#sorry this post exists out there somewhere but i want to write my own. because. you are all fucking INSANE

[gncrezan]

IFs (especially IFs on tumblr!) are very fun because there's a lot of creator-fan interaction possible because of tumblr's ask function. you get to ask questions about your favorites, suggest ideas and sometimes those ideas are even taken on board. fans get much more content because the writers and creators are so accessible. and i feel like asking questions and leaving comments in this way has become so common and standard with IFs that people are forgetting that's a real person writing these stories. just because you can send the ask doesn't mean you should. DON'T BE RUDE ON ANONYMOUS!!!!! DON'T BE WEIRD ON ANONYMOUS!!!!! my jaw drops reading some of these asks so i can't imagine how it's like for the authors

[ghost-proofbaby]

OH SAY LESS 14 WITH ASTARION PLEASE

so this is my first time publicly writing and posting astarion, so please be gentle. higher word count solely because i felt the need to add lore because, ya know, first time writing him! also, i changed the line just a tiny bit to better fit the character and scene. ALSO, uh... this is a little fade to black. i'm sorry. it just got too long.

14. "Oh, you're hard to please."

warnings: foreplay, sorta fade to black smut (it's there if you squint your eyes), an ungodly amount of pet names, mentions of past sexual abuse and healing from it, technical game spoilers, not edited, 18+ so minors do not interact

pairings: astarion x afab!reader (no pronouns used)

wc: 4.4k+

join the smutty party! send me one of these smut dialogue prompts with a character

How long had it been since Astarion had actually enjoyed sex? Craved it, even? 

If he recalls correctly, it had to have started to become tainted well over a century ago. Somewhere between the first and the third victim, when he’d realized how every single beautiful soul he had entrapped were simply being lured to their own death. And then, the sour taste left in his mouth only became more pungent the longer it went on, the more he came to the realization of just how used he felt. His body was no longer his own – it technically hadn’t been his from the very second he’d emerged from his own grave, and Cazador had been waiting for him – and everything about the act became an old rehearsed dance that he’d grit his teeth through. A chore, something to make his stomach churn, something to regret. A means to an end. 

Plainly put, it had been a while. 

But then you happened. You, who hadn’t blinked an eye when the first time you met him, he’d literally threatened you with a gods damned blade to your throat. You, who had repeatedly trusted him, even when it had been an objectively stupid thing to do. You, who had always offered him the utmost patience and genuine understanding, to the point in which if he thought about it too hard, he’d probably cry. You, who had led your group of misfits with brain worms right into victory, with plenty of personal demons defeated along the way. 

Personal demons including Cazador. 

Maybe that’s when things changed for Astarion. He’d already fallen for you before your group had reached Baldur’s Gate, he’d already gotten to know your body intimately before ever laying eyes on that ridiculously oversized brain you somehow made look easy to defeat. But that had been different, hadn’t it? He hadn’t really wanted to do that (not meant as an offense to you – certainly not after all was said and done), but had thought he needed to. To gain your trust, to gain your protection. And in the end, it turned out he never needed to do such a thing. You’d never said it outloud, probably at risk of making him feel even more regret after you’d learned all his secrets and darkest corners, but he knew. 

And knowing that you didn’t view him as something purely sexual, as a means to an end, as an item to use – well, it had the opposite effect of his request to no longer be viewed in that light. 

“What are you doing?” he says as he quickly looks up from his current book he’d been pursuing the moment you’d entered the room. He hardly cared for the words on the page – he just needed a way to pass the hours until you were available again. 

It was a hard habit to kick. Being so codependent on you, even with the end of the world resolved and the gift of safety being handed over to him on a silver platter. 

“We received mail,” you’re grinning wickedly as you hold up an embellished envelope, delicate fingers pinching the parchment as if it were the greatest gift to ever exist. He’d argue the real gift at hand was the last three months – time spent with you, in a place he can call home. But nothing could impede on your good mood as you throw yourself down on the mattress beside him, “From Withers, of all people!” 

His brows shoot up for just a moment before his face twists up with something akin to distrust, “Withers? What in the Hells does that sack of dust and bones wan-” 

“A reunion,” you cut him off, the look on your face warning enough against his attempt at an insult. “He’s reaching out to all of us to bring us together for a celebration, to check in on everyone, let us see each other again. Apparently, we were the easiest of the bunch to find.”

Astarion quickly lets out a tut as he snaps the book shut and discards it on the bedside table closest to him, “Well, we certainly need to fix that. Soon enough all of those little shits are going to end up on our doorstep, preaching about the power of friendship and how they want to check in on us.” 

You snort at that, laying flat on your back with your hair wildly spread out in a makeshift halo behind you. The sight causes something to stir within him, his gut twisting as he watches the way your knees knock together before slowly falling apart, your legs settling down as flat as the rest of your body.

He hadn’t taken you since that night at his grave. Before the epic final battle, before the two of you had made the decision to settle down somewhere for some well-earned peace and quiet. 

The moonlight dances past the open curtains, and his breath catches in his throat at the way the blue shadows dance across your skin. It almost reminds him of the first time he’d seen you fight. It hadn’t just been the blood splattered across your cheeks that had really gotten the better of his curiosity (even if that’s what he had told you when you asked), it had been the sunlight. Those rays of gold that had mingled with your own aura of warmth after you had helped the tieflings for the first time. 

You put the sun to shame, truly. And he missed it – Gods, did he miss it – but he was content to bask in the peace of night for a few months more before he finally cut you loose from the leash to begin your next phase of adventures to find him a cure. You had promised him you would, had already dedicated plenty of free time to research, and all you really needed was his word to begin. 

He’s selfish. The two of you can find a way for him to walk in the sun once more another day; all he wants right now is to bury himself in your warmth, to slot his body between your thighs, to hear every breathy gasp and the way you’d practically sing his name-

“Star?” you’re looking up at him from an awkward angle, eyes owlish and chin tilted painfully far back as you clearly await an answer to a question he’d been too lost in a daydream to overhear, “Did you hear me?” 

He clears his throat and adjusts the pillows behind his back, keeping him propped up as he admires you, “Of course I did, darling.” 

“Then what did I just say?”

“Something about how we’re absolutely not going to this reunion, yes?” 

Your smile is nothing but patient as you flip onto your stomach. He watches the way your shorts ride up your thighs, how the top of the soft fabric bunches at your waist. His fingers practically twitch with the need to weasel their way under it, to press his cold fingertips into warm flesh and hear you preen. 

Whenever you’re ready, you had whispered to him one night shortly after saving the world. Just tell me when, and I’m yours. 

He was ready. Insatiably ready, really. 

“Very funny. I said we should go, though. It’d be nice to see everyone again, wouldn’t it? All our friends?” 

You’re still talking about this damned reunion. Astarion has half the mind to figure out a way to summon the insufferable skeleton right here, right now, and drive a dagger into his bones until he’s truly nothing but dust. Solely for the distraction. 

“Your friends, my dear,” he corrects gently, “We both know they’re only overly fond of one of us in this relationship, and it certainly isn’t the one that they repeatedly threatened to stake.” 

The furrow of your brows is impossibly cute – he knows that look of determination. It’s the same one you wore when he mentioned it was likely that the two of you would never find a cure to his condition. 

“Our friends,” you insist, “Karlach adores you, Star. And Wyll has always been proud of you, whether he told you as much or not.”

“And what of Gale?” 

Your lips twitch at that, “Gale… certainly wouldn’t stake you on sight.”

“Ah, yes,” he flourishes, trying to keep his eyes from wandering anywhere but where your hands press into your cheeks as you prop your face up to speak to him, “Not staking me. The ultimate sign of kinship.” 

Focusing is a losing battle when you roll your eyes, and he finds his mind overtaken with insatiable lust again. Imaginative ways that he could have your eyes rolling for him under different circumstances. 

“You’re not getting out of this. They are your friends just as well as mine – so argue all you want, but we’re going to the reunion.” 

“Are you sure there’s no other way I might be able to…” he pauses with intent, finally lifting one of his docile hands to your cheek, letting his finger graze the skin with a feather light touch before it travels back into the mess of your hair, “Persuade you otherwise?” 

You almost fall for it, too. Your eyes flutter shut, your head tilts into his touch as if you were starved for the connection. But even with the lack of sexual intimacy, you both know there hasn’t been a day that has gone by in the last three months where Astarion hasn’t found a way to get his hands on you.

Holding your own, resting his cheek on your shoulder, spinning you like a child in the kitchen – he had quite the sudden arsenal of romantic gestures that didn’t involve old wounds. It had been awkward here and there, some of them landing and some of them leaving you both looking like fools, but he was trying.

Almost as hard as he was currently trying to not jump your bones. 

When you recognize the innuendo for what it is, however, you harden immediately. Your shoulders set, a frown settles, and your eyes open with set determination he knows he can’t falter without speaking plainly to you. 

“No.”

“No?”

You’re quick to lift yourself up onto your knees, putting distance between yourself and his hands, “The days of weaponizing sex are over. I don’t even want to joke about that.” 

And, oh, he’s finding himself in quite the mood tonight, because as soon as you’re retracting, he’s following. As you settle on the haunches of your calves, he’s lifting up from his reclined position, leaning forward so that his face is breaths away from yours. 

“I mean it,” you warn, narrowing your eyes and holding up a finger in that small space between you two. 

He tests his luck, wasting no time in snapping his fangs just millimeters from your skin. You both know he wouldn’t actually bite you, but it still humors him to see the way you whip your hand out of his reach. 

“Were you not the one who insisted that we ask before we bite?” you snap, and his smile only worsens. Like a cheshire cat, like a child never scorned by the world – he’s radiant and basking in the moment. 

He lets out a small hmph before saying, “You’re no fun, my dear. Come on – just play with me for a moment, won’t you?” 

Your face softens at his teasing tone, and he can see the way he’s withering away your defenses one by one. There was once a time where he’d done it with malicious intent, but this time around, it’s with nothing but good intentions. 

If you asked him, he’d go as far as to swear it on his own grave. 

“I’m sorry,” you apologize as if you’d done something wrong, and it makes more than half of his own playfulness drain from his face in absolute displeasure. Before he can so much as open his mouth to scold you about unnecessary apologies, you’re continuing on, “I just… After everything we’ve been through, it’s not something I find particularly joyous to joke about.”

What a rare thing, to have found someone to bare your soul and all your burdens to, and watch them offer to help you shoulder the weight without second thought or regret. 

He’s never met someone like you in all his years, and he might never again. 

“And if I told you I wasn’t joking?” he asks slowly, carefully, trying to choose each word with the utmost care, “I’m not weaponizing – I’m offering.” 

Whenever you’re ready. Just tell me when, and I’m yours.

He was ready. Very, desperately, sorely ready. 

The topic of the reunion is all but forgotten as you process his words, nose twitching as you decipher all that’s he laying out before you. “I want more than an offer.” 

“Excuse me?” 

He can’t help the small laugh that leaves him as he sits up properly, leaning into your space fully now with one hand pressing into the mattress just beside one of your thighs. He can feel the heat radiating from you, smell your blood rushing to your head as you try to be sensible. It’s a pitiful excuse for an internal war; all he has to do is close that conveniently small distance between your lips with his own, and you’ll have lost all sense of logic. 

“You’re…” you trail off, searching his eyes as if he holds the answer you’re currently looking for, “You’re sacred to me, Astarion. You must know that. And it will take much more than some joking offer to convince me to have sex with you when I know-”

“I’m not joking,” he’s nearly whining, letting his forehead fall forward to press to yours, “Gods, I am not joking about this. Cross my heart and hope to die again.” 

If he has to beg, he will. 

He’s spent two hundred years in an insufferable position of pure misery, pure shit, and the realization that he’s finally free has everything clicking into place. Proof of the change exists solely in the fact that he could have resorted to his tired old seduction routine from his life before to get what he wanted, but instead, he’s trying to just communicate. 

It was a novel moment. 

But he could appreciate it later, when the crotch of his pants wasn’t becoming increasingly uncomfortably tight and he wasn’t watching you closer than prey. When his stomach wasn’t so tight with desire and anticipation, just waiting for your word to indulge. 

“Do I need to beg?” he sighs, his lips brushing against yours ever so slightly from proximity. He catches the shiver that runs up your spine. “We both know I’m not particularly fond of it, but if I have to get on my knees for you- well, actually, that’s the entire point of what I’m asking.” 

You laugh at that, and his gut twists again, because it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever had the opportunity to hear. Something more breath than any vocality, something sharp and spelling out the loss of words on your tongue. 

Your silence is enough for him to push it all a step further. Forehead still leaning against yours, he properly presses his lips to yours this time, slotting them between softer than a feather’s caress. Finding home as he can physically feel himself steal your breath away. His fangs just barely nip your bottom lip, unintentionally but still eliciting a delicious reaction of a gasp that makes him graze you a second time just to feel the way you’re leaning into him more, becoming absolute putty in his hands. Pliable for his taking, and Gods, he wants to take you. 

Something snaps. 

All hesitation has vanished as he grabs at your hips quickly, making use of the way your brain has gone blank from a simple kiss in order to lay you out below him. He moves you with ease, incredible speed in slotting himself between your legs before he’s caging your entire body in with his own. The squeak that leaves your lips from his manhandling affects him even more than your gasps had, a low growl shaking his chest as he kisses you deeper. Tasting, begging, searching – he wants this, but he needs to know that you want this just as badly. 

