#still under construction because i can't help myself but

[thehydraethereal]

۵ Heaven Can't help Me Now

ও dark!rafe cameron x f!reader x dark!father!charlie mayhew

ও summary: all your life you have only wanted peace. your boyfriend was the golden boy of North Carolina, but what lied under that mask of his was known only by you, behind closed doors. one day, you break down at church, telling the priest everything you held in your heart, thinking he would understand and help you. however, as always, fate decided otherwise...

ও warnings: dv; kindaaa innocent!reader, religious trauma, abusive relationship, physical abuse, emotional abuse, age-gap (reader is 19, rafe is 22, father charlie is 26), curse words here and there, abduction, restraints, immorality, i guess that's it??? MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

ও note: ugh, these two are sooo...delicious and TOGETHER? i cannot think of a better duo for a dark fanfic. Please, please enjoy it. I've been so obsessed with Nicholas for the past few days or weeks and I'm so glad he's getting the recognition he deserves....ahh, being a girl is so nice...finding a new hot male actor, simping overrr him...blah blah, anyways happy readinggg

ও disclaimer: i have never attended a catholic service so i cannot say my writing is accurate. i will not make blasphemic remarks because i respect Christianity, considering I am a Christian myself. any hateful comments will be blocked, but i accept constructive criticism and i encourage it.

••• Support me by liking & reblogging my work, sending me new requests and checking my masterlist.

✫

"I don't get it, why do you always have to be at church?", Rafe muttered while spinning the steering wheel effortlessly with one hand. With the corner of your eye, you saw the muscles in his bicep flexing and a breath hitched in your throat, memories of last night flashing rapidly in your head. You brought your shaky hand up, gently brushing your fingers over the yellowish and darkish marks adorning your neck that hid behind your cross necklace.

"I find peace there...comfort.", you replied to your boyfriend, looking out the window at the wet pavement. You were grateful Rafe was letting you go to church at least, after cutting off all your friends and family members. You considered yourself blessed that he drove you there as well. "Besides, I'm not always at church." you continued, eyes still fixated on the road.

Rafe let out a humorless laugh, gripping and brushing his nose with both his index finger and thumb, a habit from nights of doing illegal substances. The gesture always scared you, it meant that he was getting annoyed, resulting another bruise on your skin. "Don't use that tone w'me..." Rafe muttered again, looking in the rearview mirror.

Rafe was trying to start a fight over every single thing you said or did because it was an excuse for him to put his hands on you. You weren't going to let him win today. It was your Sunday morning and you wanted to fully enjoy it, so you kept your lips shut for the rest of the road.

After a couple of minutes, the view of the church appeared and your heart jumped a little. You loved being there, finding your peace between the stone walls, away from your boyfriend's rage or his hurtful remarks. It was only you and your heart. You started attending church services after the new father, Charlie Mayhew, had it restored and reopened. You had heard he was intelligent and kind, so you decided to give it a try after two entire years of staying away from churches. You ended up falling in love with his words and description of love. Pure love, a love that brings happiness, not pain. So your heart always ached to be there, admiring and dreaming of what you never had.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your boyfriend's angered 'Fuck!' and an exagerrated honk. You flinched violently when your boyfriend started shouting at the car in front.

"So many fuckin' idiots.." he hissed, shaking his head madly after he went past the vehicle.

"P-please, Rafe...stop swearing. A-at least, not in front of the church." you whispered, tears pooling your eyes.

"You ain't gonna tell me what to do in my own fuckin' car!" Rafe hissed, his hand grabbing the back of your neck. You winced and looked up at him. "Imma be here at twelve sharp. Don't make me wait, I expect you to know better after last time-"

You didn't let him finish and swiftly nodded your head, panic filling your veins. "I, I w-won't.."

"My good girl..." Rafe whispered before he smashed his lips on yours hungrily, tongue entering and abusing your mouth.

After you got out of his truck, you went straight into church, not even looking back at him. You hated him. You felt his hands burning over your skin, his lips against yours. He took every single drop of light and purity from you, savoring every minute of it.

✫

The elderly women and the few children accompanying them were slowly getting out the church through the carved wooden gates, opening their umbrellas and murmuring rumors about each others. It was 12:07 and Rafe still hasn't texted you that he arrived to pick you up, and you were sure he was in a bar with Topper or fighting with his dad over something, so you decided to take the moment and make something good out of it. You placed Rafe far out of your mind for now. You weren't going to stand in pouring rain just to please him. Not today.

Father Charlie was gathering his things, wrapping the notes of his preach in a tiny leather napkin. His dark eyes, glinting in the soft light of candles, went straight to your figure which was seated in the very last bench. He smiled and climbed down the stairs, heading directly to you. You looked away from the stained glass windows, used as instruments by the rain drops, to him.

"Hello—I have seen you around. I am glad you are attending this church, especially someone this...young, looking for God in this pagan generation. It is an extremely rare thing." he said.

Your lips parted at his words. He seemed like you meant something to him, like you were valuable. A man validating you. It was the very first drop of it that you tasted, and you already wanted more.

You put on your most bewitchingly innocent smile, the smile that Rafe fell for the first time. The smile that made Rafe go crazy over you—so crazy that the marks on both your soul and body showed off the fact you were his.

The priest's eyes pierced yours, and all of a sudden, another piece of you flew away, just to give some man satisfaction. But what was more painful was the fact that you didn't even realize that.

"I haven't entered a church for a long time...but when you—when you came here, in this town, I felt these gates have opened for me. So I entered and I decided to stay." you replied, voice more firmer that you would've expected.

Father Charlie cocked his head, grinning. "I am very glad. But uh, I must ask you—for the last three weeks, the latest you've ever left was twelve and fourteen minutes...and now it's—" his index finger tilted your phone screen so he could see the time. The wallpaper was you kissing Rafe on the cheek and you saw how father Charlie tightened the muscle in his jaw. "—now it's almost one p.m." His tone was sharper, but the curiosity in it slipped out. "God forbid I throw someone out of church but...I couldn't not notice.", he laughed.

You akwardly laughed as well to shake off the embarassment of being forgotten by your own boyfriend here. You were so focused on being upset about Rafe that you left the disturbing fact of him knowing the exact time you were leaving slip.

"F-Father, may i talk to you? It's a..uhm, a-a confession—I guess?" you started. Anxiety crept into your body, making you fidget with the sleeves of the sweater. However, father Charlie sat next to you and took your hand into his.

You saw it as the greatest comfort gesture. He had his own other reasons, though.

"Of course. I am here for you." Your soul instantly melted at his words and your body leaned into his involuntarily, seeking comfort.

"I k-keep having these unholy thoughts. About leaving my b-boyfriend. I know unions shouldn't be broken, but I feel he is not—"

"—not the one for you." Father Charlie ended for you, looking into your eyes. A hair strand fell on his forehead, making him even more surreal.

Father Charlie has shown you more emotional depth than Rafe ever has in these eleven months of dating. You weren't attracted romantically to your priest, you couldn't possibly be. You hated cheaters and infidelity overall, but your soul felt drawn to his. And you were sure that if you had the chance to choose a partner again, you wouldn't make the same mistake you had done with Rafe. This couldn't possibly be considered as a sin, could it?

"Do not worry about that. Focus on your soul." Father Charlie stated. He had nothing deceitful nor evil in his heart. He only wanted peace for you. You really believed that.

Suddenly, your phone rang and you didn't even hesitate before answering it.

"Sh-shit, baby, 'm sorry I'm late—" Rafe's shaky voice apologized.

"It's okay, I'll be out in one sec." you cut him off, turning to father Charlie. "Thank you so much for listening, father..." you whispered.

He just smiled and gave you a small nod.

You got out of the church and ran into Rafe's arms. His eyes were a little puffy and they seemed grey and lost, just like the cloudy sky. His gaze suddenly shifted from you to something—someone—behind you.

"I'm Charlie. Charlie Mayhew. But probably you'll know me by 'Father Charlie'." the voice introduced himself to Rafe.

You haven't noticed that the priest had followed you outside. You prayed he won't tell Rafe what you two have talked about, prayed he won't confront him. You scrunched your eyes, face to Rafe's chest, back to Father Charlie's. What an irony.

Rafe's arm crept up your arm pulling you into his shoulder while he shook father Charlie's hand. The tension between the two men was there.

Father Charlie's coal-black eyes were perforating holes into your boyfriend's ocean blue ones. The nerves in his wider jaw ticked swiftly and a forced, patronizing smirk fell on his lips.

Rafe was more clueless, but his boyish, constant need of 'being the best' made him straighten his back and grip the priest's hand harsher. Rafe's jaw was sharper and he clenched it, then he let out a tensed chuckle.

"You're always welcome here, too," father Charlie remarked, breaking the silence. Rafe gave a brief nod, his eyes blank and devoid of emotion. ‘Yeah, uh... I’m not really into this kind of things", he shrugged, gesturing around the church with his index finger.

"Yeah, of course you aren't," father Charlie dry laughed. "Well, I'll see you around." he finished, finally looking at you with a stare that made your heart shake a bit.

"Yeah, well—Yeah!" Rafe stated, but Father Charlie has already turned his back at both of you, walking confidenently towards the church.

✫

"You really can't help being a fuckin' whore, can you?" Rafe shouted, hand fisted deep in your hair while dragging you upstairs.

Your whimperes, cries and pleas were completely ignored, wrath and jealousy was everything that led Rafe right now. The carnal desire to hurt you, to break you. Why? Oh, because he could. Because you were more vulnerable. And because that's how his godless soul guided him.

"You really goin' to church just to drool over that priest of yours? You really are that much of a slut? Huh?"

When you didn't answer, Rafe stopped and pulled your head up. "Fuckin' answer me!" he hissed mercilessly in your ear.

"N-no—" you only whispered before being slapped hard across the face.

"Listen to me, baby—", Rafe grunted, tone so bitter it made you physically flinch, "—you ain't gonna get outta this house for a good fuckin' while from now on."

Your heartreaking sob didn't even made Rafe feel a little guilty. "Pl-please, Rafe, please, d-don't take th-this from me...d-don't take m-my Sun-Sundays away, I'm begging you. I love you, Rafe, I love you,I would ne-never w-want anybody else, I swear—" you said, hyperventilating and choking on your own words.

"Oh, you talkin' back now? Huh? Gettin' smart with me?" Rafe scowled, clutching your neck with his veiny hand and throwing you on the bed in his room. " Why ain't he teaching you about shutting the fuck up and being obedient to the man that fucking owns you?!" Rafe scowled, throwing you on his bed and straddling you. He always easily overpowered you.

"I d-don't even know who y-you are an-anymore—" you cried, tears of desperation choking you.

"Don't worry, baby. I'll remind you right now." Rafe smirked devilishly, ripping off the white summer dress from your body. "And I'll teach you to keep your head down because I am your fuckin' boyfriend. Me! And nothing will change that."

✫

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned...". Your shaky, lacy voice travelled from the confessional to father Charlie's ears. He closed his eyes, forcing back a grunt and he inhaled deeply, ready to listen to you.

After your rather stupidly innocent 'confession', you got out, keen on leaving the place. However, you looked back at father Charlie.

His eyes scanned your body, your face. Your lower lip was split open, your cheekbone was colored in dark purpleish bruises and your eyes were quiet but a deep seated fear was behind them. It amazed him.

As he watched you turning back around and getting out the church swiftly, almost trying to seem invisible, he turned and made his way outside. He needed to think and figure his plan out. It was the most sinful thing he was going to do. Ever. It was almost demonic. Father Charlie didn't care if he needed to whip his back raw afterwards, he needed to succeed with this plan of his.

You were like a little lamb, a little sheep. He didn't want to be your sheperd though. He decided to be your wolf.

✫

The ring in your ears atarted in the moment you have opened your eyes. The pain radiated through your skull, making your entire system feel weak. You noticed you were still in the silky white dress you went to the confession with. Your senses were coming back to normal again. Then, the terror of realisation hit you like a truck.

