#so i'm excited to write it. it should be fun

[bingleboy]

hcs of spy (and any other mercs u wanna write) x reader who really likes to pamper them mayhaps? like, constantly preens over them and buys them expensive things?

I love your work bingle *keels over and dies*

ANON I LIKE YOUR MIND!!!!!!!!!!!!!!11!!11111

I'm assuming this means reader is the one spoiling the mercs, so fun!!!

♡ Mercs with an S/O Who Spoils Them - Spy, Scout, Heavy ♡

🗡 Spy 🗡

The first time you buy him an expensive gift, he is so thrown off

No.... that's his thing.... He buys you nice things. what is this

He's just so surprised he's like almost offended

(even though your gift is very thoughtful and he actually does like it)

He replies with a sweet thank you and accepts the gift, but internally he's like "oh i have to one-up this bastard...."

He's a very traditional guy, so he feels like he has to be the one doing things for you, he has to be the "caregiver", he cannot be going soft or getting pampered or any of that nonsense

"Please, mon coeur, you should not trouble yourself with such things. Let me take care of you."

Gift-giving war ensues. He will go broke before he lets you win

Eventually you guys will talk about it and he'll calm down and realize it really isn't a competition, you just show love in a similar way

It takes time for him to get used to the idea of being "spoiled" by someone else, but I think he'd learn to like it a lot, actually

It's a refreshing change from his previous relationships

You settle into a better balance of constantly preening over each other and treating each other to nice things

A little playful competition is still there

everyone else hates you guys kjasjkfhjfj

⚾️ Scout ⚾️

He's shocked, but 100% excited immediately

He's also got that mindset that he shouldn't be the one getting spoiled by anyone, but that mindset changes very fast when you give him nice things asjhfdsjkdg

He appreciates typical fancy stuff, like cologne or nice clothes, stuff like that, though its not his usual style

What would really excite him though is stuff like Tom Jones merch, comic books, maybe some guns idk, baseball cards

He totally overreacts to every personalized gift

"OH MY GOD! Babe, is this for real 'Reload' SIGNED by Tom Jones?! YOU ARE DA BEST I LOVE YOU"

Attacks you with hugs and kisses as thanks

Oh my god he would love it if you literally preened over him. Like fixing his clothes and telling him how handsome he is. He's in HEAVEN he'll be blushing and trying very hard to play it cool

Shows off everything you get him to the whole team, rubs it in their stupid faces, definitely wants them to be jealous

🥪 Heavy 🥪

Confused at first

He seems like a guy who likes mostly basic things, but he'll use the nice things you get him anyway

"You know you do not need to buy things for Heavy, yes? We make the same amount of money."

When he learns it's how you express your love, he feels a lot more flattered whenever you get him something

And, you discover his weak spot: weapons, especially anything related to maintaining Sasha

When you get him a gift he loves, he'll like stare at it and turn it over in his hands a few times, just soaking it in. Then he'll turn to you and say thank you, and give you a sweet kiss

He tries to repay your gifts by spending more time with you and cooking for you

He'll insist you don't have to fuss over him, but he doesn't protest much because he likes it heehee

He likes feeling pretty sometimes okay. Sometimes he likes feeling bonita. He likes feeling worthy of fussing over <3

thank u for the request!! :] *keels over and dies*

[fenimores-book-nook]

Aromantic visibility!!

~ June 29th & 30th ~

Pride just happened for me! It was great and so fun; I wore my Aromantic flag like a cape and had my little handheld Asexual flag in my hand, waving it around. :) How this Pride worked was, there was a parade of a bunch of people that you watch and then at the end of it you can join in a walk to the building that the event is at. It is a long walk and feels even longer in the heat. But honestly, only on the way back to your vehicle, if you parked near the beginning of the parade. The walk there doesn't feel long, yes it's hot but it doesn't really matter or bother me much because I'm enjoying myself so much. I love being around the people at Pride because everyone seems to just be so full of love. It's beautiful. Plus, it's so fun with my friends.

I had mentioned in an earlier post that I wished there were more Aromantic things at Pride events I've been to and I do wish there was more this time. BUT! I saw someone else walking by me with an Aromantic flag tied around their neck like a cape too! I got so excited to see someone else that's a part of the Aro community as well! I also did see some homemade ceramic pins that were really cool and one was painted Aro colors, so that was awesome!

All in all, it was a great Pride and I'm so happy I got to go. Especially go with my AroAce things for the second year in a row. That may be like an, okay, and? thing, but for me it feels big. My sexuality and romantic orientation journey has been through a lot. A lot of confusion and acceptance work and just a lot. So the fact that I went to Pride using Aromantic Asexual last year as well as this year is just comforting to me. Of course it's 100% okay to change; sexuality is fluid!! But it's just a part that makes me proud to be who I am. :)

Alright, we're gonna switch into a more rant-styled writing. (yes, it is a different day than when I started this, shh) It's still in the AroAce category, but I need to get this out there. First: THE IMPORTANCE OF YOUR SEXUALITY AND/OR ROMANTIC ORIENTATION DOES NOT RELY ON THE ABILITY THAT OTHERS HAVE OR DO NOT HAVE TO UNDERSTAND IT. AND IT ALSO DOES NOT MAKE IT ANY LESS REAL IF SOMEONE WOULD RESPOND IN A WAY THAT WOULD INSINUATE THAT IT ISN'T REAL. BECAUSE IT IS.

