#so it's not like I'm talking to some brick wall or something lol

[tazmiilly]

it is always nice to find another abuse survivor who also felt like ford's story resonated with them. it's nice to feel like there's other people who know what I'm talking about

[mxtantrights]

Hello there, ‘tis I again! Soo happy you enjoyed the boxer!jason request!! I know, i love him too :)))

Today i bring forth another boxer!Jason ask, maybe you introduce him to your friends and they can’t see past the fact he kinda looks like a brute (even tho he’s such a big softie, i truly believe this man reads romeo and Juliet while waiting to get on the ring), and so at the end of the night he’s feeling insecure cause he could see how your friends looked at him and he starts wondering if they are right and you deserve someone who’s softer and more approachable. And obviously reader shows him just how amazing he is!!

Today i yearn for some good hurt/comfort, if you couldn’t tell lol

Hope you have fun writing this one!! Marvellous works 🩷🩷

Everything goes right before the two of you get there. Thats how Jason knows something is gonna go wrong at this hang out. You told him all week that if he felt like not going, you could cancel. But he didn't want it to seem like he was blowing your friends off. So he trudged through.

He trudged through and is sitting side by side with you in a booth. And three of your friends are crowded into the other side of it. They've had a couple of drinks before you came. You weren't really in the mood to play catch up so you stick to your one while Jason goes dry because he's driving.

They have conversations about the recent news, the latest gossip, and then they ask about your life. Particularly your life with Jason. You start gushing about him, as if he isn't there, and tell them about how you met and how he treats you.

"This guy? This six foot tall, three hundred pounded brick wall?" one of them asks.

You scoff, "How he looks has nothing to do with how he treats me."

"Yeah, but doesn't he-don't you box?" another one of them asks him.

Jason clears his throat and sits up straight. But you notice it. You notice how he is trying to make himself smaller. He did it at the very beginning of your relationship, to make you less scared. You talked to him about it when the two of you got closer, and you haven't seen him do it since. Until now.

"I'm a boxer, yes. But I don't bring any of that home with me." Jason answers.

"Isn't it hard though? When you're angry? I mean who's to say you won't-" the third friend starts.

Hell. This has to stop.

"Enough." you speak.

They all look at you, at a loss for words. While it's true the four of you grew up looking like people who were afraid to tell others no, and looked like doormats, you were far from that person. Those days are over.

"I'm not gonna let you speak to him like that. He has been nothing but kind and open with me, and not that it's any of your business, but he has never laid his hands on me, or raised his voice." you say.

Then you're getting up from the booth, holding your hand out for Jason. He looks between you and your friends and then he's getting up from his seat. He takes your hand in his.

"He's my boyfriend. I want him in my life and I wanna be a part of his. So either you get that or you get lost." You put finally.

You turn around and walk right out the door with Jason. Jason who hasn't said a word yet. Jason who is holding onto your hand in a way that tells you he's not completely paying attention.

When the two of you cross the threshold of the doors, you squeeze his hand.

"Baby?" you ask him.

Jason looks at you then. Like everything is coming back into focus for him. He has a sad smile on his face.

"I'm sorry." He says.

"Don't ever be sorry for being you. If my so called 'friends' couldn't see past what you look like and what you do for a living then they don't need to be my friends." you explain to him.

Jason shakes his head, "You've known them longer than me. It's not fair that-"

"Jason Todd, I am not willing to give you up. For anyone. Ever. You got that?"

Jason lets out a small sigh. "Okay."

You let go of his hand to hold out your arms. He pouts a bit before stepping closer to you and wrapping his arms around you completely. You nuzzle into him more.

"I'll spend the rest of my life proving it to you. I hope you know that." you add on.

"Yeah?" he asks.

"I swear it." you answer.

a/n: thank you so so much for sending this in! <333 I love some good hurt/comfort too!! I hope you like it!!

[thegnomelord]

Soap and #12 with cismale reader. I was thinking they have mutual feelings for each other but not in a relationship yet, and some obliviousness mixed in for drama lol

Sure mate, though it ended up more drama than oblivious idiots in love lol. Play the game HERE.

Prompt: "What, did you think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" "Let's be real, you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

CW:NSFW, Sub Soap, Top male reader, back alley sex, semi-public sex, mild fighting, miscommunication, Soap being a jealous hoe(again)

You and Soap have a . . . thing. You're not quite sure what to call it; You're just comrades, friends, who go out for drinks after every mission and end up messily making out in the back of a bar only to get kicked out when you two inevitably get frisky and near an indecent exposure charge. But it's fine, because it gives you the excuse to go to base and fuck on the bed, or the floor, or the table, or against the wall, or any other semi-flat surface.

But you're just friends. . . or, that's what tell yourself every time your heart pitifully clenches in your chest when Soap smiles, when he laughs and pats your shoulder, when he moans your name so sweetly as you pound into him, when he looks at you as if his world starts and ends with you; because what would a bloke like Soap want with you other than sex? So you try to drown the ache for him by going out with other people, but it's never the same— not in the way they sound, in the way they move, in the way you feel.

Johnny, on the other hand, thinks you're his and his alone.

"I'm telling yea lads," Johnny says as he knocks back a beer, a lovey dovey look in his eyes like he's a lovesick puppy. "Ah've locked him down this time." He grins, and Ghost swears if he has to listen one more time about how big your cock is or how Johnny can still feel you from last time— he'll shoot you both.

"Uhuh," Gaz rolls his eyes, amused at his antics but also happy that he's finally found someone. "Yeah, su-" Something catches Gaz's eyes and he turns his head, the color draining from his face. "-ummmm."

Ghost's eyes quickly flicker over to where he's looking, "Look at that," Ghost gives a rough snort, "Locked your man down so good he's swappin' spit without you."

Soap's immediately sober as a nun, his neck audibly cracking when he swings around to look at you. The sight of you making out with a random girl across the bar has Soap's thoughts turning in his head like rusted cogs, the world almost slowing down to force him to feel all the emotions his brain spits out; Surprise comes first, like being drenched in ice cold water, disgust making his blood feel like tar at the thought of you touching someone else the same way you touch him, hot anger barreling straight through it to make fingers twitch for the trigger of a gun.

But it's the meek hurt that forces his legs to move, striding across the bar like he's on a war path. A rough hand on your shoulder makes you break off the kiss, your world spinning like a kaleidoscope from the booze and sudden force turning you around. Your eyes finally settle on familiar blue ones, but they're cold like the deepest part of the arctic. "Johnny?" You ask.

His name on your lips only makes his scowl deeper, a bruising grip on your arm as he tugs you, "We need tae talk," He spits, glaring at the poor girl you'd been making out with like she's riddled with plague.

You're not given even a second to argue before he's yanking you out the back exit into the alley between the bar and another building. A second later he's roughly slamming you into the brick wall, knocking the breath out of your lungs with a forearm against your throat and ignoring as you choke softly. "Thae fock's wrong wit' yea!" He snarls into your face, more animal than man.

Rapidly depleting oxygen forces your brain to flood your veins with adrenaline and suddenly you're moving, harshly elbowing him in the stomach and ramming him into the stone wall behind him you swear the rock cracks. "Me? What's wrong with you?"

He tries to push against you, your arms scrambling for a solid hold until you end up in a stand still, "What's wrong-" He shoves his face into yours, nearly breaking your nose while hissing like a feral cat, "-is thaet ye're shacking up with some tramp."

"So what!" You demand, a low grunt leaving your lips as you attempt to keep him pinned when he squirms like an eel, "We're just casual-" You force out those words, trying to ignore the stab to the chest your heart gives.

"Casual?" He scoffs and with a swift jerk of his head smashes his skull into yours. You stumble away, black spots dancing in your vision and that's all he needs to grab and switch your positions, pinning you to the wall. "What? D'yea think all those times I kissed you were for shits and giggles?" He demands, a bit of a traitorous hurt making his his voice crack, face pinched in pain.

"Let's be real-" Copper and iron invade your tastebuds, drawing attention to the slow stream of blood trickling from your nose, "-you had a lot of fun shoving your tongue down my throat in public."

You feel his body tense, but keep your eyes open as you expect him to punch you, to kick you, to do something to prove what you have is just temporary; pointless bliss.

"Then how'bout ah give yea a clearer message-" He leans in to lick trail of blood on your face before capturing your lips in a kiss that's more teeth than anything else. You wretch your hand free to tangle your fingers in his short hair, bodies fitting together like jigsaw pieces, reciprocating with just as much intensity as you bite his bottom lip until his blood floods your mouths. "Got it through yer thick skull now?" He asks, pulling back just a bit to stare into your eyes.

You don't know what 'it' is, but the kiss and the roughness makes heat burn through your veins, one quick flicker of your eyes confirming he's sporting the same problem in his pants as you are. "Think I'll need more convincing."

Soap yelps when you turn him around, pinning his chest to the cold wall as your hands slide down to his belt. You stall for a second to give him a way out, but he just growls, "Get on with it," So you quickly undo his pants, shoving his jeans and boxers just down beneath the swell of his arse.

"Slut," You chuckle when you catch sight of the black plug nestled between his cheeks, the skin near it still glistening with lube from how messily he'd prepped himself, "Needed me so bad did you?" You ask as you pull the plug out, putting it into your pocket as you push the head of your cock against his fluttering opening.

"'s cause ah love yea, fockin' git." He growls, his words making your brain crash.

"Repeat that," You say, softer, kinder than you usually operate, pressing against him until you're covering his back completely. "Say that again."

He notices your change, the ice in his eyes melting away enough to let him tug your head closer to kiss you, "I love you." The way he says it, like a prayer, like a sweet caress, has your heart melting into a puddle. A dingy back alley shouldn't be the place where you confess your love, but right now it feels like Paris.

"Love you too," You kiss him back and slide into him in one slow stroke, greedily swallowing down his sounds. You let him adjust before setting a hard pace like you know he loves, cock head scraping against his prostate with every thrust. "Really, really love you." You breathe out, watching his eyes lose focus as he lets out little 'ah, ah, ah's every time your hips meet.

"Bonnie, bonnie lad please-" He whines, resting his face against the dirty wall as he moans without shame, forgetting that anyone could walk in on you two and more than likely hear you across the single layer brick wall. "Fock, c'mon, give it to me."

"Yeah, gonna take care of you-" Your hand slides down to rub his cock, squeezing his base every time you bottom out and playing with his head when you draw your hips back so you can plunge back inside him, lust and love lighting up every synapse in your body. "Just say you love me again."

Johnny's eyes close as he falls into a barely comprehensible rambling of 'love you, love you, love you', his body shaking with a building heat in his stomach, precum rapidly lubing the glide of your hand as you fuck him in a harsh pace until with a sharp yell against his shoulder you cum inside him, Johnny following suit as he paints the dirty wall white with his cum.

You feel him collapse against you and have just enough strength left to support you both, though the wall does the brunt of the work. You breathe the same air as you try to get your bearings, both hearts beating in the same speed and rhythm, and Johnny whines when you attempt to shift, hole clenching greedily around you like his body doesn't want you to seperate.

