down with somin’.”

“As soon as we get back to our cell, you are sleeping for the next day and a half.” 

With tentative hands, he removed the Warden’s shoes and replaced them with the pair of roller-skates. It probably should have concerned him how well they fit, but he had learned not to ask questions by now. 

“And youse’d take care of me?” 

“Of course.”

Once everything had been properly settled onto the still-sleeping man, the two of you stood from the ground and stashed whatever he had been wearing before into the document cabinet. Your masterpiece was complete, and, now, it was just a matter of waiting until he woke up and left the room for the entire prison to see. You could get out the way you came in, so he wouldn’t be worried by any broken locks, and the sunglasses were the same weight and shape of his reading ones. This was perfect, this was the grand finale you had wanted, and you couldn’t have done it without Yancy’s help. 

You turned to him with a grin sweeping across your face. “Thank you,” you whispered, and leaned forward to lay a kiss across his cheek. 

Yancy’s heart thundered, his breath caught, and he almost felt his hands shake. 

But not from the kiss. 

It was from the Warden’s eyes snapping open with a look furious enough to frighten a crazed bull. It was maddened, inconsolable, and pointed straight at the both of you. 

Keeping the locks unbroken was thrown out in favor of bursting through the door shoulder first and flinging yourself down the hallway. It hurt like hell, sure, but the adrenaline lighting your veins told you to ignore it and just run, so you grabbed onto Yancy’s hand and did just that. 

The situation was manic, a feeding frenzy in an ocean of sharks. You tripped past the kitchen and the storage room, curbed through the washroom, and soon enough, found yourselves in your wing of the prison. It was nice to see Yancy’s friends as you ran by, Sparkless calling out your names like a commentator at a racetrack, and Tiny helpfully pointing to the man gaining on you. Bam-Bam made certain gestures towards you that Yancy caught, which both made him smile and explode in a furious red. 

The cafeteria was next on your hit-list, as you skidded between benches and leapt over tables. The Warden’s enraged shouts propelled you forward, though you didn’t miss yelling back remarks that only made him more annoyed. Your partner was just along for the ride, at this point, but he tugged you out of the way of a food cart as you ran. After sending him an appreciative glance, you made it out of the hall. 

A few guards peeked out of the staff room when you passed, the squeaking of your shoes making it difficult to be stealthy about this, but they preferred to exchange looks than interrupt… whatever it was that you were doing. They gathered it was something to do with the pranks, but the gleams in your eyes told a different story. 

With a final burst of energy, you swung Yancy into the Warden’s office and shoved the door closed behind you. The locks were useless, now, so you settled for vaulting over the desk and maneuvering it into a barricade. Yancy jumped to help, and you were quickly safe in the make-shift bunker. 

Flopping into one of the chairs, you sighed. That was… more eventful than you had expected, but it was good. Great, in fact! Reliving the glory days granted you the adventure you had been missing. 

From his spot leaning against the table, Yancy chuckled lightly, which turned into small laughs and then full-blown chortles. Never in his life had he imagined he’d be getting into pranking his surrogate-father, with you, no less. 

“That was…” he started, only to continue with giggles. 

You nodded before letting your head fall backwards. You might just join Yancy for the day and a half nap. 

After a few seconds, he regained his breath and spoke again, “I, uh, really enjoyed doin’ dat with you.”

“I enjoyed it too, Yancy.”

Your head propped up, wavering side to side, that feeling returned full throttle. It was the feeling when you’d been chased, sure, but there was something different about it. The warm wasn’t from his blood running through him, but a fuzzy, comfortable feeling – it was an emotion he wasn’t familiar with, and not being able to put a name to it was, well, annoying. He wanted to tell you how he felt, but describing it would be inefficient and, he feared, inaccurate. It was like a bunch of small emotions bundled into one, messy glob. Caring, joy, a little bit of worry. It made his heart sing and his face flush and his throat swell with all of the words he wanted to say but couldn’t. 

Coughing, he spoke, “And thank youse for doing it with me.” 

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think dis’ is the best April Fools’ Day I’ve ever done, and youse didn’t have to take me along with it so, thank you.”