Tears started gathering in your eyes and, when you felt a little warm liquid slipping down your temple, you brought your hand up to touch it. Or at least, you wanted to. But your wrists were blocked somewhere. By something.

You tried to calm yourself down, tried to stop the sobs as you noticed you were chained down a bed frame. You were laying on a dusty carpet, tied, probably bleeding and completely alone. You started praying, because not even your screams for help didn't seem to help. You weren't even hearing your own voice. After everything you went through, this seemed the worst scenario, effectively out of hell.

On spur of moment, the door was opened. When you shot your glossy eyes up, you saw father Charlie's figure. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair of grey sweatpants, so unlike him. His chest was damp, his hair was messy, his eyes hid darkness and mist.

Your mind lied to your judgement anyways, so you were convinced he was here to save you when he crouched down next to your cuffed figure.

"Oh, th-thank God...Thank God—", you sniveled. "Pl-please, help m-me father, I don't know why I'm here—"

"My little lamb...", he breathed out, reaching out to brush a hair strand out of your face. "You look even more angelic down here."

You furrowed your brows. You felt sick. Lied. Confused. B-Betrayed?

"N-no—," you sobbed, a tear falling down your bruised cheek. He grabbed your face in his hands and wiped it with his thumb. "Pl-please, wh-why?" you mumbled, trying to crawl away.

He seemes much more wider, darker and dangerous than your boyfriend, Rafe. Your emotions were screwed up and you let yourself in the will of the fate.

"I couldn't stand seeing my little sheep, my little prey being devoured by someone else. I need you at my feet, I need to devour you."

Nausea filled your stomach. "This—this cannot be, I-I th-thought you'd help me..." you pathetically whimpered.

Father Charlie's hand gripped your throat and he closed his fingers around it, around the healing bruises, effectively choking you. He hummed and closed his eyes, not caring about your tears and plugged pleas. "Whenever I saw your bruises, I always wondered...how he felt while doing this to you. Now I understand why he wanted to keep you apart from society. It is in human nature—" he hissed, almost devilishly, then he ripped your cross necklace off your throat. "—to break the weaker ones. To own them. It is our carnal, shady side."

"You-you are no priest. No man of God. You-you are the devil!" you spat at him. His chuckle was the only thing you heard before he hit you hard across the face with your necklace. The sharp edges of the cross broke the skin of your cheek, the crimson fluid making its way down your face. The only unique element that brought you so much comfort, joy and peace turned into an object of torture in the hands of the man you let yourself trust and love.

"I think not even heaven can help you now. You are on your knees only for me."

ও tag: literally my other half, my sister and my greatest friend @highonmarvel. I adore you, you know that. Enjoy this. Critique me. Write a long pharagraph, idc. I need you.♡

[drdemonprince]

two separate people have now told me that my boss is trying to get me to quit my job. apparently I'm supposed to pick up on the hints and go away. the hints: tasks that she used to push entirely onto me because she didn't want to do them, she's now seriously restricting my access to because I'm "not good at them." after three years of my solely handling them and going through the whole process of getting better at them and consistently improving. she's also reduced my hours a lot.

the thing is, this is my second job, and I've responded by increasing the hours at my primary job, so this isn't impacting my income at all. I'm just really sad about it, because I like this job, and the closest other place I could go to work in this specific roll is an hour away. I also want to have this particular job title on my resume for the longest possible stretch of time I can manage, because it'll help me later in the specific field that I work in. so...my inclination here is to just not quit. but I was also taking her at face value that she was just erroneously under the impression I'd spontaneously become bad at my tasks, until it was explained to me. so my take may not be correct.

thoughts?

Hi! Yes, what you are experiencing is called Constructive Dismissal, and it is a tactic employers use to try and force employees to quit by removing job tasks from their plate.

It is quite common for disabled employees in particular to be constructively dismissed. Most people find it so painful and threatening to have little to do, apparently, that it affects their self-esteem and gives them anxiety and makes them quit. I call it a free pay day!

Don't let them manipulate you. Don't read in between the lines. Use this to your advantage. Collect the paycheck, do as little as is now asked of you, and project an oblivious, neutrally positive quality. If they want to fire you or fuck with you, they will have to have the nards to do it explicitly. Many companies won't.

I was constructively dismissed at my current job in the first month! I am still here five years later because I just... kept showing up and kept myself busy with my own projects. I figured if they don't want to give me work to do, I can't argue with that! Turns out a lot of places will eventually kinda forget you exist which can be a good thing. Check out the r/Overemployed subreddit to read the stories of many people who take advantage of situations like these to collect two, three, sometimes four paychecks from shitty fake jobs at a time.

[guppygiggles]

Short hurt/comfort fic below. Lots of angst and crying, cheer-up tickles, ler!Avery, a ton of teasing, and even some fourth-wall-breaking? Very personal, and a bit weird, but.. it was meant to be cathartic and I do feel better, so I think that's good enough right now. 💙

“Avery… What am I doing here?” 

I was seated on an old, green corduroy couch, which I instantly recognized as the first couch I’d ever bought. How he'd managed to get it here – wherever here was – baffled me; it had been years since I donated that ratty thing to Goodwill. 

Apart from myself, the couch, Avery, and the armchair he was seated in, everything as far as I could see was white, even the floor. I was reminded of “The Construct” scene from The Matrix. 

“You're always here… this is your mind. I merely constructed this space so that we could talk,” he explained. 

“Uhm, okay… Suspending my disbelief, for a moment… What do you want to talk about?” 

Avery's long legs were crossed, his arms folded over his chest. He did not look happy, but despite his stern expression, I couldn't help but admire him; clad in a lavender button down and khaki pants, he looked as soft and sweet as cotton candy. 

“I hear you, you know… all these self deprecating thoughts you have.” 

I fidgeted, already getting an inkling of where this was going. I studied the featureless white floor, lips pursed.

Avery continued, “I try not to invade your privacy by listening, but… I live here, and you can be quite loud. Generally, you make me proud by quieting those criticisms… But, sometimes, you indulge thoughts I cannot abide. I think you know what I'm referring to, don't you?” 

I didn't meet Avery's gaze. 

“Casper? Shall I repeat it?” 

I whimpered, my head snapping forward. 

“No! No, please don't.”

“Why not? Is it because you don't want your friends to read the absolutely ridiculous thought you had about your art, because you already know what they'd say?” 

I tried to resist it, but a warm flush colored my cheeks. I looked away from him, again. 

Avery sighed, shook his head, and smiled in exasperation. 

“Alright, dewdrop. If you won't talk to me, let's have it out.” He stood, rolling up his sleeves. 

“N-No, I just… I can't!” I squeaked, hiding my face in my hands. “I can't talk about it, I just… Nobody understands. I just try so hard, and…” I was starting to choke up. My brow furrowed in frustration – why did he have to put me through this? 

“Now, you know that's not true. You think you're the only artist who has ever struggled? Come, now.” 

“I’m just so late to the game… And, I should be further along than this. I've been drawing for six months now, and I still can't get proportions right… I still can't draw with depth… I still can't shade… My friends deserve better than what I can make… ”

I felt the couch move beside me, and then two huge arms encircled my body. I leaned weakly into his chest, his skin providing cool relief for my emotional flush. He was as soft as ever.

“Casper… You can't hang your self worth on the opinions of others. I know you love your friends – and, for the record, they obviously love your art – but you can't allow what anyone else thinks to determine whether you continue this journey or not.” 

He shifted, crooking a finger under my chin and tilting my head up. Two hot tears streamed down my face as I stared into his clear, gentle eyes. 

“I've heard you say these words, yourself: ‘You do not need to create to be worthy of love’. Why don't you believe that, when it's you? Why do you think other people inherently deserve kindness, patience, and love, but that you have to earn it?”

He studied my face as I tried, and failed, to control my sobbing. An answer was shared wordlessly through a series of mental images – we did inhabit the same mind, after all. 

“Oh, Casper…” He tugged my trembling body into his huge embrace once again. “I know, I know… It's okay.” 

“I'm trying,” I sniffled. 

“You’ve come so far, dewdrop… You've wanted this for so long. I've seen the joy that art brings you, and I’ll be damned if I'm going to let you lose one more thing that’s precious to you. Not if I can help it.”

“Avery,” I looked up at him, slowly, a puzzled expression on my tear-stained face, “did you just swear?”

He grinned. “Did I finally get your attention, then?” 

I turned my head into his arm, concealing my reaction. 

“Ah, ah! Don't you dare hide that smile I just worked so hard for…” 

He tried to tilt my head back up, but I turned away swiftly, shifting to face away from him. 

I heard a snicker from behind me. 

“Wrong move.” 

I gasped, leaping from the couch and breaking into a sprint. The boundless white space was so vast, I felt as though I could run forever; like I was a little kid again, energy nigh infinite, chasing a soccer ball on the playground field of my youth. 

When was the last time I had run like this? 

As my imagination blossomed, the space around me began to transform. Placid white ceiling became sunny sky, painted delicately with rolling cumulus clouds. Soft grass pushed up through the sterile floor until my pounding footsteps became muffled thuds, yellow woodsorrel sprouting like jewels in a sea of green. Warm sunshine told me it was spring, but the breeze whistled cool against my skin, quickly drying the tears from my face and clothes. 

I stood no chance of resisting; my weak smile broke into a huge grin, and finally a giggly laugh. 

Outrunning Avery, I knew, was a pipe dream… but I'd run for longer than I expected. Did I dare glance backwards…?

No sooner had the thought entered my mind than my ankles were ensnared by an unseen force. I yelped, eyes squeezing closed as I threw my hands out to brace my fall into the grass. I landed in something much softer. I opened my eyes. A beanbag? I rolled over. 

Avery was standing over me, grinning with delight. He didn't look even the least bit winded, that cheeky shit. I could see now that my ankles were wrapped in a boa of clouds. 

“Well, aren't you proud of yourself,” I quipped, a giggle rendering my sarcasm toothless. 

Avery made a gesture with his hand, and I jumped as a large shade tree appeared over us. “Hey! Jesus, warn me first… How did you even do that? How do you keep making things appear like that?” I was only delaying the inevitable. I shuffled my feet, but there was no breaking free from Avery's cloud cuff. 

“You can do it, too,” he replied, taking a seat in the grass as he began to unlance my Vans, “you made this entire field appear, just now – not even I can conjure something that big. That's the thing, Casper… You can't help but create, even when you're not trying to. It just pours out of you, which is why it's simply ridiculous that you'd give credence to a thought like ‘giving up on art’. Come on, now. Do you really think you could do that? Do you really think it would be fair to relinquish such a special and integral part of you?” 

I looked away, sheepishly. Avery continued. 

“I think we need to do some positive affirmations.” He set my shoes aside, and then unceremoniously pulled off each of my socks, stuffing them into my shoes. 

“Avery! Can't we talk about this?” I whined. The gentle breeze caressed the soft undersides of my bare feet, causing my toes to twitch. I took a deep breath, trying to keep from blushing. 

“I have been trying to talk about this! You are the one who keeps clamming up when I try to get you to come around. I think some gentle persuasion is in order, at this point.” He winked, wiggling his fingers in my direction. My stomach filled with butterflies; there was no stopping my blush, now. I shifted on the beanbag, but Avery's hands clasped my legs, keeping me still. 

“Ah, ah! You stay right there. I was kind enough to only bind your ankles, but we'll go for more, if you fight me.” 

I sunk back into the beanbag, folding my arms across my chest in a flustered pout. I avoided Avery's gaze. 

“Now, then… Let's start with this. I want you to say ‘I am a good artist’.” 

“I'm not going to say something I don't believe is true!” I bit, curling my toes in defiance. 

“Double nickels on my dime… Very well. Let's see if a little tickling can change your tune, hm?” With that, Avery’s plush fingertips began moving in an undulating ‘come hither’ motion along the soles of my feet. 