"You know," You say when you've managed to catch your breath, nuzzling into the back of his neck, "There are easier ways to say you love me without biting my head off." You chuckle, as if your heart isn't beating a thousand miles per hour at the knowledge Soap loves you.

He swats at your head, "Oh awa' an bile yer heid." He growls such harsh words before kissing you softly, sharing a silent promise with you.

[whenlostinthedarkness]

Ellie x reader where they take nudes of each other on a Polaroid camera they found on a patrol and completely forget about them until someone finds them🫣😭

May or may not have written a whole ass one shot because this got me so inspired lol. Thank you for requesting this; Enjoy anon xx

Warnings: Sexual overtones and some sexual stuff sorta but not really, swearing, & use of marijuana.

Word Count: 2.5k

Anytime you and your girlfriend Ellie were put on a patrol route together, you could feel the giddiness exploding between both of you.

On a usual day where one of you had the day off and the other was out on work duties, the one at home would be sitting around, bored, and attempting to busy themselves until their girlfriend returned safe and sound. But today was one of those lucky days where you both were needed on the patrol route.

The start of patrol was pretty chill as both of you alternated between sifting through withered buildings and riding along on your horses, allowing time to appreciate the scenery of the area around in the downtime you had.

"Hey, let's check out that building with the camera sign," Ellie spoke as she rode on her horse directly next to you, pointing her finger in the direction of a storefront sized building.

You peered in the direction she was pointing at before looking back at her with an accepting shrug, "I'm down if you are."

The both of you guided your horses over in the direction of the building before leaving the animals to stand side by side, just a few feet from the broken glass door that went into the, what you assumed to be, old camera store.

"Check this shit out", Ellie said with excitement in her tone as her bright eyes marveled at the colorful, peeled wallpaper and exposed brick in a building that had to have been the ideal modern storefront before all of the infected shit happened.

You squealed as you quickly walked over to a massive bookshelf set on a wall. Several scrap pieces of cardboard and glass littered the shelf, but what your eye had been after was the books that were some how still set on the shelf as if the world hadn't completely shifted since they were first placed on the shelf.

You picked one of the books up, shoving off the layers upon layers of dust and debris that had gathered over the years, until you could make out the title on the cover, 'Camera's Throughout the Years'.

"Shit, look at this babe!"

You glanced over your shoulder to Ellie who was holding what appeared to be an oblong, square shaped, object.

Immediately, you walked over to her as she stared at this object that nearly looked futuristic to the both of you.

" What is it?", you said, tracing your finger along the thing in question.

"Hell if I know," Ellie shrugged, pressing all of the buttons on the mystery item in hopes that it would somehow start talking or moving or..doing whatever the hell its purpose was.

"Let me see if its in this book".

Quickly, you removed the cover of the book and flipped through the pages, scanning the table of contents in search of info, until you came across a diagrammed image of what appeared to be the very thing set in Ellie's hands.

"El, I think I've got it!"

Ellie was quick to move the camera away from her face and look down at the book you held in the palms of your hands.

"Looks like it's something called a Polaroid Camera." Your eyes were still scanning the book as quickly as you could as your fingers followed along with the typed words on the page.

"I think if you press the button over..here on the right..," your eyes were fixated on the object in Ellie's hand and she couldn't help but admire the way your eyes were squinted in concentration as your tongue slightly peaked out between your parted lips.

"...and just lift up on this part...it should open up."

It took you a couple tries, but eventually the top part began to move upwards until it was sitting straight up, exposing a fully intact Polaroid Camera.

"Holy shit dude!", Ellie exclaimed, eyes wild and smile never ending as she examined everything (and I mean everything) about the cameras exterior.

You rattled off the instructions on how to use it as Ellie continued to marvel at the object.

"Looks like we need films in order to use it El," you said with disappointment in your voice, "...unless."

Ellie could tell the wheels in your brain were turning as you looked the camera up, down, side to side; quickly, she handed it over to you.

"Holy shit, there's still film in this thing."

"You've got to be shitting me?!"

"Look!" You exclaimed, showing Ellie the little box of film that was still snugged inside of the square shaped compartment at the very bottom of the camera.

"Should we...test it out?"

"Oh most definitely", you replied to Ellie as you pulled the camera up to your face and looked through it's small view finder.

"Smile for me El."

Immediately, Ellie pulled up her hand to cover her face from the camera, "No fucking way."

You pouted, but continued to follow Ellie with the camera persistently, "Please El."

"What's in it for me?" Ellie smirked, bringing her hand down in order to cross both of her arms in front of her body, just below her chest.

You removed your eye from its focus on the viewfinder and lowered the camera down away from your face with an annoyed, yet amused grin.

"Oh god."

"What?"

"You know what Ellie."

Ellie walked over to you until her feet were planted on the cracked wood floor with the tips of both of your shoes touching. "Enlighten me then."

Smugly, you moved your face ever so slightly towards Ellie, which didn't go unnoticed by her. "You're never fair with your little games."

"What games", Ellie shrugged, fully playing the part of an innocent victim (which she wasn't).

"Mmmm okay."

"Okay," Ellie mimicked, trying to match your tone.

You weren't one to back down from a challenge to one up your stubborn girlfriend and now wasn't any different.

"You really wanna go there?" You moved your body forward, making Ellie nearly fall backwards from your gentle, yet sturdy nudge as she stood directly in front of you.

"Go where?"

"Shut up Ellie," you continued your nudging, but this time you didn't stop. The both of you continued on with Ellie walking backwards and you walking forwards directly into her.

"Make me."

Ellie watched as, the moment the words left her mouth, your innocent eyes seemed to cloud with devilish intention.

Gently, you placed your free hand on top of Ellies and guided until it was landing on your clothed chest; Ellie's pulse instantly began to quicken as her mind and emotions shifted from playful to aroused.

FLASH!

A strong beam of white light over took the dimly lit store as the sound of the film being spat out of the camera took over the only sound in the store, that is until Ellie let out a "What the fuck!"

You backed away from your girlfriend with a playful smile as you moved the camera away from your face and shook the film in your hand; again, doing just as the book advised.

"Babe cmon on," Ellie protested, trying to grab the film out of your hand.

"El, don't you want to see what your face looks like when you grab my boob?"

"No actually, I'd rather just see your boob."

You playfully scoffed, "Maybe you will if you stop being so difficult."

At that, Ellie stopped attempting to grab the photo in your hand, "You better be for real."

You shook your head, "You're ridiculous, you know that,"

Ellie's soft yet playful smile made you crack a genuine smile as you reached out for her hand, intertwining the tip of both of your fingers.

"Awww Ellie", immediately you cradled the photo to your chest with your free hand.

It only took a quick look, but the photo was preciously adorned with Ellie and an awestruck look on her face that made her features seem so soft and relaxed.

Ellie rolled her eyes, still wearing a smile that let you know she was appreciating your admiration for her looks, "Yeah yeah."

"You look so cute dude. I'm going to put this up in my place."

Ellie couldn't help her smile now, not even bothering to attempt to cover it up as you clutched it to your chest with two hands now, gleaming right back at her.

"I guess, it's time for your end of the deal now," you spoke slowly, raising the camera up and out to hand over to Ellie.

"What do you mean?", she questioned.

You smirked, moving your arms out of your shirt until it was lifted up & over your head.

"Wha-what are yo-you.."

Before Ellie could finish her stuttering sentence, your shirt was being discarded onto the ground, leaving you standing in your dusted jeans and grey sports bra.

Your hand out stretched to Ellie, beckoning her to come closer to you, which she happily accepted.

"What the hell are you doing?" Ellie said as she now stood just a bout a foot or so in front of you.

"Helping you get your picture." Suddenly your hands were slowly reaching for the bottom hem of the only fabric that was covering your chest.

"Babe."

"Hmm?", you hummed, lifting the fabric off of your top half until it was discarded alongside your shirt, leaving your chest naked, much to Ellies pleasure.

"Holy Shit." Ellie admired quietly, her eyes naturally raking over your chest and then back up to your eyes. "Are you asking me to take a picture of..you know," Ellie motioned her hand in the general area of where your tits were.

The mix of nervousness and astonishment in Ellie's voice was something you wished you could recored to play on repeat for those days when she was out on patrol without you.

As you stared at your girlfriend, giving her a smile, she didn't think twice about lifting the camera up to her face.

"All you do is put your eye in that little Hole right there and press the red button on the side," you explained, but if Ellie was being honest, she was only half able to comprehend any of your words. She was much too preoccupied with the way your tits were naked for her to devour with her eyes..and now to capture and have for..whenever the occasion arose.

As Ellie peered through the viewfinder, her cheeks reddened as you shifted your shoulders back, making your tits that much more pronounced and ready for her to bring her lips to.

Ellies pointer finger held down the shutter as the familiar noise of the film ejecting itself echoed through the store.

"It'll take a second for it to-"

Ellie interrupted you by quickly placing the camera and it's fresh film onto the nearby shelf and pining your back against the red brick accent wall, surely leaving slight scratches along your bare back.

You gleamed up at her as you wrapped your arms around her neck; it didn't take long for her lips to come into contact with yours in a harsh kiss that was dripping in longing.

Ellie let out a chuckle as her lips removed themselves from yours, "Maybe we should take this along so we could..take some more."

------

A Week Later

"Shut the fuck up Jesse," Ellie nudged her friend with her shoulder as the alcohol in his body made him giggle like a school child next to her.

Ellie and her friend in tow were crunching their way through the snow covered roads as they got closer and closer to the front door of her house after a night out of catching up.

Ellies hand twisted on the doorknob as she flicked on a lamp and stabbed her knife into a nearby table.

"Let me find my weed real quick then we can smoke up."

Jesse nodded, removing both his boots & coat before flopping down on Ellie's couch.

Jesse had been to your home many times before, probably having it subconsciously memorized if you had quizzed him on all the contents of your home...but something caught his eye this time that seemed out of place.

As Ellie went to her bathroom, grabbing the small tin that held potent smelling greenery, Jesse's curiosity got the better of him.

Peaking out from underneath one of Ellie's sketchbooks was the corner of...something..an object that Jesse couldn't fully make out. Looking around quickly, Jesse sneakily thumbed the corner of the object, sliding it out from underneath the leather bound book, until...it was revealed.

His cheeks grew red at the polaroid of you and your naked chest staring back at him, making him forcefully tuck it back underneath the sketchbook.

"Two pre-rolled joints coming up," with every word, Ellie's voice came closer and closer until she was in full view and plopping down on the couch next to her sheepish looking friend.

"Here", Ellie's long fingers pinched the edge of the joint as she passed it over to Jesse, but he didn't take it right away.

"Jess?"

"Hmm? Oh, sorry", Jesse's eyes must've been deer in the headlights worthy as Ellie scanned him with a furrowed brow.

"You good?"

"Yeah. Fine."