Your hands find purchase on each of his shoulders, squeezing tightly as if needing something to tether yourself to. You pull him in closer for a second, eagerly returning the kiss, almost feverish in the way you drink him in. But the next, you’re pushing him away, a game of want and sensibility still clouding your judgment impossibly. 

You always were stubborn about things like morals. And, well, it wasn’t very moral to just jump right into sex with your traumatized boyfriend who had explicitly said not to view him in terms of sex, was it? 

It was Astarion’s own damn fault. 

He could have just acted like a normal person, initiated a normal conversation in which he renegotiated his boundaries. But you’ve been on his mind all day, and he’s long since proven since the very day that you met him that he has little to none impulse control. 

“My, my,” he murmurs, pulling back from the kiss, eyes wild, looking at you with even more hunger than he had the first night you’d given him a taste of your blood in camp, “You’re just an impossible thing to please, aren’t you? Do you want me near, do you want me far? Tell me, my love, what do you want?” 

He settles all his weight onto one of his forearms as the other slowly brings his hand to your side, caressing over the soft fabric of your shirt – a shirt he’s quickly realizing is actually his own. He recognizes those flowy sleeves, that lacing across the chest, the off-white tone that had seen better days. Given all its wear and tear, he’s almost sure that it’s one of his shirts he had grown most comfortable wearing during the nights of your adventures against the Netherbrain. 

It’s cute. A sort of domesticity that he can ponder over later, when your legs aren’t hanging on his hips and your breaths aren’t coming out staccato as he hovers just out of reach from you. 

“I want whatever you want,” you whisper. Your eyes flutter open, looking at him with pupils so dilated they could swallow him whole. 

“Let me be very clear, then,” he hums, cold fingers creeping their way to the hem of the shirt, slipping beneath with practiced ease to find the smooth skin of your hips below. They dance and skitter up, up, up until he’s brushing against your ribs, “I want you. I want that warm cunt of yours, I want to feel every gasp and breath as your walls squeeze around me. I want to fuck you until you’re unable to walk on your own two legs, until you can only remember my name. I want to watch you come undone, my dear, and for it to be my own undoing.”

Your lips quiver in anticipation, and he feels your thighs tighten their hold on him, “Such pretty words. And… and no ulterior motives? No sense of obligation?” 

“None at all,” he smiles, a predator closing in on his prey, “I’m choosing this. If you want it, if you’ll have me, then I’m ready, pet.” 

Pet. The nickname rolls off his tongue, and he can imagine your walls fluttering just as your eyes do. 

Your hands lift from his shoulders to bury in his hair instead. One cradling the back of his head, the other resting on the nape of his neck as you toy with a snowy curl. It unfurls him further, has him humming lowly as he dips down to recapture your lips and bring you into him even closer. Closer. He needs all and any space between the two of you to become nonexistent. To feel every inch of your skin pressed to his, to allow you to physically curl up into his chest just as you had his mind all those moons ago, to make a home in a room with your name on it already somewhere between his third and fourth rib. 

“Do you really have to doubt if I’ll have you, my love?” you mutter against his mouth, smile breaking the kiss momentarily before he’s back with a vengeance. You don’t care – you’re apparently in a chatty mood, dodging his kiss to get your last words in, “There’s been a space in my heart for you since the moment I first met yo-”

“Yes, yes, very romantic,” he interrupts urgently, suddenly tugging your shirt up, “But, truth be told, love? I’m hoping there’s a space between your legs for me at this moment.” 

You snort, eyes pinched shut as you attempt to shake your head at the ridiculousness of the words that just left his mouth. At any other moment, you might point out how the outrageous comment is just another defense mechanism, veering him away from having to acknowledge the gentle sentiment behind your own words, but now’s not the time. When you open your mouth, probably to say something exactly along those lines, he rolls his hips down against yours, pinning your lower half deep into the mattress. You feel just how hard he is through his trousers – it’s impossible to miss, but he’s deliberating being sure that you feel it as he lets the tips of his fangs sink into your bottom lip. 

The resolve of fighting against his wishes is quickly dissolved. One thing after another, and Astarion has you bare beneath him before any other distractions or annoying conversation can send the two of you further off track. Your, his, shirt is tossed to one side of the room. Your parents fly to the other side of the bed. Only once he has the entire spanse of your body nude and vulnerable to him does he take the time to pause, to look down at you with absolute adoration. 

“Gods, you’re beautiful.” 

He’s said those words to you a million times before. Consistently greeting you with them, muttering them in the dead of night, whispering them as he kisses you awake. But they never lose their weight. And certainly not now, as he’s looking down at you like it’s the first time he’s ever seen that freckle on your chest or the curve of your stomach barren before him. 

“Please, if you’re comfortable with it…” you start, voice laced with desperation, but he shakes his head. 

He’s full of interruptions tonight, “Consider me comfortable with anything unless stated otherwise for this moment, my sweet.” 

“Take off your clothes, Astarion.”

His giddy smile should annoy you. That smug satisfaction in finally, finally getting his way as he undresses himself at almost twice the speed that he had stripped you. And yet he knows you’re enjoying yourself just as much as he is. You’re reveling in drinking in the bare caricatures of his body, every inch and every curve exposed to you just as you are to him. And when his cool skin meets yours again, his body sinking right into that space between your thighs that you’ve granted to him, you let out a short gasp that reminds him that you want this just as badly as he does.

You’ve waited just as long as he has. 

It almost mirrors that night on his grave. The slow descent of his body against yours, the way he slides a leg up to spread your own even further for him as he crawls his way back home to your lips. Unlike that night, however, he isn’t taking quite as much care, his movements far faster and far more needy. 

He’s been waiting long enough. He’s denied himself long enough. 

It really doesn’t matter when the last time he had enjoyed sex had been, because all that he cares about is that here and now, in this moment with you, there’s not a trace of imperfections to taint his enjoyment. 

Cazador is dead. The brain has long since been defeated. You are both safe. 

As he sinks into your heat, the only thing on his mind is that contentment, overwhelmed with the feel and smell of just you. 

He’ll never be a slave again. Never be viewed as something to simply be used and disregarded again, if you have any say. And one day, some day, he’ll even feel the warmth of the sun again. Thanks to you.

But until that day, the warmth of your love is enough.

When you sigh his name out so delicately, jaw all but unhinging itself in bliss as your back arches in reaction to his touches, he knows he’s made the right choice. 

And he supposes he lied, in a way, earlier. 

You’re not that hard to please – not when it comes to him, at least. Not when it’s his hands trailing along your skin, not when it’s his lips and fangs nipping at every opportunity. And certainly not when it’s his name that’s being chanted like a prayer from your lips in time with every thrust, every stroke, every single movement with the sole purpose of making both of you come undone. 

Astarion no longer questions when the last time he enjoyed sex was in the aftermath of it all. With you, pressed into his side, sweaty forehead nuzzling his chest, the only thing he cares about is the next time he’ll be able to do so. 

“We’re still going to that reunion,” you murmur, half asleep, fading away from him quickly to fall into blissful unconsciousness. 

He almost doesn’t breathe in fear of disturbing you. He’ll waste the night away, laying here, still as a statue for your comfort. 

It’s no surprise when he refuses to put up a fight, instead his hand simply drawing soft stars across the back of your bare shoulder blades as he sighs, “Yes, dear. We will. Now sleep.”

“I love you.” 

The words tumble from your lips so carelessly, so easily and without hesitation, he nearly shakes you awake to hear them once more. Again and again, he needs to hear them, to be reassured that you feel for him as ardently as he does you. 

But he has the rest of your forever to hear them. So he lets you sleep, sending you away with a simple press of his lips to your temples as your breathing evens.

“And I love you, my dearest sun.”

[queenimmadolla]

𝐖𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄'𝐒 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃

(dad!eddie x mom/pregnant!reader)

*NOT Mature, SFW — incorrectly flagged

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟏 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟐 ─ 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝟑 • more of the pennyverse here.

Summary: . . . After almost losing you in a scare related to your preterm labor, Eddie is reluctant to meet his newborn son, whose life still remains on the line, until some convincing from you. warnings: angst, a whole lot of angst, near death experience, difficult pregnancy, early labor, preterm birth, talk of loss of infants, birth defects, happy ending.

a/n: congrats on making it to part two! we still have quite a bit of angst to get through but we're almost through the storm! this part (even though i wrote Wayne's World as a whole) was my favorite to write, and i'm sure you'll be able to guess why. word count is 6k. good luck and happy reading! and for the people mad about the long post, sorry, had the 'keep reading' tab on but it kept fucking with the format and eating chunks of it. you're gonna have to scroll. let me know what you think? ◡̈

Hours passed by, Penny had fallen asleep in his lap again and so had most of his friends with the exceptions of Jonathan who looked like he could really use the sleep, Eden and Wayne. Steve would snap awake every once and a while, careful not to jostle his sleeping girlfriend. Nancy was asleep on Jonathan’s shoulder while Argyle used Eden’s lap for a pillow. Barb and Robin were hanging off chairs in the most uncomfortable looking positions, Robin’s snores almost painful sounding. The ‘kids’ (teenagers) had been picked up by their parents, only agreeing to go home if they could come back to wait with him first thing in the morning. 

  Eddie didn’t rest for a single second, mind torturing him with horrible, horrible thoughts. One played in his mind on loop; he was holding Penny as he walked out of the hospital. They were on their own.

  It held him captive, he hadn’t even noticed your doctor approaching him until she gently placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “Mr. Munson?”

  Wayne and Eddie traded quick glances and he handed Penny over, trying not to disturb her too much in his rush but she just curled up to Wayne.

  Eddie stood up, already feeling lightheaded. That voice in his head that had been torturing him whispered something cruel to him, enough to make him want to cease existing: maybe you, somewhere in this hospital, already gone and he didn’t know it. Was she about to confirm his worst fears?

  “I apologize for the fright we gave you. Your wife started hemorrhaging and she lost a lot of blood.”

  Yeah. Eddie’s world was ending. It was over.

  “But we were able to stop the bleeding and get her a transfusion. She’s stable and she’s going to be just fine.”

  The relief was almost crippling, the heaviest weight he’d ever felt on him was lifted. Eddie wanted to cry, he squeezed his eyes shut again, trying to compose himself before he broke down in front of another doctor.

  “We have her in a room, probably hold her for a couple of nights, depending on her recovery. Would you like to go see her?”

  “Yeah, yes, please.” He nodded rapidly, wiping furiously at his eyes. 

  Dr. Eisenberg nodded and began walking down the hall, “If you’ll follow me.”

  Eddie turned, ready to ask Wayne to look after Penny when Wayne cut him off, “Go. I'll let ‘em all know she’s okay and send ‘em home. They probably won’t be able to see her tonight or in the mornin’, but I’ll stick around. Let me know when I can come on up.”

  Eddie wanted to hug him, but he really needed to see you. 

  “Thank you, Wayne. For everything.” Then he was scrambling after Dr. Eisenberg, who had stopped to wait for him.

  The walk to your hospital room had Eddie ready to tear his hair out, he’d wanted to just ask your doctor for your room number so he could sprint the rest of the way because her pace was much too slow. He was desperate to get to you, to make sure you were really still alive.

  “Here we are,” she stated, pushing your room door open. “Hello, again, Mrs. Munson. I brought someone who’s been waiting for you.”

  Eddie’s breath hitched as Dr. Eisenberg stepped to the side and he finally saw you, eyelids heavy from whatever sedation you were still trying to pull yourself from, and a smile on your face that only widened when you locked eyes. 

  “Hi, baby,” you slurred, sleepy little smile not going anywhere. And neither were you. 

  The rush of emotions he was experiencing was too much, he burst into tears where he stood as Dr. Eisenberg closed the door behind her on her way out. 

  “Eddie…” you mumbled out, reaching the hand lacking an IV out to him. 

  Of course you were trying to comfort him, you were the one confined to a hospital bed, having just barely survived a traumatic birth and you were still trying to comfort him because you were perfect. 

  He slowly approached your bed, hot tears—he was surprised his body could even still produce more tears given how much he’d cried in the last few hours alone—streaming down his cheek. Eddie really did collapse when he reached you, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

  You wrapped your arms around him, holding him to your chest as best as you could, though you had no idea why he was crying, brain too hazy.

  Eddie didn’t sob, just silently shook as he wet your neck, inhaled your scent, felt your warm skin and pulse beating beneath his lips. He hadn’t lost you, you were still here.

  Ideally, he’d be holding you and squeezing you hard enough to ensure you’d never leave his arms again, but even in his emotional hysteria, he was mindful of your condition.

  Eddie pulled away, large hands framing your face as he pressed desperate kisses all over your face, making sure every inch was caressed with his love before he focused on your lips, mouth meshing messily against yours.

  You could taste the salt of his tears, feel a couple of stray ones catching where your lips met. While he may have been feeling a mixture of emotions, all you could feel right then was content and still a bit sleepy from the anesthesia.

  When Eddie felt he’d conveyed his love for you sufficiently, he pulled away, a wet and hoarse chuckle escaping him when he realized you could barely keep your eyes open.

  “You sleepy, baby?”

  “Mhmm.”

  “Get some rest, sweetheart,” Eddie’s thumb stroked over your bottom lip before resting over the center of it, “just, please wake up.”

  “Okay,” you mumbled, eyes already shut. Still, you managed to press a kiss to his thumb before you slipped into a blissful slumber.