With a near-silent laugh, you made your way to sit next to him on the desk. The wood was kind of hard, but it made wrapping an arm around him that much easier. After the run, he was warm and stable.

“I should be the one thanking you,” you admitted, making Yancy look at you with confusion, “When I first came here, I was dead set on getting out. I thought that if I didn’t, then I’d be wasting away my life and betraying everything I’d worked for – and then I met you. You made it home, y’know. Now, eh, I’d much rather be here than in the outside world.” 

Yancy blinked, though, really, he wanted to jump and dance with you around the room. You wanted to stay for him. Not for the songs, or the free healthcare, for him. It might’ve been April Fool’s, but he was pretty sure it doubled as Christmas for him.

“Really?” he mumbled, and his eyes met yours. They were practically pools of sincerity, so vivid that there was a sheen of vulnerability over your irises. 

“Come on,” you pulled him close, “I came for the accent, stayed for the crisis.” 

It was a happy moment, so, so happy, that Yancy was furious he couldn’t express it with words. His mouth dried up and his mind flurried about like birds’ wings. You weren’t talking anymore, and it looked like you were about to pull away for a second. 

So, Yancy did the only thing he could think to do. 

The bone of your jaw was firm, the strands of your hair were soft, and the skin of your lips was delicate. Kissing you was something he had never imagined, and yet he couldn’t help but wonder why he ever held back. Carding one hand across the nape of your neck and the other secured around your waist, he poured all of his attention into the feeling of you against him. You pushed forward, and he did, too. It might’ve been the pounding of his heart or the banging of the Warden against the door, but he didn’t care! This perfect moment surrounded by chaos nestled into his memory, added to by the feeling of you smiling against his own mouth. Yancy held back a chuckle himself, before once more becoming engrossed in dancing with your lips.

It was in this moment that Yancy put a name to the emotion that had been stirring in him since the morning. Love – and the admission only had him leaning further in. 

You only broke apart because of the fatal flaw of human design – needing to breath, but even then, you went back in for another kiss milliseconds after catching air. Yancy was all but overjoyed to, not feeling bad about ignoring the Warden for the first time in his life. He had something better to attend to. 

However, that stance was changed slightly when the boards that used to be covering the windows crashed to the ground in splinters, followed by a body. Just one look at the wig and jacket, and Yancy was jumping to his feet and onto the chair you had abandoned. Thankfully, you had neglected to refit the vent, meaning it was easy for him to grab your hand and lift you towards the ceiling. When you were securely inside, he brought himself up, and you latched onto his arm to pull him towards you, barely missing the Warden’s hand by an inch. 

“So, again next year, then?” Yancy joked, to which you responded with a laugh and another short kiss on his lips, leaving the Warden’s southern curses to echo behind you. 

[Again, sorry for the lateness – I still hope you enjoyed this and our cute lil’ boy being all confused about emotions. I’m still not over him losing to Dark in the poll. I mean, yeah, I get it, but c’mon, how could they do this to the Boston boy??]

[indomitableblackdragon]

I can't figure out this spacing thing and I'm not about to find out. So hey! I'm Allul (They/Them, trying to figure that thing out)! I'm that fucking creature that's flooding your dash with posts about a boat girl and whatever other shenanigans my mind decides to get up to. I'd say I should apologize but really the longer you know me the more you realize this is just how I live my life

I'm 26 (Not for long) and a terrible chronic gacha addict that probably should've stopped a long time ago. But since i haven't I now have adopted boats (as this blog shows) along with....

androids

horse girls

very bisexual prisoners

food personifications

goblins

cinnamon rolls

and plenty of other random things that go in and out of my mind on the daily. This may come at a surprise to plenty of people but I literally haven't even been here a year yet (shocking I know). Most of my writing career has been either super bad fanfics, skype rp (yes this sadly was part of my life), and forums of recently. Only after being dragged here by a few friends did I realize what I was missing out on and I'm glad I joined! I promise you I'm not intimidating as I may seem (If I even come off as intimidating) and really I'm a DM away from blowing your eardrums off about whatever you want. Like lets be real my first blog here was a goddamn pokemon. I think that says everything you need to know.