"You don't seem fine," Ellie chuckled as she held the lighter up to the white stick in her mouth until it was smoking at the end.

Jesse took the lighter Ellie held out to him, lighting his joint with a look of disassociation still evident on his face.

"Dude, what's up with you?", Ellie questioned as she exhaled.

Jesse gulped after taking the first hit and breathing the smoke out through his nose and mouth.

"You uh..you may want to try to hide this better."

Ellie looked confused at her best friend, "Hide what?"

The substance was beginning to relax Jesse more as he felt the weight on his shoulders soften and his once mortified eyes beginning to fall more closed than usual.

He chuckled, moving his eyes down to Ellie's sketchbook, doing his best to give her the hint without him having to actually say that he found her girlfriends nudes.

"What the hell are you on Jesse", Ellie chuckled, deeply inhaling and eyeing her friend.

Jesse sighed before bringing his hand down to Ellie's sketchbook, tapping his finger against the corner of the polaroid picture that had been revealed to his eyes just minutes ago.

Suddenly, Ellie's squinted pupils grew wider than ever as she came around to what he was talking about.

"Shit," she said, grabbing her sketchbook quickly, but forgetting that the intimate photo that Jesse found wasn't the only one set underneath the journal.

Jesse's eyes subconsciously dragged over to the..not so safe for work images of you, Ellie, and one of Ellie's hand wrapped around what he assumed to be her girlfriends neck.

"Fucking hell Ellie!" Jesse covered his eyes quickly as if somehow that would magically erase the images that were sure to burn into your mind for the foreseeable future.

"Damn it-Fuck, fuck fuck," Ellie swore as she grabbed the remainder of the images, placing them completely hidden under her sketchbook that was now on her bedside table.

"I-I'm so sorry Jesse."

But Jesse was much too fucked up by now to be able to be bothered by the accident, all his mind thought to do was begin laugh vigorously as his hand vibrated as it rested on top of his abdomen.

"Hey, fuck off," Ellie said as she began to lose the embarrassment as she playfully taunted her friend before once again sitting down next to him on the couch.

"I see why you date her," Jesse quipped, his laughter still spilling out to the point where it was difficult for him to get even one word out.

Ellie wasn't sure if it was the weed beginning to do it's job, the situation that had just happen, or a good combination of both, but she too began laughing hysterically and playfully hit Jesse's shoulder.

"Erase that shit from your brain dude."

"Oh don't worry," Jesse nodded through red rimmed eyes, "I'm going to try to."

[libraryofgage]

A Place Like Steve in a Boy Like This

Part of: Steve Deserves Good Parents, Actually

Debbie and Fester Addams One | Two | Three | Four Rick and Evelyn O'Connell One | Two | Three (you’re here!) Harley Quinn One 10th Doctor and Rose One | Two (on the way!) Scooby Gang (there are plans for this one lmao, so plz be patient with me orz) Jedidiah and Octavius (from Night at the Museum) One Queen Clarisse (also on the way and also a modern royalty au cuz I got the urge to write one so bad lmao)

This AU was line-jumped on Ko-Fi, which means y'all got it sooner!

If you want to line jump your favorite series, you can learn more here

I hope y'all enjoy this part! It was a lotta fun to write, actually, since I got to talk about folklore I'm more familiar with lol

As always, if you see any typos, no you didn't ;)

----

Steve huffs as he kicks a pebble down the street. It bounces a few times before settling on the sidewalk, doing nothing interesting enough to alleviate his boredom. He turns around, squinting against the sun shining in his eyes, and looks at his parents. His mother is speaking quietly to a woman with a shawl around her shoulders, both of them bent over some book that definitely should have been crumbling by now. His father idly taps at bricks on the building next to them, looking relaxed but alert.

Steve glances at the building his parents are avoiding, the one the woman with the shawl walked out of. It’s a pale, faded yellow, the kind that tells him the building is old, old enough to have seen wars and generations pass it by. Shingles line a low roof, but something that’s either incredibly durable wood or stone so old it’s turned brown makes up the vaguely mountain-shaped top that reaches to the sky. Steve studies the building, his eyes wandering until he sees the door cracked open on the side. 

He takes a slow step towards it, checks that neither of his parents noticed, and takes another. This continues until he’s in the shadow of the building, his fingers brushing against the wood. It’s cool against his skin, and the door isn’t nearly as heavy as it looks. He pushes lightly against it, an eager feeling building in the pit of his stomach as he slips inside.

A dimly lit hall made of stone sprawls out in front of him, and Steve hums softly as he passes by the paintings and scraps of scroll that are framed along the wall. He recognizes Hebrew on all the scrolls, but he doesn’t linger long enough to read any of it. Instead, he continues to walk, glancing through an opening that leads into a sanctuary. The opening is to the left of the bema, and he’s momentarily caught by the ark that contains the Torah. He can’t even see the holy scrolls, but something in his spine jerks and he’s overwhelmed by the urge to open the doors so he can gaze upon them. 

He’s already going to get in trouble for slipping inside, though. Maybe he shouldn’t make it worse. Steve grasps this thought tightly, holding it in his mind until he’s able to tear his gaze away and continue walking down the hall. Other than that opening, there’s only one door left at the very end. It, too, is made of wood and opens far easier than Steve expected.

Shafts of sunlight stream in through narrow windows, illuminating dust that floats in the still air of an undisturbed staircase. Steve looks down at the first steps, crouches, and drags his finger carefully over the stone. A layer of dust comes off, and Steve comes to the conclusion that nobody has been up these stairs in a long, long time. 

With a grin, Steve begins to climb. 

The stairs wind up and up, far higher than Steve thinks should be possible given the height of the building itself, but what does he know? He just focuses on climbing, on reaching the top as he passes narrow window after narrow window, breathing in stale air that stirs in his lungs and builds. Strangely enough, he’s not breathless from the climbing, but from something else entirely. He isn’t able to name that feeling until he finally (finally) reaches the top of the stairs. 

As he stands on the top step and looks over the loft spread out before him, he realizes it was anticipation. Like the stairs, this attic-loft is covered in dust, untouched by people for a very long time. A large window is opposite the stairs, allowing sunlight to stream into the area. The space holds a desk, a bed, more books than Steve has ever seen before, and a statue.

Steve stares at the statue, licks his lips nervously, and steps into the room. He doesn’t spare the books or anything else a second glance, instead making a beeline for the statue. It’s huge, towering over the twelve-years-old Steve even though it’s sitting. Its legs are crossed, and its hands are held palm-up just above its navel. The statue is round and smooth, not a straight edge in sight. It doesn’t have a neck, and its head is like a little bump on its shoulders, just big enough to hold triangle-shaped divots for eyes. Carefully placed next to the statue is a small clay jar and a paintbrush.

Without thinking, Steve picks up the jar and looks inside. Golden-hued paint shimmers inside, and Steve wonders how it hasn’t caked over or disintegrated after all this time. He tilts the clay pot a few times, watching the paint slide against the edges, and then looks up at the statue again. At second glance, he sees that the statue’s head is big enough for more than just its eyes. He could probably write on it, too. 

With that thought, Steve grabs the paintbrush and very carefully pokes his foot against the statue’s leg. It seems strong enough, so he climbs up, following the statue’s calf to its knee. From there, he carefully holds the paintbrush with his teeth so he can steady himself on the statue’s arm. Once he has, Steve pulls himself up onto the statue’s hands, finding himself at the perfect height to reach its forehead.

Steve holds the paintbrush and dips it into the jar. The brush comes out covered in the gold paint, and Steve pauses, looking at the statue’s forehead.

He remembers a story his mother once told him about this very city, this very building. It involved a statue like this one, a golem, that was brought to life to protect his mom’s ancestors. Steve hums softly and carefully paints aleph, mem, tav on the statue’s forehead. His mom will find it funny when he brings her up here to show her the “golem” he found. 

As he finishes off the tav, giving it a pretty little flourish just for the fun of it, the ground beneath him jerks. No, not the ground. The hands he’s standing on. Steve yelps, losing his balance and about to fall only to be cradled and carefully set on the ground.

Steve blinks, looking up at the golem to see it leaning down and staring at him expectantly. “Uh. Hi,” he says, breathless as he receives a small nod and wave in return. “Holy shit.”

Before he can say more, he hears a familiar voice in the distance shouting, “Steve! Where are you?”

Keeping his eyes on the golem, Steve sets the jar and paint down, scooting back along the floor until he reaches the top of the stairs. “I’m up here!” he shouts, hearing a muffled curse and the slam of a door far below. He sighs and stands, slowly approaching the golem.

“You’re really real,” he mumbles, stopping in front of the golem as he hears someone running up the steps.

He turns just in time to see his father reach the attic, guns at the ready, and panting from adrenaline and the climb. “What the fuck is that?!” he shouts, aiming the guns at the golem without thinking. 

“Don’t shoot it!” Steve yells, barely getting the words out before he’s scooped into the golem’s arms and completely covered by its hands. The world goes dark, and he’s pressed close enough to the golem’s chest that all he can smell is pomegranate and the old ink and paper of Talmud studies. 

“It’s holding you captive, and you’re telling me not to shoot it?!” his father asks. 

“It’s protecting him!” his mother shouts, her voice shrill and panicked enough about his father shooting a golem to make Steve almost laugh.

Steve wiggles around, tapping the golem’s chest. “Those are my parents,” he says, “Please let me down.”

After a few seconds of hesitation, the golem does, carefully and slowly placing Steve on his feet once more. Its hands stay on either side of him, looking ready to pull him back into its protective embrace. His father looks harried, but his mother looks awed as she steps forward. The golem allows her to approach, and she carefully runs her fingers over the golem’s arms. “This is amazing, Steve,” she says softly.

“Can we please step away from the dangerous statue now?” his father asks, taking a step forward only to stop when the golem suddenly stands and towers over him. “Uh, what’s it doing?”

“You’re not Jewish, Rick,” Steve’s mother says, looking over her shoulder. “The golem is a protective figure in Jewish folklore, among other things. It’s most famous stories are about keeping Jewish towns safe from pogroms. It’s wary of you.”

“I’m your husband!” Steve’s father protests, angrily shoving his guns back into their holsters, “And Steve’s father! We should be on the same team!”

“It’s okay,” Steve says, walking over to his father and taking his hand. “I just have to introduce you.” With that, Steve leads his father over to the golem, placing his father’s hand on its arm, and saying, “This is someone you should protect, too.”

----------

After explaining everything, with plenty of interruptions from the kids after they came running back into the living room to escape Uncle Jonathan’s gin, Steve’s parents demanded to see the lab where it all started. 

And now they’re here, standing in one of the lower levels, surrounded by dead vines that still haunt Steve’s nightmares on particularly bad nights. If he’s lucky, he won’t have one of those while his parents are home, but Steve has never really called himself lucky in situations that don’t involve life or death. 

The wall that once held a gate to the Upside Down is nothing more than charred cement, reduced to a jagged line of something Steve really hopes is soot and not, like, disintegrated demogorgon. He carefully makes his way through the vines, avoiding them when he can and holding his breath whenever he has to step on one. 