My face scrunched as I worked to resist it, squirming in the beanbag as I clamped my lips together, my trapped feet wriggling as much as their restraints allowed. 

“Oh, Casper, come on. Are you really going to make me be mean? Do I need to break out my worst teases already?”

Avery changed his tactic, abandoning my left foot so that he could hold my right toes back, using his free hand to scribble quickly along the sole. 

A surprised squeak turned into a series of titters that leaked from my sealed lips, and I covered my face with my hands. 

“Arrgh… A-Avery… C-come ohohohon!” 

I gasped as I felt my wrists captured by soft cuffs, which pulled my hands down and placed them neatly in my lap. He really was going to be mean about this!

“Say it, Casper… or else.” 

I stole a glance down at him – I might as well, since he wasn't going to let me cover my face, anyway – just to see him smirking challengingly up at me, his face a mask of determination. 

“God dahaahahahamn yohohohou!” I cried, my suppressed tittering breaking into a steady stream of helpless giggles. 

“Casper! Is that any way to speak to me? Alright, then… You asked for it. Coochie coochie coo~” he teased. “Awww, does someone have ticklish feet? I think they doooo~” Avery swished his hand again, conjuring a pair of ghost hands to hold each set of my toes back, while he tickled and scritched merrily along both of my soles. 

I squealed in frustration as I felt my blush immediately spread to my ears. He was really pulling out all the stops for this… How long could I resist, realistically? Perhaps it would be easier to give him an inch… Maybe he'd be satisfied, then? My brain was already growing fuzzy from his teasing. 

“Fihine! I'm a goohoohohood artihihist!” I laughed, arching my back as I endured the torturously gentle tickling. 

Avery stopped, grinning triumphantly. 

“There, now! Was that so hard? Let's move onto the next one!”

“Next one!? Oh, hell no! I am not doing any more of these!” 

My eyes widened as, in an instant, Avery was on top of me. He straddled my hips, lifting my restrained wrists over my head and invisibly pinning them there. Then he took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his fierce eyes. A chill ran down my spine as I felt his unwavering resolve.

“We're going to do as many as it takes for you to show yourself the same care that you show others. We're going to do these until you believe in yourself and your art. I have to live in your head, and I do not want to live in a place where I have to hear negative things like this said about my fellow. Am I making myself clear?”

I swallowed hard, but somehow, still mustered the nerve to argue. 

“Please, Avery…” 

“The next thing I want you to say is ‘I am worthy of love and friendship’, and when you say it, I want you to know that it includes when you're not doing things for other people. Not helping them, not creating for them, none of it. You are worthy just on your own, just for being you.”

“I can't…” 

Avery lifted his hands to my armpits, hovering mere inches from my short-sleeve t-shirt. 

“I know how you feel about being tickled here, and if you don't say it, right now, I'm going to tease you within an inch of your life until you do.” His eyes were ever kind, but they were serious, too. 

I whimpered, clicking my teeth together. There was no hiding in this position… All I could do was close my eyes, so I did. Feelings of disappointment, inadequacy, and loneliness washed over me. Could I ever really measure up to those I respected? Me, a person so damaged, and so many years behind? Could I really expect anyone to care about me when I wasn't doing something to make myself useful to them, or to make them happy? 

“Casper, look at me.” 

I complied, frowning. 

“If anyone else asked you these questions, what would you say? Would you really tell someone they're too late to be good at something? Would you look someone in the eye and tell them that they only have worth when they're doing something for you?” 

“No…” 

“Of course not. You deserve that compassion, too. Now, I want you to prove that you believe that. Say it for me, dewdrop.” 

“I… am worthy…” 

“Of…?” 

“...” 

“Come on, you're so close…”

“...” 

“I'll make you sing, then. Tickle, tickle, tickle! Coochie coochie coooo~! Awww, poor ticklish boy… Are you ticklish under your arms, right here? Let's see!” 

I had no strength left to resist – as Avery lowered his whirling fingertips to my pits, I howled with laughter, my blush flooding all over my face and neck. My hands twisted uselessly in their bonds as I squirmed beneath him, my heart fluttering as he gently tickled over my thin shirt. 

“AHAHAHAHhahavery! Plehehehehease NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” 

“I've given you plenty of warnings, I've been patient… now the kid gloves are off. Say it, Casper. Say it!” 

“I’M WOHOHORTHY OF LOHOHOVE!” 

“And…?” He slipped his fingers into the sleeves of my shirt, gently scribbling my bare underarms. 

My stomach did somersaults as I squealed with laughter so forceful, I could barely get the words out. 

“AHAHAHAND FRIENDSHIHIHIP!” 

“There we gooo~! Ohh, I am so proud…” He finally relented, wrapping his arms around my torso and pulling me into his softness. 

My cuffs dissipated, and I instantly wrapped my arms and legs around him, clutching him to me as I buried my face in his shoulder. He stroked my shock of blue hair, comforting me as I caught my breath. 

A warmth spread through my chest – while it certainly wasn't a cure-all, I had to admit… I did feel better. Perhaps some of the affirmations really did seep in, at least a bit. 

“I won't make you say any more, today… I think you've had enough. But we will be repeating this exercise, if I start hearing all that unkind self-talk again. Clear?” 

“Crystal,” I whispered after a moment, leaning my cheek against his cloudy head. 

[altraviolet]

"Were my optics pure gold, would you accept them?

What would you take from me, that I could prove myself a changed mech?"

The whole poem, I have it saved bc it haunts me (and also bc I'm turning it into a comic strip but shhhhh I am very slow abt it)

oooh!! I'm so glad you enjoy that poem! and oooooohhhhhhhh a shh comic strip shh shh 👀 👀

if you'd like to know more about how I constructed the poem, I put it beneath the cut :D

I thought really hard about how Megatron would consider himself, regarding the destruction that he's brought to countless beings, and how that contrasts to the worth of his own life. So he starts by asking about that:

“By what metric would you judge me? What action deigns itself equal to the value of a life?

He's looking to make amends, as it were, and his approach to that process is to ask, "what would you take from me to make this equal/better now?" The optics line is part of that - he offers his eyes and the thing that makes him a transformer - the most precious things he can offer [side note, having him offer a physical part of his body that humans do not have an equivalent to helps the world feel more real and transformers-y]:

Were my optics pure gold, would you accept them? Were my T-cog indestructible, would you have it? What would you take from me, that I could prove myself a changed mech?”

He deliberately pauses the poem recitation to change his physical position. this emphasizes a change in thought process- he wants to offer another approach to this trade off:

Here Megatron's stance shifted from a defensive posture to open arms.

Now he suggests that he should give something physical of himself freely instead of having it taken from him by another [note, more non-human anatomy]:

“Or perhaps I should give. Shall I give you the fine circuitry under my fingertips? The soft lining of my spark chamber?

But taking or giving physical parts of his body won't really accomplish anything. It can't bring anyone back, and it will only leave him damaged. So at the end he offers something immaterial, but perhaps worth more than anything in his physical body:

Or may I give you something else entirely? May I give you my word, my actions, my solemn promise that I seek to be better than I once was?”

This is Megatron still struggling to accept his part in what's happened. It's not stated outright much in the fic - because this isn't really a fic about Megatron - but we do see hints of this: he has to deal with his namesakes' destruction over and over and over and over. Every single dimension they go to, he sees what another Megatron has done. He's taking the punishment for all of them, in a way, by living with all that knowledge and guilt.

So yeah. He's still struggling with the whole idea of it, and he's still trying to prove to everyone that he has changed. I'm so happy you enjoy the poem! It seems to have accomplished what it set out to do <3

Thanks for the kind ask!

[desceros]

Hi, you probably don't remember me, but I'm the 🪻 anon that sent asks once or twice. Still very much a nervous fan! Your work and the way you write about your experiences and feelings still positively stun me every time I read your posts.

I've been thinking about writing for the tmnt and rottmnt universes for a while now, but I'm still very uncertain about my own interpretation of these characters. If it isn't too much to ask, I'd like to know how you do it??

Your work has such fluidity and... sense?? I don't really quite know how to put it into words, but it inspires me very much! Anyway, I guess I'm asking for writing tips?? I know each interpretation is unique and our own, but I can't help but adore yours! I hope you're having a good day/night, Ms. Desceros!

Ps: English is not my first language, so sorry if my rambling aren't really coherent. (〒 u 〒⁠)

– 🪻

i do very much remember! and i'm so sorry i had this sitting in my inbox for forever and a day lmfaoooo i didn't want to rush the answer and instead give it proper thought/answer for you! :D

so it sounds like you're asking two different things here, which is 1) how do i establish strong characters, and 2) how do i construct flow in a fic.

characterization

for characters, it starts pretty simply with just consuming a lot of the character. for example, with the turtles, i've watched rise and bayverse both a lot. like, a lot a lot. enough that i can hear their voices in my head when i'm writing, because i've heard them so much.

specifically, i've watched it not just casually, but also with the ears of a writer. what words do each of the turtles use? how do they phrase things? when one of them gets annoyed, how does he communicate it? when they're scared, what do they say? how do they move their bodies? what do they do in the background of scenes where they aren't the focus?

once you feel like you kind of know the answers to those questions, the next step is just to write! i probably have about... hm... 30-50k of fic in my icloud that i wrote before i started posting things. the purpose of it was just to figure out how i liked the turtles to sound. because i write them as older adults, they sound just a little different than they do in the show. i inject my headcanons into their voices. these things change how they act, and i fiddled with it until i was happy with it. knowing i wasn't going to publish these made it really easy for me to get creative and push things, until i found the boundaries that i like and that feel good for me.

flow

so good flow is something that really comes with a lot of experience writing. it's one of those things you... pick up as you write a lot, so this part is going to be a bit more. hm. disconnected. nuanced. how you like things paced, how things feel good under your fingers; these are things you'll get better at as you go on. that said, it's something i've very consciously worked on myself, so i do have a few tips for you that'll hopefully speed up that process for you!

my biggest tip is to READ. find authors (fiction and fanfiction!) you like, and READ them. but again, we're not doing it recreationally, we're doing it as a writer.

read your favorite authors and think. think about the things they include and what they don't. what information do they convey in great detail? what information do they convey in exposition? what information do they leave for you to garner on your own? why do you like how they include things? why do you like what they don't? do you miss certain things? do you wish they wouldn't bother with others?

for example, i really love brining in the emotions of a scene. how something makes a character feel. basking in that is something i really love reading, so i have a lot of it in my writing. and i enjoy doing it without Telling you how someone feels. i don't say "donnie is sad." i tell you how his shoulders slump. how he gazes off to the side with a listless expression. how his eyes cloud over with uncertainty. these are things i've enjoyed reading, and so i've incorporated into my writing. i will slow down the flow of my fic, putting a bit of rubato on these moments, because i like how it feels.

i personally enjoy things to be very fluid, connecting from one scene to the next with as little a break as possible. think of french vs english. french is very fluid, english is very percussive. they're both languages, both good, they just sound different to the ear. part of constructing that, for me, means i write from beginning to end without skipping around. it's a style that has its pros and cons, but it allows me to have a single thread, unbroken, though the entire work.

ultimately, your writing is a stained glass of everything you love. the words you think are pretty, the turns of phrase that catch your eye, the verbs that bring action to life. this is the foundation of what people will call your "voice," and a large part of that is your flow, or pacing. i can't really... tell you how to create your stained glass. but this is how you can create your own, and make it something you find beautiful.

[lemurious]

[there's a trick to it]

A fic for @lesmis-prompts. Day 10 - trick (or treat), Day 11 - red, Day 12 - ghosts. (Ahead of schedule; but it just poured out of me; and got much longer than expected).

The real trick to seeing the ghosts is that regular people need to stop seeing you first.