Anyway next is checks notes about myself and that's problematic. Because I have no idea how to do that :3. According to my friends this meme explains it best

But as expected writing is my hobby (go figure) and beyond that is probably video games. A lot and a ALOT of RPGS, Fighting Games, and whatever is out there to get my serotonin running. Currently I'm down in the mines playing Granblue Fantasy Relink, Granblue Fantasy Versus Rising (are you noticing the trend), and dabbling in some other ventures (Gundam Versus if you want to know how niche my tastes get. I also collect plushes!

in line with my crippling Granblue addiction music CD's!

But yeah if it wasn't obvious I love talking about literally anything. My interests are kinda all over the place but most people can vouch that I'm a damn good listener. And that includes plotting even if my mentality usually is just a "fuck it we ball one" rather than really planning it out (I do love planning too! But sometimes you really just gotta go off and never stop). If you don't find me here on NJ's Blog well don't worry I have like 11 more as well. Featuring...

Morgan le Fay (Fate) (@talesofrainandstars_

Melusine (Also from Fate) (@robustdragonheart)

Nian (Arknights) (@unfetteredfreedom)

Mika ("Archive that may be Blue") (@witchoftrinity)

Architect (Girls' Frontline) (@explosivedesire)

Fenie (Granblue Fantasy) (@sourceoftheflame)

Miyoi Okunoda (Touhou) (@geidonteispostergirl)

"Sparkle" (Honkai Stars Rails) @sparklingsplendor

Hiroi Kikuri (Bocchi the Rock) (@sickhackbassist)

My OC Protag from Armored Core 6 "Raven" (@echoesofcoral)

Beyond that I'm always in Discord if you just want to chat or anything else. You can also find me on twitter where I rant about the most craziest things and cry when my favorites in gachas actually get content (it doesn't happen often). Other then that I have no idea how to end this so here's a picture of my dog

anyway I think I've ranted long enough. Looking forward to talking with everyone more and anyone else who is willing to put up with my muses!"

[sun-lit-roses]

20 Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the tags @curator-on-ao3 and @emonydeborah! I apologize for how long it's taken me to respond 💛

I'm so late to this, I have no idea who's already done it. If you haven't yet, please, please consider yourself tagged - and tag me in your response so that I can read your answers! (Actually if you have done it already, also link me so I can read your answers. These are fun questions with bonus fic recs so I'd like to see them all!)

Anyway, I got a little rambly, so I'll put in a cut to not murder anyone's dash 😁

1. How many works do you have on Ao3? 82.

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count? 397,560.

3. What fandoms do you write for? I've been primarily writing Star Trek (Strange New Worlds and Voyager) lately, with a dash of The Librarians and Leverage.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Fringe Benefits (SNW) - My beloved monument to ridiculousness where I approach the totally canon subject of Chris Pike's horse skills via Number One's hair.

October 2373 (Voyager)- My magnum opus! The one time I've managed to achieve completion of an October prompt list - five of them. In one coherent (ish) fic. Granted, it did take me until December... but the point is that I finished it! It follows a very eventful and occasionally random month aboard the Starship Voyager, where they have to deal with imprisonment, alien attacks, diplomatic meetings, and Kathryn's inability to talk about her feelings.

For the Captain Who Has Everything: A Prixin Story (Voyager) - Look. You can't just give me three delightful misfits for ONLY ONE EPISODE and not expect me to adopt them as my own. SO this is what happened next for the little Good Shepherd flock, where 'what happened next' is shenanigans to set up their Captain with her First Officer as a gesture of gratitude.

Growing Pains (SNW) - Aw, one of my early Chris and Una fics! This is one of the set I wrote while the first season was just airing weekly - hard to believe that was almost two years ago 😲 This one was the aftermath of Una 'I'm just fine-ing' her way into emergency surgery and Chris letting her know that there were things up with which he would not put - top of the list being losing his Number One.