“Did you know this was a lab?” Rick asks, his voice echoing in the hall ahead of them. 

“Of course, not,” Evelyn replies, and Steve can picture the glare she’s aiming at him. “I wouldn’t have let our son live here if I’d known.”

“Well,” Eddie says, “I, for one, and very relieved Stevie lived here considering several of us would be dead without him.”

“Me, too,” Dustin says.

“Me three,” El says.

“I think Steve and I would’ve found each other even if he wasn’t in Hawkins,” Robin says, nudging Steve’s ribs with her elbow as she grins. “Platonic soulmates can’t he kept apart.”

Steve snorts and stops when he reaches the wall. He looks around and notices the corpse of a demodog a few feet away. Or, well, he thinks it’s a demodog corpse. “Stay here,” he says, tightening his grip on his bat as he takes a step closer to it.

“Hold it right there, young man,” his mother says, her tone bringing him to an immediate halt. “Your father will go towards the monster, and you will stay a safe distance away.”

“Gee, thanks for asking,” Rick mutters, rolling his shoulders as he makes his way over to the demodog corpse. He studies it for a second before just kicking the thing with his foot. Steve nearly jumps in to yank his father back, but stays frozen in place by Robin’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder.

His father kicks the corpse again, and Eddie suddenly asks, “Why do I feel like this is disrespectful?”

“Because it used to be alive,” El offers.

“It’s definitely not anymore,” Rick says, crouching down and using the barrel of his gun to push back one of the petals on its head. “Shit, what’s it need so many teeth for?”

“The better to eat you with,” Steve says, earning a snort from Robin and Eddie.

“And there were how many of these?” Evelyn asks.

“Dozens. Like, multiple packs, and they were all connected by this hive mind kinda thing,” Dustin explains, walking over to the corpse with no fear. “I mean, they weren’t all bad. Dart was okay.”

“He ate your cat,” Steve says.

“Yeah, and then he didn’t eat us in the tunnel.”

“I can’t believe you were facing these things and didn’t use your guns to spare some girl’s feelings,” Rick says, looking at Steve over his shoulder.

“I can’t believe you didn’t just use the golem,” his mother says, frowning as she turns to Steve. “I mean, you know where it is, dear. You know how to bring it to life.”

“A golem? Like…from Lord of the Rings?” Dustin asks.

“You had a golem? Why didn’t you tell me you had a golem?” Eddie asks.

“How did we not think of the golem? Holy shit, we’re dumb,” Robin says, smacking her forehead with her palm.

“I couldn’t trust that it wouldn’t hurt one of my friends,” Steve says, ignoring Dustin for now. “It would only protect me and Robin. If something happened to one of us, it would abandon the kids without question. What’s the point then?”

“Hello! Confused people over here!” Dustin shouts, getting their attention. “What golem?��

“You know,” Robin says, “like…of Prague.”

“No, still lost,” Dustin says.

Steve sighs, about to explain it when Eddie beats him to it. “The golem is from Jewish folklore,” he says, tilting his head as he looks at Steve, “It was created and brought to life by a rabbi in Prague to protect his congregation from pogroms and acts of antisemitism. There are debates on why he had to disintegrate the golem, though. Some stories say it started killing innocent people, others say it fell in love, and others say the congregation were using it to do chores instead of letting it focus on protecting them.”

“Yes, exactly,” Evelyn says, smiling at Eddie and nodding with approval, “The golem doesn’t speak much, but it can answer basic questions. According to it, Rabbi Loew removed its aleph because it requested to go to sleep.”

“Oh, so it just wanted a nap,” El says, nodding as though this makes perfect sense to her.

“You said you had the golem,” Eddie says. “Where?”

“At the house,” Steve replies, watching as his father stands from the corpse and drags Dustin away from it. “I keep it in the locked room downstairs.”

“You said that was your parents’ room,” Dustin says.

“No, you assumed it was, and I never corrected you.”

“Can I see it?” Eddie asks.

Steve looks up, meeting Eddie’s gaze. After a few seconds, he nods once and looks at his parents. “Did you see what you wanted?” he asks, “Can we head back?”

“Yeah,” Rick says, frowning as he nudges a vine with his foot. “I’ll come back later with Ardeth. See if he knows anything that might help.”

“What do we need help with?” Dustin asks. “The portal is closed for good. We closed it.”

“There’s nothing wrong with making sure,” Evelyn tells him, smiling reassuringly before turning back the way they came. “Now that Rick and I are here, we’ll do everything we can to make sure those gates never open again.”

“And if they do,” Rick says, bringing up the rear as the kids follow Evelyn, “we’ll take care of it. You kids don’t need to put yourselves in danger anymore.”

Something in Steve settles at hearing this, his next exhale taking all the stress that had made its home between his shoulders with it. For the first time in a long time, he thinks about something normal. He glances at Eddie and Robin and thinks about going to see a movie with them, drinking at the lake, and just being stupid teens that don’t have to worry about interdimensional monsters.

------

Tag List (there should be room still! So, if you’d like a tag, let me know!)

@trueghostqueen, @swimmingbirdrunningrock, @thoughtfulbreadpolice, @mogami13, @blcksh33p1987, @beawritingbooks, @remus-is-trans, @your-confused-friend, @estrellami-1, @nburkhardt, @vacantwatchers, @yeahhhh-suga, @phantomcat94

@blackpanzy, @ape31, @croatoan-like-its-hot, @plantzzsandpencilzzs, @flustratedcas, @anne-bennett-cosplayer, @just-a-tiny-void, @disrespectedgoatman, @fallingleavesinthewind, @nymime, @nectandra, @moomkin77, @nadenia, @resident-disappointment, @copper-arrows, @romanticdestruction, @rowanshadow26

@nadenia, @northernlight-witch, @steddie-as-they-go,

[nukanobody]

Funny Familiarity

For context: I posted a head-canon a few days ago, on how Danse actually ended up in the brotherhood of steel as a synth despite not being sent as a spy but instead is listed as "missing". It's probable he ran away from the institute where the railroad helped him escape, with Deacon knowing about the case.

I'm so obsessed with this idea now so read below for any thoughts or further hc's i had when making this. Or ask me anything about this hc i am going cray cray. sorry if this is ooc i'm bad at characters.

ty to @ericadrawsstuff for your addon btw!! it fueled me to draw this haha

For Danse, I don't believe he was a courser but maybe a failed experimental synth/synth meant for manual labor? The institute would probably be in a panic if a courser with a courser chip went awol, they'd probably take notice if the same missing courser became the poster boy of the people whose trying to destroy them.

Danse stayed in the railroad for a bit, like maybe 5 months? Formed a somewhat close bond with Deacon who was "Debbie" at the time.

Deacon loves collecting sunglasses, was toying with the idea of being a woman when he found novelty heart sunglasses. I see him as identifying as male but really flexible when it comes to presenting himself.

Obsessed with the idea that despite being reset/memories wiped synths may carry flaws or mannerisms. In Danse's case his fierce loyalty and self sacrifice are his major flaws, pre-wipe he didn't want to be a danger to the railroad and felt he needed to be wiped, post-blind betrayal he felt like he was a danger to the brotherhood and needed to be killed.

Deacon's a good liar sometimes, but in the cases where Danse says something against synths his hands clench and has to lean on a wall to catch his breath while the sides of him fight in his head. The first side is the railroad agent who has huge empathy for M7-97 and knows that if his identity is revealed it'll absolutely ruin him and get maimed by the brotherhood, the other side of him is absolutely disgusted by Danse and wants to put him in his place, the 3rd just thinks it'll be funny.

I depicted Nora as how I'd imagine she'd be. A woman from a pre-war era being dropped in a wasteland, it's kind of a culture shock for her and she has a savior complex, she assumes that everyone just needs to sit down and talk. Her main goal is to somehow "unite" the commonwealth, she's joined all the factions and some of her companions are kind of peeved about it. In the comic she introduced Deacon to Danse thinking they could have a civil conversation where Deacon could steer him to a better mindset (she sees Danse as a kid who got into the wrong crowd, despite being a fully grown man)

okay jesus, this took like 3 days of non stop drawing for me to do. Whoever designed power Armour i pray for your downfall what the hell. Sorry if it looks bad i study software so I haven't gotten the chance to draw in like, 7 months. Can you tell which pose I was able to find refs for and not the rest? lol

I ship them now too, i've been researching them and I love their dynamic and damn if the plot "Person A knew Person B before Person B forgot them and became a different person" doesn't hit like a ton of bricks.

[chaotic-fandom-writer]

Adam x Reader P.4 (Hazbin Hotel)

Sorry for the short part, life loves to get in the way. Promise the next one will be longer!

I also apologize for the delay on posting this, I had a bigger part almost completely written up, and a storm took out my wifi, and I lost all of my work. The part is so much shorter today because I wanted to hurry and quickly get something out for you guys this morning.

Part 5 will be out tonight so long as there's no more interruptions like that lol! And I promise it will be much longer, I have some good stuff planned!

Enjoy!

Warnings: Heavy cursing, violence, adult themes

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

Adam

Adam tried his hardest to stay away. Really, he did, because he knew he would be putting you in harm's way by breaking Sera's rules. But it was hard.

Once he realized who you were back on that rooftop, all you've done is consume his mind. He missed you. He never thought he'd see you again. Now, the universe plops you down right in front of him, just to take you away again?

He couldn't stand it.

So, every night, he'd wear something unrecognizable, and go to your street.

If he stood in just the right spot, he could get a glimpse of you in your living room through the blinds.

Every night, he went, and every night, he saw the same thing.

You, curled up on the couch, in the dark. And he could hear you.

Crying.

It made Adam's stomach turn to hear you in so much pain. He never thought he could care about anybody like this ever again, but here you are, making him feel all these stupid fucking things.

He wanted to run right up to your door, kick it open, tell you everything about who you are, and hold you tight.

He wanted to kiss you, as much as he hated to admit it to himself. He wanted to feel your skin underneath his fingertips.

Damn her. He thought. Damn her for making me feel like this, and not even knowing it.

Adam really believed he could handle this as long as he got to see you from a distance sometimes. She's just some girl, he would tell himself. What are you getting so worked up for?

Until one day, he started to notice someone talking to you. A neighbor, it appeared. He would come knocking on your door every day with gifts - dinner, flowers, sweets - you name it.

Adam sat watching you one night, like he always did, and his greatest fear came true - he watched as you invited this man inside.

Nothing happened, thankfully, but his blood boiled at the sight of some guy trying to win you over.

Finally, he had enough.

One day, he waited outside for the neighbor to appear. And he did.

"Hey. HEY!"

The man turns, startled, relaxing slightly when he sees it's Adam. "Oh, hello Adam! Did you need something?"

"Yeah, I need to know why the fuck you keep visiting (Y/N)."

The man scratches the back of his head sheepishly. "Well.. we live next door to each other, and every day, all I can hear is her crying.