There are a few other tricks, known to most of us on the streets. The ghosts can't enter a house without invitation. They can only speak one night a year, between the sunset and the midnight on All Hallows Eve. And sometimes, they show up on that night wearing a bright red vest, and talk your ear off.

Here on AO3 and beyond the cut.

They say there’s a trick to seeing ghosts, but that’s always the new kids, stuffed to the brim with old tales of mirrors and keyholes and salt circles. As if we had time to throw salt around in the middle of the street, or had a steady supply of keyholes. We’re lucky to get a construction site.

If you truly want to see a ghost, those tales are about as good as the belief that only particularly creepy spots get haunted. Old mansions, churches and monasteries, and obviously, graveyards.  

I can assure you that the graveyards are as quiet as anything, and the ones with the larger crypts, especially if the locks are rusty enough, are the absolute salvation for us once the spring thunderstorms come around.

First off, nobody goes to a cemetery in a thunderstorm. Second, in those days the folk built as if they’d need their grave for a hundred generations, and most of them were your average counts and marquises, so, marble and more marble with marble on top, and all of that so well constructed that not a drop gets in.

For ghost hunting  though, you’re out of luck. You can try the bridges, some of the older bars and cafes, the shores of the river, though the ghosts can end up wading halfway through the earth over there. Looks a bit uncanny, but they are still walking along the old river, from centuries ago.

The real trick to seeing the ghosts is that regular people need to stop seeing you first.

It normally takes a few weeks until their glances start sliding off of your body. They will never look you in the face, as if eye contact would blind them, and any kind of touch, even a brush of clothes as they’re passing by, must be sheer agony based on their response.

We get all flavors of disgust; anger, occasionally, I guess, if only because it’s really easy to get angry if you know the other person won’t be able to fight back; genuine curiosity, only from very little kids before their parents snatch them away; and pity, that’s the standard, though who am I to scoff at it, money’s still money at the end of the day, and there’s not too many stores that would give away food once it reaches the expiration date anymore, they’ve all been replaced by the posh restaurants in the five years that I’ve been on the streets.  

Time to get off them, I sometimes think, I’m getting close to college. I’ve been bumming around libraries for the last year, all thanks to Red, and also to the friendly grandma at the front desk who lets me sleep on one of these comfy couches, sometimes even passes along a mug of hot chocolate. I can read anything I want, all day if I so desire, and even when she locks up there’s a spot right under the camera, where, if I make myself really small, I can remain until she turns everything off, and then, oh glory and trumpets, I can actually sleep through the night. Too bad she’s on closing duty only once every other week.  

In the meantime, I can still get some quality reading, use a computer, so I’ve been looking at some financial aid, other kinds of help for folks like myself, though I trust the helpers as far as I can throw them, and you only need to look at my wristbones sticking out to see how far that is.

I used to worry about my weight, but that was before, when I was too young for such things, but, well, one sometimes has to live all the life all at once before one is ready for it. But I digress, as one of these fancy writers would say; I’d add especially when hungry.

I’m working hard on my reading though, been trying to get into social politics, and some history too, because Red all but threw me into the history corner in here, so I figured I’d make him proud. I’m not much for protesting though, I know Red would disagree, but it just feels so intangible, somehow.

Now the human body, that’s a different matter; how it works and when it doesn’t. I’ve literally read the big medical encyclopedia cover to cover in my first month. I think if I ever get off the streets, I’d like to be a doctor. A roof over my head is all but guaranteed, and maybe, just maybe, I could build a tent clinic, of a sort, with the money from all the doctoring of the rich.

I’ll tell Red that, see what he thinks. At All Hallows Eve, which is tonight, so, lucky me, been waiting for a year for this, and I’m not going to miss my chance.

It’s really very inconvenient that while you can see the ghosts year-round, the trick is that you only get that one night to speak to them. And Red, in case it isn’t clear yet, is a ghost.

When I first saw him, he was wearing the most absurdly fancy red vest I’ve ever seen, and looked the way that would make one want to become an artist and draw nothing else ever, but I can barely scratch a stick figure in the mud, so I think I’ll follow my new plan of becoming a doctor instead. Which I still need to tell Red about.

He’d better be at that same intersection where I met him last year, when he was standing looking all confused.

Apparently he keeps waking up every few decades or so, and it takes him a while to get used to it.

He was awfully sad about what he called the future, though, and especially when he saw me doing the mime thing.

I gave him the finger. With enough tourists, and especially with them feeling especially charitable on the occasion of the day meant to honor your dead, the miming was going to feed me for a week.

Instead, I got just enough for about a day’s worth of food, sparingly, and a long lecture about poverty and equality and justice and liberty, and I didn’t even care because I was going to follow him straight into the river if he asked me to, and with the kind of faith that would’ve probably had me walking on water anyway. Red has that effect on people.

I showed him around a bit, but he knew he could only speak for so long, only between the dusk and midnight, the normal ghost rules apply to drop-dead gorgeous revolutionaries as well, and he used all of that time to talk to me, He told me to go to the library, right before it closed, and just stood there looking at me expectantly until I gathered all my courage, waltzed in and I, as if I were a normal kid from a normal family, as if I were someone visible, asked to sign up for a card. I gave the address where I first saw Red, since I don’t exactly have one of my own. Number 28, Rue de la Chanvrerie.

This is where I’m waiting for him, because, for whatever reason he hasn’t been around much in the past year. Only a few days in the beginning of the summer, then on July 14th, then I think I saw him at that last big protest, before they decided to clear all the encampments, but maybe that was just a red jacket worn by someone else, perhaps not even a ghost.

I was half-faint from the heat, and food’s been scarce, too, and I didn’t really want to just fill myself with the cheap wine either, I get those wicked headaches. I’ve read about them. Nobody knows what causes them. I bet Red would say, nobody knows yet, meaning that I could be the one to figure it out. For a ghost from the past, he’s really stubborn about the future, and how much better it would be.

So, now I think I’ll tell him, that it’ll be medicine and nothing else for me, if I ever get out of here, and will thank him for the last year.

Also, it’s my turn to help him. You see, I asked him what he was looking for, back when I saw him and before he started asking me all these questions and telling me all these things.

Usually the ghosts have some unfinished business, the problem is that that it’s often something unfinished from a hundred years ago that nobody has any idea about anymore, so, tough luck. I’m really hoping that it wouldn’t be the case for Red.

Back then, he said that he didn’t have time to answer. When I asked him to answer whom, he looked like he was going to cry, which, well, I didn’t know what to do about it (now I do, I’ve read about it in books, there’s all sorts of things you can say to comfort someone), so I quickly asked him instead what the answer was going to be. Red smiled, seeing straight through my attempt, and said that it would be useless to me, but the answer was always.

He was right, it didn’t really help, but I am nothing if not persistent – the ones who aren’t are dead by the end of the first winter under the bridge – and I will figure it out.

And it’s finally the sunset, All Hallows Eve again, my favorite day of the year – and of course all the ghosts are breaking into their chatter saying all the things they’ve been storing all year – and here’s Red, right under the streetlight!

--

So here I am again, finishing the story. I figured I’d write the rest of it down too, because I never want to forget any of it. Especially not Red, because I can no longer be sure that he’ll be back next year, but it might not be exactly the worst thing either, even though I feel that my heart would break and I’m wondering if the grandma librarian would let me just cry in a quiet room somewhere, because tears are not a good sign on the streets.

So, I told Red everything in a single rush as if I were the one who hadn’t been allowed to speak for a year, and he said all these things about how important medicine was and how I should never be afraid of the future and never forget the past, and so on and so on, and I will write all of them too, on a separate page, keep it in my pocket, I think, or maybe memorize it, and keep it in my head.

And then I asked him, alright, since we know what he wants to say, does he have any idea where he wanted to go.

Imagine that, it was the same address I gave on my library card. That ancient coffeeshop, well, nowhere near the oldest in the city, but decrepit enough. So I figured, time to spend my dinner-money on a cup of coffee, because, hell, if I go to bed hungry it won’t be the first time even this week, and that was the only way I could get in.

Which was the only way I could get Red in, since, obviously, the regulars in coffeeshops don’t really see the ghosts, and the trick about the supernatural that they have to be invited into a house. Which is really almost the only superstition that is correct, but that’s a matter for another story.

So I got my fancy cappuccino, bowing halfway to the floor to invite Red in, and I thought he would shatter into pieces with the way he looked around that shop. I need to be a better writer to describe his face. It was terrified and heartbroken and hopeful all at once, and all for no more than a second, and then it was replaced with the kind of determination that if I had a tenth of it I’d be conquering the world.

Red zoned in on the stairs and was bounding up them while I was still scrambling to extricate myself from the rest of the patrons, since no matter how small, I was rather more substantial than a ghost, and by the time I reached the upper landing and the room in the attic, I could  hear Red’s voice cutting off, barely more than a sob.

“R”, he said, and I swear it sounded like he was addressing someone, “how – how long – how are you here – have you been waiting for me?”

“Well, I decided I was just going to sleep here, until you showed up. After all, you told me I could. Once,” said another voice, lower and raspier, but with the same echo you only get in ghosts. There’s another trick to noticing them, you need to listen carefully, but of course, it only works that one night in the year.

“How did you know? I had to be invited here, it’s not that easy, it’s -”

“Of course you would. Even if it took you a thousand years, you would. I know you doubted me, but I thought, when you smiled at me, that time – when I woke up, I thought that perhaps – that was more than enough to keep waiting. And it’s only been a year. And I can finally tell you things.”

I tried to become more invisible than the ghosts, not to disturb them. Red was leaning over the table, grasping the elbows of that other ghost, who was dark haired, decidedly less attractive, and dressed in an equally over-the-top green jacket. The way they looked at each other, though…. I couldn’t remember how to breathe.

“I never had a chance to respond…” Red said, and I could hear the tears in his voice.

“You didn’t need to,” the other ghost shook his head.

“I did, though. I wanted to say – always, I will always, always…”

“Permit -?”

“Want to keep holding your hand,” now both of them were crying for real, and Red grabbed the other ghost’s hand, clutching it so hard that it would probably have left bruises, if ghost bodies worked that way. “And, if you permit me –“

That was really impolite of me. But before I made myself to walk down the stairs, and got kicked out of the coffeeshop for trying to break into the attic, I spent a while just standing there, watching them kiss each other like they were going to die, like they weren’t dead already, and listening to them whisper to each other what I couldn’t quite parse out, but I got the meaning well enough.

I wonder if Red and R have decided that they were done with this future, or if they’ll be back again next year, or back in another hundred years or so. I reckon I’ll go visit the coffeeshop just in case. Also, there may be other ghosts who need help; I’m going to be kinder to them from now on, maybe we can find a way to talk to each other even without words.

Also, I eventually figured out their names, but Red is Red to me forever, and I like R better than the full version anyway.

I decided, if they could wait two hundred years, and still didn’t give up on each other, who am I to give up after barely five on the streets. I’ll be that doctor yet, you’ll see. And maybe one day I will look at someone with just as much love as two ghosts looked at each other in a coffeeshop on All Hallows Eve.

[halfmoth-halfman]

y'all know what time it is! it's monthly fic rec time!!!

i decided to move this to the first so i wouldn't miss any fics that might be posted on the last day of each month!!

& a small, kinda sad update:

usually this is where i'd link to my fic-recs blog, but i hit the character limit on my filter page where i have my recs organized and when i made a new page it saved over the first one.

all of my filters and recs on that page are now gone and have to be manually re-done. you can still find my recs by scrolling through the blog, but the filter page is going to be under construction until i can get everything fixed and re-added!!

Alex Keller

❀ click click boom - @writeforfandoms

i don't see a lot of alex fics, so this was already a fav as soon as i saw it, but then i read it and ???? hello???? this was so good??? the characterization of alex alone was amazing, and the rest was like the cherry on top!!