Okay. Sorry for yelling, but it needed to be said to prepare you. Also, I feel like I should add a WARNING: this post includes mentions of arophobia and if you aren't comfortable with that, you don't have to read on! Take care of yourself. <3

I wouldn't even necessarily call this a rant, it's more like a, hey, I didn't realize that this was actually really arophobic at the time, but now I do and I'm working through it. Also, shared experiences help people feel more seen! Even if it wasn't a great experience, you aren't alone in it. <3

So, I had a friend in high school and I really liked this friend at the time (platonically, of course); they were a fun person to be around. So much so that I wanted to go to prom together but in "the most platonic way possible." I actually used that phrase on the sign I made to ask them with. Should've been pretty obvious how I felt about them, but whatever. In between the time I asked them and when prom was, we had a choir trip. This was also around the first time I was realizing I'm Aromantic. On that trip, there was this weird dance they had for the students that didn't really interest me so I mainly hung out at a table until this friend asked if I wanted to go walk around. So I was like, sure, I'm bored. We found this really pretty area with a big window where you could see the cars go by. And we just sat there together, chatting and chilling. It was a nice time at the moment, but looking back on it knowing what I know now, does not give me the greatest feeling. While we were hanging out there I told them that I had been researching about Aromanticism and thinking that it felt like me. I couldn't tell you what their response was at that time, but a later response kind of told me that they didn't take anything away from that conversation.

That later response came not super long after that. They told me that they liked me. After I had said I was pretty sure I'm Aromantic. And at the time, I was just very confused. There were some other things that played a part that made me even more confused but I just responded with something like, hey, sorry I don't like you like that. I don't like anyone like that. I'm Aromantic. You're still my friend. That's simplifying it a lot, but you get it. Then, I wasn't feeling anything other than confusion, awkwardness, and a whole lotta uncomfy-ness. Now, I mainly feel angry. They completely disregarded this huge part of me that I was discovering. It's infuriating. Especially because it was at the start of my Discovering I'm AroAce Journey.

So, mainly I just wanted to kind of talk about that. And how indirect arophobic still can hurt and have an effect on people. It's easy to dismiss small comments or situations that you play off as, oh, they don't really understand it, so it's fine. But no, it isn't fine. Anyone could look up what Aromanticism means. And even if they still don't understand it after that, that doesn't give them the excuse to play it off as something that isn't real. Or treat it like it's not real. Because IT IS. OBVIOUSLY. I'M LIVING PROOF THAT AROMANTICISM IS REAL. AND SO ARE YOU IF YOU ARE ALSO IN THE AROMANTIC COMMUNITY.

So, really, the point of this post is to bring light and importance to how badly the Aromantic community needs more visibility. And that's not to say other communities don't, there are countless ones who need more visibility as well.

Anyways. Don't let what others say or refuse to understand dictate how you feel about your identity. You deserve to be out and proud about who you are, whatever that may look like! It's different for everyone. If it's wearing something with your flag on it, or showing up to every pride event there is, or writing blog posts about it (wink, wink), whatever it may look like, it's beautiful. As long as you aren't hurting yourself or others, it's amazing. You are amazing.

To end on a cute and happy note; look at this cute Aro illustration I found on Pinterest:

<3

Go be you proudly!

With absolute LOVE,

Thalia <3

[pluckyredhead]

Are you pulling any current comics? If so, which ones and what do you think of them?

I read almost everything DC publishes! My favorites right now are absolutely Supergirl and Birds of Prey, which are perfect every single month.

Quick thoughts on various lines:

Absolute Universe: Wonder Woman is the best book by far. Martian Manhunter is intriguing but I'd like the plot to progress a bit more. Superman and Flash are fine, I guess. I dropped Batman after #1 because it wasn't doing it for me.

Superbooks: I was looking forward to Dan Slott on Superman Unlimited but so far I feel like very little has happened? Mostly I feel like all of these books are fine but not exciting. Big on action but light on actual plot.

Batbooks: Batman and Robin has by far the most interesting characterization to me. Hush 2 is idiotic. Batman and Robin: Year One is beautifully drawn but so far I haven't seen anything interesting enough about the story or characterization to justify yet another retelling of Dick's early years so soon after the latest one. 'Tec and Nightwing are fine. I cannot for the life of me follow the current Catwoman plotline. Poison Ivy is excellent because G. Willow Wilson rules.

Justice League Unlimited and Batman/Superman: These are pretty reliably fun every month, and I enjoy the opportunity for rare blorbo spotting.

Fire & Ice: LOVE THEM. LOVE THIS.

The Flash: Spurrier's run continues to do absolutely nothing for me. I miss Jeremy Adams.

Green Arrow: I loved the family-heavily Williamson/Izaakse run, but Condon is channeling Grell and I'm not mad at it. I really appreciated that his first arc was a sequel to my beloved Green Arrow (1983) miniseries that no one else has read or cares about (it's Green Arrow does Agatha Christie and it slaps) and his second arc is Roy whump. These are the things I like.

Green Lantern: I don't care at all about the macro plot in this or GLC but I'm enjoying the character interactions a lot.

JSA: This one's mostly blorbo-spotting for me. (We got Tommy last month. TOMMY!!) I like it fine, but it's another book where I wish there was more forward motion and more meat on the bone.

New Gods: Love this one, so interesting and there have already been so many good character moments.

New History of the DC Universe: Even I was left breathless at the sheer power of this nerdery.