I don't think anyone should live like that, even if they were a sinner! And I figure, hey, she can't be bad if she redeemed herself, right? And she isn't she's actually a very sweet, beautiful-"

Adam cuts the man off with a punch to the wall, cracking the brick and making the man jump.

"Listen up fuckbag, I'm only gonna say this once.

That's my fucking wife you're hitting on, and if you go near her again, I'll make you regret it.

Stay the fuck away from her. She's mine."

Adam leaves the man in a pile of nerves and sweat, flying away from the scene.

I can't believe I just did that. I feel like a fucking simp.

--

You

Days had gone by since you'd seen him, or anyone else for that matter. You thought maybe you had made a new friend, your neighbor, but even he stopped coming to see you, too. You started trying to leave your room as little as possible. Every now and then, you'd notice Sera lingering at the end of the hall, but as soon as she saw you, she'd leave.

Truthfully, you could care less. You missed home. You missed your friends.

Tired of sitting around being Heaven's newest exibit to marvel at, you decided enough was enough.

I'm leaving this fucking place. No matter what I have to do. It's time to come up with a plan.

Packing one, small bag, you set it next to your door in case you needed a quick exit. Best to travel light.

The only problem was finding a portal back into Hell. You obviously couldn't just go ask someone to take you back. You considered doing something to get into trouble, but without knowing exactly how the angels would react, it would be too much of a risk.

You decided to break into Sera's office. It seems like a crazy, risky thing to do, but you figured if there's any kind of physical item that can help you, it had to be there, right?

You waited for the cover of night before sneaking to the office. The building was quiet at night, still, and silent.

You approached her door, straining your eyes for any possible sounds. After hearing nothing, you knock softly on the door.

No response.

You push the door slightly, and it creaks open. Peeking inside, you find an empty room. You enter, quietly shutting the door behind you.

You take your time searching the room, shuffling through papers and looking through cabinets.

Then finally, you see it.

Underneath Sera's desk is a gold-lined trap door. You reach for the handle and find it open. Inside is a small hiding space, occupied by some files, a wooden box, and a smaller box.

You reach for the big box, but when your fingers touch it, it suddenly sparks, shooting volts of pain through your arm.

You gasp, yanking your hand away. The box glues with strange carvings.

Taking a deep breath, you reach for the smaller box. This one doesn't hurt you, so you open it.

Inside, you find a glowing gem. The purplish-blue hues of light reflect off your irises, your eyes glowing at the sight.

You reach for it, and it allows you to do so.

Something about it speaks to you, telling you that it's purpose is what you're looking for. Unsure why, you feel certain that this is what you're looking for. You close everything up and quickly retreat back to your home.

Putting the gem in a safe, hidden spot, you quickly realize you have no idea how to activate it, and mentally curse your own luck.

Maybe I can convince someone to show me, or even trick them. You thought to yourself.

Either way, I'm getting out of here.

--

Don't forget, I'm always accepting requests!

Chapters I - II - III - IV - V - VI - VII

[invinciblerodent]

yeah, you know what, I nuked this post last night because I got very uncertain about the room immediately after posting, but after some further scrutiny, I'm reposting it now with some slightly calmer, more hinged commentary lol

consensus seems to be (from the tweet I initially was going off of about the view from his room, and the qunari paraphernalia and training equipment in the basement-room kind of confirming that that one must be Taash's, despite this one having a lot of dragons in it) that this IS indeed Davrin's room, and I wanna talk about some (though not all) parts of interest in it!

Overall the room looks very airy and open, but cozy and warm, if a touch on the sparse side- I'm getting a little bit of a hunter's lodge vibe, which is fitting for a monster hunter like him.

1.) he apparently loves nugs. and dragons. and bears. and animals, and learning about animals in general, if those diagrams are anything to go by. and I love that for him.

2.) no seriously there are six wooden nug bobblehead-looking things visible just in this one snapshot in his room. this man is INTO nugs. (I hope he and Leliana get to meet. he deserves to pet Schmooples XIV.)

3.) his carving station! it seems to be a fairly common Warden hobby, and he seems to take it seriously too- just look at that dragon's wing and how thin the part it attaches to the body with is, he's very skilled!

he was making something in this piece of promo art too!

3.5.) please ser Davrin please i want a little carved nug as a little gift i would cherish it forever i wouldn't ask for anything else for the next 20 birthdays i have please

4. Assan's "landing pad", maybe? I like the thought of him taking little nightly laps around the Lighthouse, but geez, it looks so dangerous to have the wall just open like that- must feel the most like sleeping under the open air though?

4.5.) from this and Taash's open ceiling I'm guessing that it just fully does not rain at the Lighthouse, which is great, no wet griffon smell in bed

5.) really loving that Veilfire sconce on the wall- it looks exactly like the asset from Inquisition, and it could be a pretty subtle hint to something Dalish going on!

6.) the clothes/blankets/whatever those are on the cozy chair seem to mirror the colors of his outfit, the Warden blue and the light brown leather- is he perhaps prone to leaving his clothes strewn about? 👀 both Wardens and the Dalish should be used to traveling a lot and living light, so it would make sense for him to not be a super neat person overall! (maybe the only reason the room isn't a right mess is that he doesn't have many possessions, they don't even fill both bookcases)

7.) god if Rook doesn't get to cuddle with him in his cozy chair by the fire (or on those furs, I'm not picky) and watch the sunrise together after a night of vigorous lovemaking that tests the limits of even that fabled Grey Warden stamina, I am going to be very, very sad

8.) Davrin darling. why do you have this. and does it really need to watch. ..... can we turn it so it faces the wall at least. god, Dorian was right (among various other things) about the horrible little feet nugs possess.

anyway the trend continues and everything I learn about this guy makes me want to eat one (1) more brick altogether until i assemble a castle in my stomach from which he can rescue me like the charming knight he is, thank u for ur time

[lookingfts]

Talking about the fics I've written but not shared inspired me to go through my Unfinished Fics folder. Some of these are drabbles that I never posted, some of them are snippets of fics I never finished (and likely will never finish), but I'm going to share them today!

The first one is a fic where Kate is a cafe owner and Anthony plays at her open mic nights. I only really wrote the first scene (using The Night We Met before I used it in Sugar, lol.)

“Was this a stupid idea? Didi, am I actually an idiot?”

Kate rolled her eyes at Edwina’s theatrics as she wiped down the milk frother with a worn rag. “Of course not. It’ll go great, okay?”

She genuinely had no idea whether her idea would flop or not, but Kate wasn’t going to let on. She’d been trying to get Edwina to be more involved in the shop for months, and this was the first thing her sister had seemed genuinely excited about, even designing flyers and promoting the event online.

And if it did flop – if no one performed, or everyone was a talentless hack – it would be awkward but amusing, and they would never do it again. Kate hoped that wouldn’t be the case, of course, because new events had real potential to help their business, and she hated to picture the disappointment on Edwina’s face. Failure might build character, but Kate wasn’t quite ready to expose her sister to the harsh realities of the world so soon. Within those four walls, at least, she wanted to keep it at bay a little longer.

Kate felt Edwina’s anxiety rubbing off on her and waved her hand in the general direction of the tables. “We still have an hour. Go clean something and work off your nervous energy.”

Eddie bounced off to do just that as Kate stifled a yawn against her wrist. It had been a slower day, the foot traffic diminished by a steady drizzle of rain, which had fortunately stopped thirty minutes ago. They normally closed at eight but were staying open until ten, ready with decaf and homemade pastries delivered by Sophie that afternoon.

Even though mornings were their busiest time, Kate had always liked the atmosphere of the shop after dark. The aging brick walls and overstuffed leather chairs felt even more homey in the dim glow of the string lights crisscrossing the wooden rafters. During the day, her patrons were grabbing coffee or tea in a rush to somewhere else or camping out for the day to work anywhere but their cramped flats. At night, people were reading – or attempting to write – books. Chatting nervously on first dates. Business was slower, but Kate didn’t mind when the world slowed down a bit too.

Gradually, people started to filter in and take their seats, the sign-up sheet filling with names. Edwina seemed to relax at that and came back behind the counter to help Kate with the incoming orders. She spotted a few regulars, but was pleased to notice new faces as well.

“Hi, erm – do you still have spots for the open mic night?”

Kate nodded, pointing to the sheet without looking up. “Add your name there, everyone is performing in the order they signed up. The show starts in twenty minutes, would you like to order something?”

“Okay. Thanks. Espresso?”

“Sure, do you want-.” Kate’s sentence cut off abruptly as she finally glanced up, her mind going momentarily blank. Mr. Espresso was �� striking, to say the least. He had a guitar case slung over his dark grey t-shirt, curly brown hair that swooped across his forehead in that way that seemed incidental but probably took quite a bit of effort, a jaw that could cut glass and dark eyes that were watching her so shrewdly that it was mildly disconcerting. “Uh, a pastry or something?”

“No, thank you.” He tugged his card out of his wallet and tapped it against the reader as Kate mentally chided herself. Since when was she into guitar boys? Ugh.

Fortunately, the odds were good that the spell would be broken the second he got on stage and broke out a mediocre cover of the white-man staple Wonderwall.

He waited by the counter as she quickly made his espresso, purposefully limiting eye contact with him lest she horribly embarrass herself again. Kate slid his cup across the faux marble surface, telling herself that she was just being polite as she muttered, “Good luck.”

“Thank you.” He took his coffee and found a seat near the corner. Kate allowed herself to indulge in one last glance before she was swept up in a new wave of last-minute attendees.

The crowd settled as Edwina directed the first performer onto the little platform they’d set up as a stage, with sound equipment rented from the music store down the street. Kate had counted sixteen sign-ups on the sheet, more than she was anticipating. They were, to her utter relief, mostly good. Two people, one man and one woman, performed five-minute standup sets about their spouses, only to reveal at the end, to much applause and laughter, that they were married to each other. Three read poems; their own, she thought, though Kate wasn’t familiar enough with poetry to know for sure. There were plenty of musicians, of course, a violinist and the typical singer-songwriters with varying degrees of vocal talent. One person did magic tricks. Edwina beamed through the whole thing.

“Please welcome Anthony Bridgerton!” Eddie said into the microphone after the magician had done his grand finale with a disappearing coin.

Mr. Espresso – Anthony, apparently – positioned himself on the wooden stool on stage and checked his guitar. The audience cheered and he grinned shyly. “Thank you. I don’t perform that often, so forgive me if my nerves get the best of me.”

Kate didn’t know if she bought the whole nervous act from a man with that bone structure, but it was clearly working. A redhead in the front looked like she might throw her bra on stage, and he hadn’t even started singing yet. Kate noticed that he had his guitar case closed, a rarity among the other starving artists who had kindly requested tips.

“This song is from Lord Huron, it’s called The Night We Met.” Anthony took a deep breath and Kate was lost from the first note.