  While you slept, Eddie had one of the nurses phone up the waiting room and sent Wayne. The poor man looked exhausted, but the relief on his face was evident when he saw you sleeping peacefully. 

   He looked like he wanted to cry, too. Instead, he just cleared his throat, blinked to keep the tears away and spoke low so as to not disturb you or the sleeping toddler in his arms.

  “Everythin’ alright?”

  “With her?” Eddie’s red rimmed gaze drifted back to you, focused on the rise and fall of your chest. Still breathing, “Yeah.”

  Wayne nodded once and they both stood there in silence for a few minutes as the world began to turn again. Something still wasn’t right, felt wrong. He could tell by the tension his boy still had, arms crossed as he crouched in the seat next to your bed. 

  “And the baby?”

  Eddie flinched as if Wayne had shot a gun off in the air rather than mention his son.

  “I don’t know.”

  Wayne watched him with a careful eye, Eddie looked almost like he was vibrating from the force at which his leg was shaking, even your hospital bed appeared to be affected by it, though not nearly enough to disturb you.

  As much as he wanted to comfort him, for once, Wayne didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know what to say and he had an inkling that anything that came out of his mouth wouldn’t be heard by Eddie. He was lost in the dark crevices of his own mind. 

  The most he could do was offer to give him some alone time, he was sure his boy wasn’t keen on others sticking around right now, even him. 

  “I’ll take Penny home, me and Maude’ll watch her.” 

  Eddie shook his head, a look of panic flashing over his face, “No, that’s alright. She can stay with me.”

  Wayne was reluctant, mouth set in a frown. Penny was a good girl, usually, but he didn’t know if Eddie could really handle her along with processing everything going on around him.

  “Really, we wouldn’t mind─”

  “I need her.” 

  That shut Wayne right up, he and Eddie shuffled to exchange Penny from his arms to her dad’s without waking her. She stirred momentarily then shoved her face into Eddie’s neck, her little body falling slack once more.

  Wayne gave his shoulder a good squeeze, ran his hand gently over Penny’s back before he leaned down—and in a rare show of affection—pressed a brief kiss to your forehead.

  As he was walking out of the room, Eddie felt the panic crawling down his throat again. He croaked out a broken, “Wayne─”

  Wayne paused in the doorway, turning to acknowledge Eddie but his nephew didn’t continue, just looked scared. For a moment, Wayne was caught off guard, sucking in a breath as his boy looked young for the first time in a couple of years. 

  Now, he knew you and Eddie were young. He’d been aware of it when you got together, aware of it when you told him you were pregnant with Penny but sometime after that, he stopped seeing your age, stopped seeing Eddie’s as the two of you grew up for her. Now, right then, he remembered with startling clarity that Eddie wasn’t even twenty-five. He looked so young because he was.

  Eddie didn’t have to say anything else because Wayne knew exactly what he wanted him to say.

  Wayne nodded slowly, mouth pressing into a firm line of determination, “Everything’s gonna be alright, kid.”

  Eddie choked up, held Penny a little tighter and Wayne went on his way.

  He found himself settling back into the seat he’d dragged near your bed, cradling Penny as she remained blissfully unaware and drooling on his scrub top.

  Wayne wasn’t wrong, she’d probably be a little too much for him but she was his kid, it wasn't like he could just hand her off to people when life came at him like this and he really did need her right now. Again.

  You were here and whole, but somewhere else in this hospital, a member of his little family was still slipping through his fingers. He couldn’t let the other one out of his sight, couldn’t lose her, too.

  Once more, Eddie remained restless as the hours passed. He sat in mostly silence. He’d turned on the tv near your bed, the volume high enough to drown out the sounds of the hospital outside of the room but much too low to wake you. Rain trilled against the windows, much more gentle than it had been earlier. The storm had also passed, and if there was even an ounce of humor in him, he would have been amused with how this storm seemed to fester like a black cloud looming over him. 

  It’d been a normal day up until he’d gone to Lucas’ birthday party, but he’d been skeptical about leaving you, worried something would happen. The metaphorical little black cloud formed over him, as a result, and so did the actual black clouds, quickly calling for wind and rain at high speeds. 

  And when Eddie had found out you were okay, you were alive, his black cloud disappeared, though it left behind damage and a cold atmosphere. The real storm had also run its course, leaving behind weather that reflected exactly how Eddie felt.

  Penny squirmed in his grasp, and he realized he’d tensed up so he quickly relaxed, shifting her into a more comfortable position in his hold. 

  “Why don’t you give her to me?”

  Eddie’s head snapped over to you, surprised to find you awake, somewhat lucid and watching him with a small smile on your face.

  “Because you just had your insides removed and put back in,” He smirked, another wave of relief washing over him. You’d woken up, you really were okay. You weren’t going to leave him.

  You rolled your eyes, making a vague hand gesture to brush the subject off, clearly the surgeons hadn’t removed your sass.

  “She’s tiny and there’s more than enough room on here for both of us.” You hissed as you slowly shimmied your way to the side of the bed and Eddie frowned.

  “Okay, how about you don’t move so we can limit the amount of heart attacks you give me today, yeah?” You knew Eddie must have been worried so you didn’t take the lack of humor behind his words and the tension on his face personally. 

  A quick glance at the clock confirmed your suspicions, “It’s three in the morning, Eddie. New day, but I’ll keep my antics to a minimum.”

  Insistently, you patted the spot next to you, perfectly Penny sized and high enough to guarantee she wouldn’t accidentally move against your incision.

  With a sigh, Eddie complied, gathering his daughter up. Tensing up disturbed her but full on moving her didn’t, most likely used to being carried into your home after she’d fallen asleep in her car seat or on the couch.

  She didn’t stir when he laid her down, either. You both had to rearrange her limbs into a more comfortable position, one that didn’t make it look like she was possessed. Once Eddie tucked her in, he let out another sigh and cast you an apologetic look, big brown eyes wide, glassy and full of sorrow.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you.” It was the last thing you deserved after what you’d gone through.

  The sincerity in his voice almost hurt you, it was heavy, as though it carried more weight than just a simple apology for his tone. 

  You held out your hand and Eddie immediately slipped his over it, locking his fingers with yours, squeezing as his breath hitched. 

  Your hand was so warm and soft. At one point in the last twenty-four hours, he’d thought he’d never get to feel it again, never get to hold your hand or see your pretty face. Never get to say…

  “I love you,” he blurted out, the panic he’d felt earlier when he couldn’t remember the last time he’d said those three words to you climbed right out of his belly, trying to claw its way out of his chest. Eddie took in a shuddering breath, head shaking as a hot tear escaped its confinement, trailing down his cheek. He moved to the other side of the hospital bed, so he wouldn’t crush Penny, and took your face in his hands, pressing a passionate kiss to your lips, hoping he was able to convey just how much he loved you.

  He needed you to know.

  “Eddie,” you mumbled as he pulled away, only to hide himself in the crook of your neck again. You could feel his tears against your skin and it alarmed you. “I love you, too, baby. What’s wrong?”

  “I thought I was going to lose you,” he confessed and you felt your heart seize up, “I thought I was gonna lose you twice in the same damn day. I was so fucking scared, sweetheart.” 

  When he’d been driving to the hospital, there had been a moment when he wondered if you’d still be breathing when he got there. It made him want to throw up so he quickly squashed it and forced it to the back of his head. It hadn’t been ideal when he’d entered the operation room, he didn’t like seeing you get cut open but it was comforting to see he’d overreacted. You were getting a c-section, you weren’t on your deathbed.

  Until you had been. 

  And for the second time that day, he thought you were going to die, thought he’d somehow cruelly manifested this for you and himself.

  “I’m alright, Eddie.” You freed your hand, grabbing his to cradle your cheek with. 

  “See? I’m okay. You didn’t lose me, you’re not going to.” Eddie pulls away from his hiding spot to stare down at you, the wounded puppy look still firmly in place so you add a little humor, hoping to get a smile out of him, “There’s no way I’m checking out this early, I can’t risk you moving on when you look this good.”

  Eddie’s hand was so big his fingers were tucked into your hair, his palm alone took up most of your cheek. His fingertips lightly massaged the area of your scalp available to him as the hurt on his face morphed into an earnest look, somehow more vulnerable.

  “There’s no moving on from you, you’re taking my soul, my heart, all of it with you when you go. You’re the love of my life, my everything. And that—fuck, it terrifies me because I’d still have Penny to take care of and I wouldn’t know what to do. I wouldn’t know how to pull myself out of it, if it’d even be possible and quite frankly, I don’t ever want to fucking find out.”

  Eddie was more than happy to have those types of questions remain unanswered for the rest of his life.

  “You’d be able to do it, I know you would. You would be able to take care of Penny and the baby.” You knew he would, your husband would pull himself out of his depression to make sure your children were okay because of how much he loved them, despite his grief.

  Eddie flinched, something you were quick to clock. You didn’t need to ask, he could see the question reflecting in those beautiful eyes of yours. 

  He had to break the news. You were already in a frail condition and he had to tell you the baby you’d almost died to have, your son, might still die.

  “Honey, the baby—he—fuck, he’s uh…there’s something wrong with his heart.”

  The way your face plummeted shattered something inside of him. 

  “What?”

  “He’s got a hole in his heart, the doctor said it was pretty common amongst heart defects but since he was born so early, it’d be difficult to medicate him or perform an operation. All they can do is keep him under observation, he still might not make it because of how young he is.”

  You squeezed your eyes shut, head dropping back to meet your pillow as you tried, and failed, not to cry. Why was this happening? You blamed yourself, why hadn’t you been able to keep him in your belly? Why had your own body betrayed you? Why had you failed your baby?

  “This is all my fault,” you declared, eyes and cheeks growing wet with your tears.

  “No, no, sweetheart.” Eddie was not about to let you take the blame for something out of your control or even allow you to believe any of this was your fault. “You can’t possibly believe this is on you. These things happen, it obviously isn’t ideal, but it’s just circumstance. It’s not your fault and it’s not the baby’s fault. You did everything you could and more. Okay?”

  He leaned in, finger stroking gently across your cheekbone as he caught a tear. You sniffled, nodding once as he pulled you back together.

  “What does he look like?” You asked, snuggling back into the pillow as Eddie coddled you.

  He hesitated for a moment before he answered, “I—I don’t know.”

  That elicited a small frown from you, “You haven’t seen him yet?”

  Eddie swallowed hard, gaze moving away from you, “No.”

  You waited, watching a series of emotions pass over his features. Eddie often tried to keep his internal struggles to himself, a habit you noticed once you became friends with him (ironically, through some trauma bonding) and even into your relationship. You hadn’t expected him to confide everything in you right away, though you had let him know should he ever need someone to talk to, you’d be there.

  Now, it wasn’t a matter of if he would, it was when. It didn’t take him long. 

  “I don’t know—I guess,” he pursed his lips, eyes squeezing shut as he felt the all too familiar burn of fresh tears. How many times had he cried in the last twenty-four hours? He felt ridiculous to be so emotional, then again, he’d never thought he’d find himself in this tragic situation, so he was due for a couple of breakdowns, “I know if I go down there and I—I look at him, I’m gonna fall in love with him and then what? He dies. I can’t do that, not if I’m gonna lose him forever. I can’t.”

  Eddie was leaking tears, not yet sobbing but well on his way as he made his confession. He couldn’t stomach seeing his baby boy if he was going to be taken away from him, if the two of you would have to put a tiny little coffin—a size that should never have to exist—six feet into the ground. He’d been put through the fucking ringer but Eddie couldn’t do that. It would break him.

  Eddie’s confession had you crying as well, you shared his pain. You didn’t want to lose your baby, either. You couldn’t remember what he looked like through the haze of your fatigue when you’d given birth to him, but if you tried to think hard enough, you could remember how it felt to have him in your arms in the passenger seat of Wayne’s truck. The first time you’d held him and you hoped it wouldn’t be the last. 

  Even if it was, you were grateful you’d had the chance to and you knew Eddie would never forgive himself if he didn’t get to see him, didn’t get to meet him.

  “I know you’re terrified, Eds. It scares me, too.” You grabbed his hand just as it slipped away from your face, encouraging him to look at you. “I don’t want to lose him, either. I want to take him home. I want to cuddle with him, nurse him, take tons of pictures of him with Penny and with you, but most of all, I want to make sure he knows I love him.”

  It killed you to imagine your baby in an incubator, small, helpless and with no one but the nurses, who could make the time to check on him in between all their other patients, offering him comfort. Human contact. And if he did end up passing, he could do so alone in there, not knowing how loved he was. 

  “I know you love him, Eddie, and you don’t want to lose him. But you can’t lose him if you don’t have him, baby. I hate that this is even a possibility for us, but I’d rather have held him and lost him than to never have picked him up at all. I’ll be okay with whatever you decide, but do you really want him to die without having gotten to meet his dad?”

  Eddie let out a choked sob as he shook his head. He didn’t want his baby to die at all but you were right, if he did lose his kid, he’d spend the rest of his life agonizing over the same thing Eddie had been upset with himself for when he thought he’d lose you. He’d been unable to recall the last time he told you he loved you. Only, he’d know he never told his son. 

  “I’ll be right back,” he swore and you nodded just as he leaned down to give you a kiss. He wiped away his tears, inhaled a particularly violent sniffle and you watched as he left your room to finally meet his baby.

