#that'd be a good fanfic idea

[likedbycheri]

someone should show max the video of charles calling him hot to see if he gets flustered like charles did in 2019

[vargaslovinghours]

Fandom: Johnny the Homicidal Maniac (But really Vargas lol) Rating: Teen and up Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

What, exactly, did Scriabin take from Edgar when they separated?

My first multichapter fic for Vargas! :D Yay!

(Pls read Ch. 1 first - Ch. 2 is also recommended, but as long as you're caught up on the first, you're good to go!)

-----

Side B

What the fuck.

"It's, it's possible that if, maybe whatever happened earlier, whatever caused all that blood and for us to be knocked unconscious-"

What the fuck.

"-and if I suffered a head injury, then maybe-"

No. That's enough.

Scriabin pushed away from the closet door he'd defensively pressed himself up against and put his hands on Edgar's shoulders, which quieted him. He looked at him expectantly, with eyes that Scriabin somehow only just now realized were casually guarded, curious, uncertain in a way that denoted inexperience. That was so messed up, that was completely wrong. Edgar should've been on guard, absolutely, but only because he knew exactly what Scriabin was capable of. He really didn't want to look at him right now if this was what he was going to be seeing instead.

He spun him quickly and pushed him out the door before he could protest. He got one last look at those wide, confused eyes before he slammed the door behind him, bracing it shut with both hands for good measure.

What. The fuck. His head came forward, making a dull thud as his forehead connected with the door. He doesn't remember me? His fingers curled on the door. What does he mean he doesn't remember me?! How could he not know me?! One hand pushed through his hair; his scalp tingled and that was so weird, he felt it and it was so weird- We literally just- He literally just-! As if pulling him screaming into life wasn't bad enough, now he had decided to play some sick prank!

This can't be true. It's just like him to try and make jokes at the worst possible time, he has no tact.

There was a timid knock on the other side of the door. Scriabin jumped as it resonated through his skull, his elbow, pressed to the door with his hand buried in his hair, set his jaw. Then silence.

If he was really trying to get back in, clear things up, say he was only kidding, he'd actually try.

Nothing.

Scriabin's blood was ice as he went over it again. The way he'd said his name. The vacant look in his eyes as he said it, like his mouth knew its shape but none of the meaning. No fear, no realization, nothing that really felt like Edgar, just sound, just noise.

Maybe he really had-

Oh god. His knees gave out, and his arms had no practice at holding him upright, not yet. His hand slid down the door, his other hand guarding his head as his hair fluffed against the grain.

How could he do this

This is all his fault

Stupid, idiotic

He can't do this to me

I can't believe him

I can't believe this

How dare he leave me alone like this

Thoughts spiralling, and all he could do was hold himself down, press his fingers into the back of his neck, force his chest to his knees and maybe he wouldn't immolate under it all. He was shaking, from tension or fear he couldn't tell, his mind too hazardous and loud to cut through it all. He was shaking, dizzy, and if he moved, letting go would surely kill him.

He can't do this to me.

He breathed. And breathed. And swallowed. Eyes closed, heart pounding, sure. Confusion and dismay, whatever. Pain. Fine. So be it.

This isn't like me. A hand untethered from his vice grip in his hair, and he stayed attached to the floor. It connected with the carpet below him and became a new lifeline. He pushed up and away into a limp sit, arms already burning slightly from holding himself up after all that. He shook his head mildly. This isn't who I'm going to be in life. His body, this fear response be damned, he was in control now.

Regroup. Let's- a mental pause, barely a quarter of a second long as he turned the word in his head. Let's pretend it's all true- what does that mean?

He flopped over, leaned upright with his back against the door, heels of his fists pushed down into the carpet to scootch closer. Moving was so awkward still, very unfitting.

He was acting normal. Well, Edgar's baseline for "normal" had changed considerably, so maybe put an asterisk on that. Not that he was ever normal to begin with, but normal-for-Edgar, -ish. That means he has to have some memory.

Scriabin held out a hand, arm slung over his knee, one finger held out. He had recognized his glasses. One. The apartment. Two. Which key to use. Three. He had said Todd's name. Four.

His stuff can be discounted, he's had all that for a while. Back down to one. The kid is a new fixture. Which means he remembers the last couple months at least. He shook his head and brought his hand up to comb through his hair. Well...it's fuzzy for me, so it probably is for him, too. Scriabin remembered everything in as much clarity as the last couple months allowed, there was no way Edgar would know more even if he had all his memories.

Speaking of which, Scriabin could remember everything. He flipped through; the last two months and bringing Todd in, Edgar's parting words to Johnny, his and Devi's conversation - he grit his teeth - and further back, everything along the way, all the way back. False dreams, shared childhoods, everything that was once Edgar's alone, he still remembered it. Nothing was out of place which made it all the more strange!

This is so fucking weird, if I remember everything, then why would he-

He stopped short. His purported purpose had been to replace Edgar. Take him over completely. If he bought into the conceit for a moment, just to play in the space... He was alive now. That was not as intended; it shouldn't even have been possible.

Did he...give me his memories? Like, all the way? Not just to borrow, to shape him, give him legitimacy - he was alive now. His own person. Separate, embodied, and whole. Was this the price of life?

That's stupid. But possible, he couldn't discount. If this - he brought his hands up and looked down at them, watched himself touch his own chest and felt it beneath his coat, shirt, the nerves firing as his slid his fingers up himself - if this was possible, then...

He continued for a moment, curious and reverant, all of him new and privately exciting, to exist and to touch, to feel, smell, see, all of it clear and fresh and penetrated deeply into his mind, as if a layer of film had been lifted from his senses. The moment passed as the memories, unbidden but important, cluttered in around him again.

There were still a lot of questions, and most of them couldn't be answered without Edgar, ugh. If getting anything out of him before had been like pulling teeth, he was very sobered to think about how it might be now. Depending on how much Edgar remembered, maybe he could start piecing things together.

Did he do it on purpose? Did he know this would happen? There's no way he would have been willing to if he had- But he couldn't ask him things like that. Even if he did remember, admitting something like that...

He was just spinning his wheels at this point. Better to gather what he could from the man himself. He looked up, preparing to stand.

Ah-

The room was still in something of a state.

Edgar would be annoying, or at least distracted by trying to pick up the clothes and uncarefully unpacked items strewn about the floor from Scriabin's very successful excavation of his old glasses. The clutter would have to go if he wanted his full attention.

He grumbled as he pushed off the door to pick up the first few things. First day of life and I'm already his maid. Figures. He's always needed me to clean up after him.

Silence.

Somehow it only just hit him. Thinking alone in the late hours, planning things behind Edgar's back, it was nothing new. But a barb unsunk into his mental flesh was left out in the wide emptiness, poised to stab whoever happened upon it next, and he was the only one here.

He felt very small all of a sudden, and he didn't like it at all.

His eyes blankly scanned the room, looking for nothing, until they settled on the toy at Edgar's bedside. His toy.

He dropped the items he'd bundled into his arms and made his way over. He picked up the small simulacrum, turned it over in his hands once, and stared at it.

He wouldn't know this. Not really. He brushed a thumb up and over the little mouth, the contours of its small face. Retroactively, I've never been this at all.

I'm no one to him.

Does this mean we can start over? The thought struck him like lightning, freezing his heart in his chest. He was fixed solid, staring down at the small figure in his hands.