I am not the only traveler Who has not repaid his debt I've been searching for a trail to follow again Take me back to the night we met

It was a lovely song, one Kate didn’t know but was certain she would listen to again. Anthony’s voice was good, soft and deep, a little raspy in the way Kate usually liked. But it was the emotion he was spilling into the lyrics that captured her attention. She was almost certain that someone’s ghost lived behind every word.

And then I can tell myself What the hell I'm supposed to do And then I can tell myself Not to ride along with you

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He looked up, his gaze locking with hers. Kate’s breathing hitched roughly in her chest. Those eyes that had been watching her too carefully before, dissecting and analyzing her, it had seemed, were downright devastating now. She found herself unable to move, pinned in place by the heartbreak that lanced his voice and traveled along the sharp contours of his face, triggering something in her stomach that Kate couldn’t recall feeling before.

When the night was full of terrors And your eyes were filled with tears When you had not touched me yet Oh, take me back to the night we met

I had all and then most of you Some and now none of you Take me back to the night we met

He reached the final chords and the song faded out. The fervent clapping, interspersed with a few whistles, snapped Kate out of her trance and she jerked back as if she’d been burned. Anthony wasn’t looking at her any longer, smiling down at his new, primarily female fans in the front row, and – oh.

She was really falling victim to the musician cliché, wasn’t she? He’d probably learned guitar to pick up women, not that Kate thought he had any problem with that to begin with, and she was just one of the many women in the crowd who had gotten caught up in his magnetism. Truly pathetic, honestly. It wasn’t often that Kate allowed herself to be swept away like that.

It was natural, of course. Musicians had an inherently sexy quality about them, and Kate had not exactly been drowning in male attention as of late. He might have a real shot at being successful, if he could win over even a card-carrying cynic like her.

Edwina announced the next act, and Kate got back to work, willing her heartbeat to settle.

[theodosiani]

LET'S GET REACQUAINTED ! hey rpc ! lets be honest, datv brought us all back in one way or another either you're a veteran or new, i'm sure there is stuff that has changed or we don't know each other so let's have a game about it to reintroduce each other ! repost this to do the same & tag some pals if you want !

Name / Penname: Sawyer for veterans, did you go by something previously ? if so what was it if you're comfortable sharing that name &/or penname: Used to be known as Sarah, don't mind if folks know but Don't Call Me That. age & gender( if comfortable sharing ): Nonbinary, 29 what was your first dragon age muse: I will be so forreal I don't remember if Averill or Varania's blog came first but I thiiiink it was one of the two of them? do you have any other darp muses / blogs: I run @orxna and I used to write on @rattrunner and @birdfacedelf, and several other muses that I've since moved over to my multi here. what muses / blogs do you have outside of darp: None right now thedas has two moons: true | false - Two moon truther I don't care what any of the newer media says

single line, para, or novella: Honestly, I'm pretty open for anything. I am a person who may spit out a multi para at you out of nowhere and if we haven't agreed to a length beforehand do not feel pressured to match my legnth. I just can't shut up about my muses sometimes. plotting or winging it: I like to plot a lot, I think it's fun to talk about how our muses interact and I think it can give more depth and nuance to any future spontaneous interactions. That being said, I also like just stuff out of the blue it's fun and brings in variety. fighting threads, you bold enough for them?: Depends entirely on the muse but yeah, I do like them. I do like to have some idea of how they're mostly going to go, and I'm ALWAYS happy to have a muse lose if yours is understandably more powerful. I actually think it's quite fun to find creative ways to throw my muses at brick walls so to speak. The desperation builds character. what content warnings are on your blog?: There's a lot of body horror potential from Several muses, I've got blood mages and demons and eldritch abominations so it's not something I shy away from. I do also have some level of child abuse in several of my muses' histories along with themes of slavery and finding personhood after. what things do you need tagged for your comfort?: Just general epilepsy related tags. Flashing gifs, epilepsy warning, etc.

shipping preferences: single | multi | no ship | polyshipshipping boundaries: For the most part, as long as a person shows pretty basic respect of not autoshipping, and actually checking in with me? I'm real open for shipping. I love smashing our barbie dolls together, I like to be able to talk with folks about the ships so like communication is key and all that but I'm not particularly finicky, I guess? I also love all varieties of ships be they romantic or platonic. favorite ships in dragon age: I love HoF/Sten, any HoF I simply don't care it's just a good ship whether it's queer platonic or romantic, I am a VarricHawke truther. I did not like Solavellan when the game first came out but because of all the wonderful rpers in darp I'm pretty feral for it now lol. favorite ships from the rpc( tag your friends ships ! ): My fucking KINGDOM for Solas(@theharellan) and Ian(@theshirallen). I have shipped that shit for almost my entire time in Darp which is buckwild. I love Inara(@valorcorrupt) and Alistair, Merc has given me so much emotional damage over on Orxna about it.

fun facts about yourself that may have changed since in the past ten years( when inquisition dropped )--

This is so hard, lol. Well, I don't live in the south anymore and am, in fact, like an hour from canada now. I also work on a whole ass Farm now, it's pretty great.

be honest, did you miss darp. come on now--

Yeah, I really got my legs writing in darp I think it very much helped shape who I am as a writer. Definitely helped me fine tune what kinds of characters and tropes I enjoy and work on my collaboration with cowriters just as passionate about this series as I am.

challenge round ! put a small top five things unrelated to dragon age !

I have Too Many birds. Three geese, one gander, twenty-six hens, and one rooster.

I also have too many dogs. I have four Hungarian puli and two Scottish deerhound.

I'm working towards getting my vet etch certification in the next few years.

I currently work at a brick fire oven pizza place making pizza and I'm really good at stretching dough HOWEVER I cannot toss dough. I don't have the pizza rizz necessary but I make a really good sausage mushroom alfredo pizza.

Snow was put upon this earth to specifically inconvenience me every morning when I must do bird chores.

tagging: I am really bad at tagging because I have a horrible time keeping track of people who've already answered so just steal if you wanna

[a-writer-on-elm-street]

Hi there! I don’t know if you write poly Sinclair or not but if you do could I get a poly Sinclair x reader (female or gender neutral is fine) where the reader gets really mad at someone for not understanding what they want despite how many times they explain and so the boys comfort her/them and calm them down?

I’m getting really frustrated with my counselor for basically ignoring what I’m saying to the point where I want to scream and cry and I just really need some x reader comfort right now lol, but no pressure of course! Sorry if this is over stepping anything! Have a lovely day/night!

pairing: poly!sinclair x gn!reader

summary: when you get back from a difficult counsellor appointment, the sinclairs try to offer you some comfort

warnings: minor injury detail, blood

a/n: this isn't overstepping at all, i'm happy to write this for you! thank you so much for requesting, sorry it took a while, and i hope you enjoy! <3

also, sorry to hear your counsellor's being so difficult, i know the feeling when people don't listen to you. if you ever need to talk, my dms are always open :)

word count: 905

You were so frustrated you felt like you were about to explode as you walked through the front door of the house, Bo lounging about on the couch, Vincent clearly elsewhere.

It didn't take Bo long to notice something was up, as he stood up from the couch, proceeding to follow you into the kitchen. "The hell's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." You muttered, getting a glass of water as Bo stood beside you, leaning against the counter.

You'd just come back from a counselling session, and they hadn't listened to a word you'd said. You might as well have been talking to a brick wall.

"Well I think we both know that's bullshit, sweetheart." Bo argued, watching you as you leaned over the sink. "So what's the matter with you?"

"It doesn't matter."

Before Bo could say anything else, the front door swung open, Lester walking in with Jonesy happily circling his feet.

He was covered in dirt and smelled like wet dog as he walked into the kitchen, heading straight for the fridge. He didn't even register you and Bo at first, as he sat down at the table with a bottle of orange juice, gulping it down like his life depended on it.

But once he finally acknowledged you both, he became mildly concerned by the agitated look on Bo's face. "You alright, (y/n)?"

"Fine." You answered, turning from the sink, only to crash into Vincent, the glass in your hand falling to the floor.

And that was the final straw, the thing to completely shatter the wall you had put up.

Tears burned your eyes as you bent down to start picking up the broken glass, and you wanted to scream, you wanted to yell at everyone in the room right now.

But all you could do was try desperately to hold back tears as you focused on picking up the glass.

Vincent was soon kneeling in front of you, attempting to help with the cleanup, but if you were being honest, you just wanted to be left alone right now.

All your frustration was bubbling up inside of you now, and you were worried you'd end up taking it out on the brothers, which would've been awful considering they'd done nothing wrong.

You picked up another piece of glass, adding it to the small pile you were creating in the palm of your hand, desperately trying to block everybody out as you did.

But the second Bo's hands came over yours, you were unable to keep yourself calm, turning and shoving him away from you, forgetting about the broken glass that was now enclosed in your fist.

You winced when you felt the glass pierce your skin, warm blood beginning to run across the palm of your hand.

Bo immediately spotted the blood seeping through your fingers, urging you to drop the glass as you opened your hand.

You practically stayed there in silence as Bo helped you up off the floor, instructing Vincent to go and get the first aid kit, telling Lester to clean up the mess.

"And make sure you keep the damn dog away from it. We don't want no more injuries around here." He'd added, as he guided you into the living room, sitting you down on the couch and kneeling in front of you, his hands still cradling your injured one.

"You gonna tell me what's wrong?" He finally asked you, concern in his eyes as he looked up at you.

Silent tears were staining your cheeks as you looked at him, all the pent up emotion finally spilling out of you.

You eventually offered him a brief explanation, to which he was surprisingly understanding.

"Alright, well let's take care of that hand and we can all relax, okay?" He told you.

You gave him a quiet nod, just as Vincent returned with the first aid kit.

He quickly looked you over, his rough hands carefully wrapped around your own as he inspected the injury. And he concluded that it wasn't serious, deciding to simply clean it up and wrap it.

Once he was finished, Bo joined you on the couch, Vincent coming to sit on the other side of you. And you were even more shocked when Bo handed you the remote, considering he never let anybody touch the remote.

A few moments passed and Lester finally arrived in the living room, carrying a slightly stained mug in his hands.

"Thought I'd make you some herbal tea." He smiled, handing you the cup. "Heard it's good for stress and stuff."

You offered him a small smile, before taking a sip of the tea. And it took everything in you not to visibly cringe from the taste. It was fucking digusting, but you still appreciated the gesture.

Lester then joined you all on the couch, his eyes never leaving you as he watched you sipping the tea.

To be completely honest, Bo and Vincent couldn't stop their gaze from wandering to you either. They all just wanted to make sure that you were okay. You meant so much to them, and despite their callous lifestyle, they couldn't bear to see you hurting.

But as you sat with them in front of the TV, a cheesy romance movie playing on the screen, you found that you were at peace. Being here, with your boys, you were home. And you wouldn't want it any other way.