  Eddie felt almost disorientated as he navigated his way to the NICU. He’d been there once, briefly, to check on Penny when she’d been there for a few hours, but that was a couple of years ago and he’d needed the assistance of several nurses and staff to direct him, but he finally made it.

  The entrance room, where the viewing window was located, was nearly empty. There was a woman further down, gazing through the large window.

  Eddie approached it with caution and his heart racing a mile a minute. It wasn’t too difficult to find his baby. His son was in an incubator, close to the window and labeled ‘MUNSON’. For the first time, Eddie got to take his son in. He had been right, he fell in love with him at first sight.

  He was smaller than some of the other babies, bigger than others as well and surprisingly well developed. Kind of calmed Eddie’s nerves, just a little. He had a couple of monitor pads attached to his tummy with an additional one wrapped around his tiny foot. Other than the nasal cannula, baby Munson didn’t have a whole lot of tubes attached to him like Eddie had imagined and he could see a smattering of hair on his head, somewhat light in shade but he had a feeling it would darken soon to resemble his own. 

  It was hard to tell if Wayne and Penny were right in their description of him, Eddie couldn’t tell if he was still pale since the baby was cloaked in blue light, but he assumed his son had gained some color by then. Eddie also couldn’t make out his eyes, those were covered by some sort of eye cloth, most likely for protection. He looked a little odd, obviously resembled a baby and while his features were almost indistinguishable, appearing a little generic, as his face still needed to develop a little more, Eddie could see hints of familiar features. 

  He looked like newborn Penny, well, so far. Her features had obviously changed since then, and still were, but he was promising to look almost exactly like she had when she was born. And Eddie thought Penny looked a lot like you, so it got a smile out of him, regardless of the fact his son was bound to resemble his family.

  Eddie watched the rapid rise and fall of his chest with concern. Was he supposed to be breathing that fast? Was he okay? 

  “Which one is yours?”

  Eddie turned to peer over at the woman who’d asked him the question, “Munson.”

  Eddie watched as her gaze moved over all the incubators until they found the correct one.

  “Oh, he’s a cute one. And his breathing looks incredible.”

  “Really? It’s not too fast?” He asked, the worry in his voice obvious.

  “Considering it’s his first time pumping those lungs, I don’t think so, no. Looks like he’s breathing real good to me. Mine needs a little help.” She pointed through the glass to an incubator that housed a baby with a tube in its mouth as well as individual ones in each nostril unlike his son’s nasal cannula. Eddie felt horrible.

  “I’m sorry,” he tried to apologize but she waved him off, a smile still on her face. 

  “Don’t be, that’s all mine is here for. As soon as she figures out how to keep doing it on her own, she’ll be back with me and my wife.”

  Right on, Eddie thought. Before he could continue their conversation, a nurse knocked on the window.

  She gestured down to the baby, “Is he yours?”

  Wow, this glass must have been thin, he could hear her pretty good.

  For some reason, Eddie still assumed she couldn’t hear him and only nodded. She disappeared for a minute and emerged into the room through a large pair of doors. 

  “Would you like to hold him?”

  Eddie glanced at the other occupant and she gave him a nod of encouragement. 

  “Yeah,” he rasped out, turning to look at his son through the window once more, “Yeah, I would.”

  Eddie was nervous the entire time as she prepped him with instructions. While they were concerned about the hole in his son’s heart, he was well developed, had strong vitals, good reactions, even for thirty weeks. He was so good that had it not been for his heart, he probably would have been sent home at the same time as you, given your longer than average stay due to your c-section and preeclampsia.

  And when she placed him in his arms, the love he had for his son almost overwhelmed him. He couldn’t believe he almost denied himself this. 

  “Can I touch him?” He asked, after he’d stopped marveling at the small face—eyes still hidden—in his arms. 

  “Mhm, we’d encourage it. Babies, even born preterm, are still very much so human. He craves the contact, it might even encourage him.” 

  Eddie didn’t hesitate, fingers gently stroking over the soft fluff of hair on his son’s head. This close, he could see it all pushed towards the middle of his head, like a mohawk. His baby was already metal straight out of your womb, it made him chuckle. 

  The nurse stepped away to tend to another baby, giving him a little privacy. Eddie maneuvered his son so he was resting on his chest, little head pressed against the spot just over his heart.

  “Hi,” he whispered down to the baby in his arms, “I’m your dad.”

  Much to Eddie’s awe, the baby nuzzled his head against his chest, making him still. He didn’t know why, but he’d believed his son wouldn’t be able to move for some reason. It was nice to know he was wrong.

  “It’s nice to finally meet you, too,” he laughed, the sound soft, “I’ve been looking forward to it, you must have, too. You sure know how to make an entrance, huh? Couldn’t wait in your mom any longer?”

  Eddie ducked down to kiss his little head, lips remaining there as he moved to sit in one of the few chairs of the NICU. 

  “It’s okay, though. I’ve got you, daddy’s got you.” Even if the outcome wasn’t okay, right at that moment with his son in his arms, everything felt like it would be. And if his son needed encouragement, Eddie would give it to him. 

  “I’m sorry it took me so long to come find you, your mom had to talk some sense into me. She loves you a lot, you know? Probably jealous I’m down here and she isn’t, but only because she physically can’t just yet.”

  Eddie’s hand went to support the back of his head as he moved the baby down to hold in his hands, staring down at his little face. 

  “I’ll bring her down to see you again as soon as I can, though. So you gotta keep fighting, okay? I know things are hard for you right now, not as easy as the other babies in the hospital, but I know you can do it. I love you so much, your mom and I just want to take you home, so you gotta beat this, okay?”

  Eddie rocked his baby, gentle swaying motions as he pressed kiss after kiss to his head. 

  “I see you’ve made it down for a visit,”

  Eddie glanced up at the face of Dr. Houseman, she didn’t look as intimidating as she had when she’d first approached him in the waiting room.

  “Sorry to disturb you, but I’m very glad I caught you. I heard your wife is doing well.”

  “She is,” he confirmed, with a relieved grin. 

  “Good, I’m glad. Have you been given an update on your little guy?”

  Eddie recounted what the nurse had told him and Dr. Houseman looked pleased.

  “Well, I have more news for you. He’s proving to be much stronger than we’d initially anticipated, and while his vitals were already good on intake, they’ve improved tremendously in the last few hours and so have his responses. I think he’s figuring out what he’s capable of doing; how to breathe, how to move, how to eat—we introduced him to a rubber nipple to check his latch response and it’s good, not quite there yet, we’ll have to get creative with his feedings but I think he’ll be able to latch onto his mom soon.”

  She must have caught the way Eddie perked up at her use of the word soon. That meant his baby had a fighting chance.

  “These first few hours after a birth such as his and with his condition are crucial. While he’s still significantly weaker than an average full term newborn, your baby seems to be a fighter.  Should he survive this next night, I believe he’ll make it. He’d just need some time in here while the hole closes up, but it just might not be too much for him.”

  She left him with that news and a parting smile.

  Eddie held his son for a few more minutes before a nurse returned to put him back in his incubator. He hadn’t wanted to leave him, but he’d promised him he’d be back.

  When Eddie got back to the room, his heart was a little lighter and he was able to smile when he saw you giving Penny, who was now wide awake, kisses. He pressed his back up against the door and watched for a few moments as you leaned in and gave her a loud kiss. She’d go into a fit of giggles before demanding another with an again!

  “Daddy!” Penny beamed the moment she saw him and Eddie grinned as he made his way over, lifting her into his arms when she held hers up to him.

  “Hi, pretty one. You sleep good?” 

  “Uh-huh,” it was clear she was distracted and didn’t care about his questions, no, she had some of her own. “You see my baby?”

  Eddie raised an eyebrow, trading an amused look with you.

  “Oh, he’s your baby now?”

  “Ya, he’s—he’s my baby.” She nodded with a grin as she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he leaned down to press his forehead to hers.

  “Well, then yes. I saw your baby,” he chuckled, pressing a kiss to her nose.

  “Wha’helooklike?” Penny blurted out, eyes wide as she waited for his reply. 

  “He looked a lot like you.” 

  “Nooooooo,” Penny laughed, shaking her head against her dad’s, “He is my potatoes, not anoda Penny.”

  “It’s true!” Eddie laughed with her as he put her back down by your side and leaned in to give you yet another—he’d never stop giving them to you—kiss.

  “He looks like her?” You asked, after you’d returned his kiss.

  “Mhm,” Eddie fell back into the seat he’d occupied hours earlier. “Looks like she did when she was a newborn. He’s not pale—like a potato,” he directed that part to Penny who just laughed into her little hands, “anymore, at least. I don’t know whose eyes he has, they were covered.”

  Eddie was right about you being jealous, you were practically green with it. 

  “I wish I could see him,” you stated sadly, frown on your lips. You knew, realistically, if he started to decline, they’d most likely let you out of bed to see him or bring him up to you, but still. You’d rather it not come to that.

  “Ran into his doctor while I was there, she said he’s got a better chance.”

  Your eyes lit up, “Really?”

  “I was just about ready to kiss her.” He nodded and you made a face, nose doing that adorable scrunch he loved so much.

  “Okay, well, don’t do that.”

  Eddie snickered, “It was a figure of speech, baby.”

  “I know, I’m just saying it on her behalf,”

  “On her behalf?” Eddie pouted, eyebrows pulled together in confusion.

  “Yeah, I want to kiss her, too, but—uhm, Eds, you might need some sleep ‘cause—you’re hot, you really are, but you also look insane right now.”

  Eddie got up to make his way to the bathroom so he could see himself in the mirror, nearly jumping once he’d turned on the lights.

  His eyes were beyond bloodshot, his eye bags were dark and very apparent, his skin had an interesting almost gray like tinge to it and his hair was a wreck. Eddie looked like he belonged in a psych ward.

  “Jesus,” he shouted loud enough to be heard by you.

  “It’s okay, Eds. You’re still beautiful to me!”

  Eddie did end up sleeping. Turns out the chair he’d been sitting on was also a pull out bed. You insisted that he get some rest, and while he did, you changed Penny’s diaper and got some hospital room service for the two of you, you’d even picked something out on the menu for Eddie to eat once he woke up. 

[damnfandomproblems]

Responding to 3 anons in #5796

"I agree with this tbh. Like adults are the ones making things unsafe for minors in fandom spaces. YOU are the ones who approach minors unprompted. Minors are just minding their own business in fandom, then you all come along and bother everyone."

Predators that are adults are not synonymous with all adults in fandom. It's not the fault of the vast majority of fandom that kids purposefully bust into adult spaces and arbitrarily believe the creeps saying they're "safe" adults. It's the fault of your parents for not reaching you worth a damn and the predator. And yes, kids do fucking barge into adult NSFW spaces. None of the the ones that say they mind their business actually do.

"I agree with this post, cause like... the ones doing the most harassing are adults. I am a minor, and it makes me feel unsafe in fandom spaces. Especially when I see adults drawing nsfw of characters who are MINORS! aging them up does not excuse that gross and creepy behavior. Just stop and give us a space where we don't get pushed into a corner and called annoying. Leave our fandom spaces!"

It's gonna be really funny when you age out of your favorite characters and have a moral dilemma over the fact that you don't stop thirsting over Bakugo or whoever the fuck the minute you're older than him.

And aging up is...how time works. That's like saying no one can view anyone sexually, fictional or real life, because they were once a child. Do you realize how stupid that sounds? If you don't want to be sat at the kids table, learn how to behave rather than screaming at the main table because Aunt Milly told an off color joke and Grandpa Joe has a naked Princess Peach tattooed on his arm.

"I see people getting mad about Fandom Problem #5796, but that kind of is just proving the point? You all act like the minors are the biggest problem in fandom, but you are the ones constantly inserting yourselves and making it about you.

I see adults say things like:

- "Fandom wouldn't exist without adults."

- "Who do you think created fandom? Not minors!"

- "Minors wouldn't have content if it weren't for adults."

All are ignorant of the idea that minors are the foundation to fandom. Fandom would not exist if it wasn't for minors being interested in it and starting groups for people to join. Often times, the best artists and writers in the fandoms are THE MINORS.

Adults make the space uncomfortable by inserting themselves and putting NSFW fics and art of minor characters. Then they get pissy when a minor points out it makes them uncomfortable and go "stop invading our space!"

You are the ones trying to push minors out when we just want to have fun! Just leave us alone!

-A minor"

Minors aren't the biggest problem, no. But by food are they the loudest. You say you just want to have fun but minors have on mass harassed people that were leaving them alone simply because they didn't understand the concept of dead dove don't eat.

And no, you are not, nor have you ever been, the foundation of fandom. It has always been adults, from the very beginning when Sherlock Holmes novels gained an international fan club unlike the world had ever seen to the 1960s housewife Spock/Kirk shipping Trekkies starting conventions, mailing lists, having coalate parties for zines, and laying down the foundation we have today. Adults were the ones that got sued my lunatic writers in the 90s, and they're the ones that, 90% of the time, are buying the services or media for you to consume in the first place.

And I'm sorry, but the best artists and writers in the fandom are never minors. Exceptionally talented minors are exceptional for a reason. The rest of you sit somewhere between "average and has potential" to "would make My Immortal hide its face in secondhand embarassment." Art and writing are skills, and anyone under the age of 16 likely hasn't been writing fiction long enough to run with the heavy hitters. Considering the state of the US education system, this is an even more laughable stance.