Command Advice (SNW) - Another of the early SNW set! This was my 'spicier' take on the resulting conversation between Chris and Una after she learns about her Where Fun Goes to Die nickname. In one version, they have a very serious conversation about Starfleet principles. In *this* version, they're less serious. Also naked.

5. Do you respond to comments? Yes! Or at least I try. I love and cherish every comment, but I tend to run (very) behind on responding and have to play the game of 'is it weird to reply to a comment this late?'

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? My very first fic ever! Actually I think it might be my only fic with an angsty ending. I guess I got it all out of my system early. That one is Wednesday, a Sanctuary fic where Helen has a very sad day.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Literally everything else. I can't even pick out of my collection of sappiness.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Not really.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Yes, there's very little I would not be willing to at least try writing! Up to now I think I've written at least mildly smutty M/F, F/F, and F/M/M sexcapades and/or BDSM. I'm working my way around to some F/F/M for SNW if I could get the three of them to cooperate.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? I think I've only written one crossover and it was for SNW/The Librarians, bringing about a meeting between Eve Baird and Una Chin-Riley, which we would have in a fair and just universe.

Wait, I take that back! I also had a little snippet on Tumblr where Hawkeye, BJ, Jonathan, and Ardeth meet up, because The Mummy/MASH is... certainly a combo. Actually, I think I also had a snippet of Gomez Addams meeting Hawkeye and BJ? What is it about MASH?

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Also not that I know of.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? Kind of? The Discord crowdsourced the plot to a ridiculously hilarious fic and I wrote a bit of it for fun, but I'm not sure if that counts? Co-writing does sound like a good time, though!

14. What’s your all time favorite ship? Voyager! The happiest little ship in the Delta Quadrant 🚀

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? I have a lot of bits and pieces on my hard drive that will never be finished and released into the Ao3 wilds - the plot didn't work out/was barely a plot, I've moved on from the fandom, I was trapped in a fever dream of my nieces playing Frozen on repeat, blacked out, and woke up to 3 chapters dealing with the socio-political ramifications of Elsa decamping and Anna appointing the prince of another land in charge rather than Arendelle's Privy Council. Anyway.

The WIPs I have posted, though, I fully intend to finish at some point! It may take a while and it might not be my original planned ending, but they haunt me. So one day I will have to put them to rest. Possibly with a 2x4, tarp, and shovel.

16. What are your writing strengths? I like to think I'm pretty good at getting into the character's voice. I hope so, at least; I spend a lot of time on it! Also, humor, although that one is objective, of course.

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Commas. Clearly.

Structurally, it varies per fic, but I have a habit of running thin on plot. I start strong at A, want to get to B, but the middle gets kind of wander-y. This also leads to me sometimes stalling mid-project if I get distracted or pulled away - hence my current three WIPs. Though it doesn't help that the past six months have sucked on letting me have much free time.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? If it was short, easy dialogue in Spanish or French I might be able to swing it. Otherwise, I would need to phone a friend.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Sanctuary!

20. Favorite fic you’ve written? This is a hard one. I love them all for different reasons, some of which have more to do with the time I was writing them than with the actual contents. Reluctance was my first multi-chapter fic ever back in the FFN days, so that seems like a pretty good candidate. I learned so much while writing that fic!

[rosecoloredmuses]

RANDOMLY GENERATED HEADCANONS

use this generator to create some randomly generated headcanons for your muse(s)!

Iroha is tumblr famous.

Iroha is a horrible liar. (lol that's canon)

Iroha is an introvert.

Iroha has an intense fear of heights.

Iroha is a great artist.

Tagged by: @limitlesspossibilities

Tagging: anyone who wants to!