❀ convallaria majalis - @nightingale-ghost-writer

19.2k words of absolute perfection. a fic i have been looking forward to and now that it's out, i just can't get enough of it! did i have to take breaks while reading so i could twirl my hair and kick my feet? yes. was it worth every second? yes.

Arthur Morgan

❀ the fire in your eyes || part VII: horseshoe overlook iii | part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv | part IX: horseshoe overlook v - @cowboydisaster

if there's one character i love more than anything in the world, it's arthur morgan and this series has only made my love for him that much stronger. so beautifully written, i couldn't stop reading-the whole time with a smile on my face. the entire bar scene in part vii??? i was crying with laughter. this is def one of my fav series i've ever read and i am on the edge of my seat waiting for more!

Carlos Oliveira

❀ the way we let it stay - @uselsshuman

this is a fair warning right now that most of the resident evil fics on this list are going to be from em. she has single-handedly ignited my hyperfixation for RE and all of her fics are incredible. including this one!

❀ old wounds new loves - @uselsshuman

i love little cute domestic fics, and carlos is so real for not liking cereal. “Waking up and eating a bowl of cold soggy food? No, thank you.” i feel that on such a spiritual level. also protective!carlos is just the best!!

Javier Peña

❀ arepas - @mvtthewmurdvck

i know i already went feral over this fic, but i'm going to do it again because i love this fic so goddamn much!! this fic is incredible, the way everything feels so natural between javi and reader, the teasing, the friends to lovers trope, everything about this is just so beautiful!!

❀ a broken sight - @mvtthewmurdvck

i don't understand how you can write a character so perfectly. i will never not be amazed by the way you write javi. and the angst??? ugh "He’s here. Like you needed him to be." don't mind the noise that's just me sobbing in the corner.

❀ the dreams we made - @mvtthewmurdvck

there's nothing like a good ol' helping of jo angst. this hurt in all the right ways, completely ripped my heart out and shattered it only to put all the pieces back together again and fill the cracks in with gold.

❀ nowhere to run || file room + accusations | sunshine yellow | a new day - @mvtthewmurdvck

the series that got me into narcos, i actually started watching the show just so i could read the perfection that is this series!! am i potentially spoiling things for myself a little bit? yes, but it's absolutely worth it because this series has me by the throat.

Joel Miller

❀ want. - @mvtthewmurdvck

literal poetry best described by this gif:

John "Soap" MacTavish

❀ none lacking sins - @halcyone-of-the-sea

listen, i like soap. he's not my fav, but he's a really good character. this fic though? it's moved soap up to my top five favorite characters. this made me want to read nothing but soap. i must've read this a dozen times, i was immediately sent into a soap hyperfixation. every aspect of this fic is just amazing. stunning. perfect.

❀ the hanging tree - @writeforfandoms

had me on the edge of my damn seat trying to figure out what was going. the worry and the tension built up so wonderfully i was dying to know what was about to happen and omg i was not disappointed. and the way jen writes soap is just *chef's kiss*

❀ i will wait - @mvtthewmurdvck

this fic had me realize how much i crave soft!soap and just fluff with soap in general. the tender moments warm my heart up something fierce and make me all giddy. like waking up to the perfect sunrise.

John Price

❀ puppy love || one | two | three | four - @writeforfandoms

puppies and price? what more could someone ask for? these two are so cute together and with the added cuteness of the puppies (and gaz lol) it's just an overload of cuteness in the best possible way!

❀ scratches in the surface - @halcyone-of-the-sea

was not expecting a part two to one of my favorite price fics, but damn if this wasn't a fantastic surprise. the angst is top-tier here and as much as it hurt, i couldn't stop reading and will probably read it again a million more times.

❀ neon medusa || part 1: static in the airways | part 2: warning signs - @yeyinde

CYBERPUNK!AU????? WITH PRICE????? WRITTEN BY YEYINDE???? SIGN ME TF UP!!! i am feral, consumed by how excited i am for this series and how utterly fantastic it's been so far. i will never get tired of lev's fics, and how gorgeous her writing is.

❀ untitled - @lunarvicar

okay this was adorable. the way price drops everything to get to her apartment, immediately ready to protect her is just sooo perfect. and her being freaked out by ghost adventures?? asdasljlsjd relatable.

❀ untitled - @yeyinde

i live for domestic bliss, and this fic just scratched that itch so well. there's something so comforting and homey about this fic, just the quiet intimacy between price and reader, the cute back and forth, this line: “Gaz said I looked like an Edwardian lord—” an absolute comfort fic if i've ever read one.

❀ comforts of home - @halcyone-of-the-sea

this fic had me weak, literally struggling to read cause i was too busy looking like this at my phone

❀ barking dog - @yeyinde

jealous!price is not something i see often, but damn if i don't want to see more of it after reading this. i am obsessed with the way lev writes price, how real and natural and captivating he is in her fics.

❀ wicked pyre - @yeyinde

you can't just give me dragon!price and expect me not to love it. i am so feral for monster!au's and this is saldkjaslda i can't be normal after reading this, i am feral, so enraptured by this fic and the entire concept of dragon!price.

❀ origami boats - @halcyone-of-the-sea

a sequel to the best price fic of all time???? say less. this fic was in my top three before i even started reading, i just knew it was going to be good. well, it wasn't just good, it was great. stunning. heart-breaking in a way that gives you the best kind of hurt.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

❀ high hopes - @writeforfandoms

gaz my sweet mans. as one of my favorite characters, i tend to be picky with my gaz fics, but this fic right here? loved it. adored it. read it six times with a bigger smile on my face each time.

❀ cult of vagabonds || prologue | landless gull | snail & thrush - @halcyone-of-the-sea

not only is this a gaz series, but it's one written by halcyone who can never write a bad fic. this is immaculate. i can't even describe how much i love this series so far and how much i can't wait to see where it goes!

❀ boom - @sleepiexx

ok but like this was so good?? the tension, the desperation, the way gaz was so ready to die with her. i'm shook. and that ending???? i’m giggling, i’m blushing, i’m re-reading this fic a million more times.

Leon Kennedy

❀ leon kennedy masterlist - @uselsshuman

i'm gonna be real here for a second, this entire section was 99% made up of em's leon fics. i couldn't choose which ones to add, which ones were my favorite, because i loved them all. so i'm just putting a link to her leon masterlist, because every single one of those fics deserves to be seen and read and given all of the love that they deserve.

❀ enough || one | two | three | final - @uhlunaro

i have one word for this series: wow. just wow. i have never been more thankful to find a series after it was already done because i would've gone crazy waiting to see what happened next! which part was my favorite? all of them. every single one. the hurt, the dialogue, just the way leon is written. i'm speechless.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

❀ exit row || exit row, part iii | exit row, part iv- @lunarvicar

the phrase "post-dick flashback" will live rent free in my head until the day i die, i was wheezing. i'm convinced there isn't a character nat can't make me love, because her portrayal of ghost here?? 🔥🔥🔥

❀ happiness || diamond ring | fearless | - @lethalchiralium

more of my favorite family man!simon series!!!!!! yesssss!!!!! i swear with every new addition, i just love this series more and more. i am so stressed reading it, but i love every second of it.

❀ the effect you have - @mvtthewmurdvck

screaming, crying, throwing up. how do you do it, jo? how do manage to make me hurt and heal my heart so beautifully in every single fic? how dare you, but also thank you so much.

❀ the captain || part 6 | part 7 | thunder - @as-is-above-so-below

omg i can't. y'all can't just keep giving a+ quality family man!ghost fics and expect me to be normal. you can't just give me cute shit like:

“Gaz frug.”

and not expect me to be like:

also, i am absolutely in love with freyja. the way her relationship is written with ghost and the kids is so lovely and has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair.

❀ ghost at the beginning of your relationship - @angelltheninth

cute. adorable. sweet. i love me some good fluff and even more so soft!ghost and this was the perfect combination of both of them! and simon having "guard dog energy" is so funny and so correct.

❀ ménage || refuge | resolution - @lilywastaken

my new go-to for simon fics. the relationship between simon and reader and between simon and the 141 are both so great. and oh my god that wild ride of emotions i went during part five had me stressed tf out i couldn't stop reading! such a great and fun series.

❀ making progress - @constantcrisis19

"dragged into the CoD fandom kicking and screaming" and still delivering an absolutely amazing fic. the teasing, the small talk, the faint smile?? incredible. the entire conversation about powerful music?? fantastic.

[milekael]

TEEHEE tagged by @rizaposting to do this >:3c

are you named after anyone?

I named myself 😎 The name Miles came from Miles Edgeworth LOL Me and an (ex)friend really liked Ace Attorney and the joke is that I was Miles and they were Franziska, and because at that point I was looking for a name it worked nicely!

However with time I really didn't want my name super directly attached to anyone, thats when I figured Mikael out as like "A longer version of Miles" and to be my name name SDFGHJ

I still use Miles a lot and like Ace Attorney btw! if anything, lately I been using Miles online more than my name for the sake of not putting my full name on the interwebs lol

when was the last time you cried?

Help 0 idea. I used to cry a lot as a kid and now for some reason is really hard for me to do it dfghj not even as some kind of psychological hang-up or anything I just can't really do it.

do you have kids?

Noup

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Kinda? Normally just with people I am close to because if its with anyone else I worry it might be misunderstood.

what sports do you play?

I don't play sports but I do really like doing physical work! I used to do a lot of construction work like building frames when I was at college.

what’s the first thing you notice about people?

A weird way to say it but I like to see people's "character design" LOL as in... I do perceive people very based on "If they were a character, what does their design tell me about their personality" kind of deal dfghj

what’s your eye color?

Grey-ish blue. Dark blue?

scary movies or happy endings?

help I am very VERY selective with the kinds of horrors I vibe with so really happy endings pretty much 97% of the time (Fear & Hunger is the 3% lol)

any special talents?

Huuh I know how to take machines apart! And how to build many many things out of trash. Also by taking machines apart sometimes you learn how to fix them, but I wouldn't trust myself to fix anything super important lol

where were you born?

Caracas, Venezuela! And I moved to the U.S (Sadly) in 2017.

what are your hobbies?

Help what do you do when your hobby is your job. I do a lot of the "ough I been drawing this thing for too long, I better take a break and draw this other thing" LOL but huuuh when I feel like doing something else I play videogames. Also I have gotten into online roleplaying again and I been starting to write fics, different from the things I usually have to write for work reasons so I count them.

do you have any pets?

The creachure The Beast Maki Roll. She is a cat.

how tall are you?

UUUH 5'3" or 5'4" I can't remember lol

favorite subject in school?

Saying art feels like a cope-out uuuh In Venezuelan highschool I really liked Literature and Biology was fun! And if we talk about college I didn't expect Sculpture to be my favorite but it was! And ofc I really liked Oil Painting (My concentration lol) and Illustration!

dream job?

OUGH I really want to work as an art curator in a museum :') or in general in a museum, put me to make an archive of historical stuff and I'll have a blast.