Many minors have great potential, but acting like your the best in show when you just made it out the gate is the height of hubris.

Posting as a response to a previous problem.

[beforeastorm]

We used to be a proper fandom (not really)

I'm not going to link or reference directly, because the claims have not been verified to any reasonable degree, but I have watched 911blr descend into... something... over the last couple of days because of a situation(s) involving truly horrendous fics, homicide-this-character accounts, and some pretty intense accusations about who (both specifically and as a group) is culpable for those behaviors. And I have some thoughts.

(Under the cut, because I ramble).

Desensitization and Escalation: The fics/account/posts/tweets didn't happen in a vacuum. They're, unfortunately, a natural evolution of what's been happening for months (before anyone ats me, on both/either side). It starts small: I hate so and so, I hate so and so's fans; so and so is the worst, so and so's fans are the worst. People become desensitized to it and then you're primed to escalate. THIS IS CLASSIC SOCIAL CONDITIONING. From I hate them, to someone should enact violence on them, to they deserve that violence, to I hope they die, to they have to die, etc.

I literally saw a tweet that stated something along the lines of "RT if you think we shouldn't consider (ship stans) humans". I'm sorry why are we questioning folk's humanity? About a television ship? The tweet did very well. Tons of likes and RTs. Anytime someone called them out for it, they were told to lighten up and learn how to take a joke. That it wasn't that serious. Well, here we are, a couple months later, and shit has gotten pretty serious now, eh?

And the longer in-groups permit this behavior, at any level, the more the cycle continues. And yes, it does need to be in-groups holding their own to account. And that's not always calling them out - especially if they're not in your circle. And not that you shouldn't call out behavior from the other side, but also - let's sweep our own kitchens before we call someone else's house a mess.

And, to be frank: both houses are messy so don't even.

And let me clarify by what I mean when I say holding people accountable. Because Tim Minear, to my knowledge, has not made any of us 9-1-1 fandom police, nor appointed a fandom inquisitorial squad. So you don't have to proverbially yell at someone to hold them accountable, though if you think they're open to a dialogue - then go for it. You can also choose not to engage/reblog/like/repost bad content; you can unfollow them, even if they make really cool art or write otherwise awesome fics or have really insightful takes 95% of the time. You can make a counterclaim or disavow a bad take; if it's someone in your circle by all means have a developmental conversation. The (ship) fandom would never! Yes they would. So would (other ship) fandom, and even (third ship) fandom and I've actually never met a toxic Bathena fan so go off kings (/gn) but there's probably one out there somewhere. Liking a ship isn't a vaccine to toxicity. Toxic, damaged people exist everywhere. They've existed since the dawn of time. I don't want to accuse anyone of being naive, but really? All this line of thinking does is create blind spots where we allow bad actors room and space to fester. We can, and should state that there's no space for this in the (ship) fandom, and anyone behaving in such a manner will face appropriate social sanctioning, up to and including ostracization. But to just flatly deny the possibility that someone on 'our side' might be bad is irresponsible.

The remedy is suffocation, not to ignore it: I get that you don't want to, to use fire metaphors because it's 9-1-1 after all, feed the flames by engaging with bad actors and giving them attention. Unfortunately, when you ignore a fire, it can spread unchecked.

Suffocate that motherfucker (metaphorically) and grab the burn kits. Starve them out. Unfollow, block - warn your friends - offer care to any affected. If it breaks ToS - report it. YOU SHOULD RESPOND, but you can choose to respond in ways that don't give bad actors the attention they may be craving.

This act was perpetuated by (ship) stans! I feel like I'm in an episode of Scooby Doo. It's not bad (ship) fans, it's (anti-that-ship) fans PRETENDING to be (ship) fans to make them look bad and sow chaos? RIP OFF THE MASK! Was it Agatha all along?

I do believe that happens. I also believe that not every single take that makes your preferred ship/fandom look bad is from a double agent. All pure, immediate, unequivocal denial and accusation does is provide cover and perpetuate the rot in that ship space. Before we immediately accuse the other side, we should show up with some goddamn receipts. (I have yet to see receipts).

And listen, people don't need to like each other, or even agree, BUT I WOULD LIKE TO BE ABLE TO OPEN AO3 WITHOUT WORRYING ABOUT STUMBLING ACROSS UNTAGGED CSA, ESPECIALLY FOR MY HOMIES WHO ARE SURVIVORS, BECAUSE SOME JABRONI WENT "SHIP WARS RAH RAH!" AND DECIDED THAT WOULD BE A GOOD IDEA.

At the end of the day - fandom should be joyful. If your entire experience has been reduced to bashing another ship, bashing characters, starting rumors about other fans, complaining about other fans/ships/characters, impersonating fans of ships you're against, or infiltrating 'enemy territory' like you're some kind of spy and not some overworked, underpaid 21st century serf trying to exist under the crushing, existential weight of our capitalist hellscape whose main form of escaping said hellscape is our weewoo show blorbos? Be so for real right now. It's giving Regina George. Why are you so obsessed with them? Choose to engage with joy (or alternatively, choose to engage in really sad fics if you need a good cry because that is fair and also valid).

Stormy out ✌️

[fleshwerks]

Ugh, there's no end to it. Sorry, followers. ADHD hyperfixation says, and it won't stop until it's late at night and I'm crawling into bed, brain-tired, asking myself 'what the hell was the point of all that, Mari?' This time, we set our iron sights on Rook.

Relying on my reblogged post about pope Leliana, here's another problem. I think they kind of wanted another Hawke, but also wanted a blank slate. The Inquisitor received shrapnel for being 'bland', but you could still pretty effectively roleplay personality onto them with with the admittedly meagre dialogue options. The problem with Rook is that thy're ne ryba ne myaso. They're not a stand-alone character with existing personality + a lot of intense player-induced flavour. But they're not a complete blank slate with some vague history that leaves a lot up to the headcanon, either. Rook's just three flavours of friendly: nice-polite, nice-jokey, nice-stern. Rook is just... nice. Not burdened heavily by past connections of family and personal experiences, but not a complete blank slate like the Inquisitor, either. You can't really project onto Rook because there's just enough there for them to be a character separate from what you've largely personally created, but they're not interesting enough as a separate person for you to mould them to your vision. Some argue that the 'asshole option' and wanting it to be there just means that you, the player are an asshole and you want to be an asshole, and that means you're a bad person. But how about when you want your Rook to be nice, but have a breaking point? Where Rook's patience runs out and they just fucking snap? , but not too stern. It'd be nice to have an option to do that. And from what I gather from what I saw, the option simply isn't there for the most part.

Rook is built to be accommodating. Sacrificing existing personality and player-made personality for the sake of catering to solving the problems your companions.

It's a roleplaying game in name only. And you can do that thing well. Pathologic 2 does it well, it has a lot of flavour, though it doesn't affect the outcome. But the flavour matters. You can have a very distinct personality without it causing problems for the writers who have a certain story and outcome in mind. It starts to come across like Bioware's writers were either hamstrung by an inexperienced lead and/or financiers, or it's a crew comprised entirely of inexperienced people who don't know how to do good game writing, or the problem is someone who is experienced, but has a strong but incompetent vision, and is simply not willing to compromise. Still, one has to wonder what the brief by the investors was. Because right now it sounds like the brief was: "Offend no one. We need to cast a wide net and make some fucking moneeeey."

Looks like the fans are once more saddled with having to make their headcanon entirely from scratch, but this time with no support whatsoever from the in-game dialogue wheel. Which... honestly? It's my jam, when I'm not playing. But when I'm playing, I want to either play someone with established personality, or a total blank slate with plenty of room to build character in-game and support my headcanon that way. Not someone who's completely shackled somewhere in the middle, too afraid of saying anything wrong and thus reducing themselves to a single trait: "nice."

Where's Vivienne rearranging your castle furniture just to provoke you because she thinks you're a troglodyte who doesn't know their arsehole from their mouth based on your increasingly hostile interactions (if you go down that path. Her positive path is very rewarding).

Disclaimer: I could get the game and sit with Rook for several playthroughs, but I said it before and I say it again: a good game gives you most everything on the first playthrough. A poor game relies on subsequent playthroughs and a shitton of legwork by the player's own imagination to wring meaning out of this cold piece of smooth and featureless rock.

[ancientbygone]

bygone lore: Sleep

finally found it in me to write my thoughts/worldbuilding on Sleep in one place. this is taking so much courage to post this to the public, no joke, so i hope it's entertaining! not sure how much sense it all will make, but nevertheless.

okay, so. i just don't think Sleep is any sort of sleep/dream deity. not for any solid reason, just because 1) the only descriptions we get of it are secondhand from what Sleep has told to Vessel & i personally have no reason to trust Sleep with how manipulative that shit is and 2) i think it would be more fun that way, especially taking the first point into account. i legit just think that Sleep lied to Vessel about its nature to further whatever goals it had and Vessel passed the information onto us oblivious to the truth. i still think it's a relatively powerful supernatural force though. easy enough for a human like Vessel to be convinced that it is a god. more of a feeling than an actual entity, but still with its own sentience and wants and goals. could be whatever makes the most sense to anyone, but my personal take on what Sleep is instead of a dream god (what it is in my version of the lore) is that it's all the desires of every living thing congealed into a single being with a mind of its own. 

[cont. under the cut]

i think that works well personally! the lyrical themes of give/take and longing and Wanting from both sides make sense with it. even the "i want to want to live, and so do you" in Fall For Me. Sleep is driven by wanting, and being made from wanting itself, when it gets what it wants it just continues to go further, to the next step of its desires, ever insatiable. it becomes entwined with Vessel because when they meet for the first time, they want the same thing. they're both dying, and still they want to want to live. to be more precise, Sleep wants fuel; its existence relies largely on humans, and it needs someone who feels strongly and passionately (please don’t ask me why it’s dying, i don’t even know and don’t want to look too much into it). Vessel, on the other hand, wants a way to turn around his life that he may or may not have driven into the ground, and he believes that it cannot be fixed by any existing means, which is why he's lost all hope in living anymore. but those two desires perfectly coincide, do they not? they can help each other get what they want. so they try. 

it doesn't work out. it backfires horribly, in fact. i've talked about it before, but i think it's very important to mention regardless. Sleep, being pretty much desire incarnate, may have harbored certain negative feelings of its own towards humanity, but they never would've become anything if it were not for Vessel. Vessel's anger at the world around him, the way he believes he has been wronged by everyone, is palpable, and with Sleep having to draw on Vessel's emotions to survive for the time being, that anger infects it, too. the passive unnamed negativity becomes a strong desire to take revenge. with all of it combined, Sleep's supernatural power and Vessel's uncontrollable rage slowly takes over both of them, and Him is born, a despicable thing. it's all-consuming blind rage taking on a mind of its own, much like how Sleep came to be but so much more unstable and volatile. the revenge on humanity doesn't go further than a single person torn to bits with bare hands and teeth, both too dull to be effective, but that thing is nothing it not fucking determined. it does fall apart immediately after, though, because it was barely together as is and killing someone was the tipping point for Vessel's consciousness somewhere deep in there. plus Vessel’s body honestly couldn't sustain Him for much longer. sorry for the tangent, i really love talking about that fucked up abomination.

but yeah, this experience changes both of them forever. Sleep gets a taste of feeling human emotions to a full extent, arguably even more so because of just how much Vessel feels; Vessel gets a taste of wielding inhuman power and releasing his emotions through it. Sleep's usual straightforward path of progression (just gaining more power, more control over more things) diverges as it realizes that it needs to feel like humans do again. Vessel, on the other hand, is fucking terrified of Him or something similar coming back, so he closes himself off and tries to repress his feelings back down again. he won’t let Sleep in again no matter how much he wants to be able to express his emotion with the same intensity as he feels them again. Sleep is well aware that Vessel wants that sort of relationship back, too. Sundowning is essentially Sleep trying to win Vessel back over and convince him to “help each other” once again, and realizing by Blood Sport that if Vessel doesn’t think he can handle it this time, he just needs to be made better suited for it. unfortunately, Sleep finds that breaking Vessel’s spirit, making him entirely emotionally dependent on it, and practically isolating him from the only people he interacts with on the daily (his bandmates) by stripping away his humanity in their eyes is very much a working strategy for getting him where it wants him to be.

Sleep’s tactics of manipulation are… algorithmic? for the lack of a better word, in the way that it doesn't really have a reason why exactly it's doing things other than that they're what's worked on Vessel so far. no real understanding of human psychology and whatnot, only trial and error until it pushes the correct set of buttons in the right order at the right time. it does learn more and more as their relationship progresses. Sleep also doesn’t exactly lie; it’s shapeless by nature & only able to embody what others put into it, and even then to a certain extent. it only really talks & shows itself to Vessel at any point because of their connection, and it’s able to draw from all of his emotions instead of just desire like any other human for that same reason. no matter what form Sleep takes, it’s always akin to a shadow, although the exact way the shadows look depends on who Sleep is showing itself to - drawing (pun intended) from Vessel’s artistic heart, Sleep looks to him like pencil on paper. Sleep does distort reality much in the same way that any emotion might - it pushes things to their extremes, makes them seem larger than life to get a response. as it grows and becomes more powerful in itself, it stops being able to appear as something smaller than it is, so pretty much any form it takes is an exaggeration of what it’s imitating. this ties directly into the mimics (see this (tmbte) and this (sundowning) for context), but also just. anything that Sleep appears as to Vessel. during TPWBYT, Vessel feels like his emotional repression is suffocating him, and Sleep’s most commonly assumed form during that time is a literal ocean that Vessel is often trapped in, drowning. during TMBTE, Vessel feels like he cannot escape his situation no matter how miserable it makes him feel, and Sleep appears to him as a reaper, taking that thought to its extreme conclusion that Vessel's only salvation might as well be death. even though Sleep isn’t a dream deity, its appearances still function on dream logic somewhat; it invokes the feeling of something in one’s subconscious that what they’re seeing is the actual thing Sleep is imitating, even if the actual visual resemblance is minor (that makes sense right please tell me it does).

what happens to Sleep once Vessel breaks free from him for good… i’m not entirely sure, honestly. it’s definitely not going to just disappear; a being of desire is going to exist as long as we still feel it. it isn’t gonna chase after Vessel, and i’m not really sure if it’d try and seek out another person to form a similar connection with. maybe we, the audience of Sleep Token living and feeling through Vessel’s music that has come from all his pain, sustain it well enough now. i don’t think it matters that much anyhow; Sleep is entirely unscathed either way afterwards, unlike Vessel. maybe i’ll figure out a little more eventually.