[bubblepopsims]

Who are your favorite simblrs to follow/interact with? I’m talking cc creators, builders, cas content, story tellers, anything in the sims world

ALRIGHT ALRIGHT ! I CAN GET BEHIND THIS! i will try my best not to go off topic.. but most likely it will, i apologize already now XD. number 1. YouTube wise HANDS DOWN right now is KUREHA on YouTube if you don't know .click on her name.. be blessed with a Sims series that gives you all the spice you need. FUCKING KANA HANA..... you have cute fucking sims, a great story, and some spice and sweetness all wrapped up into one. i am inspired by them. 2. Plantsimgirl... the ambient builds that they build UGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH they are so cozy and amazing and ughhhhhhhh ! just go look. i have fallen asleep to their videos before because i was just so relaxed... and calm and gosh they are such an incredible creator... 3. i have watch this gal since she started XD and yes i love watching lets plays of pretty much anything. but Aurora. Og fan i love and loved all her lets plays.. i love that she loves the sims 3 the most. its honestly just great. 4. story wise i am going to have to say @rebouks (brynn and wyatt have me in a fucking choke hold dude...) , @theosconfessions (which i really want to sit down and start fully from the beginning again because mmm i love) @ you, i am enjoying seeing you, where you are taking your decades challenge honestly and I'm not just saying that because you asked me.. but because i mean it. its fucking cool i could never. I am too lazy to stay in one decade XD including doing a whole-ass challenge nope .. i could barely get through not so berry gen 1 okay XD, you are awesome. there is probably more OHHH I JUST STUMBLED UPON THEM ! @ladykendalsims i sat up all night the other night just reading XD its also so appeasing to the eye and the fact it has occults DONE. (Sorry for the random tag XD but I like what you are putting down.) 5. seeing stories and just posts of sims or oc wise fucking @fl0pera who quite frankly handles my shenanigans very well XD and joins me in it. (Ultimate choke hold) ( check out our group chat) LOL I’m sorry I am treating this like a fucking interview 🤣🤣🤣 Jesus anyway.. Just she is fucking awesome and if you don't know her you should! also look at the beautiful sims she makes, all-around panty droppers. This brings me to fucking @plumbewb THAT BEAN IS SUCH a CUTE FUCKING BEING... that beanie's sims give me life in the best chaotic way, they are outspoken and I LIVE FOR ITTTTTT! Special shout-outs of people I love seeing On my dash but don’t interact with XD I just appreciate and respect what these people are putting down, from the story, to cc, to sims showcases, to just organic.. "i do what I want, this is my page" vibe. The energy... as corny as it sounds is there for me when I look at their creative brains serving out these killer things. I respect them and truly find it so cool that there is a platform where I can watch people like this create such fucking AWESOME SHIT.. because if I remember we are all playing a life simulation game XD and LOOK how we all use it so differently so uniquely. I FUCKING LOVE IT! i love all you fucking nerds @minaevesmoths @onestormeynight @nightlifeseries @cakepopsimss @softplumbs @lowvintagesims @lazyteapot @leosims4 @simandy @thebramblewood @cuddlewhim @1-800-cuupid , Sims4Life, @simsply4 , @pixelvibes @birdietrait

[superdz555]

finally a pinned post that tells ppl who am i

i am superdz555 i dont like sharing my real name but u can call me "Dash" (its a pseudonym (i think im using that word correctly)

age: 15 birthday: august 20th gener: male sexuality: bisexual country where live: america time zone: est favrite food: tortellini favroite drink: waterrr favorite color: pink OR spring green i have autism and adhd btw :333 also im a femboyy :3c pronouns page!!! <- click for pronouns and other shenanigans!!!

here,s the games i like:

-celeste -pizza tower -undertale/deltarune -geometry dash -ahit -cuphead -pvz -windowkill -beatblock

other stuff i like that isnt just games:

-bfdi -being silly :3 -meowing :3 -making my friends happy -pasta -trampolines !!!! boing boing boing boing boing

side blogbs:

@realgdfactstrust: reliable source of geometry dash facts you can submit ideas in dms there @soublackout: story of undertale in blackout poetry

tags!!!