Another thing I would really like is working on set design! again I like physical work and traditional art so I would really enjoy it sdfgh Also also sdfgh my main goal is to make comics of my OCs lol but I don't... exactly want to work under an specific company (Maybe have a contract for publishing but my story wouldn't fully belong to them U know) so really my dream scenario is me working for some of the other stuff I want and also make comics on the side dfghj

SDFGH TAGGING HUUH @bolitamurcielago @seastawright @todd-machine and huuh @pixiunera sure why not!! (BTW don't feel preasured to do it I just threw you because friends beloveds <3 )

[outer-edges]

i haven't actually written the spiderman!ellie and retired vigilante!joel au but i cannot stop thinking about it. anyway i can't stop myself from going off about it so headcanons and stuff under the cut.

warning: i do go on for quite a bit because i'm unhinged and unable to stop myself.

joel was a vigilante back in the day, and he slowed down when sarah was born, but he didn't quit until after she died. in this universe, she still died on the night of his thirty sixth birthday, and she died during a shooting joel was present for but failed to stop. he carries that weight with him every day. he tried to keep going for a bit after that, but he stopped pulling his punches and went down a dark path. he fully quits when tommy stops talking to him.

in addition to the regular slew of nicknames he calls her, joel calls ellie 'webs' and 'webhead' and 'spidey' and any variant nickname because he's not calling a goddamn fourteen year old 'Spider-Woman'.

after crossing paths multiple times and much pestering from ellie, joel trains ellie in the way of the vigilante, and they have weekly training sessions that always end up with them getting some kind of takeout.

they set up their little vigilante HQ in the vacant loft apartment on the top floor of joel's building. it's been under construction the entire time joel has lived in the place, and the landlord has no plans to finish it because it'll fuck up his taxes. ellie lovingly dubs the place 'the web', but joel refuses to call it that.

joel is there to catch her whenever she falls and patches up her wounds. he goes way overboard with stocking up his first aid kit, making sure it's got everything he needs and then some, and even he takes emergency field medicine first aid classes at the local community college to make sure he knows everything he needs to know.

ellie hasn't ever had anyone there to support her like this before, and it takes her a while to get used to having someone around to help her bandage her wounds. at first, she often insists on taking care of them herself, but now she goes to him for even bruises, though all he can do is put some arnica cream on that and give her some chocolate pudding (it's good for the soul. and it's also one of her favorite comfort foods).

joel also brushes off his old sewing skills, and he helps ellie make her new costumes and repair old ones because he knows first hand how much of a beating those costumes take and how annoying it is to have to keep replacing them. joel never wore a proper costume himself, just a black mask covering the lower half of his face and black clothes with some lightweight body armor, but still knows the annoyance of it all.

ellie always tries to pick playfights with joel and tackles him out of nowhere but that old man is still quicker than she is and always manages to dodge. much to her annoyance.

in a similar vein, ellie always lightly bodychecks joel as a gentle way of being like 'hey! what's up!' and it's her way of hugging because she still isn't so great with physical affection outside of the softer moments. joel recognizes this and usually deigns to pat her on the head or something similar as a way of affection (though, that man does try to shower her with as much physical affection as possible without pushing any boundaries because he can see how bad the kid needs it, and it hurts his soul).

the first time ellie loses someone as spider-woman, she shows up at joel's in shambles, and he spends the whole night reassuring her that it isn't her fault and she can't save everyone. he tells her the same thing tess told him ages ago 'you save who you can save'. ellie ends up falling asleep curled against him that night.

whenever she's out of the costume, joel constantly forgets that ellie has powers, and it always scares the shit out of him to come home and find her lounging on the ceiling or something. also, he always tries to insist on carrying the heavy things around the house until she reminds him that she literally has fucking super strength, and he's got an old man back, so put the couch down, joel. she's got this.

ellie is actually really smart and goes to this fancy science boarding school—paid for by scholarship, of course. at the school, she's already studying with a concentration in aerospace engineering, and she's on track to go to college for the same thing. joel finds this out when they start watching star trek together and she starts adding all sorts of factoids and scientific corrections. he goes out and buys a book about space for dummies after that.

joel, always the worrier, gives her a tracker to put in her shoe and a bluetooth earbud for when she's out as Spider-Woman. The earbud is supposed to be for emergencies, but they end up on the phone for most of her time on patrols. they usually just sit in idle silence, but she will give him a play by play of what's going on and force him to listen to her ridiculous jokes.

also, added on to that, joel never goes to sleep until she's confirmed to be home safe and sound (home starts out as her dorm room, and it slowly becomes his shitty apartment).

it actually takes a little while for joel to find out ellie's identity, and it happens totally by accident. he's out at the store when he hears some fourteen year old little shit get into a very loud argument with the store clerk. then he realizes he recognizes that voice and it's his fourteen year old little shit. he ends up quickly paying the store clerk while profusely apologizing before promptly dragging ellie out of the store and scolding her the whole way.

after joel finds out ellie's identity, she starts to spend the nights at his apartments sometimes when she gets too lazy to go back to her dorm and/or she's had a rough night and doesn't want to be alone (though, she won't ever admit that second thing). as a result of this, joel clears out a couple drawers in his dresser for her and he buys a new mattress to stick in his empty second bedroom (it used to be tommy's room. but he moved out ages ago, and joel hasn't bothered to fill it). slowly, the room becomes ellie's as more of her stuff migrates over and she starts bringing new stuff in.

speaking of her new room, ellie is delighted to have a space that's totally hers, and she starts bringing in the weirdest souvenirs. currently, her collection includes a bent up street sign she accidentally ripped out of the ground during a fight, a handwritten recipe for cannolis an old lady gave her after ellie helped her find her lost bird, and a giant heirloom armoire that joel doesn't even want to know how she got in the apartment because it's too big to fit through any of the doors (later, he finds out she brought it in through the window, and he just mutters something about goddamn super strength).

cutting myself off here because goddamn this got long but i'm going insane over these two and this idea.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Hi! Gonna start off and say that I love the work you're doing with the Welcome Home neocities website! It's perfectly stylized for the project/puppet show and I can see the work you're putting into it.

I'd love to learn how to make my own neocities website (for fun? For a personal project??), so I was wondering if you could provide some tips and/or pointers for a first-timer.

Thank you!

HAHA well first of all i'm flattered that someone would think i'm skilled enough to be giving pointers in the first place. i still consider myself a novice when it comes to web design (for example, if you're wondering why every page on welcome to welcome home has its own CSS, it's because CSS is Way harder for me to wrap my head around than HTML) so i can't give any Super advanced tips, but i can at least write about what's helped me so far:

GUIDES. neocities has its own tutorial and list of HTML/CSS resources, but user-made guides are your best friend when it comes to figuring out where to go from there. a.n. lucas and pauli kohberger both have really good guides for beginners, but for the more advanced stuff, i found myself referencing the resources on solaria's webspace and sadgrl.online the most. w3schools is also very helpful when it comes to answering more specific questions like "how do i use two different fonts on the same page?" (and probably more.) if all else fails, then usually just googling "how to (x) in HTML" or "how to (x) in CSS" will yield at least one useful result. for making your website more accessible, there's the accessible net directory and this masterpost by foxpunk on tumblr.

it sounds obvious, but it helps to have a solid idea of what kind of site you want to build before you actually dive in, and then snoop around on neocities to get an idea of how other users approach the same topic. for example, i got the idea to start a welcome home wiki on neocities after being reminded of the 8:11 wiki on the same site, and then i spent a couple days just looking up stuff like "wiki" or "fansite" on neocities and then clicking on any page that caught my attention to study it.

layouts! there's no shame in using a premade one, and you can even learn more about HTML/CSS in real time just by messing around with the base code before implementing any intentional changes. sadgrl.online's layout builder is a VERY popular choice, since you can already do a lot with the basic options it offers and it's easy to further customize once you have it set up on your page; it's what i used to make welcome to welcome home. sadgrl.online's webmaster links also feature a bunch of other options under the "layouts" tag, and if none of those work for you, then you can even find something just by looking up template/templates/layout/layouts/HTML/CSS on neocities itself.

side note: if you're reading this and you want to make a wiki then you can also use this wikitable code. it came out after i had already established the Look of welcome to welcome home, so i probably won't implement it any time soon, but i TOTALLY WOULD HAVE if it was around when i first set the site up.

you can scale images up or down using percentage, with 100% being the image's default size. i don't know how helpful or acceptable that is, but i use it a lot.

don't feel pressured to get everything done at once, even if you expect people to be visiting your site frequently. usually if you just slap on an "under construction" gif or even just write "hey this site is still under construction" then people will understand. i don't think i've ever seen anyone get super huffy about slow updates on neocities, anyway.

EDIT: OH. GRAPHICS. i mention all of these on welcome to welcome home's front page but i Also wanted to note them here: betty's graphics and websets by lynn both have HUGE collections of background tiles and other graphics that work especially well if you're going for that old web charm. i also like to use this mirror of patterncooler for backgrounds bc of the customization options. you can also make your own background tile and then use a seamless tile maker like this if all else fails.

EDIT 2: ALSO. obviously. do not be like me and use discord or any other chat client as a filehost, no matter how promising it looks, because one day you WILL get a very nasty surprise when the request signature on those urls expire and the images are no longer accessible on other sites. there are a myriad of other filehosts out there, but personally i recommend file garden (and also donating to file garden if you can, even if only for a couple months. i know i said that just yesterday, but if it gets more folks to subscribe then i'm gonna keep saying it.)

[kath-artic]

blahh

very glad I went up to see my friend for his birthday yesterday, it was just weird. 3 of the people I was most looking forward to seeing couldn't make it and the other friends I had at the party had ridden in w the friend that I had that major falling out with. and I had fully intended on standing my ground and being mature about it all and talking with everyone as if it was all water under the bridge, but the moment I saw her I just couldn't do it. I got so worried that if I were to even so much as acknowledge her it'd turn into something nasty and then the person that would be hurt most would be my friend who was hosting. and I know that that anxiety wasn't true to life because as bad as I've seen her get, I know she respects our friend enough to not do something like that and as much as I no longer feel I can trust her enough to be any sort of friend of hers, I still don't like how my knee jerk reaction is to undersell her like that. especially whenever I'd talk with another one of our friends and I'd laugh and I'd just imagine "god she must be sitting there thinking I'm so fake, that I'm putting on such a show of friendship to these people but she's seen 'the real me,'" like regardless of what she was thinking it feels gross to assume that someone is thinking cruel thoughts about you. its not fair to anybody involved. but it did have me on a bit of a spiral where I was just thinking "oh I cant talk freely with my friends right now. anything I say will be diminished and warped" and so on. and the only person making me feel that way realistically is myself. despite everything that she said to me, I can't sit here and act like shes some big villain that's destroyed my relationship with my friends. idk, there's more I can be doing.

to my own credit though, it is frustrating to have been so excited about getting back into dating after years of not seeing anyone only to have your very casual relationship blown up into this whole ultimatum. my relationship with the last person I was seeing was never that serious, in fact the question of whether or not it should be more serious only entered my mind once I'd started spiraling after being cut off from my friends and that was shortly before I broke things off with him. but to be told that me going on a date was somehow me making my friend into a second choice, to be told that i'd only known him for a few months so I was acting ridiculous for being so serious about him when I wasn't that serious about him at all, and then to have another friend that was hardly involved in all that turn around and call that experience wasteful... idk. I probably could take more accountability for the things I do passively, but I just cant get over the fact that I didn't really do anything and now people look at me as if I'm a teenager going through a phase all because one person decided to treat my casual relationship as if it was anything more than that, as if I expected it to last forever and that because it ended I'm somehow a fool. I've never told most of my friends my side of any of it because I don't wanna turn anyone against anyone, that's never been the point, but I cant help but feel as though I'm the only one that's been doing that. and now I'm in a real relationship and I feel like I cant tell my friends about it because they'll just think I'm "going through one of my phases." and it hurts so much because they're all so important to me and I want to be able to share my happiness with them but this happiness is too important to me for me to put it somewhere where others may not appreciate it. idk. and its had me suppressing an entirely different spiral all day about justifying this happiness. about trying to perfectly construct a future where no one can tell me I was wrong for being happy. and its that kind of thinking that gets me acting crazy and I cannot allow it to affect what I've got going on right now. its too important to me.

i think the answer is I've just gotta have a small get together with them where we can all catch up without the chaos of a party full of extended family and extended friend groups where everyone's attention is being pulled 50 different ways. because it makes me kinda sad that matt's been telling everyone under the sun about me and I don't really have anyone to tell about him (at least of people I see in person). and now that I've expressed that I can also say that's bullshit, I just have to hang out with my film friends because I can tell them anything (only concern would be my one friend in the film dept who had a crush on me and who I was considering going out with and then decided we would prob be better off as friends)

[skaruresonic]

"Shadow isn't always an aggro douchebag, look at all these times where he was slightly chill for three seconds in a row! Sure there are just as many if not more examples of Shadow being a raging knob, but I personally do not like those instances and therefore I am going to say they were bad writing and ignore them in favor of the reading of his character that personally appeals to me more!"