Before he could even think, he'd already thrown it through the open closet door, landing noisily in the box he'd dug through with a clatter. He grabbed up the fallen clothes and items and stuffed them back in the box, burying the toy in mundane detritus, then closed the cardboard flaps and slammed the door of the closet for good measure.

His breath was laboured and he glared, like wishing it gone would make the closet itself disappear.

Answers. He needed answers, more than anything.

He ripped the door open, and there was Edgar who looked up, staring dumbly back at him and carrying the clothes he'd shed earlier over his arm. Something in his mind clicked over, and he didn't think about it.

"Alright," he caught his breath for half a second, "what do you remember?"

Edgar just kept on staring, mouth open, eyes unconfident behind weak glasses. Scriabin huffed irritably, I don't have time for this, and moved towards him, arm outstretched.

"Come on." Edgar gave a small startled sound behind him as he grabbed his collar and dragged him through the doorway. He threw him across the room, not bothering to watch his arc as he closed the door behind him. The bed was that way, he'd be fine.

When he turned back, Edgar had managed to catch himself, though already halfway on the bed. Scriabin stood with his back to the door, feet planted and he crossed his arms. No more speculating around impossibilities, tangible and present as they might be, it was time for a proper interrogation. It was at least preferable to-

Edgar made a face at him and scooted back, offering a seat next to him on the bed. Equal footing briefly flashed through his mind and while he wouldn't consider it ideal, nothing today was really going his way. He sighed, then made his way over and sat across from Edgar, who was eyeing him with a certain degree of caution. At least the feeling was mutual.

"Spill." He re-crossed his arms and leaned towards Edgar. "What do you know?"

Edgar hesitated, apparently thinking, his hands laced and fingers agitatedly if quietly rubbing the backs of his hands.

"I want to verify some things first."

Scriabin snorted dismissively. Where had Edgar's overly-trusting nature gone? A serial killer, well he's an honoured guest, but Scriabin? He didn't even distrust him for the right reasons.

He gestured with an open hand, Go ahead, then tucked his arm back in.

"Todd's last name?"

Pfsh. At least it was proof enough that anything Edgar knew, Scriabin did as well. As expected.

"Casil. His stupid bear's called Shmee in case you forgot that too." Edgar shook his head. No he hadn't? If only he could just check!

"Do you know our phone number?" Obviously he did, so he rattled it off quickly, Edgar nodding in turn. He flipped his hair in time with the last digit, careful to keep his eyes covered. It was a bit of a timid attempt, being the first in this body, which was a minor blessing he supposed.

Edgar mulled over what he'd given him for a moment, then a moment longer, then a moment even longer. His eyes searched absently, gazing down into his own hand, his other on his chin, lightly thumbing his goatee. He was focused on names and numbers, but those were child's play compared to everything, everything Scriabin still wanted to know. It was frustrating on a visceral level, watching him struggle with such simple innocuous nothings while the most important person in his life was sitting right in front of him.

He was supposed to be the most important.

It was frustrating.

"You really don't remember anything, do you?" He didn't hide the sneer as it shaped his voice - odd the way his body just did that now, did things without him actively thinking them into being. Even things like the little waver that made its way in that he pushed back down and under. He was frustrated, angry, tired - any emotionality could be attributed to those, nothing else.

Edgar didn't answer, just kept his gaze locked to his face. That was almost worse. Watching him fumble through things, it wasn't fun, but at least he wasn't trying to pry. He could see him try to look past his bangs, and the fact that he didn't know better...

Scriabin looked away for a moment, then thought better of it. Best defense is a good offense.

He reached for Edgar's face, for those damn scars, ever-present reminders. Edgar shied away, not wanting to be touched suddenly by someone he didn't know. As if Scriabin had ever cared about that.

Well, things were different now. Maybe he didn't really want to touch him anyway. Not yet.

"Do you remember these...?" Instead he framed his face with his hands less than an inch from his skin, and even there he could feel the heat coming off him. Edgar reached for his face, looking away from Scriabin as he touched the angry red marks. He winced minutely, then glanced back at Scriabin, searching him, his expression guarded again. Scriabin could hear his own pulse in his ears.

"...Johnny?"

"Fuck." Fuck! "Of course you'd remember him but not me." God damn it! It wasn't right, it wasn't fair, just because Johnny came first by a hair's breadth, just because he wasn't in Edgar's head, with Edgar's fucked up little obsession with the murderous stick figure- It limited what he could get away with too, if he remembered that far back. Absolutely nothing was going in his favour.

"I'm sorry..." He sounded genuinely remorseful, and it stuck in his throat. Disgusting. "So you know Johnny, too."

"Unfortunately." Scriabin tucked his chin to his chest, arms crossed again in close proximity. This sucks. Edgar just kept rambling, unaware as ever. His excuses held this time at least, one point in his favour, no points for bringing his annoying habits with him despite everything.

"I don't think I've seen him for a couple months now? Everything's awfully..." He gave a vague gesture and Scriabin uncurled slightly. He was giving him room to contribute. He shook his head.

"You haven't."

"Have you?"

He returned to his tight coil of sulking. Not like he was keen to meet up and chat, but he couldn't explain why he hadn't had the opportunity to either.

"I remember he called, too."

"Ugh," barely above breath. Enough about Johnny! Again, Edgar continued obliviously.

"Although I don't really recall what we talked about, not for a while..."

Of course not. I took over for half of those.

He perked a bit, and Edgar focused more on him, patiently setting his hands in his lap.

"You know."

He could play this to his advantage. Give Johnny some well-deserved karmic justice for fucking him over so many times. It was almost better that Edgar didn't know - Scriabin had been trying to get him away from Johnny all this time, and if he really had forgotten everything, not just the moments when Scriabin took over but every moment they had shared, then that meant it coincided almost perfectly with his first meeting with Johnny. Blank spot after blank spot after blank spot, all lined up immediately after getting his face slashed.

He could work with that.

"It's probably trauma." Edgar startled and his hand shot to his temple, lightly touching his hair.

"Like, head trauma?" Scriabing almost laughed. Yeah, probably that too. But that wouldn't help his case.

"No." He leaned in, taking a more intimate, secretive tone. "Think about it. When did things start getting fuzzy?" If he was right on this - which of course he was, but not being able to verify, not being able to see that he was right, it was disconcerting - but if he was, Edgar's memories of Scriabin should start with that first fateful encounter, give or take. A bit of reframing here, a touch of implication there... It probably wasn't even an outright lie; if Edgar's memory were perfect after experiencing everything Johnny had put them through, that would be some kind of twisted miracle.

His only real concern was their "childhood" - how much had Scriabin pulled with him? Would that throw off his story? But that was so far back, there was no way Scriabin or Johnny could be implicated in that. As long as Edgar didn't bring it up before he thought his way around it...

Edgar stayed quiet for a long while. His eyes raced behind closed eyelids, searching, scanning, retracing - Scriabin could almost see the moments where he hesitated, stopped and went back, then starting recollecting again. He wished he could see it for real, watch him unfold himself, touch those memories again, hold up his own in contrast. Even just hear Edgar's thoughts as they went by, feel the emotions he felt. But he couldn't, so he just stared as unblinkingly as this new body would allow, just watched as Edgar went over everything on his own.

He finally opened his eyes, staring back into Scriabin's though he was sure they were still hidden. He felt naked and awkward and Edgar still hadn't said anything. If he could just see like he was supposed to, or if Edgar would just tell him, he wouldn't have to ask. I have to do everything around here.