Secret Six: Nicole Maines is the first person to write Jon as an interesting character since he got aged up and I love her for it. This book is sooooo messy (the correct approach).

Titans: Awful.

Wonder Woman: I LOATHED the opening storyline but now that it's mostly lighthearted done-in-ones it's, eh. Whatever.

Zatanna: This is fine.

Oh and I just realized you didn't specify DC so here's my Marvel list. It's much shorter:

Daredevil: This is fine. Matt's making bad decisions and Foggy is justifiably angry, which is as it should be.

Fantastic Four: *whispers* I don't like Ryan North's run at all.

...theoretically I'm also reading Spider-Gwen and She-Hulk but I'm sooo behind.

[rabidbehemoth]

I'm going through almost the exact same thing! It's been years since I wrote with any regularity, but I've spent those years doing my best to recover from severe burnout (due to Real Life And Other Tragedies).

I felt the spark again just recently after *so* long for a new story! And I knew it was time to try again. And, anon. Anon, look at me. I am grabbing you by the shoulders and looking into your eyes.

It. Is. So. Fucking. Hard.

It's hard! The blank page scares the shit out of me. Words are soooo slow to come, even with a detailed outline, and every tiny decision feels like agony. There is no flow state here.

And that makes sense. No matter how good this idea is, or how many times I've done this before, or what I think I ought to be able to expect from myself, these muscles are rusty. We haven't done this in ages. I think writing is like riding a bike in that you can't forget, but you can become out of practice.

I don't have a magic bullet solution, but I am absolutely certain, down to my marrow, that getting frustrated and angry and disappointed with myself is NOT going to help. It can only make things worse.

Some things I'm trying:

- decrease pressure. when I look at my writing calendar and see so many missed days, I just try to forgive myself. Being disappointed is dumb and only comes from a secret fear that I won't finish unless I pressure and bully myself. But I'm not on a deadline, this is supposed to be fun; I don't need to write often in order to finish, I just need to keep doing it until it's done. The fastest way I can think of to make it not worth doing is to feel bad about it.

- maximum word counts. We've all heard of minimums, but why not maximums? Helps prevent burnout. Helps me stop writing while I still have something left to say, which makes it easier to start again later. I leave little notes for myself like gifts to unwrap later.

- dopamine manipulation. Daydream, as suggested above! I'll sprint with friends, record and post my word counts, talk to friends about the plot, let them help me stay excited. @dementedpuppeteer ILY💜 this would be so much less fun without you!

- look for reasons for hangups. Sometimes it's not me, it's the story, though I'm quick to assume I'm the problem lol. Am I bored with the scene even if I love the idea? Would I rather be writing a different part? Is there an unanswered question I need to think about? Did a character do something unexpected that I've not sufficiently addressed in my own head?

And finally...

- be prepared to put down the pen if that's what your writer brain truly needs. It's not up to us. Sometimes we're just not ready to get back into it, and that needs to be honored and respected. It's not about forcing yourself to write and hating it the whole time, right? Some discomfort will always come with the territory because writing is hard work, but there should be good things too! Good feelings, joy, excitement, satisfaction, curiosity. All the reasons why we do this. If those aren't happening, that's important to pay attention to. Don't ignore pain and run on an injury, listen to it. If writing is too painful, stop. It will always be there when you're ready to try again. You can't lose it, you can just fall out of practice.

My god I didn't expect to vomit this all up but I really do feel for anon's situation, and my own! Putting this on paper really helped organize the thoughts I've been having lately around this. A great practice exercise, haha!

Hi! Lately, I've been trying real hard to start writing again after a break of a couple of years, and it's simply not happening. I took the break to begin with because I figured that I could pick up writing fic again easily when I felt less burned out. But each time I've tried since 2025 started I can barely get the words out. I keep telling myself I need to go slow and build up to it, but my brain blanks after a sentence or two, with or without an outline. I can force myself into a drabble or two, or even a flashfic, but it feels like pulling teeth the entire time. I even tried going back to old drafts and adding to them (unsuccessfully). Nothing works! I'm getting more and more frustrated and angry with myself for taking this long of a break from being creative. Do you have any concrete recommendations for what to do when the ideas/words/characters/whatever just aren't coming? My brain is mush.

(I love this blog. So excited to see you back.)

I'll tell you what I do, but I also want to encourage folks to add their thoughts on the notes. This is very much a situation that can be worked on in a million different ways, so any one particular take might or might not work. Often, frankensteining a bunch together is the better route.

I've currently got two creative hobbies: writing fic and making site skins for AO3. When a site skin isn't working, I just have to drop it. I've been attempting to redo my glowy blue Tron skin from like 4 years ago and every time I go back to it, I just get frustrated and need to stop. I don't have a clear idea of where I want to take it, and so nothing looks "right" because everything feels wrong. For site skins, I need to have a solid idea to latch onto in order to get anywhere with them.

For writing, it's kind of similar. It's a LOT easier to write when I have an idea that really lights a fire under me. However, I've found that I can write even if I just know what the end goal of the story is. Even if my ending is just "and then they bone" at least I know where I need to get my characters in the end, and that guiding principle is really helpful because most of what my characters do in the fic is going to be aimed at that end point.

I don't know if it's just the way that you've phrased it in this ask, but it seems like you can't see the story for the words. If you're focused too much on the act of writing then you might need to back away from that for now and work on just imagining the story first. Spend more time daydreaming or lying in bed staring up at the ceiling and picturing your blorbo in situations. Get into the habit of thinking about the story before you start writing the story. Then the writing part is just transcribing the picture that's already clear in your head.