[the-lost-lights]

The Fixer Drone AU: Mini Update 1

(A follow up of THIS POST about my Fixer Drone AU)

Sorry for the delay but writer’s block is a bitch. Anyway I was planning to make another big post with lots of info about my AU but I’ve decided to downsize it in the first (possibly) in a series of small updates of this AU, adding a few info about the characters, some story bits and some random stuff.

Anyway, let’s start the show!

Tessa

She doesn’t sleep. EVER. She doesn’t even have a sleep mode function. This is because, before the Absolute Solver removed her capacity to sleep, every time she did that memories of her past tended to emerge, causing her to experience a notable amount of emotional distress and loosening the control the AS had on her. The lack of sleeping made her even more unstable than before but she’s fine with that since Cyn claims that’s for her own good.

Her head is 100% indestructible. You can hit it with a nuke and it wouldn’t be damaged by the explosion. This is because it stores her brain, left uncorrupted by the Absolute Solver, and if it ever got damaged or destroyed Tessa would die since her body lacks a core. She doesn’t know that and instead thinks that’s because she has a special, one-of-a-kind, irreplaceable custom-made core personally made by Cyn. 

 MPD

As some people correctly guessed they’re Tessa’s horrible parents, merged into an undying abomination in constant pain. They’re still aware of what happened to them and really want to kill Tessa not much for what she did to them but more for the fact that she allowed a Worker Drone (Cyn) to take over their company. 

They’re the only “person” working under Tessa that’s aware of the existence of the Absolute Solver, albeit they think that’s a human JCJenson worker that’s secretly working against Cyn. The AS promised them to let them kill Tessa but in exchange they would have to keep an eye on her and her assistants for some undisclosed reason….

Story Bits

I’m currently writing about Uzi’s first day at work: it starts with Tessa giving her a visit to the lab, letting her meet her coworkers N, V and J and giving her her first job: recovering an intact core drone that she left somewhere in the lab. It doesn’t go very well because the quartet of Drones can barely work together and Tessa forgot to add Uzi to the “do not kill” list of MPD.

Another idea I have it’s a short humorous story where Uzi finds out that N has a crush on V and tries to help him confess his feelings for her… And President Cyn decides to help. It’s going to be a trainwreck, especially since both Cyn and Uzi are terrible at romantic stuff and have to ask J for help in order to stop V from trying to kill N.

I have planned most of the story of this AU and I will post about it “soon” so that you’ll be able to know how the story ends in case I drop out of the fandom and decide to stop writing it.

[autistichalsin]

Okay, I’ve been a bit scared because I’ve been observing from the sidelines, but I do want you to know this isn’t a hateful or troll ask, I’m genuinely asking for clarification.

In my experience, “pro-shipping” has always meant ‘problematic shipping’, and all of the people I’ve talked to about this have said the same thing.

Am I the one who’s misconstrued? I really don’t get it.

Being called “pro-harassment” or “pro-censorship” is hurtful and confusing as all hell.

I don’t harass people for what they create. I don’t care to do that. I block and move on, and warn people if I know they could be upset by the content.

But I also don’t understand how certain things are justified.

I am personally not bothered by much, but I have watched friends and acquaintances go through visceral traumatic reactions because people have decided to air out their coping by sharing it with the public. (I.E, people who write romantic incestual fics, etc)

I don’t give a shit what people write. I really don’t. But it feels harmful to use the excuse of coping when you, in turn, could be hurting dozens of others.

Like I said, I genuinely am not trying to be hateful here. I’m confused, and still distraught that all of this is happening. I don’t think anyone deserves to be harassed. I just also don’t get the logic here.

Pro-shipping never once meant problematic shipping. It meant opposite of "anti" because antis would come and invade the tags and asks, calling them all kinds of names if they found their ships distasteful.

Sorry that being indirectly accused of supporting harassment hurt your feelings. Imagine how I felt, being DIRECTLY accused of supporting rape in real life because of my taste in fiction. You are throwing in your lot with people who can't distinguish fantasy and reality.

I don't like incest fics either, anon. They are triggering for me. So you know what I do? I don't read fics tagged as incest. For that reason, I have never been triggered by an incest fic. I suppose I would be if I read an incest fic that wasn't tagged as much, but you will never find a single pro-shipper who defends posting such content without a tag. You are responsible for your own experience online; it is your job to curate the content.

If it was just seeing that the fic exists that triggered the response, then I'm sorry to say they're still in the wrong. As a survivor, learning that triggers exist and how to navigate those triggers is on you. We are responsible for how we deal with our trauma. Your friends didn't deserve their traumas, and they deserve kindness and support, but requesting that people never be allowed to write distasteful fiction so that they don't have to be upset by the idea that someone somewhere shipped incest is not reasonable. Their feelings are valid; it's totally reasonable to be triggered, to strictly curate your online experience. It's reasonable to block everyone who ships the upsetting incest ships, to put an "incest shippers DNI" on your page, all of it. It's not reasonable to call them supporters of IRL incest or to accuse them of causing your trauma. It isn't hard at all on AO3 or Tumblr; they even give you the option to blacklist/filter out certain tags so you can avoid it without blocking users. There's easily half a dozen safeguards that already exist that are a lot less radical, a lot less likely to be weaponized against queer users, and a lot easier to enforce than trying to remove them.

Me writing fics, such as a character using kink to cope, can only harm a user who doesn't curate their feed (and who reads fics they know will trigger them, which I can only assume would then be a purposeful form of self-harm). Denying other survivors their coping mechanism, though, IS a direct form of harm. Stigmatizing recovery by saying that survivors are in any way akin to abusers for creating fiction is a direct form of harm.

It sounds to me like you've absorbed some very harmful and very narrow ideas of what recovery should and should not look like, and what is and isn't a good/valid survivor. You might want to reflect on why you're turning your attention to policing what survivors do to cope so much.

[thecynthh]

do you not find it a bit disrespectful to repost/rewrite other peoples fics? i understand that you’re doing it because people really liked them, or whatever, but i also feel like it’s kind of rude to do so.

personally, if i left this app or deleted my account and came back to find someone was posting my hard work, i would be genuinely upset.

if the og writer gave you permission then that’s a completely different story.

not at all hating, just wondering.

so lemme give u my perspective, i am just like everyone else a consumer, meaning i read and i comment and i like and twiddle my thumbs scroll on this app for at least 2 hours a day.

i have favourite accounts and stories with aspirations to write better and more overall and without the inspiration from the friends and writers that have deactivated i would’ve never began writing and posting my own shit

i was just as happy to find out that i could save old stories from deactivated accounts as much as people were happy to find out that i was reposting them. so coming from a writer and a consumer i don’t see that much of a problem considering my terms.

the way that i’ve made my links is if i wanted too, i could delete the whole thing unless that person tries to copy and paste it into something else entirely. so i have control and moderation about how much it can spread.

i have stated multiple times that if the author or someone close to them reaches out to me specifically asking or demanding for me to take it down i will happily comply. I have stated this MULTIPLE TIMES and in every single post that includes the actual link to any of the stories.

then again i’m not personally close with any of the writers but if they say the word it’ll all be gone in seconds. i would understand as a writer, the frustration and seeing it from an outside perspective that it is indeed disrespectful.

would i be butt hurt if someone did do that to me personally? no, because in the end yes it is someone’s personal work but it’s still just a fan fiction about a 21 year old man who will probably have moved on with their life in a couple of years.

mind you all of these fics still exist somewhere on tumblr, all of it is for the public to find. i have simply compiled it into a couple google docs while STILL CREDITING THEM.

what about u anon? are you using the links? do u enjoy the fics ive collected?

as a matter of fact who does use the links and think it’s morally wrong of me to be doing this. because in the end it’s majorities favour.

sorry for the rant/ if this came off bitchy/ i could’ve phrased this whole thing better but thank u if u even read a single paragraph.

[bi-writes]

ok i've done some light research. if you want a software engineer/fic writer's inital take on lore.fm, i'll keep it short and sweet.

my general understanding of lore.fm functionality:

they use OpenAI's public API. they take in the text from the URL provided and use it to spit out your AI-read fic. their API uses HTTP requests, meaning a connection is made to an OpenAI server over HTTP to do as lore.fm asks and then give back the audio. my concern is that i wasn't able to find out what exactly that means. does OpenAI just parse the data and spit out a response? is that data then stored somewhere to better their model (probably yes)? does OpenAI do anything to ensure that the data is being used the way it was intended (we know this probably isn't true because lore.fm exists)?

lore.fm stores the generated audio (i am almost certain of this because of the features described in this reddit post). meaning that someone's fic is sitting in a lore.fm database. what are they doing with that data? what can they do with it? how is it being stored? what is being stored, the text and the audio, or just the audio?

i find transparency a very difficult thing to ask for in tech. people are concerned with technological trade secrets and stifling innovation (hilarious when i think about lore.fm, because it doesn't take a genius to feed text into AI and display the response somewhere, sorry to say). and while i find the idea of AI being used to help further accessibility on apps that don't yet provide it promising, i find the method that lore.fm (and OpenAI) chooses to do this to be dangerous and pave a path for a harmful integration of AI (and also fanfiction in general -- we write to interact, and lore.fm removes that aspect of it entirely).

we already know that AI companies have been paying to scrape data from different sources for the purposes of bettering their models, and we already know that they've only started asking for permission to do this because users found out (and not from the goodness of their hearts, because more data means better models, and asking for permission adds overhead). but this way of using it allows AI to backdoor-scrape data that the original sources of the data didn't give consent to. maybe the author declined to have their fic scraped by AI on the site they posted it onto (if the site asked at all), but they didn't know a third-party app like lore.fm would feed it into an AI model anyways.

what's the point of writing fics if i have no control over my own content?

[tozettastone]

RE: "there's so little F/F fanfiction," and its supposed relationship to misogyny, unexamined "fandom truly hates women," statements, and also why "eating your veggies" ala dutyfic is all kind of... inadequate and poorly expressed, in my view (and in my experience, as an AFAB person).

--

"Fandom hates women," is a statement that's usually written as though the person writing it does not hate women themselves. I think feminists who can't acknowledge their own misogyny are probably living the unexamined life (sorry, Socrates).

These people are right that misogyny is a problem. But they are wrong about how, why, and whether or not the amount of F/F fanfiction or female character-centric works is a proxy for measuring it.

I think there must be room to accept that among the people who happen to be assigned female at birth, even the most liberated suffer from some amount of internalised misogyny — or even just the relentless examination of their own thoughts in trying to root out the misogyny they know is in there. It's an ugly thing people really try to pretend isn't real. Feminists are also misogynists. Society has raised us all ugly and correcting it is a lifestyle, not a one-and-done deep clean.

Sometimes we've thought about it so much that every line of text is haunted by the long shadow of that misogyny. I know I often start and don't finish, or finish and just don't post, my f/f fanfics. It's not just because it attracts more harassment (although it sure used to, at least; I don't know now), but also because I overthink what I'm putting into the world: Is her vulnerability in this moment an attitude of feminine weakness? Is her stoicism just me the writer falling into a bland stoic butch trope because it's easy? Am I replicating gendered things I hate in M/F fanfiction but don't notice in F/F? Is this just writing in character, or is it a sexist stereotype? Hey, what if writing "in character" IS a sexist stereotype? What does this female character, a representative of her entire constructed identity, say about women? Shall I write another scene where she cuts her soft hair and rejects pink girly things and takes her job ever so seriously as part of a power fantasy, in which the excision of femininity goes hand in hand with the attainment of that power?

Every line of text might be a new enfilade in the long identity war. It's Schrodinger's sexism. Who's reading? What will this imply? What will they infer?

I just feel like, personally, until you can exist in society as someone that other people view as a woman, in a way that isn't being perpetually dissected and examined (by yourself, by others, by the people who feel insecure and defensive and want to respond to this saying "uhmmm sweetie that's YOUR problem, I'm an enlightened woman who genders and fucks how I want actually, YOU'RE the only misogynist here, you just suck," as though that's not yet another permutation of exactly the high-pressure, high-critique behaviour I just described), there will simply be fewer people putting their writing about female characters (and by extension F/F) into the public eye, and fewer people who want to do that writing at all.