"It was after you met him, wasn't it?"

"You think it's...mental trauma?" An unspoken 'yes.' Relief flooded him, and he pushed ahead.

"Edgar. He stabbed you." Edgar gripped his shoulder, his eyes closing again and he looked to be in pain. That was a very effective reminder at least. "Do you even know why?" He shook his head and spoke throught half-grit teeth.

"I must have made him mad, but I don't remember-" Of course not, I did that.

"Your mind is trying to protect you." Not. But one of us has to with your inexhaustable deathwish. Scriabin reached out to touch him properly, but Edgar pulled away. He didn't follow, still not yet. Play up the pity. "He messed you up so bad," with a curl in his tone, an I told you so that barely made it to words even privately; how long had he been holding that in? "Surely you must've felt like you wanted, you needed to get away from him, that he wasn't good for you, that you-" He'd told him so many times, some it must have stuck, some of it had to have-

"Then-!" Edgar's eyes shot open, wide and desperate with an edge of disbelief. A strangled gasp escaped him, half-choking him as he tried to speak. "Then why can't I remember you?!"

He almost began rolling off the cuff, but really, he still didn't know for sure. And it definitely wasn't like he could tell the truth even if he wanted to; who, who hadn't lived it, would believe him? Edgar certainly wouldn't, not with his lack of imagination. He had to dress this up, weave a narrative that was plausible, had the perfect mix of truth and falsehood to stand up to scrutiny.

Huh. Ironic.

"I..." No. Some of this was Edgar's fault too. "We...argued."

"Argued?"

"I... Mng." He wanted to aim for some kind of levity, but his throat had tightened on him. He just wanted to tell this stupid inside joke and not have it affect him, not have it mean anything, and here he was getting emotional? He'd say it and fucking mean it. "It's not like I'm in your head, so-" spat out in a rush, there, he'd said it. Haha, isn't that so funny. He swallowed harshly, pushing down everything he felt into his stomach acid. He was in control. He was fine. This didn't shake him. "I can't know for sure," another humourless laugh inside, "but I was against your relationship with Johnny. Maybe you shut me out so you could keep seeing him with no pushback."

It certainly wasn't outside the realm of possibilities of what Edgar would do to avoid taking Scriabin's extremely basic advice about fraternizing with serial killers. How many times had he been ignored up to this point, only to culminate in the ultimate 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Pfeh. I bet he wishes he'd thought of this sooner. It did nothing for his painfully stuttered pulse.

"You know, I've been trying to convince you to stop going back to him for a while, but, well..." He waved his hand at Edgar's hand still death gripped into his shoulder, and Edgar averted his eyes guiltily. At least he showed some remorse. Better than his nigh constant apologia.

He stayed quiet a moment longer, and just before Scriabin made to fill the silence again, Edgar struck him with an intense look.

"What are you to me?" Ugh. Of course. There was not a single good answer for that. Even if he told him everything- no, especially if he told him everything, there was no way Edgar would believe him. But coming up with a convincing lie on the spot, when they were so clearly something to each other - even he needed time to come up with something workable. How could he have ever prepared for a situation like this? It was never meant to happen, so many things were never meant to happen!

He continued at Scriabin's silence. "You know Nny," Ugh! Even his awful nickname. "And Todd. And...me." He couldn't refute it, so he nodded tightly. "Do you live here?"

Technically he had, and technically he hadn't. Still, going forward, it would be easier to let Edgar assume that he did. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to go at the moment anyway.

"Yes."

"Are we..." He searched him, looked him over as much as he could and he wasn't subtle about it. If only Scriabin had his proper glasses, he'd let him look as much he wanted, behold his spectacle! As it was, he just felt self-conscious and it was very unbefitting. "...family?"

The baggage on that. He did not feel like opening that particular can of worms in either of their current states. He turned his head and flipped through any number of halfway decent ways to phrase it until he hit on something Edgar would remember. Better not to contradict for now.

"You told Johnny you have no family when you met."

"That's true..." Edgar blinked, processing. "Wait, did I tell you that?" Scriabin startled. Even after he'd accounted for his memory! Of course he had to pick his story apart now, he never knew when to leave well enough alone.

"When you-" No, he had to be involved. "When we bandaged your face."

Edgar mulled on that for a few seconds, taking on a thoughtful pose. "I only remember being alone."

"You don't remember me at all. What do you want from me?" He huffed.

"No, sorry, you're right."

"Thank you." He was right!

Where had Edgar expected him to be? There was something weird about how he'd said it. He filed the thought away for later.

"So, if you've been living here, where..." Edgar looked around the room, then back to Scriabin. "Where have you been sleeping? Todd's already on the couch..."

Scriabin couldn't help as a smile sprung to his face. If he was going to present him with such a perfect opportunity, well, he'd better take it. He even had the decency to look nervous in response! This was too good.

"Would you believe me if I said right here, in bed?" He again tucked his chin, playfully this time, his hair falling further in his eyes. Even through the dark tangles he could make out Edgar's face immediately bristling with heat.

Ooh. That's such a fetching shade on you, my dear.

"But-! I, I haven't been sleeping on the floor!" He was visibly sweating!

"Correct." His smile grew. This was too easy, and he needed an easy win right about now.

"W-" He leaned forward on his legs, though refused to get any closer. When he spoke it was a harsh whisper. "Why...?"

Scriabin shrugged easily, not bothering to reign in his smile in the least. "I mean, where else, right?" He leaned in since Edgar refused to, and oh. He was blushing all the way up to his scalp. Hilarious. "You certainly didn't seem to mind." He couldn't hold back the slightly musical tone or his eyebrows inclination to move on their own. His body knew what he was getting at, and he could see it only increased Edgar's fluster. All the better.

"Well I do now!" Edgar darted up and away, stumbling in his hasty retreat. "If you'll excuse me!" though he was already practically in the hallway by the time he said it. What a display, and Scriabin's laugh was loud and natural.

Finally, something positive. He'd managed to fumble his way through, not his best work in lying or manipulation, but he'd set some important groundwork. He'd gotten some answers, and he could start to shape some more believable stories around them.

The biggest hurdles were Johnny and Devi. As long as Edgar didn't meet with them too soon - or well, at all would be preferable, but he doubted he could just keep him locked up, as much as the idea appealed to him. There were so many things that were possible now, things that he had the ability to do, given the right circumstances... All of that in due time. For now he had a yarn to spin.

He listened as Edgar fumbled in the hall, the sheer sound of cloth being pulled and folded over an arm barely perceptable. Was he really going to try to sleep on what little was left over? Maybe he'd give up once he realized the pickings were thin and beg Scriabin to let him sleep with him. Hah.

While he was out, Scriabin made his way over to the pajamas drawer. They were all old and soft, even just to his hand. They'd do for now, until he could get his own. It wasn't like he hadn't worn all this before anyway.

By the time he'd finished dressing, his clothes discarded on the opposite side of the bed to where Edgar had set up his little nest, Edgar had finally gotten himself a set of pajamas. He wondered for a moment if he'd dress with Scriabin in the room again, though maybe his intense stare drove him off. Who could say. He patted the bed with a wide grin when he returned and was dutifully ignored. He settled down to the side, and Scriabin laid on his arms to look down at him.

"Ugh, lame."

"I don't-"

"Yeah, whatever." He'd heard it all before. At least he could literally look down on him like this. He folded his hands and leaned just a bit further, looking him over. A desire he hadn't realized he had surfaced in the dark and quiet. "Give me your hand."