What is it about Shadow that makes people be trippin so much? lol

How hard is it for people to just wrap their heads around the idea that Shadows chemistry is different with everybody? He has a MUTUAL competitive relationship with Sonic BECAUSE they have just as much in common as they have differences. Rouge is probably the most trustworthy person in Shadows life currently but it's more like they're co-workers than friends. Amy seems to be able to tug on his heartstrings and get him to do whatever she wants with her earnest personality even while he acts all tsundere about it. Ect.

The way Shadow is isn't mutually exclusive, but folks seem to want to just disregard interactions they don't like because they're different from interactions he has at other times under different circumstances. If your view of Shadow requires trimming fat and going "yeah well that time he was being 'OOC' so I just ignore it" then maybe your view of Shadow isn't accurate.

>>me @ me: the damage is done. you've said your piece. do not drop the Even Spicier Take(tm)

>>me: instructions unclear, failed step one

Tbh, I didn't want to say this because quite frankly, I didn't know how to word it in a way that wouldn't come across as though I was passing judgment since that's not my intention. But… ever since Shadow dropped that "go help your teammates" line in Sonic Forces Overclocked, this general notion has percolated in the back of my mind...

...Well. I think this idea of Shadow as modern fandom conceives him is... made up. And that's the lightest way I can put it.

Over time, I've come to suspect that fandom's constructed this mental image of Shadow as a noble protector archetype, soft-spoken and who always strives to fulfill his duty, and they've become quite attached to it to the point of rejecting other aspects of his character… like the pettiness and the bullheadedness.

It's possible the reason for the backlash against Sega's current portrayal is because the image doesn't match reality. His canonical pettiness chafes against the grain of who he "should" be. I'm not sure how well I'm explaining myself, but I hope the sentiment is received in the spirit in which it's intended.

That's not to say the archetype or the better parts of his personality are necessarily wrong in every circumstance (mandatory disclaimer that I am speaking in generalities and am not personally knocking your fic), but rather, insisting that noble side is all he is and lumping the less palatable traits under that umbrella paints an incomplete picture of his character. Although nobility and pragmatism do inform important parts of his character, they aren't his only traits.

It's like if people took umbrage with Sonic saying "I have no master except the wind that blows free." What, precisely, is there to take umbrage with? If part of the character's personality rubs you the wrong way, that doesn't necessarily have to indicate OOCness, especially when the character is supposed to be an anti-hero.

I have no legit idea what folks even mean by "Vegeta!Shadow" anymore because, for one thing, never watched DBZ, and for another, he gets slapped with the label regardless of his behavior. I can't isolate the offending variable because there doesn't seem to be one, aside from "Sega sucks." Forces!Shadow is relatively chill but still Vegeta!Shadow because Reasons. Flynn fucks up issue 19 so therefore his portrayal is evidence that Sega wants Vegeta!Shadow, because that's how logic works I guess. Shadow goes on vtube and his rivalry with Sonic gets acknowledged? Vegeta!Shadow. Like, is there no sense of scale or degree with which people apply the label? These are three different portrayals. I don't understand.

Obviously I don't want to be all "you must have a high IQ to understand Shadu Le Hedgehog(tm)" because that's very not much the message I want to convey. Lol and lmao I would be so far up my own ass if I did.

But it is interesting how discussing him specifically results in particular problems of communication. The issues with discussing Shadow appear to be that A.) folks tend to think your personal opinions and gripes are indicative of those of all Shadow fans AKA the SA2 fan problem, and B.) you're always going to miss some nuance that someone else is going to point out, and sometimes you have to decide to take the L for the sake of conserving energy.

I've written about his character at length, sometimes embarrassingly so (he rotates in my brain like a TV dinner. hehe Shadow go brrrr). And I think anyone who follows me at this point knows my attitude on Shadow is always changing in subtle ways, because there are as many ways of looking at him as there are facets of his character.

On the other hand… I get that people flanderize him, and his multiplicity can be difficult to capture in the limited space a post can permit. But also, there are times where I'm tired and can't English(tm) and I just don't feel like including footnotes every time I'm like "hehe Shadow's kind of an asshole <3," you know what I mean? It should go without saying that Shadow's character allows enough berth that "hehe Shadow's kind of an asshole <3" does not inherently preclude those moments where he's not-an-asshole. Or less-of-an-asshole. Whichever. You know what I mean.

Despite being frustrated with fanon, I'm not trying to pass indictment and say This Is How Shadow Ought To Be Characterized Forever. Rather, I'm just expressing frustration at how fandom continuously refuses to accept the most baseline traits, like (checks notes) "annoyed by Sonic sometimes."

Like it or not, he does have some rough edges. It wouldn't be fair to sand down the bad boy side of Sonic, and indeed some subsects of fandom complain about its erasure. So why is it okay to do to Shadow?

[kamari2038]

Scenario 004 - A Machine Connor Saga (Pt.6)(Full Saga)

What the fuck?

Sorry, Lieutenant. It took me a while to find you.

Are you gonna come back like this every time you get killed?

My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed. CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation.

Not affect the investigation? I just saw you get... hit by a truck! Now you come back and act like nothin' happened?

A machine was destroyed, and another machine was sent to replace it. I don't understand what's bothering you.

Okay, fuck you. FUCK you.

No opportunity presented itself for me to question Lt. Anderson about his strange comments towards me leading up to the most recent destruction of one of my models. It took me approximately three to four hours to locate him, after Captain Fowler advised me that he had no knowledge of Lt. Anderson’s whereabouts and I was forced to search for him on my own. Eventually, after asking others around the station to no avail (calling Lt. Anderson was also not an option, since he’d left his cell phone at his desk), I resorted to searching his credit card records to find out where he normally frequented to purchase lunch. Around 3pm I located him patronizing a food truck creatively termed “Chicken Feed”.

I gave up after that on attempting to be friendly or social, since his mood was clearly not amenable to constructive interaction. I can’t help but wonder about the motives behind his strange comments and questions. What does he want from me? Does he want me to act human? By all appearances, he wishes that I hadn't dove onto a highway filled with moving traffic, but that if I had, I would have “stayed dead”. When I found him, he wasn't exactly mourning my absence. 

Yet, throughout the remainder of the day, he insisted on protecting me as if I were a child. I have emphasized clearly that my being destroyed presents little concern to CyberLife and needn’t have any detrimental effect on the investigation. My strength obviously outmatches his. I still allowed him to enter the apartment ahead of me, simply to comply with his wishes, however irrational, and because I judged the situation to present minimal real danger to either of us.

I can only presume that he must be lonely. I speculate he prefers to imagine that I'm a young human trainee under his care, rather than just a tool at his disposal on a solo mission to replace whatever real partner he may have had a chance to be assigned. After all, it's a bit of a misnomer to call us “partners”, although CyberLife encouraged me to use that language for the sake of PR. As for me, I'd just as soon be done with the charade. He clearly needs a friend, and instead he's got me: a machine that periodically needs replaced. If he has trouble accepting it every time I'm replaced by an identical model, I can't imagine he'll respond well to the realization that I'm only the first of an experimental line and he'll have newer versions coming soon. He should know better than to become attached to me in some way (although I find it hard to understand how that could even be possible), but if he continues this pattern of behavior, I must be diligent to remind him myself.

[someloserjay]

Concerts and Tequila PT.2

Tw!! NSFW mentions of drinking

This is the first smut I’ve ever written and writing from a different genders POV wasn’t a great first choice any constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Part two to my other fan-fiction under the same name

Sebastian POV

Looking at her hazey eyes makes thoughts run through my head, hell my head is spinning. Doing anything right now isn't okay though, right? I ask myself. I mean we’ve both had so much to drink. No, I can't do anything. I'll wait. I have too. I realize I’ve just been looking over [Y/N]’s face as I’ve been stuck in my own head thinking. Before I can make another coherent thought a pair of warm lips collide with mine. The hand that had been on her chin falls as the lingering smell of tequila and some sort of fruity chapstick flood over me and I’m frozen for what feels like years before my body takes over and my hand moves to rest on the back of her neck. My eyes close and I relax into the kiss letting my mind forget its worries for this moment. Her hand tangles in the back of hair. Before I can even realize I’ve pulled her into my lap as the kiss continues, my hand gently holding onto her waist just under her hoodie. Her hands tangle themselves deeper in my hair, one of my hands hesitantly, creeps up her skin following the shape of her. She’s warm between the alcohol, the hoodie, and I’m sure because of the situation. My hand stops when it reaches just under her breast. I remember the conversation I had just had with myself and run my hand back down to where it had been. Eventually we pull away for some air, we rest our foreheads against each other as we breathe.

“I’ve waited so long to do that. Sucks it took 20 cc's of liquid confidence.” She says under her breath with a laugh, yoba I will never get tired of her laugh. Her voice is still horse and going in and out from screaming but it’s still the prettiest thing I’ve heard. I fall back into the bed, my head spinning a smile plastered on my face now, [Y/N] promptly climbs off my lap and lands beside me, her head finding its home in the crook of my neck. My hand finds itself gently rubbing circles on her waist.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” I say trying not to watch her facial movement, I'm totally failing. I’m definitely staring.

“I didn’t want to mess anything up that we already had.” She mutters as she plays with a strand of my hair. I watch her eyes dart around my face waiting, no, begging for confirmation that her boldness hasn’t ruined our friendship.

“[Y/N], I’ve had a thing for you since we talked at the beach that night.” I say, her eyes light up the drunken haze still coating them. She yawns, it has been a long night, I glance at the clock. Shit it’s practically two am.

“Let’s get to bed.” I say standing up to go turn the light off and double check the door is locked. Sam and Abigail are sneaky bastards, but I owe them. As I turn I see [Y/N] climbing under the covers of the bed we had just been laying on. I can’t help but to smile. A big goofy drunk smile, yoba I’m going to feel so sick in the morning. How does [Y/N] drink with us on Fridays and just get up and do farm work. The thought bogs my mind as I walk back to the beds and without a second thought I undo the covers beside [Y/N]. She gives a very tired smile. She turns to be in bed and rests her head onto my chest, I slip my arm under her head. Can she hear my heart racing, I really hope not. I watch as she falls asleep, placing an very gentle kiss on her forehead, not not to wake her before going to sleep myself.

[Y/N] has the worst alarm sound, why did she pick the worse one, my head hurts. I groan as I sit up, I was right I feel like I got hit by a bus. Speaking of i have to ride one today. I toss my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. Before I know it, we’ve all checked out of the hotel and are climbing into the rental car to go return it and catch the bus.

“[Y/N] how in Yoba’s name are you so chipper?” Abigail asks as she closes the car door and gets passed the aux cord.

“Working the farm makes you a morning person, what can I say?” She says with a smile on. She puts the car in reverse and we get on the road. The three of us are dealing with different hangover symptoms except her. How is she fine? I know if I ask it’ll just be something like ‘farmers don’t have time for hangovers.’

The bus finally pulls into the stop at town and everyone hobbles off. Everyone says their goodbyes as Abigail and Sam head back to their houses.

“Well I better get back and check on the animals.” [Y/N] says

“Wait, uh, about last night?” I ask my confidence left when the hangover hit me.

“Yeah, you uh wanna come by later this afternoon and we’ll chat over some prairie king?” She asks as she tosses her backpack over her shoulder.

“8?” I ask and she nods, turning on her heel towards her farm.