I well understand the frustration that comes when you've got something in you and no way to get it out. Whatever else is happening, the way you used to go about writing fic doesn't work for you anymore and now you need to discover a new method. Maybe it's handwriting in a notebook instead of typing on a screen. Maybe it's dictating into your notes app. Maybe it's chatting it out with a bestie over coffee or in a DM. Maybe it's something else.

Let's see what other people suggest for you, and then you can cobble together a method of your very own. Good luck, anon! I'm rooting for you ❤️

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

[trensu]

Guess who's baaaaack! It's me, I'm back to writing. My laptop when kaput back in May and I've only recently gotten a replacement. In celebration of this, here's more of stasis in darkness. Enjoy :)

.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said. 

“Years? But, why would you want–? I’m–I’m no one, Lord.”

“Don’t say that.”

The god’s voice hadn’t gotten louder, yet his words carried a force that made the room tremble. The air became heavy with it. Wayne’s breathing grew haggard under the pressure of the words. Steve tossed out any idea of false privacy and crossed the room in a few steps to kneel at the other side of the bed. He took Wayne’s free hand to anchor him. Wayne didn’t so much as twitch in his direction but his knuckles went white as he gripped Steve’s hand.

“You gave me your spoils and your stories every night. I felt your love in every word you spoke to me. You’re the reason I’ve been able to exist this long. Wayne Munson, you are the most important person in the world to me."

Wayne let out a wordless cry. The hand in Steve's shook. Steve viscerally remembered how it felt to have the god’s attention like that for the first time. He also remembered how guilty the god sounded after he realized the effect he had on mortals. With a slight grimace, Steve discreetly nabbed the Lord of Night's attention. 

"I think that was a little too much," Steve suggested cautiously in a low tone barely audible over Wayne's sobs. "Maybe dial it back a little?"

The Lord of Night nodded abashedly. When he spoke again, the pressure in his speech noticeably lessened though the love in his words remained.

“So, you see, I needed to meet you in person. To thank you.”

The last part made Wayne weep louder. The grip he had on Steve’s hand increased in strength, and Steve was sort of relieved Wayne was an old man because even this frail, his hands were pretty damn strong. If he’d been any younger, Steve would’ve had bruises for sure. The god waited patiently as Wayne collected himself.

“My Lord, y-you–” Wayne gasped as his crying subsided. “I don’t deserve–”

“Wayne, you crazy old man, are you going to argue with your god?” the Lord of Night said in the same teasing tone he used with Steve all those nights in his pilgrimage. Wayne’s eyes widened.

“N-No! I’d never–!”

The god laughed, playful and bright as a star. Wayne halted his protests to stare in awe again. 

“You know, I usually encourage a bit of dissent but this time, I’m putting my foot down. You do deserve this, okay?”

Wayne nodded dazedly. He still watched the god with soft, warm eyes. His hand twitched in Steve’s as if he wanted to reach up to touch the god. Steve loosened his grip to allow it but Wayne didn’t follow through with the motion.

“...you remind me of someone,” Wayne whispered. The Lord of Night tilted his head curiously.

“Do I?” he asked. At Wayne’s nod, he added, “I hope it’s someone good. I know what people say about me these days, and let me tell you, it’s not super flattering. King of Darkness this and monster herder that, blah, blah, mean and scary, blah.”

“I know better than to pay any mind to hearsay,” Wayne replied. "I’ve found that most people are fools, my Lord." 

The Lord of Night laughed again. Wayne looked delighted. 

The rest of the night continued along the same line. The Lord of Night listened eagerly to Wayne’s every word as he reminisced about past heists and recalled fond childhood memories. Steve kept to himself, for the most part, letting the Lord of Night and his last believer bask in each other’s presence. Wayne stayed awake as long as he could but finally fell asleep as dawn approached. The Lord of Night began to fade as the first rays of the morning peeked through the bedroom window.

“Watch over him for me, please?” the Lord of Night asked Steve. “I’ll be back tonight.”

“Of course, Lord,” Steve replied. 

The sun broke past the horizon and the Lord of Night vanished. Steve took the stone from the bedside table. He wrapped it up carefully in cloth before returning it to his satchel. That level of care probably wasn’t necessary considering it was solid stone but it was the only thing they knew would keep the god tethered to this plane so far from his last shrine. Steve was charged with carrying his god's tether and he would not let him down by being careless with it.

It was also the only thing he had been given that belonged to his god. Typically, a holy warrior would be granted a symbol of their faith by a temple priest once a god had accepted the holy warrior’s offered service. Most of the time it would be a simple pendant or bracelet with a god’s sigil; a mass produced thing any follower could obtain, the only difference being that a holy warrior’s token would carry a particular blessing from the high priest. A holy warrior would carry that as a sign of their commitment until they’ve earned a more prestigious item to replace it during their years of service.

Steve’s journey so far has been as atypical as it could get. Most warriors traveled to their god's grandest temple. They recited that god's specific prayer for a holy warrior's offering, witnessed by a high priest who would then reveal whether the offering was accepted. Steve's god had no official prayers of any sort, much less temples or clergy. Steve's god couldn't really remember his own symbol aside from a vague outline of it; not nearly enough for it to be inscribed on even the simplest of tokens. 