"Sorry?" Scriabin held out his hand expectantly.

"I used to hear your heart beat every day." Edgar looked at him incredulously, but Scriabin was unperturbed. "Let me hear it again."

He hesitated but eventually slowly offered his arm. "...Okay."

He pulled his arm up and placed his thumb against his wrist. He felt a strange mismatch - where he'd been expecting one heartbeat, there were two. He covered his surprise, near shock at the realization that of course he had his own body now, by pulling harder on Edgar's arm, directing him up to his ear.

"Wh-"

"Shh." Quietly. He had wanted this, wanted this body, this separation, this freedom for so long, and now... He spoke quietly, his voice betraying nothing. "I'm listening."

Edgar's pulse was erratic, but he hardly paid attention to it. His own fingers on Edgar's skin, warm and pliant, and Edgar's fingers twitching in his hair, he could feel it, he was trying not to touch him- This hesitation was killing him, every jerky movement away not from fear of what Scriabin could do to him, just uncertainty, like he was still a stranger- He pressed him harder to his head, and he could feel goosebumps under his fingers. He wanted to just hold him there until all the memories they'd shared poured back through him, into his blood, into his breath.

Where are you?

But he replied in that same uncertain, guarded tone that indicated he didn't know, not really.

"C...can I have my arm back now?"

He pushed him away. "Fine." Edgar curled his hand protectively against his chest, and he noticed he rubbed it slightly, he probably hadn't even realized.

He mumbled out a harried "Good night," and it was almost enough to make Scriabin smile. Almost. He could still affect him but this wasn't enough, it wasn't right.

He laid his head on the pillow, not bothering to pull his arm up over the side of the bed. If he twitched in the night and touched Edgar, well, that could mean anything. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe he did it on purpose. Plausible deniability was one of his greatest assets.

As it was, he was just tired. Maybe he didn't pull it back because he hated the thought of sleeping alone, pushed out and forgotten, and hated it more that he was even thinking something like that. How pathetic. He didn't need anyone, especially not Edgar.

But he was tired. Not in his right mind.

Does this mean we can start over...?

The thought echoed and died, and he slept.

[juney-blues]

June Egbert is, and always has been incredibly fascinating to me because of just, how many factors have conspired to make Homestuck fans show their collective transmisogynistic asses.

The main character of Homestuck transitioning is a planned future plot point for the official continuation of homestuck, that was spoiled in advance by a fan making a joke about finding some toblerones Andrew Hussie the author of homestuck hid in a cave.

The current main writers of Homestuck: Beyond Canon have went on record in an AMA confirming that this was indeed always the plan, even before they took up the project.

In spite of these facts, the general consensus among certain homestuck fans seems to be that "June Egbert" is purely a headcanon for the original comic that was "made canon" by a "Toblerone Wish" (a concept that didn't even exist at the time)

For a variety of reasons, the "canonicity" of the postcanon official continuations of homestuck is a mattter of much debate, (though a debate that most homestuck fans seem to err on a side of "it's not canon at all in the slightest," something the writers have feelings on I'm sure.)

All of these factors combined leave the concept of "June Egbert" in a very nebulous place. It's assumed by most to just be an "ascended headcanon" that was shoehorned in, it's a spoiler so it hasn't happened yet in any official media, and the official media it will eventually happen in is regarded by some to be nothing more than glorified fanfic.

If someone is talking about June Egbert, and you don't like the concept of June Egbert, you have your pick of a million different excuses for why she's fake and gay and not worth discussing and bad writing and just the authors doing a gay dumbledore*, paying lip service to representation while actually doing nothing.

And of course, lots of people *don't* like June Egbert! Rather than being introduced as transfem from the start, she's in this nebulous position of discovery where people have to truly reckon with the idea of a "Pre-transition Trans Woman."

You can try to write off *some* of the backlash as transphobia, because obviously not everyone in this fandom is gonna be cool about trans people.

But there's no shortage of fans just dying to tell you about how much they like reading her as transmasc, or the idea of her being nonbinary or genderqueer or genderfluid, or literally anything besides a trans woman. And since they're fine with all those other interpretations, there's obviously no implicit biases driving their distaste for the concept! (if you want to try explaining the concept of "transmisogyny" to people like this you're braver than I.)

you can trust them when they say it's *just* a problem with whether or not it makes sense with the writing, or it just doesn't feel right somehow, or any of the thousands of excuses that this writing situation gives them to just Not Like It.

It's just, so interesting to me. There's not a lot of characters out there that get a trans arc in this way, that leaves room for open denialism and insistence that we have our trans cake and eat it too... Because Homestuck is a timeline spanning multiverse story, lots of people seem to want it to be an alternate timeline thing. Assuring us we can have this character share space with a non-transitioning version of herself and it won't be weird or imply gross things about trans people.

If you ask me it feels like a plotline that'd be really good for exploring some gender horror though, finding your true self and then being demoted to a footnote, an alternate version, because everyone around you likes your pre-transition self more....

Anyway I have no broader point beyond "hey look at this isn't this kinda weird. You don't get this kinda stuff often!"

*side note: it's a little ghoulish I think to compare "a future trans plot point that hasn't been given the chance to even happen yet, in an already famously queer piece of media, from a nonbinary author" to "some stupid shit done by the literal most famous transphobe of all time" but that's perhaps a discussion for later.

[kraftykelpie]

Originally a concept from "after the war" where Cody and Obi-Wan are discussing their long-term future goals, but it fits @codywancomfort as well!

I wrote fanfic in the tags so I had to rewrite it all here, below the cut! <3

“I've been thinking about what you said-” Cody makes an inquisitive noise in response, his eyes shut in bliss, rubbing circles into Obi-Wan's hip, his other hand playing with russet strands “-about children.”

Cody's eyes shoot open and his left hand stops in its motions, albeit briefly.

“I thought I wanted to take on another Padawan after Anakin, but I wonder if that emptiness was something I hadn't felt since Korkie, and-” he takes a breath. “- I miss that. I missed that with Korkie. That growth, watching that life form and become something of your own to watch grow into a fully recognized being of their own right.”

Cody takes a deep breath to avoid accidentally inhaling too sharply and choking on spit. He did that once after Obi-Wan winked at him on the bridge of the Negotiator. It was embarrassing.

He looks imploringly at Obi-Wan, letting Obi-Wan take his time getting his thoughts out. Cody doesn't need to add anything, Obi-Wan already knows about his ruminations about little cadets and wanting to raise one, no need to beat crumpled clankers about it.

“Darling, if you'll have me-”

He's cut off my Cody, honest to Karl, giggling and pulling Obi-Wan close. He buries his head in the crook of Obi-Wan's shoulder, while muffled, going,

“It'd be more strategically sound if we got married first though, don't y’think?” He presses a kiss into Obi-Wan's shoulder. Obi-Wan chuckles at the phrasing as Cody moves to sit up.

It's spur of the moment, really. Anakin won't be pleased with his former master exchanging mandalorian marriage vows post-coitus; though Anakin isn't really allowed to judge is he? He got secretly married and didn't invite his master, so fair's fair, really.

The vows had been a long time coming, and it was a wonder that they hadn't said them sooner. Though, the ongoings of a Republic changed by war and internal corruption had made it difficult to get married, between one half of the pair working hard with the Jedi Order to try and restructure systems that should have been in place a long-time ago, and the other off championing Vodé rights delegations alongside Rex (who's leading the charge).