It's just so fucking exhausting. I think it must be nice, sometimes, writing deathly boring (to me) M/F romance that openly embraces gender stereotypes, where she's always taken by surprise, and he's always competent. Ha.

But then you attempt a M/M romance, and you have to think, "isn't writing masculinity as the totally unexamined default actually kind of an act of collusion, too?" It doesn't have to be. But it sure can be, when you feel like this. And then you throw your laptop out the window. (I'm writing this on my phone. How did you guess?)

You have to draw a line somewhere, horribly, between your existence in a politicised body, your representation of politicised bodies in your art, and your existence as an individual who wants to enjoy their fucking hobby.

Maybe that means you delete all your social media accounts and go herd goats on a mountainside. Or you write about aliens for five years and give them whatever genitals you feel like today. But, like, listen. It's going to be fine. Gender is made up. I know, I know, pretty much everyone else thinks it's a holy binary, just like good and evil, and you have to live in the same world with them, sending coded gender messages all day every day and unable to stop. I know. But it is made up anyway.

Key takeaways: People should write whatever they enjoy writing and kind of just worry less about it. Worrying isn't helping you make fun art. And the amount of fanfiction about female characters and F/F relationships is a poor proxy for whatever we think we mean when we say, "fandom hates women."

[ninyard]

thanks for answering my previous ask‼️‼️ it’s okay if you can only write tips for your pov, i asked you YOUR process not someone else’s cus i like whatever it is you do to write, if that makes sense? i also don’t mean to shit on the way other people do things tho sjsjdnddjdj. you weren’t rude at all and i do see where you’re coming from‼️ i guess if i need to ask more specifically, how do you plot out ur socmed posts? i think that’s what i struggle with when it comes to writing my own? like i can find funny haha tweets or tumblr post for my/my friends charas to say but i wanna be able to write funny original stuff too? if that makes sense? 🫶🏽

I get that!!! This got long and it’s really messy so,, sorry if it doesn’t make sense~~

When it comes to making posts I personally don’t like to use already existing tweets. sometimes I can find inspiration in em but I’ve never intentionally looked up tweets to use for my socmed stuff. To each their own but it’s not for me! I don’t think they’re really socmed aus so much as like… incorrectaftgquotes type things? And I don’t really find much inspiration from it tbh. I might have one or two somewhere that are loosely based on a tweet I seen but I try my best to avoid that n make most of them as original as possible.

I guess know what kind of thing you’re going to make, in a way. My Exy fans au is essentially every big event in canon from an in-universe fans perspective. So that one’s easy to plot because it already exists and it’s just about coming up with the posts. Sometimes the fox tweets will just randomly branch off into their own things (like the Kevin-outing-Jeremy au) or sometimes they’re just their own standalone au series’ (like the andreil outing au).

I don’t really make long multiple-post “plotted” socmed stuff in the same way someone like Jas did with the Trojans au, but that’s just my personal preference. it takes a lot of work and it’s a lot like a fic in some ways!! It’s like writing a fic except it’s all dialogue and the dialogue has to be under 260 characters. And SOMETIMES there’s pictures. But they’re kind of just the same thing when it comes to plotted stuff. So maybe just do what you’d do if you were writing a fic!

In terms of coming up with funny things I guess it’s just like… don’t force it. If you’re finding something isn’t working, then don’t force it to work. I have all these ideas and scrapped tweets that just didn’t quite work for the post I had bc sometimes ya gotta accept something isn’t quite right. If you don’t want to just copy tweets and use those then try to find somewhere to start - for me that’s the hardest part of the ~random~ fox tweets and why it’s 1000000x easier to make a post that has purpose (like the party, or the q&a, or X au). I think finding pictures is a pretty good place to start, but I swear I’ve spent more time staring at a wall just trying to get into the zone of making tweets than time I’ve spent actually making them.

And I suppose it’s important to check like,,, are you (in the general sense) making them because you want to and have a funny idea, or is it because other people are/fomo/you see how many notes some of em get? Neither answer is wrong! But it’s easier to be funny, in my opinion, when I’m making them because i just randomly thought of a funny idea, versus making them because I feel obligated to or forcing things that aren’t funny because I “have” to post. Does that make sense? I always like to see when peoples’ socmed aus have some sort of story or reason, like the psu intern, or the foxes kids, or the Trojans au, or the au where Seth is still alive and tweeting like the menace that he would be. They’re always more interesting to me than posts that are just reposted tweets with Neil Josten slapped on em. But again that’s my personal preference!!!! Do whatever you want!!!!

Do you care if it’s ooc or not? Is it something that could happen in canon, or canon adjacent, or is it just an au where canon compliance doesn’t really matter at all? For me I try to make them as in-character as possible (with the exception of the fact that I don’t believe Neil, Andrew or Jean would tweet at all irl). I know it doesn’t bother some people if they’re ooc because they’re just for fun and that’s fine too. But them being “in-character” for me takes up a lot of space when it comes to coming up with the “plot” of the posts, if that makes sense!! (There’s always leeway when it comes to this tho - they’re never going to be 100% book accurate)

For me I almost have the characters as their own characters in my posts - which sounds crazy but bear with me. Like Kevin always typing with proper punctuation, and Dan always typing in lowercase. Neil doesn’t use text speak or shortened things like ‘bc’ or ‘lol’ whereas Nicky and Allison do. Nicky uses a lot of punctuation marks, Andrew uses proper grammar but doesn’t always use periods at the end of his posts, and he’s more likely to just post a picture than type out words sometimes. Does that make sense? Figure out how your characters are going to somehow have an individual voice through tweets. And it’s little things that probably don’t make a huge difference to most people but I care about those kind of little things way too much!!

TLDR; Why are you making them? Find where to start, don’t force it, and how in-character do you want them to be? Come up with your characters “voice” - how do they type/tweet? Just have fun!!! And don’t care about what other people are gonna think!!!!

[cupcakeshakesnake]

You have m o r e ?!?!? Omg they're amazing, I love them already and it's only been like 90 seconds (I've just been staring at them because. Wow.)

Wait but are you actually getting rid of them/ discontinuing their story? I mean, I saw that post about Sisyphus, but I would love it if we got to see more of these guys. I mean, no pressure if you weren't but I just wanted to let you know that I'm a really big fan of your work. I appreciate that, for your nonhuman characters, while their designs are very visually appealing in the artistic sense, you can tell that they're not at all supposed to be attractive in any modern human idealized sort of way (and what does it mean to Objectively Attractive anyway? Popular opinion is so hypocritcally subjective) but instead that each individual drawing, whether it's a character of your own creation or your take on a preexisting one, is crafted to serve their exact purpose on the page (whether it's Humor of Incongruity, expressing frustration, evoking the beauty in the imperfect, etc.), because you can see both the soul of that being and the way the Otherness of their design sets them apart as new and interesting yet accentuates the uniquely human part of their character (however buried and twisted that part may be, in some cases. Looking at you, Valek.)

. . . I was going somewhere further with this but I lost where I was. I'm sorry, it's late and I'm tired, but I just saw this and felt I had to say something (other than "cool monsters go brrr"). I know we're just strangers on the internet, and I'm not any sort of people person. We don't know anything substantial about each other, and we'll probably never meet. But I hope you know that, for whatever it's worth, there are people out there who see what you're doing. And that it's beautiful in all of it's imperfection, and beautiful *because* of it. And that, miniscule though my knowledge of you may be (because who can truly know anyone?), I can *see* the beauty of your soul shining through the crack of your art. And that I get a little bit of joy and inspiration every time I come across your work, so I hope this clumsily, hasty little message can give at least some of that joy back to you.

(P.S. I wrote this as a AtNC reblog, but by the time I finished writing this I figured it'd probably be better to send as an ask, so that you can decide what to do with it. You are in no way obligated to make any sort of response to this. From what I understand, you don't believe in a benevolent higher power, and that's okay, I'm still on the fence about whether I do or not, but I just... felt oddly compelled to write this. Like something was telling me I had to try to convey this to you, because you needed it. It's fine if you don't understand what I'm saying, I'm not sure even I do, but just hope that wherever you are, whatever you are doing, whatever you are going through, you know there's someone out there who cares for you, and that your existence is w o r t h something immeasurable.)

I hope you're okay. You are stronger than you know.

First of all, thank you. It took me a while to reply because I've been very busy with schoolwork, but I've reread this message at least several times a day and it has brought me such joy each time.

To answer your question, no, I'm not discontinuing or getting rid of anything - I assume this has to do with my monster OCs, and there are two major stories of them so far.

One is Walter, which I simply decided not to use for schoolwork after being told its plot is too boring. That's all. I will do what I want with it in my own time. The other is that one with the mutated office workers, which fortunately got the OK from the professor. Both are still very rough works in progress.

I'm very glad that you like the way I draw... er, things, for lack of a better wording. Things I draw for myself may turn out far from "conventionally attractive", but I like it that way. You made me think about an aspect of my art that I never really considered before, but you have a point; in a way, I could be trying to humanize characters not by giving them a more human face but by giving them their own ways to express humanity.

That being said, I don't know what an "AtNC" reblog is supposed to be, but I wouldn't have minded either way. Your kind words are appreciated all the same.

[kafkasmjjw]

Hi :) can you recommend your top 5 moonjo/jongwoo (jongmoon?) fics?

i’m going to link my top 5 post-canon, canon divergent and aus because i’ve been in this fandom for too long to choose only 5. these aren’t ordered by preference, and i’m choosing complete fics and only one per author. please heed the tags and ratings in case any of it makes you uncomfortable!

post-canon:

origins by mslunita

Moonjo is hardly protected by tissue; his body is rough-cut. Bone-fed. It’s easy for Jongwoo to break the skin and feel as if he’s sharpening his teeth on the skeleton itself.

monsters call it love by finalizer

He looks like a statue, an impossible man cut from white marble—neat and composed and perfect. Jong-woo wants to ruin it. Poke at it, prod at it, mar it with his fingertips and his teeth. Something so perfect has no right to exist. He wants to destroy him.

since we’re feeling so anaesthetised by eris

Jongwoo flexes into the pain, fingers twitching around the phantom contours and pressure mapped out on Moonjo's throat. From somewhere almost outside himself, he says, “Would you have let me kill you?”

no angel speaks to me by gfriendly

“Want to know how I remember it?” Jongwoo asked.

if i were a carp by theletterv

“Eat me.” It’s a quick answer, and the disorientation of it just as quick. Jongwoo turns so fast it pulls something in his neck, blinks at him owlishly but the peace on Moonjo’s face never falters. “Eat you?”

special mention to 'choose happiness' by ennui_ing because their fics are absolutely stunning and a must-read. top tier characterisation.

canon divergent:

pyre by anthean

And really, why is he surprised? Jongwoo is special. He’s precious. Moonjo wants to know him inside out, skin to muscle to bone to marrow, in every way that he can. That Jongwoo wants him too only cements Moonjo’s own desire.

tender sugar by angelas

“Uhm, sorry,” Jong-woo says, “I think maybe I should lea—” “Oh,” Moon-jo intercepts. “There’s someone special in your life.”

on the seventh day we rest by SLq

“Are you lost?” Jong-woo looked up. A man stood at the bottom of the hill. He watched Jong-woo steadily, generous mouth curled in a smile.

как в старой сказке, я не знал, кто волк // i didn't know who my enemy was, just like in an old fairytale by fia_lka

“So the only way you could help me right now, ahjussi, is if you dropped on your knees right there and sucked me off instead of her. Would you do that?”

dangerous beginnings by uhlee

Honey, I like this side of you. Take what you want from me. You use me so well, jagiya. Is it good, jagi? Am I good?

AUs:

flower by mayday0329

I thought he would give up after that. But instead he smiled again, and fumbled in his pocket for something, before taking out a tung flower. It had withered a long time ago, but one could still see that it had been a startling white before. He pressed it into my hand, along with a crumpled business card. Will you come find me again, then?

do you ever feel lonely, jagiya? by sweetnsimple

“Do I make you feel lonely?” he asked. Jong-Woo opened his mouth. Swallowed and tried again. “Yes,” he said.

pray we never meet at the wrong hour of the night by mslunita (i know i said one fic per author but carli’s writing is a weakness of mine)

Moonjo laughs at the last one. “Cannibal,” he says aloud, a glint in his eyes. He clears his throat. “Well. This is quite the macabre list.” He drags his eyes from the screen back to Jongwoo. “You’re something special.”

why did it have to be you? by tooprofessional

“Are you going to punish me?” He took a step closer, slowly looking up the younger man’s frame, eventually meeting his gaze. He tilted his head to the side. “You know, for causing a scene.”

they live in the dark by vivisextion

“You know, I’ve heard supernatural presences can lower the temperature of a room…” Jongwoo shuddered. “Please don’t remind me.”

annnd that's it for the complete fics. as for wips, im currently devouring second circle of hell by reddiary. a true fucking masterpiece. and hell at your heels by an anonymous writer who should know they changed the trajectory of my life. ennui_ing's how much can you change before it's some kind of murder? has me by. the. throat. fills me with a good dose of dread every time and the characterisation is gorgeous. ANNDDDDD of course, this hotel au 'all the ghosts are in the garden', by b that is so so SO well-paced and in character it's actually insane.