[Main Masterlist]

[thedragonagebigbang]

Bang Creator Interview: Bang Creator Interview: Tumblr: @contreparry  |  AO3: ContreParry

The Collaboration period has begun! In these quiet months before works are due, we want to foster a sense of excitement, camaraderie, and celebration among our participants. To that end, all participants were given the option of a formal interview by our mod, Dema, or an informal “ask-game” survey. We hope you enjoy getting to know our phenomenal creators as much as we have!

You Won't Believe What She Was Hiding In Her Office!

Contre Parry and Dema talk gardening, hype-squads, horse girls, and “Sysiphean fun.” 

Dema: To hop right in: Writing. How Is It Going

Contre Parry: ... I think to say "it's going" would be horribly revealing, wouldn't it?

Dema: Haha it's okay to be honest!

Contre Parry: But it's going! Some days I make progress, and other days it's like slamming my face into a brick wall. But when you hit the sweet spot of "I know where I'm going," it's all worth the brick wall days.

Dema: Is there anything that helps you reset?

Contre Parry: Gardening! I go and pull weeds. I think the act of 'doing something useful' makes me feel a little better about not making progress on my writing. Like "Hey, you didn't write that scene, but you cleared out the veggie patch! Don't feel bad!" And that resets the brain and makes me look back at what I was stuck on.

Dema: I feel like there is a great metaphor in there.

Contre Parry: There's got to be, but it's going to require lots of edits to get it to come through!

Dema: Eyyyyyy!

I, too, like to garden. I think it helps to have a hobby that uses a completely different part of my brain. And of course, to touch grass.

Contre Parry: Oh yes! Grass touching is essential. It's also a great reminder of "sometimes it's just not going to work, and that's okay!" ... I tried to grow some lettuce. It did not work.

Dema: Ah yes. I will never attempt lettuces again because I cannot bring myself to kill the little white butterflies.

Contre Parry: "But they need to eat too!"

Dema: Exactly, lol. When you do sit down to write after a wall day, is there anything that helps you get back in the zone?

Contre Parry: I'll get my computer (or phone, depending on location), sit down with a drink, and tell myself that it doesn't matter if it's bad, it just matters that it's DONE. And I repeat that last line as many times as needed.

Dema:  Wow this interview is well-timed for me, lol!

Contre Parry: I'm glad if it helps you out! Sometimes it also helps to find a person who REALLY wants to see what you're writing. So then you can bounce ideas off them and workshop what you got stuck on.

Dema: Do you work with a beta? or do you mean more of a hype person, who isn't editing?

Contre Parry: More like a hype person. In my case, I'll send segments to one of my friends or my brother. Example: I was working on a fic for FFXIV, and I sent a snippet of dialogue to a friend who has never played FFXIV and has no idea who these characters are. And her response ("Kill Him") was actually super helpful, because for me it meant "Oh I wrote this character right." So that interaction got me fired up to finish that scene, because I knew I was onto something!

Dema: Oh that is interesting! And so nice to have supportive friends who will read it even if they aren't fans of the source media!

Contre Parry: It really is! What was super helpful is that this particular friend is very skilled at writing characters having messy, awful fights. So comments like that? Truly special.

Dema:  It sounds like, in general, writing is a pretty social experience for you?

Contre Parry: It is! As much as I like to work on my writing and drop it with a "here it is," behind the scenes I'm bouncing ideas off of lots of people. Sometimes the act of just talking to someone else helps me work through all the problems!

Dema:  For a Bang fic that seems especially helpful, since it's long and in a set timeframe. Has this fic-writing process felt any different than your usual process? Do you do more planning, for example? Less?

Contre Parry: This project was different for me because I came into it without a firm plan in place. I knew what I wanted to write, but I didn't figure out my angle. For most of my stories I have a plan. So if I wander off of my plan, I at least know where and why I did that. This one, though, I went in wanting to write about a one-off line in Dragon Age: Inquisition. And that was it!

Dema: Oooo I wish I could ask which line but that will be a spoiler, I fear. Do a lot of your stories begin that way? Jumping off from a particular line or piece of lore?

Contre Parry:  Most of the time I start with a character, and all of their associated backstory. And if something jumps out at me, makes me go "Why are you like this?" then I start exploring that. "But why?" is sort of my starting point, and then I try to answer that question with varying success.

Dema: Are those usually canon characters? Or do you write more OCs?

Contre Parry: Usually canon, though I love writing OCs. I particularly love writing OCs who are side characters. There's a lot of flexibility and room to grow in those areas!

Dema:  Will it be a spoiler if I ask about your favorite original side- character?

Contre Parry: Not at all! I have one from a story and a few short drabbles I wrote on my tumblr, and she's not in my Big Bang fic so it will be safe to discuss! She's the Inquisitor's niece. I created her thinking "well, my Inquisitor Trevelyan's got a big family with very strained relations, what if she had a niece she never met? What would she be like? How would they meet? Why would they meet?" And that's how I created Henrietta, who is a thirteen year old horse girl.

Dema:  You are really tugging on my heartstrings LOL, I was not prepared to feel so many things in this interview.

Contre Parry: haha, good things, I hope!

Dema: As a former 13yo horse girl, very yes, haha.

Contre Parry: Henrietta's fun because she's a bit of a chatterbox, and is very free with her thoughts and feelings as opposed to her aunt, my Inquisitor. The contrast is fun.

Dema: So when you say room to grow, do you mean for the protagonists? Like these side characters are providing additional character development? Or do you ride off into the sunset with Henrietta for a while?

Contre Parry: Protagonists, worldbuilding, the side characters themselves- it's all a chance to make the world a richer place. Like, Henrietta sees the events of the story from a different perspective and hears stuff that others won't, but she also interprets them as a thirteen year old would. It's like opening another window into the world of the story! So we ride into the sunset with Henrietta, and we see a different Thedas than what we might as a player, you know?

Dema:  Do you tend to write from an omniscient POV? Or are your readers mostly seeing through that window via dialogue? 

Contre Parry: More like a limited omniscient. We're with one character and seeing and feeling things from their perspective. Sometimes I'll switch between characters, but mostly you're stuck with one person. I want to experiment with other POVs more, but that might have to wait until I finish my WIP mountain.

Dema: Ah, yes. The WIP mountain is ever growing. Do you have a side project you are working on while you work on your DABB fic? Or do you try to stick to one thing at a time? (haha do any of us do this???)

Contre Parry: I'm editing that FFXIV fic at the moment, and I usually like having a side project to hop to whenever I feel truly stuck. Like gardening, the jump to something completely different is a hard reset. But once I finish those edits, I'll just have to pick something else off of the WIP pile to work on! Maybe I'll try to be efficient and slowly grind that mountain down to dust! (... she says, knowing this will not happen.)

Dema: It's Sisyphean. If Sisyphus was having fun.

Contre Parry: Sisyphus, I know you got a fanfic in your heart. I know it!

Dema: Now, you may already be aware of the click-bait titles. In our last minutes, can you come up with one for your fic? 

Contre Parry: You Won't Believe What She Was Hiding In Her Office!

Dema: Amazing. You were so ready with that one haha!

Contre Parry: Now all we need is some sort of stockphoto of someone looking surprised. Just so surprised! Hands in the air and everything.

Dema: I should really make a collection of them. If I had all the time in the world I'd do DA sketches. [Dear artists: feel free to use this as a prompt ;)]

Contre Parry: Oh, to be able to break space and time...

Dema:  if only! Then perhaps I would someday see the summit of wip mountain. But alas! Thank you for taking the time to chat with me, Contre Parry! It has been a delight 

Contre Parry:  Thanks for the interview! It was lots of fun! And I think it helped me as well! Clickbait title and all.

[schro4444]

Idk abt pained but that anon's right!! There's just something about the way you draw kaito's smiles that feels like running headfirst into a brick wall - it's great!!

On that note though - I'm absolutely obsessed with the bit "he’s got an expression of scrunched-nose focus on his face that looks, for some reason, incorrect—like it’s not how his face actually looks when he’s concentrating, but the emotion underneath is the same. A mask of a feeling to obscure the same feeling, entirely purposeless"

because like! YES! That's EXACTLY it!! Kaito LOOKS like he's super expressive, emoting with his whole face and body, and then you just - get punched in the face when you realise, OH, he feels like neither him nor anyone could ever get out of the shadow his dad casts, OH, he DOES remember the clock tower meeting, this whole ringmarole was to save it, OH, he was trying to get Aoko to act more natural, OH, he was playing the fool at billiards (I GENUINELY doubted for a moment whether he Actually sucked at billiards or just cheated for the poetic justice)

It's a bit sad, to be honest, that Kaito can never put his masks down no matter what face he's wearing - even if it is his own. He said he's a fan of Lupin but imho he'd do well to reread the first book - there is a line there about disguises and ceasing to know yourself Kaito would do well to remember, bc I very much he's taking the time to rest, eat and become himself again between disguise and disguise.

THANK YOU!!! genuinely that’s such a huge compliment ajfjdhd

THANK YOU! AGAIN!! AND YES YES OKAY—I was going to say I have an essay on this, but I think ditto IS my essay, lol

BUT IM GONNA TALK ABOUT IT MORE ANYWAY!!! I won’t get into all of it now but Gosh I think so much about expressions. kaito appears to be an extremely expressive character, and it’s not that he Isn’t, but more that it’s Very intentional, like you’re saying—he’s a magician, he lives for misdirection, he’s always misdirecting and deflecting and reflecting.

moments like these Haunt Me!! he’s very clearly Being Kaito, enough that everyone around him believes him, but he’s also just… totally lying, in every single image. I really really want to capture the energy of these panels in writing and art, lol

LIKE. how good of an acting job did he do here that he managed to convince aoko that he didn’t want to see a magic show. lol.

THE POOL CHAPTER I think about that all the time. what an establishing moment for kaito. first of all because of what it reveals about how he is

(thank you toichi)

and second of all because I was also!!! bamboozled!!

the way he is portrayed when he starts winning in this chapter is Very interesting, because I feel like it comes across as kaito more,,, like,,, settling into the role. he’s not really actively trying to do anything, he’s following what he most naturally wants to do, which is somewhere between “be silly so that people don’t look too closely” and “I’d really like to see the people around me laugh and be happy.” once he starts being able to Perform, he succeeds. and yet we as the audience are still left doubting what really happened!!! kaito misdirects the audience just as much as any of the mk characters!

oooo I really need to read the arsene lupin books. but like YEAH! EXACTLY! kaito never really made space for himself to Not be acting. the closest he gets is with Jii, and maybe his mom. relevant to my OTHER ramble about how, in deciding to become kid, kaito ended up creating a character out of himself, a character that he Has To Be most of the time. and it’s WILD, because it’s a version of himself that’s fundamentally missing a lot of who he is, but nothing that anyone would actually know to miss.

[enniewritesathing]

Discussion Post #4? (I lost count)

more like I talk to myself

The other half of the big update. Let's talk about.

First, some meta, I guess:

You may have noticed that the pics look different. Much more vibrant and all of that. I was brainstorming with @pink-chevalier (once again, thank you 👏) and she pointed me towards some PS actions.