Now's as good a time as any.

Obi-Wan smiles up at Cody, and dryly posits “ suppose we should make it official before we go announcing pregnancies, hm?”

Cody, lit by the artificial Sun of Coruscant, looks down at Obi-Wan with all the reverence and heartfelt adoration of a patron to their god.

“That'd be a good idea”.

[gotham-daydreams]

Okay, so, I love Isekai fanfic. I just do, it's so fun. I like the idea of the reader loving this stuff and dreaming of it, but being so worried about them thinking ill of you. I would also be so embarrassed. Like, "Crud, they're gonna think I'm so lame and stupid." Only to find out, "Oh. I have some of the most dangerous, intelligent people on the planet obsessed with me who will never let me go home... Not the kind of bad I expected, and yet this is somehow worse." I'm also interested in the Idol one. The idea of someone being friends with Idols, and this fear that people only like you to try to get close to these people. That you're just being used. And then the sudden whiplash of them wanting you, and the fear it brings when you realize you're being stalked. From one kind of bad, to very different and worse kind of bad. I am very excited

Yes!!! Exactly!!!

For the Isekai one, I also decided to do that because... well, usually the MC is placed right at the foot the the yanderes/Batfam, or tries to go to them - which isn't bad by any means! Honestly it'd be pretty smart to do that considering things, and it works out for plot convenience.

Though, I couldn't help but think about a reader that just... avoids them? At all costs? Not because they have something to hide necessarily, but moreso because, well, that'd be really embarrassing... and sure, it's one thing to read about them- but its an entirely different thing to meet them face to face. How are you supposed to act? Of course you'd have to pretend you don't know them... but they're scarily good at reading people! What if they think you're some kind of stalker??? Or worse!

Basically, I need a reader that is super anxious and an overthinker so they decide to take a harder but socially 'easier' route of just... avoiding them, LMAO

Though yeah, when that realization comes around, and the reader notices a little too late that maybe the Batfam is obsessed over them? And they can't go home? It's so over. A breakdown is definitely imminent.

As for the switch one? I know!!! I love it so much!! I've only read a handful of yandere stories where the fixation for the yans switches, and even less where the original fixation wasn't an asshole, so this is me trying to do that but with the Batfam :]

The feeling of being used will definitely appear every now and again, but there is more of a fear of "something you didn't take seriously now becoming serious and it's too late for you", especially as the reader does try to pull away and break things off from the family, but it definitely doesn't work out.

I'll be honest, there is more than just the idols and the family using the reader to get what they want out of them, but that is the general premise without me getting into details and writing even longer descriptions, lol

For example: just to live, the reader does some shady buisness - but they are trying to get out of it (the family doesn't know they're even doing that kind of buisness, though). The reader also knows a lot of people... more than the Batfam thought! And just generally the Batfam looking into the reader as they realize they don't actually know a lot about them, and through that some of them become obsessed and super jealous...

It's not a lot as the whole switch from the idols to the main character does take more of a focus, but what I've mentioned above is just more things in between and during that gradual switch.

It's even worse then you think that the Batfam was doing it out of malice at first, then it slowly became something else.... oh man. And just how all these little things that meant to harm you, are now supposed to like, be signs of affection??? Super confusing, but god is it dreadful and terrifying.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

Femme Fatale

Summary: Leon is a cop that got transferred to a new city in order to investigate the spike in murder cases. However, this isn’t an ordinary murder case. It is a serial killer murdering men.

Warning: mentions of blood, violence, death. !serial!killer reader x !cop Leon. Reader is 21+ (don’t drink under the legal age). Reader is female (hence the title lol)

Word count: 4,483

A/N: HELLOOOOO I feel like it’s been a hot minute since I wrote anything. I’ve been seeing a lot of short smut stories lately and I just wanted to bring something different to the table lol!!! Another murder fanfic with no smut (sorry smut lovers, but if you want a part two, I’ll write one!)

“You’ll wish you never met her at all, you’ll wish you never met her at all,” - Maneater, Nelly Fortudo

Nobody knows the true definition of being a femme fatale. It goes beyond aesthetic, but you use that for your own advantage. Seems like society does play a useful role for your adventures.

They are adventures to you, but the police like to call them "ongoing murders," whatever that meant. So, what if you killed a guy at a bar, he was being sleazy and wouldn't take no for an answer, so you acted out in self-defense. The cops believed you because why would they go against a woman who simply defended themselves? That'd tarnish their name and reputation.

So, you got away with your first murder. Easy as pie.

The memory was still fresh in your mind. You were out, hanging at a bar as you drank your savings away. Some horrible event happened prior to the night and what better way to cheer you up than a couple of drinks.

Of course, a man ogled you from the other side of the bar. Practically undressing you and fucking you in his sick and perverted mind. He was at least twice your age, what a psycho.

He had approached you, offered to buy you a drink to which you declined. Claiming you had too much to drink and had work in the morning the next day. You thought it ended at that as you made your exit, only to have life play an incredible joke at you. It wasn't incredible to you, but maybe to the universe it was.

The man had followed you and pulled into a sketchy and dark alleyway, attempting to drug you by attacking you from behind and stuffing a drugged piece of cloth against your mouth right under your nostrils. But it didn't go great for him, he's a total idiot that seemed to have no idea what he was doing. What a damn rookie.

You jabbed your elbow into his gut from behind, the man momentarily paralyzed which allowed you to swing your bag at his face. He stumbled backwards and fell. But that wasn't enough for you, was it?

No, it was not. It never is.

What is a woman if she can't bring revenge to her own self? And so, you watched as the man fell back against the concrete floor, cursing silently that he didn't hit his head hard enough. No worries, nothing a little help couldn't do, right?

You swore you weren't a violent person but as you straddled the man and beat the shit out of him, you felt nothing but pure bliss. A smile plastered on your face like a permanent reminder to the man that women aren't as easy as he thought they were. Oh, how naive men can be.

Blood covered your knuckles, his face so fucked up and bruised that it would be nearly impossible to recognize him. Until you spotted his driver's silence on the floor and stole it. This fucker needed to disappear and what better way than to do it yourself. You needed no help, you were independent. To hell with the patriarchy!

He was a heavy man, but you managed. You strangled him with the straps of your bag, watching as his face turned purple from the lack of oxygen. His eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets as he gasped and tried to pry your hands away. Disgusting, you thought.

The second he died; you didn't move. You needed to make sure he was gone for good and when he was, you weren't stupid enough to leave him there, oh god no.

You burnt him.

His body was tossed in one of those trashcans where teenagers come and lit fires while they committed underage drinking, for once you were happy those teenagers were of help.

And that was the first time you committed murder, and certainly not your last.

-

News reported the numerous cases of dead and missing men, you cried fake tears and showed fake empathy for the families of the victims but deep down you didn't care. They were all bad in your mind, letting their sons and brothers terrorize and claim what wasn't theirs in the first place.

Yeah, you became a mysterious symbol for female murderers. Nobody knew who this sudden serial killer was, much less what gender. But it gave hope to the women of the town, the ones stuck in a toxic relationship, the ones being forced to act like a mother rather than a daughter--you gave each one hope.

Right after the murders were set, the dead men would get exposed to the media. One of your victims had illegal pictures in his hard drive and you had no regret in releasing them to the media. As far as you were concerned, they could all rot in hell.

Your killings continued to pile up, each one different than the other to throw the police off tracks and make them start their investigation all over again. Gosh not only were they lazy but also stupid.