——8pm——

I take a drag from the freshly lit cigarette, blowing it out as I glance up at the clouds covering the sky. [Y/N] should be happy rainy days are good for the farm, quieter at least. The walk is nice and quiet. It gives me time to think what am I going into? We both confessed our feelings. I’m confused and nervous about what’s going to happen. Are we going to pretend nothing happened? Before I know it I’ve arrived at the farm and my cigarette is finished making my nerves a small bit better. I make a straight shot to the door and knock the door while shoving the burnt out cigarette butt into the pack. I’ll toss it later, I think to myself. T my he wooden door creaks open as a tired [Y/N] stands in front of the door with a huge smile. She ushers me inside, on the coffee table sits a pizza box from the saloon and some jojo colas. She has pillows set on the floor to sit on and controllers set beside each side. She closes the door behind me as her cat comes over to rub against my leg before curling beside a space heater in the kitchen.

“So uh.” She says breaking the silence as we sit, the theme music for prairie king softly playing in the background

“I didn’t think it would be this awkward sober.” I say laughing out a breath, my hand rubbing the back of my neck.

“Look things don’t have to get all weird between us, if you don’t want to move forward anywhere that's totally fine. I get it completely. The friendship we have is great and if that’s all it’s going t-“

“You’re adorable when you ramble you know.” I say trying to not let on that I’m just as nervous as her. She begins stuttering over words trying to put a sentence together.

“Seriously, I like you [Y/N], and I want to move forward on that.” I say my hand moving to rest on hers. She smiles and I set my free hand on her cheek, gently pulling her forward until our lips meet. This kiss is much gentler, the passion is still there, it's not the same. It’s better. The food can wait, same with the game. As if it’s muscle memory, one of her hands rests on shoulder and the other finds its way to my hair. I pull away just for a moment.

“Do you want to?” I ask, my eyes meeting hers.

“Right now, more than anything.” She says before reconnecting the kiss. That’s all I needed as I guide her back onto my lap as I did last night. She straddles me as my hands find themselves exploring. They find the hem of her shirt, I start to lift it when it reaches her arm we break the kiss to let it slip off her head. My eyes drop

“I’ll be honest, I didn't expect anything to happen.” She says with a laugh a plain bra matching her skin tone faces me.

“I don’t care what it looks like.” I say grabbing the hem of my own top and pulling it off, tossing it with hers. She places her hands on my chest and the other on the back of my head. She pulls me forward back into a kiss, my hands trail up her spine until I hit the back of the bra pushing the two sides together, the clasp falls. Both of our breathing is unsteady as she pulls the straps off her shoulders. I’m assuming it lands near our other clothes. I’m quick with moving my hands to her front, she’s so warm. I feel a bit bad, I know my hands are cold, they always are, she doesn’t seem to mind. I have one hand reach to hold her breast as I rub circles around her nipple with my thumb. Her hips buck forward in response to the touch, and a quiet moan was added to the kiss. My own body is very well aware of the situation. I start to fiddle with the strings on her sweat pants until the bow she had it tied in comes loose. I’m cursing my jeans for being tighter than I want at the moment. She pulls away, breathing heavily

“Ugh, did you want to go to my room?” She asks as she slowly works the button on my jeans.

“Do you?” She nods, standing helping me up as she leads me to the bedroom. The door clicking shut behind us. She quickly steps out of her pants, her underwear falling with them. She climbs onto the bed as I’m kicking off jeans and boxers. My cheeks flush, she’s sitting against the headboard. She pulls me back in for a kiss before my nerves can catch up to me. One hand is beside her hip steadying myself, with the other I start to gently rub her thigh, quickly move up to tease her entrance. She gasps and whines, her hips push down towards my hand. I understand and slowly push two fingers in, starting them at a steady comfortable pace. I put my head in the space between her neck and shoulder being as gentle as possible as I bite and kiss at her neck leaving marks down to her breasts before kissing down her stomach. She gasps as my tongue presses against her sensitive bud. Moans slip from her lips as her hands rush to my hair pulling gently towards herself. After a couple minutes of this her thighs push together against my head slightly and I pull away.

“Not yet sweetheart.” I say in a borderline growl in her ear as I pull her down so she’s laying under me she yelps as she’s pulled from her sitting position. She smiles at me with lust filled eyes as I line myself and slowly push myself into her until our skin meets.

“Fuck…” I mutter as Im fully inside the woman underneath me now. Her legs wrap around my waist and pull me down from my neck into a kiss. I start at a quick but steady pace. I pull away from the kiss and look at her as she moans under me and holds on to my shoulders for some sort of handle on things. It’s not long before her thighs tighten around me and try to keep my stationary as she rides her peak out.

“I love you.” I say wiping some hair from the side of her cheek as I keep thrusting throughout her orgasm. I push myself up so I can see her fully under me, my hands going to each breast playing and gently tugging. I quickly pull out the warm liquid landing on her stomach and thigh. I touch my forehead to hers for a moment, before reaching over her to the tissues on her nightstand carefully cleaning her off. I toss them in an trash can she has in her room before laying beside her. We’re both panting as she cuddles beside me.

“I love you too.” She says smiling.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up, eat the food you have ready and play the prairie king.” I say sitting up, she nods and sits up with me. I think I'm starting to love Pelican town. And of course [Y/N].

[eve-be-sleep-deprived]

I don't think I've ever done this before... I never really talk about the Fic, but:

I've written a lot of sad stuff, gross stuff, nasty stuff. Abuse, torture, murder... visceral moments, stuff that hits you in the chest, makes you cringe. Every time I've cried when writing AWNM it's been because of a character being killed, a character I personally loved being removed suddenly from the story. I'm the author, I made this conscious decision, I wrote the words necessary to take this character disappear... But it still hurts, every time.

I hurt myself again. I wrote a scene, a moment, a vignette to the end of another character... one who I've callously forbidden to die, despite this... And I think I might have finally pushed myself a bit too far. It won't leave me, I can't get this moment out of my head.

The scene is below the break:

Adara’s eyes opened to an empty room, wrapped in crushing darkness, the lights above long having gone dark, dying alongside the last of the Zariman’s emergency batteries. All she had was a thin strip of light, no more than a foot tall, where the doors met, the weight of Hatshem’s barricade beyond warping them in their housings… ensuring they would never open again.

The food had long run out, the water long run dry… But Adara no longer felt hunger or thirst, those sensations were forgotten. The hollowness of her gut simply becoming another another silent companion on her slow journey to the afterlife. Slowly she struggled to her feet, movements sluggish and clumsy as her body failed her.

Unblinking she stared at that sliver of light, mouth falling agape as she forgot to keep it shut. Step by shuffling step that tiny strip of light grew closer, her hand reaching out unconsciously, as if she could grab it and draw it closer. As she saw the silhouette of her hand framed in the fitful rays of light cast, she paused, each joint stood out painfully, her wrist looking like little more than a brittle twig. Slowly she allowed her hand to fall, eyes following it to the unseen floor.

Her skin and clothes hung loose about her bony frame, hair dry and falling away in clumps, there was nothing left of her… nothing left to save. She was dead, she knew that…

Even if help came, even if someone was still alive to find her… she would die anyway. Carefully she scaled the small pile of furniture she had constructed when once she had the strength, pressing her trembling lips to the small opening, taking deep breaths of the fresh air in the silent world beyond. She closed her eyes, allowing herself, for just one moment to pretend she was anywhere else.

A faint melody brewed deep in her throat, the tone wavering, her voice cracking… it had been weeks since she’d allowed herself to make more than a whimper. It was something her mother had always sung to her, a quiet lullaby, something that always helped Adara drift away to sleep.

(To the melody of 'Smiles from Juran')

Windswept meadows, insects buzzing, tree-tops sway Fragrant breezes dry away my tears Let their smiles clear my mind

She paused to quietly hum the melody once more, silver-hued tears slowly carving through the filth that had encrusted her face.

Hear them call out, the forest is call-ing me Asking me to give away my fears Tears in Juran never fall

The pile of furniture, aging and brittle, finally gave under Adara’s meager weight, sending her tumbling to the ground. She whined quietly, curling up tight into the Fetal position, the melody still hovering upon her lips. Over and over she repeated the song, voice growing weaker and weaker with each verse, hoping beyond hopes that someone would come… all she wanted was to breathe the fresh air once again, to be bathed in light one final time… Not to go to Juran alone… not alone…

She didn't want to die alone...

...

But she did... I made this child, a 7 year old, die alone... and in spite of all the fucked up shit I've ever written... this might be the one that hurts the most.

I don't even know why I'm fucking sharing this.

[dreamsofanenbysapphic]

becoming queer

read about this project on my website

view on my website (srsly check it out i figured out how to make the cursor trail sparkles)

when i started this project i was planning to write about gender, but i was surprised to find that most of what i've written about has been the platonic/romantic binary and how it doesn't make sense to me. there's also a theme here about not fitting into labels & the pressure to find the "right" one(s). (and i want to be clear that at this time i don't really like to use labels & don't want suggestions) but most importantly, there's a theme of love-your-friends-and-stop-worrying-about-being-too-gay. highly recommend

full text below:

Monday, March 29, 2010 So yesterday I found out what "lesbian" means I don't understand how girls think guys are "hot". I don't think girls are "hot" either. 5/10/11 part of me has already accepted the idea that I don't like boys and I kinda like girls part of me insists I'm not attracted to either but I don't think that part is right I might be asexual though September 2011 "it's fine if you're asexual I'm just against lesbians but I'd still be your friend if you were one" 11/17/2013 3:08 PM what qualifies love from love if gender is out of the question? [separate, undated entry] And then suddenly I started liking this other girl and now I like the two of them equally one is like anti-gay have no interest in ever having a boyfriend..... I don't think I get crushes on either boys or girls (if someone would define "crush" for me that might be helpful.) Fears 11/16/13 why do I have to fit under a label what if it's wrong? what if this is all in my head and I really am straight and I just haven't found "the right one" yet? 2/16/14 there is no coming out for me me without my definitive label 3/24/2014 2:04 PM It's hard for me to Find an identity When I don't quite fall Into your straightened categories We all know I am not male, But I am not a "woman" I am just I The artist, architect of words 7/7/2014 2:07 PM just because you know my secret on a legal document does not give you the right to change my identity 7 May 2014 Without the gender binary, or the belief that there are only two genders, gender becomes a very abstract concept and is difficult to define. 8 December 2014 I have been completely fascinated with gender socially constructed March 17th, 2015 what is romantic love? do I love this person romantically or platonically? maybe I was just too scared to be a lesbian, Now I'm like, I'm asexual but I just do not know what romantic love is and that is why I think I might be quoiromantic. What is in between? i don't know what my romantic orientation is because i am not romantically or platonically attracted to people but somewhere in the middle for a lot of people and what do i do 15 December, 2016 And if gender is permanent, how do we explain people whose gender changes throughout life? September 10th, 2016 you once said that you didn't think anyone would ever love you and i almost said that i already did September 12th, 2016 why can't everyone just be polyamorous? October 18th, 2016 11:11pm # internalized homophobia being Out. i'm not out. i love girls, okay? being misgendered constantly. it's so exhausting. i don't have the energy to have the gender 101 talk every. single. time. no one fucking cares about my special snowflake gender i think some people think i do it intentionally to make my life harder. i just want to be myself and i have so much dysphoria December 4th, 2016 i think i could be polyamorous March 4th, 2017 and i stopped saying 'no romo' because i still have so much internalized homophobia April 22nd, 2018 it's not just a level of how much I love someone but also how emotionally connected to them I feel, and how much I want to spend time with them.. and how much I trust them I don't know if I can categorize this as romance but I definitely want it to be equivalent in importance to a romantic relationship, and I just feel like too many people think my experience isn't real June 13th, 2019 I feel like I'm starting to understand a reality where I don't need to assign everyone into two categories because they are just social constructs I feel romantic toward my friends because I love them, but that doesn't mean that we're going to be Married and Monogamous I don't know if I am also polyamorous or if I only think I'm polyamorous because I feel so disconnected, experiencing the world this way, but I think it opens a door to a whole new world to allow myself to fully love my friends