Regardless, Steve wouldn't trade his experience for anything. Most holy warriors toiled for years, even decades, before getting a chance to meet their god. Steve met his god nearly at the beginning though he hadn't known it at the time. He'd been able to see him and speak to him. Steve’s humble offering of servitude had been accepted directly by his god rather than by priestly proxy. So what if his god wasn't able to grant him a token for his pledge? His presence was a privilege Steve would take over any boon.

It was a sentiment Steve knew Wayne understood. Steve scooted his chair closer to the bed where the old man lay sleeping. He wrapped a hand around Wayne's wrist to track his weak pulse, and settled in for his vigil.

–

Steve woke Wayne a handful of times to make sure he drank some water or ate some of the vegetable soup Steve had thrown together using whatever he’d picked from the garden the day before. They chatted for a while; Wayne telling Steve about his life before age and sickness caught up to him. Eventually, Steve was able to coax him back to sleep when it became obvious his energy was fading.

At some point in the day, Wayne’s temperature began to rise. Nothing worrisome yet, but dread trickled into Steve’s veins regardless. The old man had been fighting whatever ailed him for a while now. If a fever overcame him, Steve doubted Wayne would survive it.

When the Lord of Night appeared alongside the fading sunset, he seemed as worried as Steve. Wayne sat in bed, propped up by pillows Steve had strategically placed. His eyes were rheumy but steady.

“You’ve seen the Door already, haven’t you?” the Lord of Night asked Wayne dejectedly.

Wayne’s gaze strayed from the god. He glanced at the corner opposite of the bedroom door. His hands shook as he tried to point that direction. Steve didn't see any door there. The god took Wayne's hand between his own, tangible to his last believer even as he appeared more translucent than the night before.

“It showed up earlier today,” Wayne whispered. The god nodded.

“You don’t have to answer yet, but soon. Once you go through the Door, you’ll be in Death's domain. No god is allowed to enter there besides him. I would have lost my chance to meet you if we’d been delayed any longer.”

“Good thing you have Ser Steve. He got you here real quick from what he told me,” Wayne said with a crooked smile.

“Has he been talking himself up?” the god asked amusedly. “Trying to impress the boss?”

“It’s my first quest,” Steve butted in with mild exasperation borne of embarrassment. He hadn’t expected Wayne to mention him at all during his communion with the Lord of Night. “I have to make a good impression.”

“To make up for the first impression, huh?” the Lord of Night teased. 

Oh no, Steve thought when he caught Wayne’s curious look. He wanted to hide his face in his hands. That would be childish. Steve was a man so he was above that, unfortunately.

“Wayne,” the Lord of Night said with palpable mischief. “In exchange for all the stories you’ve given me these many years, what if I told you how I got my very first holy warrior?”

“I didn’t know better,” Steve groaned weakly in an effort to stop the story before it began in earnest. The Lord of Night made a shushing motion in his direction. 

“It would be a privilege, Lord,” Wayne said with matching mischief.

“Settle in, my loyal follower, and listen closely,” the Lord of Night began with exuberance. “I call this tale The Trial of Nine Nights.”

The rest of the night, the god recounted Steve’s pilgrimage. The way he told it painted Steve as some sort of gallant hero. It was suspenseful and whimsical. It didn’t sound like Steve’s experience at all. Yet every word was true, told with a flair that Steve himself would never have imagined. Wayne had hung on his god’s every word, despite the sporadic interruptions caused by coughing fits.

“The way you tell stories…” Wayne said faintly between coughs as the story wound to an end. “You…really do remind me of…someone. My little starmaker*. He was…” His voice trailed off weakly as he tried to catch his breath again.

“Rest now. Tell me about him tonight, Wayne,” the Lord of Night commanded as he disappeared with the arrival of dawn.

Wayne’s temperature seemed to climb with the sun. Steve did what he could to help. He stripped the bed of blankets and draped cold, damp towels over Wayne’s brow. More than once Wayne had asked Steve to answer the door.

“Someone’s knocking,” Wayne insisted.

“I’ve checked already,” Steve lied. He hadn’t heard a single knock all day, much less one coming from the very door-less spot Wayne kept indicating. “No one’s there.”

Wayne drifted in and out of a restless slumber. Despite Steve’s efforts, the fever had not lowered by nightfall. The Lord of Night paced at the foot of Wayne’s bed with a caged restlessness. Wayne had yet to wake up. 

“I don’t think he’s going to make it. Can you do anything for him?” Steve asked, hesitantly. “You came here to help him, didn’t you?”

“No,” the Lord of Night said shortly. “I can’t. I’m not a god of medicine. I’m not a healer.”

Each word was said with increasingly helpless frustration.

“I’m not strong enough to calm his dreams. I can’t ease his pain,” the Lord of Night said angrily. “At this rate, I won’t even be able to apologize to him.”

“Apologize for what?” Steve asked incredulously. Steve’s question went unheard. The Lord of Night tugged at his hood as if trying to hide his not-face. He gave up his pacing and slumped defeatedly on the chair beside Wayne’s bed.

“His family has sustained me for so long. He’s so devoted to me, and I keep failing him,” the god said, voice thick with shame. The brooding silence that followed was unlike the Lord of Night’s usual demeanor.

Steve wanted to protest the god’s claim. He was tempted to ask why the god believed he’d failed his last follower. Steve had seen people who’ve scorned and rejected their gods for a multitude of reasons. Wayne had not behaved like any of those people. Wayne had been so happy to see the god, Steve couldn’t imagine Wayne wanting an apology of any sort.