Not until that tall and blonde new cop showed in town. He was new but he seemed like a capable cop. You should've felt scared or threatened at the new addition to the station, but you didn't. You only felt amused that they had to bring outside help all because they couldn't figure out that you were the serial killer.

-

"You shouldn't be drinking during the day," a voice rang out from behind you as you sat on the bar stool, drinking away. You turned your head over your shoulder to find the new cop standing behind you. His blue uniform hugging his muscles tightly, his blonde hair reaching just below his ears and his blue eyes staring at you intently.

"It's not heathy," he added as he walked to stand next to your sitting form, to which you raised a single brow and turned your head back forward and took a sip of your drink, "Good morning to you too, Officer."

"Kennedy," he said, extending his hand out for you to shake, "But you can call me Leon if that's more comfortable for you."

You took his hand, shaking it firmly as you noted how strong he seemed to be, "I don't think anyone feels comfortable in the presence of a cop but sure," you said as you gave him a tight lipped smile.

"Can't argue with that," he replied as he took his hand away and watched you drink. There was a silence that overtook the two of you right before he spoke, he seemed rather hesitant.

"What do you know about the murders?" he asked cautiously, eyes narrowing as he stared at you, watching for any signs of... suspicion, perhaps?

"You mean the ones about the guys being found dead in a ditch?" you asked sarcastically, a half smirk reaching your lips, "Heard too much about them lately. It's all everyone seems to be thinking about these days..."

"Well, it makes sense. This killer seems to be targeting men and then exposing them for their... disturbing habits... you don't happen to know about the town's vigilante, would you?" he asked, propping his arm on the countertop of the bar and turned to face you.

You turned your head to look at him, feigning innocence at his question, "No, officer, I haven't learned anything about the serial killer. Everyone's been busy being on their best behavior..." you glanced down at his uniform, admittedly checking him out before you looked back at his face, "And I suggest you do too, have a nice day."

The would be the last time you saw the cop for the time being. You knew he was going to be tailing you from that moment, so you had to be strategic. Maybe you'd seduce your way out of jail but at the same time, isn't a little game of cat and mouse fun?

-

It hasn't been going well for Leon. As soon as he was transferred from his previous station, he's been overworked with the investigation. Sure, he wasn't a real detective, but he was still a cop recommended by a popular chief. In his email he had stated that Leon was "perceptive" and "had an intelligence beyond human comprehension."

Leon didn't know why the chief was so insistent in getting him out of that station and to a new city, but rumor has it that it was because the chief didn't want anyone to discover the affair he was having. He knew Leon would've been the first one to figure it out.

And it worked, because now Leon was sitting in an office, trying his damnest to think about all the murders. Trying to find a common denominator between all of them.

"You look like you haven't slept in days. Reminds me of my wife when we had our first child," a police officer, by the name of Robert, entered the room with two cups of coffee. Robert was his assigned partner, the seasoned detective sent to teach him the ropes around the new station. But Leon didn't need training, he was already good at his job, and he didn't need a nanny.

He offered Leon a cup of coffee, leaning back against the edge of the desk behind him as he stared at the corkboard with evidence and pictures of the murders, strings going left and right as he linked each crime scene to another, "Yeah, well, I don't have either so I'm sure I'll be fine," Leon responded as he took the coffee and sipped it.

"You're really trying to solve this? You know we've been at a dead end for days, right? Half of these will turn cold and get stored down in the archives..." Robert muttered as he glanced at Leon, to which Leon simply nodded.

"Yep, that's exactly what I'm going to do," Leon replied, as if stating the obvious, "Isn't it suspicious how all of these murders are so... different? Too different?"

Robert could only stare at Leon with confusion, "What the hell are you--No, I don't find it suspicious. I actually think we just have multiple murderers."

"You think about 20 people in this town are murderers?" Leon retorted as he raised an eyebrow at Robert.

Robert sighed exasperatedly, "Okay, maybe not, but how are you even sure this is one person?"

"Because the perpetrator has been too careful. See this?" Leon took a picture from the corkboard, a piece of evidence from the crime scene, "None of the weapons have been found. But we know that they were used. There's a slit in this man's stomach, caused by a knife... don't you see? This serial killer purposefully takes the weapon and doesn't leave it behind because they know we can track their fingerprints and it's a game over for them."

Robert was actually a bit impressed but then he scoffed, "Leon, that seems like a stretch. What if the killer doesn't even use weapons? I mean, what if-what if-fuck. I hate when you make sense..." he muttered, which prompted Leon to smirk just a bit.

"I can feel that we are slowly getting closer to solving this. We just need to think like the killer..." Leon muttered right before the lightbulb above his head lit up, "And what better way than to act the part, huh?"

Robert looked at him confused with furrowed brows, watching as Leon took his jacket and started to make his way out, "Where are you going?"

"The only place where guys roam like fish--the club," he said before he stepped out of the room and started to walk out of the station towards his car. Robert could only sigh, wishing he was young enough to catch up to Leon's speed.

-

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," you muttered as you paced around your room. Ever since that new cop came into town, it's been hard for you to continue your killings. You're almost sure he's waiting to catch you at any moment and arrest you.

It's been a couple of days since his arrival, but he's been patrolling the places you'd usually go to catch your victim, the bar, the club, hell, even the park!

He was too good at his job and it both pissed you off and stressed you out.

"Fuck!" you yelled in frustration, for the past half year, you've been killing with no problem, but now that going to stop soon enough. You couldn't let the new cop win, this was no longer a game.

This was war.

You quickly dashed to your room, hopping on your bed and getting your laptop. You usually weren't the type of girl to stalk people but screw it, this Leon Kennedy needed to get out.

But to your dismay...he was a decent dude.

Nothing too important stood out. His Facebook was boring, the only pictures you could find were posted by his family. His Instagram was dry, he'd post without captioning his pictures. Who does that?!

You learned he graduated high school at 18, and then graduated from the academy early due to academic excellence and immediately got sent to a police station to work at only 21 years old. He didn't seem to have many friends, but then again, online life was nothing like real life.

But not all was lost. You learned he was 27 years old and single. You could use this to your advantage, to become the femme fatale everyone had been whispering about around the streets.

-

Leon went undercover to the town's most popular night club, he dressed casually and out of his uniform. The last thing he needed was for him to cause more panic than the serial killer had instilled.

"One beer, please," Leon ordered at the bar. The music blasting off from the speakers on the walls, lights down low as lasers and light sticks illuminated the place. People danced around, nothing too suspicious except for the disgusting display of affection by some couples.

"Here," the bartender said as he slid Leon his beer. He wasn't usually a beer guy, but he assumed he need a light drink to push through. vodka and tequila didn't seem fitting for the job he was currently trying to do.

He walked around the club, his eyes glancing everywhere for any suspicious activity. He had found none.

Well not nothing, his eyes landed back on the bar, walking towards it to get another drink and give up for the night. Until he saw you. You were dressed in a tight little dress, your hair and makeup done but he wasn't paying attention to any of that. He paid attention to the way you were talking with a guy.

Now, the idea was still a bit weak in his mind. He had no proof that the serial killer could be a woman but something in him was setting off his buttons of suspicion. Why hasn’t he thought about it before?

Maybe because he had no real reason too. He didn’t mean it, but he thought most murders were caused by men. But he just couldn’t shake off something about you. So he lingered a bit, deciding to forget about the beer and just focus on you.