[styrmwb]

I beat World of Warcraft: The War Within (for now)

Every single word I am about to write I do so with the fear of god that none of it will age poorly

(also wow this is a long one sorry that my ramblings keep getting more rambly)

The summer of 2024 is the summer of "why do I have two separate MMOs that I want to play I hate myself", cause I already had FFXIV Dawntrail a bit ago, and now we got WoW, my first MMO love who I have had a horrible relationship with During BfA and Shadowlands and All That Blizzard Shit I was like Jaina in the scene of Warcraft III with the Culling of Stratholme "I'm sorry Arthas, I can't watch you do this." But then things (as far as I know) in real life are getting better, and then they did Dragonflight which in game was getting better and I'm over here tentatively having fun with a smile on my face ready for it to go bad at any time, and that's how I felt about War Within: This looks cool, are they going to be able to do it, or am I going to be disappointed once again?

And god. PLEASE DON'T LET THIS AGE POORLY BUT HOLY SHIT THEY LANDED IT SO HARD, I LOVED THIS EXPANSION!!!! I want to talk about why!!!! And like I said in Dawntrail MMOs obviously release more content (hell by the time I beat my set goals a raid came out (I did not do the raid), so I considered "beat" to be Loremaster (all the quests), all the dungeons, and all the delves so DON'T COME AT ME WITH "BUT YOU DIDN'T DO NERUB'AR" I WANTED TO WRITE A BEAT A GAME POST FOR AN MMO LEAVE ME ALONE

Story

This is what I was scared of. I love Warcraft, I love it so much I love the world, I love the lore, I love the everything, and obviously this game has had a... Not Great experience with respecting its own universe with... good writing. So I am understandably hesitant! Even Dragonflight which was a step in the right direction still didn't grab me in some ways and was a little cheesy I did really like the avengers assemble in the emerald dream though I'm not above that; so I didn't come into War Within expecting the best thing ever, but I really did appreciate how they did this.

Everything fits pretty well within the world, nothing feels like it contradicts previous info, it actually takes a lot from the existing world and expands on it; Xal'atath and the sword was Legion, Earthen have been a thing since Wrath, Nerubians have been around since WCIII, they got Kobolds, they got a healthy amount of previous guys you know from Dalaran/other people who happened to be on Dalaran (lmao) to really make the whole thing FEEL Warcrafty and not something kind of disconnected, despite the new concepts being introduced, which made me very happy.

The story itself was great. I felt invested fighting against Xal'atath because she fucked with my mans, and I really liked how much of a presence she was; involved in everything, but not to an annoying amount, and it didn't feel like the conflict with her was bullshit like the Jailor (they can still fuck this up we got several patches to go). I enjoyed learning about the Earthen, the Arathi, and the Nerubians, and like I said it all fit really well and I didn't have any moments of like "wait what the fuck why this"; even the Arathi felt pretty well explained "oh there's an empire somewhere else we haven't seen" cool and awesome, doesn't contradict anything already existing and opens up a new place in the future.

I think the one thing that was strange was how short the main campaign was. I hard focused it on my main and it wasn't enough to get me to max. But once I did all the Sojourner achievements I could see where the rest of the writing meat went, because so many of those side stories were amazing; some I'm genuinely surprised WEREN'T in the main campaign (the Haranir got like 2 steps in the main deal and then never showed up?? do the side quests to figure out anything about this person we put in the teaser cinematic; this is like my one beef with the main campaign, anyways). So many heavy emotional hits, stories that actually made me feel. The old Earthen losing his memories I think was a highlight for me.

What I really appreciated about every quest I did was the focus on emotions, on internal processing; like yeah, this is World of Warcraft. We fight a lot. There's a lot of fighting. But this expansion takes its own title to mean more than just being in the world, and focuses a lot on trauma, fighting with yourself, accepting yourself, connecting with others after trauma, and I really really appreciated that a game like this actually managed to slow down and question these little large things that it never really did in the past. Also, even with the deeper, more serious tones being so strong, the humor this time around is really great. There are a lot of moments in the main story and in the side quests that actually got me laughing out loud. Overall, I was really satisfied with all the story they gave me and I cannot wait to see if they are able to continue this upward trend to finish the expansion off.

I also want to say "stay a while and listen"s have been the greatest thing this game has ever introduced to give nerds like me more good writing while letting other players not have to suffer through it if they don't want to.

Characters

This is also an important section which was really hard to separate from the above; like I said, Warcraft does not have a great track record of how it treats its beloved characters who can be amazing at the highest of times (COUGH SYLVANAS SHADOWLANDS AS A WHOLE COUGH), so I was worried here. But the way our returning characters were treated, on top of the new characters, was really surprising.

Our Returning Friends:

Anduin - My fucking boy. I love Anduin, he is one of my favorite characters, if not my favorite character, in all of Warcraft. Seeing his struggle with himself hit really hard, and I really appreciate how they did it, it didn't feel disrespectful, he got moments to bring him up, he got moments that validated his current state; it hurt me to see the optimistic prince in such a state, and I love where his journey is taking him. He also calls me friend and that makes me happy Anduin if you were real I would be your friend

Alleria - I think her story is going to be cooked a little longer in the future, cause for this expansion she was often in the background hunting, but I love that despite the internal AND external things trying to keep her alone, she's not so far gone as to be separated from the people she cares about; I am actually excited to see how she'll play out. The fact that her and Turalyon still clearly love and care for each other despite the circumstances makes me happy.

Moira - I very much enjoyed that the Bronzebeard-Thaurissan family got such a spotlight this time around. It was great seeing Moira continue to prove herself as a leader with the action taken + the diplomatic role she placed herself in with the Earthen. The sidequest where she gets Fearbreaker was really a place for her to shine on her own. While I was a big fan of the trio of her, Magni, and Dagran, I can't help but feel like her portion didn't stick with me as much as the other two, but that could be a me flaw rather than a game flaw. I do hope she continues to get more screentime to show off.

Magni - Did not at all expect where this man was going. Depressed and angry speaker was an interesting way to start the expansion, and I enjoyed seeing him be able to reconnect with his family, to be freed from his prison (they hatched him!), and to really start his grandpa arc/hopefully make a relationship with his daughter arc.

Dagran - If you told me that the 3 polygon baby in Ironforge was going to be one of the best characters in a future expansion I would have been very surprised. He's such a nerd but in a really enjoyable way, and the connection he has with his family + Brinthe is really heartwarming to see. I want more of this 🤓 motherfucker

Brann - Not really a character in the main story, but he's here and I love it, except when he tells me that those webs will summon Nerubians, and not to stand in them. I hope he gets more uncle moments.

Khadgar - Fuck. This old shitty wizard is also top contender for favorite Warcraft character, so the way this expansion started gutted me. I was actually real life mad I wanted to destroy that stupid purple elf and all her spiders; I am so happy that he's fine I am going to put him in the best retirement situation possible and he can get his girlfriend and live the rest of his life happy DON'T YOU FUCKING DO THAT TO ME AGAIN BLIZZARD.

Jaina and Thrall - Did not get to be there lmao. Thrall really got the short end of the stick being on the loading screen. The Horde as a whole could have gotten more love this expansion, and this is coming from a man loyal to the Alliance. But also you guys got a lot in the past so uuhhhhhh fuck you lmao

Side note, where the fuck is Muradin; your brothers, your niece, and your great nephew are here, your brother hatched, Where Are You.

Our New Friends (and Enemies)

The Earthen - Initially, incredibly off putting. Why are they not scottish. But I really grew to love these robot dwarves. The council was all surprisingly great, Merrix has his whole sidequest where "oh he's a bad guy" no not at all he cares about his people, Baelgrim warms up to you and is the Obligatory Sacrifice Character, Adelgonn really showed the humanity these people can have, Brinthe was surprisingly funny and charming, and I loved to see her grow closer to Dagran (new aunt unlocked let's go). Overall, it was really cool to see this race of people show both their construct nature mixed with the free will they've unlocked. So much more interesting than I expected.

Faerin and the Arathi - Definitely the strangest part of this expansion, but incredibly cool to see. I was unsure going in, did they really feel like the fit in, their vibe seems a little separate from Warcraft and more Diablo-y or a different franchise, but I was really interested in their culture, the genuine nature their society had despite the traitors (like I was totally expecting Steelstrike to be evil not to have a cooking quest with her and her family); Faerin was likewise a surprise. I see the name "Lothar" and I'm like oh geez how are they gonna mess this up and I was instead greeted with a kind yet tough warrior who Has feelings and struggles with loss and is a wonderful friend to Anduin (the quest where you sit down with Faerin and Anduin might be one of my favorite sidequests ever).

The Nerubians - Ok so yeah we're all used to these guys being Bad Spiders Go Kill which they were def introduced as, but then you get to their zone and they're presented as their own society in such a cool way?? These are people! They're spiders, but they're people! The Severed Threads are a fun trio of characters that I enjoyed talking to. Honestly, surprisingly enough the Nerubians as a whole are like, really funny? There's a bunch of really good comedic moments, some played straight which hit the hardest. (Mr. Sunflower my beloved) I loved the split in society shown, the dislike, the Reason for dislike shown between the Ascended and the normal Nerubians, I could really feel the reason for dissent against the Queen (I haven't done Nerub'ar like I said but I do wish she was more present.)

Xal'atath - I said my main opinion earlier, she was a great presence in the story and I very much enjoy her as a villain. I really like the bonus dialogue you get if you've interacted with her before. I really think she has the potential to be one of the best major villains we've ever had if Blizzard plays their cards right (I am scared).

World (of Warcraft)

Dragonflight's zones were cool; but. Nothing really WOWed me (funny joke). Going into TWW, I thought underground was cool, but I wasn't sure at first. Looked at the little pictures for each zone, still unimpressed. Once I actually got Into the game and played it though, these are some of the best zones in the game.

I have these four screenshots, my favorite parts of each zone, and I still feel like I am not doing them justice. They're huge, they're so incredibly varied, and you feel like you can still breathe despite being underground (and they're confining when needed). I've always said that despite the lows, Blizzard's art department hard fucking carries the game, and they continue to flex. The cities are getting so much better at feeling sprawling and lived in, an evolution from the tiny Stormwinds of classic WoW. I love Khaz Algar so much. One of my favorite parts of my playthrough was when I entered Hallowfall for the first time, during the Beledar shifting event (not the story one! the random one), and I was amazed and confused. I don't think I've felt this mesmerized by the game since I was like 10 walking through Teldrassil. Something really special I also loved about Hallowfall (might be contender for top 10 zone of all time) is yes, this feels outside. There is grass. There is water. There is sun. But then you look at the land, you look at the rocks, the stalagmites, you look up and it reminds you that you're underground. There's so much spectacle here and I feel like I could go on and on and on about each zone and how amazing they are. (I'm ending this section now but I have to say I love Bug Suramar)

Music

Piggybacking off the last section, the music this expansion has been absolutely incredible, I haven't really hooked onto as much of the soundtrack as I have since BfA; Shadowlands really just had Maldraxxus and Revendreth and I honestly don't remember much of Dragonflight's, but here it's so strong. Isle of Dorn's windy outdoor flutes, The Ringing Deeps' sound of echoing mining, Hallowfall's beautiful choir, and Azj-Kahet's plucking spider sounds, it's all so strong, so memorable and unique.

Cutscenes

Really small section here but I love the cutscene work they've been doing. The fact that we get what used to just be in the prerendered ones in game??? The models look so nice there! Yeah sure my character looks a little awkward doing default standing they haven't mastered it like FFXIV yet but I LOVE the cutscene work. Even the lower quality ones have shown a lot of character. I think of the scene with Elrich and Brinthe, he still shows off and feels like an asshole, and you can clearly see the humorous frustration Brinthe feels at being interrupted. It's great.

Gameplay

I am the least excited to talk about the gameplay here, but I really do enjoy what they're doing this expansion. I love Delves and the solo content they're doing, I think their quest design continues to be engaging and fun (even though I was a little tired of the shout instruction randomly to get item/do task and all of the pulling slowly mechanics), and even though I'm not really a dungeon guy each one was incredible, they all excelled in presentation and vibe. The mechanics didn't really get me like I think Dawntrail's dungeons did, but I imagine they go harder in Mythic which I will not be doing.

The classes I played during my session of goals were Warrior, Evoker, and Warlock, which I had fury mountain thane (later slayer), arms slayer, augmentation chronowarden, and demonology diabolist. I really enjoyed the flavor they all brought, and in the case of diabolist it's SO fucking fun holy shit. I know not every class got something cool, and I will be playing those eventually (haha two of every class split between factions I have a problem haha).

Speaking of alts, I love Warbands. The fact that I got to work on loremaster, level Brann, and work on renown across 4 separate characters is an absolute godsend.

Last thought here; Skyriding is amazing. Yeah it was introduced in Dragonflight but I really just needed to be able to fly Invincible everywhere. The fact that Blizzard finally embraced flying and made it engaging by just making the zones huge is the best path ever.

I Have Talked So Much I Am Sorry

yeah i hate this expansion isn't it clear

I really truly desperately hope that WoW continues this upward trend, continues this energy forward. I want to be able to hit each patch, to look back, and still feel the same happiness and excitement as I do now for the game. WoW is a game I have loved for most of my life. I want it to succeed. I want to say that I love it and not be embarrassed. If we continue to have more times like what War Within is at launch, I have no doubt that those things will be the case. They just need to not prove my fears right. With all of this very very very long post said;

9.5/10. The most love I've had for Warcraft in a long while. Honest competition with Legion for favorite expansion. Please Don't Fuck This Up.

please help me i still feel like i could have talked more