Before Steve could steel himself to ask, Wayne finally stirred awake.The Lord of Night straightened and drew the chair closer to his last follower. Steve situated himself near the corner Wayne had claimed to see a door. There wasn’t anything Steve could realistically achieve by placing himself between Wayne and the unseen door. When Death’s Door knocked, there was nothing a mortal being could do to keep it from opening. Regardless, Steve hoped he could provide some semblance of comfort by standing guard. 

Wayne’s eyes were glassy. He lay limp and disoriented, making not a sound outside his labored breathing. Neither the Lord of Night nor Steve spoke. Steve didn’t want to startle the man nor bring his attention to the unseen door. After a few minutes, Wayne finally noticed his bedside companion. 

“You,” he croaked in a daze. “I know you.”

“Yeah, it’s me.” The somber tone went unnoticed by Wayne whose entire face brightened with an unexpected joy. 

“Eddie,” Wayne said shakily. 

“What?”

“Eddie, you’re here,” Wayne said with more love and joy than Steve had ever heard from another person. He felt a momentary flash of envy that someone could hold another so dear, before it hit him that Wayne was speaking to the Lord of Night. The god seemed as dumbstruck as Steve over it.

“Is…is that me?” the Lord of Night asked. The god sounded so young and lost. It reminded Steve of Dustin and his friends when they were small. It inspired all the same protective instincts.

“‘course it’s you, Eddie,” Wayne said fondly. 

“Eddie,” the Lord of Night whispered. “Oh, it is. It is me. I’m here.” 

The words rang through the air. The finality in them nearly deafened Steve. The words were a realization that shifted the entire cosmos. The air he breathed, the light he saw, the very world he perceived had changed fundamentally. It was a change so loud and obvious, Steve was certain every human left on earth and everyone beyond the Door knew it happened. Yet between one blink and the next, the world remained the same as it ever was. Everything that had been still was and would continue to be for as long as the stars burn.

Inexplicably, Steve experienced a bout of vertigo at the shift that had and hadn’t happened. He fought back a wave of nausea that accompanied it.

“Eddie,” Wayne rasped over the rattling of his weak lungs. No longer translucent, the god appeared solid and real in a way he hadn’t even at the shrine where Steve first encountered him. Wayne’s wrinkled hand reached out to gently cup the Lord of Night’s cheek.

"Hey, Uncle Wayne," the Lord of Night said with a new voice. 

"My starmaker, I missed you. So much. But how're you here? You were gone, you di–"

"We didn't want you to be alone," Eddie, Lord of Night, responded thickly, leaning into the hand and covering it with his own.  "We wanted to thank you for taking care of us all these years."

"Don’t,” Wayne wheezed, teary. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, Eddie. You deserved so much more than your pa or me ever gave you."

"No! No, Uncle Wayne, don't apologize," he said earnestly. "You were perfect. You gave us a home when pa died. We were so little and you protected us. You loved us. That's all we ever wanted."

“Oh, Eddie,” Wayne said in a heartbroken rasp. “That damn door’s been knocking all day. Who'll take care of you when I'm gone, Eddie?" 

"Don't you worry about that, Uncle Wayne. Steve's gonna look after me.”

“Are you sure?”

The Lord of Night took off his hood and turned back to look at Steve for the first time since he sat himself at Wayne’s side. All the air left Steve’s lungs in one fell swoop. His god had a face.

His god was beautiful.

The Lord of Night’s skin remained pale, providing a stark contrast to his large, dark brown eyes glittered with bittersweet joy and sorrow. His lips, full and a soft shade of pink, were pulled into a wide, mischievous grin that dimpled his cheeks. His dark eyebrows were almost hidden under wild curls. His hair draped over the slope of his shoulders and matched his eyes wonderfully.

Steve willed himself to stay steadfast and strong under the god’s gaze. The Lord of Night’s grin twisted a bit as if he wasn't entirely pleased by what he saw. The nausea from before came back because Steve knew what people looked like when he'd disappointed them. As usual, he had no idea what he'd done wrong.

“Yeah, I’m sure. He already promised,” Eddie, the Lord of Night, said. He turned back to Wayne and gently wiped the sweat off the old man's brow. 

“Good,” Wayne said with a. “You need someone takin’ care of you, the way you get in trouble all the time.”

“We weren’t that bad,” Eddie said with a watery smile. After a pause, Eddie continued reluctantly. “Uncle Wayne, if you need to answer the Door, you can. I won’t be alone.”

“Yeah,” Wayne murmured. “I’m tired, Eddie.”

“You won’t be for long, I promise, just answer the Door.”

Wayne’s breathing slowed. His eyes drooped closed. Eddie clung to his hand until it went lax. A choked sound escaped him when Wayne’s breathing stopped. Steve instinctively stepped forward to comfort him but Eddie abruptly stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. He whirled around and stumbled towards the empty space Steve left behind. 

“You better take care of him. Wayne is a good man, he’s earned–” Eddie said to…the wall? But stopped and reeled back. His mouth curved down in a scowl. Eddie’s eyes were dark and glowering as he stared at something there that Steve himself could not see.

“Oh, fuck you, I know I can’t do anything to you but–”

Eddie stopped again. He looked like he wanted to punch something. Or someone?