It didn’t surprise him that you were flirting back with the guy that has been talking to you, he was handsome but not as handsome as himself (his own words). He stood far, making sure not to blow his cover. He hasn’t found anything remotely suspicious so it wouldn’t hurt to keep an eye on you, right?

That’s when he followed you out the club, the man walking next to you and guiding you to his car. That was weird but he’s heard of one night stands. Personally, Leon wasn’t that type of guy.

The streets were crowded at night and he lost sight of you for a quick second, until he spotted your figure getting pulled into an alley. Suspicious enough? Very much so. He didn’t hesitate to take out his gun from the waistband of his pants, getting ready to defend if anything were to happen to you. He was a cop and a gentleman after all.

But as he approached the isolated alley in which he last saw you, it was unexpectedly dark and quiet. Leon’s steps were slow and quiet as he walked further into the alley, his gun aimed and pointed in front of him in case something decided to jump at him. Luckily nothing did.

Although he did hear a sound. What was that? He wondered as he stepped deeper into the alleyway. His shoes rubbing off the cracked concrete floor until he was met with a horrific sight.

The man that had tried to take you to his car was found dead on the floor. He immediately dialed emergencies and went over to the man, it all happened to quickly and his eyes darted around to try and find you.

-

You knew you were being followed that night at the club and your suspicion was correct when you saw the familiar sight of a certain blonde man on the reflection of a car’s window. He’s astute, too astute for his own good.

Much to his dismay, the man you killed died on the way to the hospital so he couldn’t give out a statement of who had attacked him or what happened. But Leon wasn’t going to rest until he found you, was he?

You debated flying to another country, turning your back and leaving for good. But something stopped you from doing so. What about your job? What about your family and friends? They wouldn’t believe you if you went abroad in your own for no specific reason.

Curse you Leon Kennedy.

-

After that night, he’s been practically living in the station. Evidence piling up but he had no solid evidence that it was you who committed the crimes. His word alone couldn’t be trusted for two reasons; he didn’t even you actively attack the man and his opinion as a cap was already biased! He was in a pickle. It didn’t help that the higher ups pressured him into speeding up the case, they wanted the culprit to get caught already as all the men in the town cowered in their homes. Scared that they would be next.

Not so fun when the shoe’s on the other foot, huh?

He knew he shouldn’t but he did anyway. His stalked for your information, sneaking into the town’s city hall to retrieve your files like birth certificates and such. Turns out the police didn’t hold these documents, the city hall did.

He had found your address and immediately began to drive to your place. He needed answers and he didn’t care that he was breaking police code. He knew it was you, you had to be involved in this somehow.

As he approached your place, he wanted to pound at the door like they did in FBI movies but he knew he had to act civil since he had no real evidence to base his suspicions on.

Once the door was opened, he noticed your startled expression, almost catching off guard by his sudden visit. And he wasn’t even wearing his uniform, “Officer,” you said as you stood by your door, “To what do I owe the pleasure…?”

“I saw you,” he said, jumping straight to the point, “The night that man died—you were with him. I saw you walk out of the club with him and then somehow, he died.”

His eyes were piercing daggers at you, almost as if he wanted to peek into your mind and read your thoughts.

But you only stared at him silently, Leon was too smart, “I didn’t feel good and he called me an Uber,” you lied casually.

“You didn’t feel good, huh?” He huffed in amusement, glancing away for a second before he looked back down at you.

“Yeah, I got drunk and started to feel sick. He did me a favor,” you continued with your lie, knowing damn well you weren’t sick at all.

He hummed and nodded his head once, nibbling his bottom lip as he stared at you with an analytical gaze.

“Take care, then,” he muttered, taking a step backwards, keeping his eyes on you. As if telling you that he was on to you. He was going to uncover your secret.

-

When he left, you felt as if the world almost stopped. Your heart was hammering inside your chest, your breathing labored as you thought about what the hell just happened. Damn you, Leon. You really know how to use that brain, huh?

You couldn’t just stop the murders, that would only give Leon more proof that you were the serial killer he was after. No, you needed to keep killing to stray him away. You did it with the other cops, couldn’t be that hard.

-

You’ve killed, but you killed less men. The police had advised individuals to remain in their homes after curfew. That it was dangerous with a serial killer still on the loose.

It was all so stupid. You were serving revenge to all the women who fell into the traps of men and here comes a man to stop you.

That’s when it hit you, what if you tried to kill the officer himself?

No, you couldn’t. That would only sell you out.

But what you could do was send him a message.

On your next victim, you planned it differently. Instead of the clean and simple murder way you usually go with, you decided that you’d be messy. Make him confused, make him believe that the serial killer was a scared person. That would shove him away from you for a while, right?

When Leon arrived at the crime scene, he saw the blood splattered around the brick walls of behind a convenience store. The body dumped inside the dumpster, his body slashed with knife wounds and face beaten up. You tried to make it seem like a man committed the murder, men were messy, right?

Unfortunately for you, in the midst of your perfectly messy murder, Leon had found CCTV footage of the whole thing with your face showing. This was solid evidence to finally get you.

-

And that’s how you ended up at the station’s interrogation room with your wrists cuffed to the table. The room was cold, grey, and bright. Almost looking like a hospital. Modern architecture kills artists.

“So,” Leon started as he sat across from you, files laying flat on the table, “Care to explain?”

“Explain what?” You feigned obliviousness.

“The murders, the blood—everything?”

You held back an eye roll, he had caught you and there was no point in lying, was there?

With a defeated sigh, you leaned back against the chair you were seated on, “I was… only trying to help,” you began quietly.

“Help? By committing murders and bringing terror to the town?”

“You don’t understand,” you immediately responded, a bit frustrated that he didn’t get to understand, “I killed those men because they’re nothing but a waste of space,” you spat bitterly.

He sat there in silence, brows pinching together as he crossed his arms over his chest, letting you continue. There’s no going back when the cat’s been out of the bag.

With a sharp inhale, you continued, “Those men, they do bad things. Prey on women and take advantage of them… I was tired, so, so, so tired, officer…” you whispered.

“When I realized that a man had tried to drug me and take advantage of me, something in me snapped and I knew then that I couldn’t sit back and let him do whatever he wanted to me. I refused to become an object for horny men that can’t keep their dick inside their pants,” you muttered, leaning forward as your eyes narrowed at Leon. You weren’t blaming Leon but he understood your motives.

“So you took it upon yourself to get rid of these guys…” he muttered, his head slowly nodding as he let the information rest in his mind.”

“I did,” you admitted, “I had to.”

“You had to?” He repeated as his eyebrows raised.

“Yes—you don’t understand what it’s like to fear for your life just because of your gender. I didn’t choose to be born this way so why should I let people treat me like shit?”

“I understand where you’re coming from but hurting other people will only hurt you,” he said quietly as he leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, “How much longer did you think you could’ve kept going, hm? You’re a smart girl, Y/n, you deserve better than jail.”

His words were sincere and for a moment, your walls came down. He was right, in a way, how much longer could you have kept killing people before it caught up to you? Before you lost your mind? You didn’t even think about that.

Silence took over and he sighed softly, looking you over with pity. You were young, smart, and had a bright future ahead of you. He almost felt bad for wanting to catch you this whole time. Almost.

“What’s done is done,” he finally said, breaking the silence, “You committed unforgivable crimes…” his voice trailed off.

“But you had a good reason for them,” he muttered and pulled the files back towards him, “You were defending yourself and your friends during these occasions. It was self defense,” he said firmly, as if he was changing your story.