Shout-outs to PhotoMosh Pro for existing. I had some visual ideas and I was able to pull it off this time around.

Shout-outs to Internet Air by AT&T. I went from having rural ass DSL to 5G internet averaging 400mbps. That's a major reason why I was able to pull off my visual ideas via gifs. Wouldn't have worked otherwise and I would've had to do just images.

Shoutout to my ADHD. (derogatory)

The posts with the lab scene(s), I've noticed, uhhhh, isn't viewed as much. I have a feeling that it's gonna be like that for a while. I'm doing cool and unique things over here... idk, it feels bad when there's a clear asterisk to it. let me put it this way, if I try to make it ~pleasing~ and it gets more attention than anything else... 🙃🙃🙃

I don't ask for much but please RB and/or comment, anything!! recommend! my pinned post has a lot of things you can read! Anon's on! It feels bad and desperate when I'm on my hands and knees like this lol... I feel like there's something wrong with me and this story but everyone's being polite...

((btw thank you @99simproblems and @changingplumbob))

Now that's out of the way:

(leans into the mic) JOHN'S DEAD. More on that later.

Are we all in agreement that Daniel ain't shit? He is 0 for 2 on rising up against someone and just be like 'ok guess i'll do it 🥺'. You're been given so many outs my guy, holy shit. Just hit the bricks, man! What are you waiting for?!?

I'll say this -- he one ups himself on that. Maybe twice. No, I won't elaborate but if you've read The Incident you probably have a good idea.

(actually, I think maybe two people have read it and I wish I were joking on that... I did a RB of it around that year's halloween and I lost 10 followers LMAO. It's really criminal. still my fav story but anyway. )

Charles being the manipulative bitch that he is but he had to make it very slight. Notice that he doesn't report his monitoring... no one caught it because of John.

I was gonna try and see if I could find something for the machine screen but it didn't look right... but I am saving the idea for something else.

You will not believe how many swatches I made for the vital monitor on the wall. I know I've said it earlier, but it's from an actual simulator that I had to use two laptops with (one for settings, one for capture.)

I almost forgot about Mark but especially Thomas. We'll see them again. :)

Mark saying that he's gonna resign after this trial. I mean, he can walk out too, but he's too polite for that so he's just gonna wait. :)

Thomas has an inexplicable Brooklyn accent and Bernard is a Southerner. Don't as me why.

I love how the gifs of Charles looking at Daniel and Bernard with the faux camera focus came out. Sinister.

Another note on Thomas -- so he's there (or rather got voluntold) to be "security". Security for who?? The fuck he's gonna do? Anyway.

I really, truly thought about showing John getting stabbed with that big ass needle but I think we got enough of that. Or at least being implicit. Truly though, that was a big fuck-off needle. I ain't scared of 'em but eesh.

now let's pivot to John and The Werewolf:

You may have noticed in the dialogue somewhere but this is not their first time meeting each other that wasn't a fight. Perhaps we'll circle back to that.

One of the first things that The Werewolf tells John is that he has zero intention of harming him. He's true to his word. In fact, I'd argue that his general behavior changes the context of things from The Incident. He's actually pretty calm all things considering! He stands his ground when John's being a dipshit.

Love how John picks the absolute worst time to be arguing with The Werewolf. My dude, you're literally being tortured and dying and yet you don't want the only person to save your life to take over.

You may think, damn John's naive and you're right. Charles did a number on making him think that The Werewolf is that dangerous. Maybe there were points that John didn't believe that... ?

For the visual effect of the toxins, I did the same thing when he made his declaration. This time, it's harder because of his chest hair and complete tats so naturally, I did the S4S shuffle and doubling them up.

I didn't have much action words for John because... well, he's doin nothin' but screaming and there's only so many ways to write that. The expressions speak for themselves. I am very proud of how they came out! He fought for his goddamn life and he made it count.

After much deliberation, I left the post of John's death wordless. I don't know what he and The Werewolf talking about at this point, and if I do, I'm not sure if I want to elaborate! Aside from The Werewolf telling him it'll be okay to let go...

It's a surprisingly soft moment.

The breathing effect I found out messing around in PM. That's all John could do until his heart stopped.

Oh! So, I decided to make something distinguishing about John's eyes in all of this. Blank, aka just a solid color, means he's mostly not there. White = flat out unconscious; his body is on autopilot/reacting. So! Couldn't use the blank for death so I went and found some pupil overlays and such by Pralinesims and used it over the blank.

John dies with his eyes open so ofc his pupils needed to be fixed and dilated so you know he's actually dead.

Even in death, he has a chilling gaze...

...but not as much as The Werewolf's gaze in the last two shots. This was one of the shots I wanted to keep from The Incident -- but I left the one of him baring his teeth... I'll save that I think for later. With his sclera being black, he absolutely looks terrifying. Monstrous, even.

I had the idea of the gif when I first did The Incident but I couldn't quite put it together (among other things). If you really look at it, a lot of ideas are there but I didn't have the skillset that I do now...

I can't wait for the next update to see what I have in mind. There's a reason why I haven't made many WIPs this time around >:)

I might as well drop this now, the back half of this story? Loads of CWs. How many? I'll list them at the top of the post many. At least six.

Idk about yall, I said it already; the context has changed, I think. I like to think that The Incident is John's version of what happened (bits and pieces of it) and he ofc, 'told' it first and you'd think wow The Werewolf is scary. This? He's way more than reasonable given the situation. He thanked John.

but I see this as "thank you for permission for me to wild the fuck out and kill my torturers"... but, he is grateful fr.

...not saying that John's an asshole for what he may or may not have done but...

This may be a very ambitious thing I wanna do in the next update but, I kinda want to see if I can animate an effect. If not, I'll try and get close to it.

[reedfulton]

hii!! I was wondering if we can get some of your charlie/fulton hcs, or just about them in general. I saw on your fulton rarepairs post that they were one of your pairs and i’d love to hear more on what you have to say about them (bc you didn’t get to in the post) bc I really love them and their paring.

omg absolutely!! sorry, i've totally abandoned tumblr because of school commitments and stuff so i hope this ask isn't too old lmao. but anyway, here are some of my hcs for them!! they're one of my favorite pairs ever and i'm honestly very surprised that more people don't ship them.

i've always said that i think they're childhood friends. i think i posted something about it a long time ago and then proceeded to not elaborate on it, but i always thought that fulton's home life wasn't great and so he was kind of allowed (or forced) to wander minneapolis/stillwater just to get out of the house. i did the math at one point and realized that the diner that casey works at is kind of in-between the heart of minneapolis and stillwater, so it wouldn't be insane to think that fulton might have ended up at the diner a lot as a kid. i think he and casey became 'friends' first (casey practically adopted him) and then when casey brought charlie to the diner because she didn't have anyone to watch him, they became fast friends

their friendship started off so well because fulton was extremely shy and charlie could talk to a brick wall and make good conversation, so charlie didn't really expect anything from fulton and fulton has no problem sitting and listening and retaining information from stories and stuff. that's kind of how their relationship works too lmao. charlie's always talking about random things and his wikipedia deep dives and hockey stats and fulton will definitely talk back if he has something to say, but sometimes charlie just needs a sounding board and fulton is more than happy to be that for him (and charlie is very impressed with all the random stuff fulton remembers just because charlie's the one that told him)

fulton's had a crush on charlie since they were in peewees. i don't think they were still super close when fulton joined the ducks, but they definitely still spoke to each other in class and stuff, and fulton joining sparked their friendship (and fulton's feelings for charlie) again. it's a super cute puppy-love kind of crush, and fulton has absolutely no clue how to deal with it lol. it's also definitely why fulton was watching the D5 games before he ever joined the team, and why he was so ready to fight the hawks the second he had the opportunity.

they definitely have one of those relationships where most people can't even tell if they're best friends or dating. they don't really do PDA (other than charlie laying on him like a cat, which he also does with a lot of people), and 'dude' is their main term of endearment in public lol.

casey LOVES fulton so much it's insane. charlie jokes that when they come home for breaks, she's more excited to see fulton than she is to see him and hes right

fulton's the little spoon but he'd kill anyone that ever found out

charlie is exactly 3 inches taller than fulton and it pisses fulton off to NO END. charlie knows this and definitely teases him about it.

i think once charlie bulks up a bit (probably like junior/senior year) they get to a point where they can wear each other's clothes and then just. never stop. at this point they don't even know who's clothes originally belonged to who anymore.

their first kiss happens after a game where charlie got injured and fulton felt so bad that he couldn't do anything about it that he's fussing over charlie in the locker room afterwards and bumbling his way through apologizes and charlie just. kisses him to shut him up as a funny haha joke but then realizes how fulton reacted to it and is like "oh shit this is actually A Thing"

fulton fell first charlie fell harder

they don't do PDA but they're all over each other the second they're alone. both of them have definitely made the other one irish goodbye at multiple events just so they can go home and make out and cuddle

sorry if these make ZERO sense i definitely was Not writing these at work :D. but i love talking about them so thank you so much for this ask! if you have any other prompts or ideas for them or anything do not hesitate to reach out, now that my semester is over and i'm just working full-time i totally have extra time and want to be more active on here :]

[our-transgender-experiences]

Okay so I'm a gender non-conforming transmasc (I mean I like femme presenting but I also kind of just present this way because I cannot pass for the life of me so why even bother if I look hot femme) but sometimes I forget that to other people I don't look like a guy.

Like I'm just over here in my little queer headspace thinking that I obviously give trans vibes and that I'm obviously not a girl. I look at myself in the mirror and think, "Okay I'm giving they/them lesbian at the very least" (I'm not a they/them lesbian I'm an a-spec achillean transmasc but like those are the vibes I give). I'm surrounded by people who use my pronouns correctly and call me man, dude, bro and all that good stuff. I like legit forget that to everybody else I look like a teenage girl.

So imagine my surprise when someone in my class tells me "You don't look like a grandpa, you look like a teenage girl!" (Don't ask for context, it's a long story lol) Don't even get me started on the fact that this girl is a repeat offender in the area of transphobia because DEAR GOD (motherfucker was talking with her friends abt how I shouldn't be upset when someone misgenders me bc I'm gnc)!!!! She knows I'm trans and don't use she/her but for some reason she feels the need to tell me this? Anyway, I immediately plummet out of my silly little queer headspace and realize I do, in fact, look like a teenage girl. Like somebody's goth girlfriend. I look like a teenage girl who lurks at Hot Topic and calls her friends and stays on the phone for three hours ranting about how ugly Lululemon clothes are or something (not that there's anything wrong with that, but god does it bring me dysphoria). It hits me like a brick wall. For some reason my dysphoric little brain decided not only did I need to think these thoughts, but I also needed to analyze every little detail on my body to confirm that I do, in fact, look like a teenage girl.

Jesus Christ I am so ready to get out of this damn school it's so hard being queer in the south.

-- 💅 anon

that sucks and i'm sorry you have to deal with that. You are still very much a guy, i also decided to google lululemon clothes, and they look so uncomfortable.