#rambling = me saying random stuff #asks = asks #dash reblogging with WORDS?? unbelievable = rare instances of me reblogging things and adding words there might be more tags but i forgot them

DNI:

ped0s homophobes transphobes racists zi0nists z00ph1les there are definitely some groups of ppl im forgetting to put in the dni list

i have a fursona btww

drawn by my friend @/aquaemreal her name is Dash which is also my pseudonym (i still hope im using that word right) she is 50 cm tall those wings do in fact let her fly but she sometimes forgets to use them "can i draw her" OF COURSE OYU CAN pls pls pls pls plsp lsplsplspls

ok now u know who i am!! have funnn and dotn forget to hydratee and take a stretch and remember u are loved ^w^

[red-man-of-mustache]

Rules and other relevant information(Mobile view)

Rule 1. I'm not at all selective with who I'll role-play with. I'd prefer mutuals, naturally, but I think if we're interacting with one another that'll come with time so I won't harp on it. I don't care about your writing length but just know sometimes I can get carried away with mine so be warned. I also don't mind doubles! Mario and Mario, Mario and Dr Mario, Shadow Mario, whatever variation is welcome. I don't do exclusivity with muses either(unless discussed). Also, I don't mind role-playing with anons either. Basically, my blog is a free-for-all. Random anons, random asks for the hell of it, go for it.

Rule 2. Personal blogs are welcome here. I'll be reluctant to follow them though as I like to keep my dash a certain way. Should you rp from a side-blog then you know what to do: lemme know.

Rule 3. This blog is multi-ship and multi-verse(ew dirty word). The main verse of course has continuity between threads so keep that in mind if you see Mario mention or otherwise reference your muse and events that happened surrounding their interaction. Verse exclusive interactions will be tagged properly. Posts without a verse tag are to be assumed main verse.

Rule 4. This is a personal mish-mash of everything Mario: the games(mainline and spinoffs), comics(Super Mario adventures primarily, Super Mario-kun is lightly followed) and the cartoons. The recent Super Mario bros movie is an origin story and I'm not sure if I'll make a verse for it yet as Mario is fresh to the kingdom and hasn't been on any adventures yet. I have headcanons that I toss into my interpretation of Mario and I'll be getting a headcanon tag going soon along with updating these rules with said tag for ease of access. I say all that to say that if I do something that you may consider off-color for Mario let me know! I take criticism. Love it actually.

Rule 5. I will reiterate: there is no set way to begin interaction. Toss me a random ask, random starters are also accepted, and my starter calls are always open(might make a perma one, who knows). My messages are open for plotting purposes or general shenanigans. Discord available upon request and I also rp there as well.

Rule 6. I will not be writing any smut. It makes me uncomfortable to try and think of Mario in that light. Sorry. No italian sausage.

Rule 7. Relationships aren't just romance. If you see potential for an ongoing friendship, maybe frienemies, partners in some grand project, let's get to working those deets out.

Rule 8. I personally don't consider much "read-more" worthy but triggers will be tagged. They won't be in the same style as my other tags, simply "tw:wires" or something.

Rule 9. Almost forgot! No god-modding.

Rule 10. If I'm taking a bit to reply and you see me replying to others then gimme a poke. Message me, tag me again, I don't mind. Most likely I forgot or real life got in the way and flipped my perception upside down. Happens more then you'd expect, trust me. Also, I reserve the right to drop a thread for any reason. I'll of course let you know should that happens. I used to be real bad about that kinda thing. This goes double for messages by the way!

This blog is quite the casual place to be( of course that's just my opinion) despite the graphics and whatnot. I'm here to have fun and indulge an old hobby of mine. If you read this far: there's no password. Just like the post so I know you read it. Catch ya on the flipside.

[wintereign]

⛓ RP timelines

🖼 dash events

send me a symbol & I'll tell you my opinion on - accepting!

⛓ RP timelines

Is this asking if I'm okay with rping in different time lines? If so, then I am 100% okay with that. I actually think it's a bit more realistic to jump around in different places. Because to me, it would be a bit boring if we were stuck in one specific time frame and not be able to move past that. So I'm fine with developing threads that are set in different timelines.

🖼 dash events

I do love seeing the different dash events (does this include dash games or dash commentary? idk. I'm mostly referring to those since those are the kinds of things I typically see)! However, I'm usually too shy to participate in them. I used to never be like this, I used to jump into random shenanigans happening on the dash. Now, I just kind of watch everything from afar and have a good time reading everything that's happening. At least, from what I can see on my dash.