“I just want to know that he’ll be happy and saf–hey, asshole, I’m still talking you, don’t you dare– FUCK,” Eddie shouted at nothing. He panted in anger. Steve cleared his throat.

“My Lord?”

“I forgot how much of a dick he is. It’s not like I was asking for details! I don’t fucking care what’s past his stupid Door. It’s not a crime to want your family to, like, go somewhere good after. He could’ve just said yes or no!” Eddie ranted.

“My Lord, I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

“Oh,” Eddie paused. “Right. You wouldn’t. And you shouldn’t. Not yet. Not for a long time, hopefully.”

------

*starmaker - so this is a reference to some lore i dropped in the previous scene during some edits I made after I had posted it on tumblr. basically, the legend explains why bedtime stories are a thing and that the lord of night creates a star for every story that impresses him. a really good book or author will get called a starmaker, though to the general population it's just a thing people say to denote greatness in stories without context of where the saying came from.

------

and now we're all caught up with what i've written so far, wow! but don't worry, i still have plenty more to write, stay tuned.

[aquanutart]

She is offering water to any lost travelers! However, it's so hot that the water has become tea, so she's adjusted accordingly!

[creativesplat]

I would also like to see some miphlink, if that's okay!

I was really struggling with what to draw, and then I remembered your ask from ages ago (dang ADHD brain...) anyway, sorry its such a late answer, but Miphlink inspired by Dicksee's La Belle Dame

[spop-romanticizes-abuse]

not spop-related but i can't post this on my main blog so.

i do find it funny how most of the fan depictions of belos were far more interesting and detailed than s3 belos. i've seen fanart and fanfics of him where he's a complex villain struggling with religious guilt and then the canon is just like.. lmao yeah he's pure evil. kill him.

[throughpatchesofviolet]

Hello its been a while I just wanted to ask if you’ve received ur Nui Doll Animate plush yet because they’ve started shipping them out!! can you tell I’m excited about the plushies lol… also two plushcliffs… or I guess three, counting beancliff. -🕯️

Hello ~!! It has been a really long while--I was wondering what you were up to and if you were doing alright ... I'm very happy to hear from you, again!! /gen

I have not receive Nuicliff, yet, but I hopefully will, soon!! My friends and I all did a mini group order for the Nuis, so they'll be going to my best friend, first, and then they'll be shipped to me so I can send them out to everyone else. I'm really excited for when they all arrive ... I did also order a Nuimael, because Ishy is my second favorite, so I'll finally have an Ishmael plushie, too! She will be outnumbered by all the Plushcliffs, though ... Plushcliff, Beancliff, the Squeakercliffs ... because I now have five plushies of him that are just little squeakies asdfghkl

So, I guess it'll be closer to ... eight? Heathcliff plushies? Madness. /lh

As soon as they arrive, you can bet there will be photos--I've seen a few pictures, so far, and the Nuis are all so tiny ...

I'm also now curious ... did you manage to get any of the Nuis? /genq

[xproskeith]

Reblogging clique art and thinking "I wish I could contribute to Fandom with creative art"

Then I remembered I'm writing a very long fic for the Fandom. And that's art too.

Feels good to be actually contributing to Fandom like that for the first time in a long time.

[thelonelyshore-if]

so little love for beck and perri...

Hopefully when they've both had a little more time to shine more people will fall for them!! Neither has gotten a lot of big stuff in the story so far, especially not individually. I'm excited to write their hangout/date scenes next chapter <3

[necrotic-nephilim]

Please infodump about the JayTimSteph Grotesquerie AU WIP if possible.

OF COURSE i've been thinking about it since i saw the trailer and now it's a little brainworm. (disclaimer i've not watched the first two episodes yet, this is like. solely on the vibes of the trailer. some details might change once i. watch the show depending on if i follow it or just go with the vibes the trailer gave me. which also means there will be no spoilers for the show if you care about that.)

the current idea involves Detective!Tim, Nun!Steph, and Priest!Jason. the vague idea for the plot so far is that a serial killer leaves a *very* artful display of a crime scene inside of the church that Jason and Steph operate out of. Tim is assigned as the leading detective on the case and ends up in a relationship with the both of them as he spirals in madness trying to catch the killer.

for Steph, i want to explore the idea of her father, Cluemaster, being a *very* prolific and artful serial killer who's whole gimmick was sending clues to the police until he was caught when Steph was still a child, and her and her mother were forced to go into witness protection for their own safety, which led her down the path of becoming a nun. it was a defining childhood moment for her to walk in on one of her father's crimes, so when she's the one who finds the crime scene in the church, it *immediately* sends her back to her childhood and she's caught between PTSD-fueled horror and a sick, enticing fascination. she wanted to become a journalist before going into WITSEC but that career was basically all but ruined for her. now she runs the small newspaper for the church and is desperate to write on the first "real" story she's ever had, dragging her into an intense obsession over the crime and trying to prove she can solve it.

for Jason, i want to deal with his history as Bruce. the current idea is that Bruce is Tim's police chief who adopted Jason and Dick from a young-ish age and raised them to be detectives, taking them to crime scenes as teenagers and teaching them the ins and outs of how criminals think. it leads to Dick becoming a detective, but when taking them to crime scenes led to Jason being kidnapped and brutally tortured by "Jack Napier", almost dying. Dick kills Napier to save Jason and it fractures their little family so badly that Dick switches departments to another city and Jason runs away at 17, eventually happening upon joining the clergy. he's the new, young priest in the church who's known for being very pretty but very emotionally distant even if he's nice enough. and he's *pissed* that Bruce is in his church investigating a murder and that no matter where Jason goes, he can't seem to get away from the horrors.

and for Tim, he's the young new detective in his department who is *entirely* unaware that he's been taken under Bruce's wing bc Bruce is treating him as a surrogate replacement for Dick and Jason. haven't fully decided his backstory yet, but it'll likely be similar to canon with losing his mother and father. i kind of want him to be lost and lacking a sense of direction. very gifted in noticing patterns and detective work, but it's clear he doesn't *really* want this job. and when he's assigned as the lead on a case that feels *way* too big for his experience bc Bruce is showing clear favoritism, he's forced to go to Steph for help, which leads to Jason ending up wrapped up with them too.

despite how heavy the plot *sounds*, i honestly want this fic to be like. 40% porn. like the show i want to explore a lot of fucked up sexual interests in Jason who's punishing himself for it, Steph being too interested in things for her own good and desperate for a taste of what "real life" feels like, and Tim just being incredibly repressed. like i want the line between horror and erotic to feel like a jumprope. lots of fucked up sex balanced with like. them actually trying to catch the killer. and then of course the emotional aspect of how Jason's baggage with Bruce works into all of it. also want Tim to have a mild hero worship for "the great Detective Dick Grayson" while being clueless that he's Bruce's son and Jason's brother. i sort of want it to be Steph-centric, but still have POVs from Tim and Jason just to round out their emotional arcs. i haven't fully decided everyone else who'll be in the fic but i know i want Cass to be a fellow nun and friend of Steph's, Babs to also work at the church, Helena to be Tim's favorite coworker, and possibly for Damian to be around somehow. those roles will probably get more fleshed out when i. watch the damn show tho.

anyway TLDR: religious imagery, body horror, kinky sex, and a mystery that might break everyone psychologically once they get to the bottom of it. i have some very specific scenes and dialogue planned out. probably cannibalism as a metaphor for love thrown in there too. idk i just want these three to be as fucked up as possible and unhinged about each other but fighting their repressed side with their unhinged feral side. and since it doesn't exist by god I'll create it.

[wettblanket]

not even done with chapter 1 of my upcoming 8 chaptered porn fic and it's already over 10k words RAAAAHHH

[paraphwrites]

5, 10, 13, and 20 for the get to know asks?

all of my answers are stupidly long sorry anon

5) do i like constructive critisism?

hmm. yes and no? i think it depends on the context, and a bit on the fic, too. for as much as i love it, manuscript is very much a fic i write for fun. while i put a lot of time into it, i'm not laboring over the plan or editing of it, so it's going to be a bit more messy. so i think for a fic like that, i'm totally open for critique-- whether i take it probably depends on whether i have to overturn the entire plot or just fix a couple paragraphs that were less great

there are always times i know i could write something better, but i don't have the time/energy to do it. for instance, the end of C28 of Manuscript is a bit rushed. but the need to publish it surpassed the need to get it as perfect as i can make it yk. when i inevitably go back to edit it, that's something i'd fixed

if it's for Something I Got Wrong (be it cultural, a general fact, me not knowing how the 1970s work) please fucking tell me. i'm going to be so real guys i don't do a whole lot of facy checking if i think i know something. but i would not like to spread misinformation?? so please do tell me if i'm just spouting nonsense

i'm always open to feedback, the whether or not i take it depends on the fic and the content honestly

if it's about typos then the answer is no actually i do not accept critiques in any shape or form /lh

10) ctrl+f "blinks" from a wip & share the first sentence that shows up

i did this before on a oneshot, so i'm gonna go from manuscript. i confess it's not actually the first one, but it's the first good one

Edwin blinks. “I did not think that level of privilege actually existed beyond the Crown.”

13) a common writing tip i always follow

each chapter should begin and end in a different place. while this sounds self-explanatory, it's something that has really helped me as an overwriter who isn't paid enough to edit. essentially, every chapter should Have A Point. Something has to happen and it has to Change Something - be it a character, be it the character's situation, be it the setting. something. anything.

an extension of this, is that you shouldn't start and end the chapter with the same emotion. i'm not as iron-clad to this one, but i try to follow it. it helps create more of an emotional journey for the reader, and the character. it also builds tension. honestly, i'm not really sure why these things work, i just know they do

20) have i noticed any patterns in my fics (themes, words, settings, etc)

yeah i'm fucking obsessed with the word "and." i use it all the time it's actually a problem

other words: desperation, breathes, blinks, enamored, smoke, haze, until, love, ribs/ribcage. anything that a 2014 sadgirl tumblr blog would be obsessed with (that's no hate to 2014 blogs to be clear i am not insulting anyone)

as for themes: the tangibility of age, the intangibility of oneself, legacy, what is and what cannot be, the cost of love, the space between time, the teenage experience, how love feels in your veins verses in your toes verses in your hair, what lies behind beauty, what we know not about those we know best. generally just the scope of human emotion and experience.

^yes i KNOW that's pretentious and no i do not care

syntax: i like describing emotions in a non-emotion way. (ex. “Nothing has changed,” Edwin says, instead. It is cold and distant and true. // Charles is wide-eyed, cheeks flushed and lips open.) i would rather sound stupidly poetic than just tell you how he feels

anon sorry this is so long i just wanted to be thorough ^-^

[every-sanji]