Wait, what?

The files in his hands held the pictures of you violently killing people, but never once did he actually open that file. Instead, he made up a story for you…

“Why?” You whispered, staring deeply into his eyes. He shrugged and stood up, “Everyone’s been on their best behavior, right?”

-

It’s been a few days since you’ve been questioned. Leon had gotten rid of the evidence and instead made up new ones that led to the story he fabricated for you.

It was all surreal.

Never once in your life, you would’ve thought a cop would help you. You felt shocked, baffled, and confused. But a part of you was grateful. You should’ve known the court system of this town was just as careless as the police station before Leon came because all they did was give you a slap on the wrist and let you go. Once again, not wishing to have their reputation tarnished.

You’ve stopped your killings, for obvious reasons. But, you were glad you’ve lived your five seconds of fame. Even if your identity was never exposed to the public.

You owed it all to Leon. Too bad he had left town. He returned to his city, claiming he had some unfinished business (most like with his chief for throwing him into this town so unexpectedly).

Part of you missed him, it was fun while it lasted, right?

[gabbodile]

P l e a s e. Idk if the security breach fandom is still alive, its been so long since i've been doing fandom shtuffs

If anyone knows any good monty gator fanfics where the reader gets to basically rage with monty that'd be great or do i gotta make that content myself?

Otherwise here's some ideas:

Reader has a bad day and needs to let it out so Monty allows them to fuck up one of the rooms with/witnessed by him

Upset and frustrated reader has a Monty who doesnt express affection that much but will for the reader (bc its worth it)

Monty comfort reader by usually booping his snout to the reader and curling around in a protective nest. Loaded with snacks he stole from the kitchen via his chest cavity.

He knows when there's something bothering reader and he actively tries in his own goofy way to cheer up reader. Shenanigans ensue.

Monty offers to take care of a reader who is below the weather while freddy persists on himself taking care of reader. Monty just wants to prove himself able to take care of reader despite how rough he usually is

I just need monty to take care of reader when they cannot take care of themselves damn it.

Anyway, thank you for coming to my ted talk um please @ me some cool fanfics

[yandere-daydreams]

i swoon at your power to take ideas and make them great fanfics. the lyla one was awesome, whoooo! 😤 thanks for running with my suggestion. perfect for my wlw wednesday

i love imagining those little tense moments before the pictures and videos appear that miguel KNOWS somethings up and lyla looks SO SMUG while glancing over at darling and they're (maybe ever so slightly) shivering. but is much too afraid to say anything out loud.

oh especially if in the beginning of their capture (before lyla actually began her sessions) when miguel was out darling hoped lyla could offer a sense of reprieve and friendship, hell, maybe she could help darling escape!

and that was their first mistake, hoping.

it's almost perfect, the unintentional good cop bad cop dynamic lyla and miguel had. if only they had planned it earlier, coordinated better darling could have been mindbroken even faster. but it's mors fun when they struggle, isn't it? Lyla thinks so.

tw - non///con, kidnapping, physical/sexual abuse, and consensual recording.

difjisjflksjdflk i actually usually hc that lyla's the one who takes care of, like, the majority of your upkeep while miguel's off repressing his emotions and fighting anomalies, so i can picture a scenario where the reader is desperate enough to try to befriend lyla despite knowing she can't go against miguel's orders and is very likely reporting everything you do or say back to him. you know she can't help you escape, but with such limited options, you're forced to confide in her, to treat her as something resembling a friend, and to rely on her as your only real support in this fucked-up scenario. it's not much, but it's what you have. if that means you have to trauma-bond with your kidnapper's alexa, then so be it.

which means it really, really hurts the first time she pins you down with mechanical arms and makes you cum until you go blind on a vibrating attachment, all while recording a little something to make sure miguel doesn't feel like out. you can't be sure if it's something he asked her to do or just a robotic whim meant to pass the time she has to spend with you, and so you're trapped in this bleary, constantly exhausted twilight zone between begging him to make her stop and not wanting to put yourself through the punishment that'd follow trying to avoid his twisted affection. the result is, unhelpfully, not saying anything at all and trying to recover in the few, sparse hours can find between lyla's sadistic "enrichment time" and miguel's never-ending lust. they might eventually come to a consensus, be able to talk about the way they both treat you openly, but there's a good chance that you'll just find yourself caught up in a cycle of being fucked unconscious by lyla and her toys, having her send pictures of your ravaged body to miguel, and finding yourself speared on his cock a few minutes later when his hand inevitably fails to sate him - a reaction which, of course, just makes lyla want to rile him up more. either way, you're not getting a break anytime soon <3

[bloggingboutburgers]

I'm here to bonce back on the "non tagging x reader content" when... Shippers do the EXACT same thing and get no flacks in returns?

ESPECIALLY mlm ones?

I mean why even bother? You either drool over those two men kissing or you're just a raging homophobe! Simple as that ! 😌 😇

You have no idea of the numbers of shipper accounts i had to block because they posted content for that ship that i hate without tagging it as shipping. And nobody bats an eye, everyone is cool with that because everyone ASSUMES you're into this.

And then they say shits like "Wow x reader is such a HATE CRIME am I right?" And everyone's agreed with them and you can't say shit in response because all the fandom back them up. (True story, i wish i made that one up)

And as a sex/romance repulsed aroace woman who's only comfortable with x reader fanfics to safely explore those complicated feeling the fuck am I supposed to do? I would get gutted on the street by the entire fandom.

And before everyone slash my throat : everyone should tag their content. No matter what it is. Shipping, x reader, whatever...

But why everyone is so comfortable shitting on the x reader community while the shippers get to do everything they want without any pushback????

Like idk how to say it, all the goods the x reader community gave me. Its the only community who accepted me in ANY fandoms i have been as an aroace woman, all the rest of the fandoms bullied me and tried to chase me away because i """"shipped myself""""" with male characters i saw as aroace coded too. The x reader community welcomed me and helped me carve my own space while the rest gave me fucking slack because I saw those characters as aroace instead of gay. (Because it is apparently the only valid queer interprétation ever)

Like fuck man...

This community is the only one who accepted to listen to me rambling about how those character were aroace coded and cheered for me writing about them while i was bullied off my first account because i did not agree with the popular ship.

I met more aroace people writing nsfw/romantic fics (YES I TAG THEM ALL) about those characters than i ever met in my entire life. HELL, each and every single Friend I made on this site came to me to thank me for my writing and they ALL turned out to be sex/romance repulsed aroace people.

TLDR : why is it always the x reader community that get flacked for doing something the shippers do since the very begining of fandoms without any repercussion?

Its getting old.

Sincerely an aroace sex/romance woman that will never let go of her x reader fanfics.

...OK ima be honest on that one

Personally I don't dig shipping OR xreader, I kinda put them in a "nope don't wanna read it" same bag

So yeah I don't get why people wouldn't see them on a same scale of value.

Literally people like different things and some would rather read different things and some wouldn't and everything's fine let's seriously just tag stuff to make our life easier and stop judging each other.

The absolute state of all of this. Jeeeeesus. That's part of why I don't even bother in fanfiction spaces anymore. That and the fac there's hardly ever anything that'd interest me anyway, I guess.

[sugawhaaa]

☆-------CHIFUYU FANFIC

☆------------PERVERT PART. 3

☆----------------------------streets

Warnings::MENTIONS OF R4PE AND SA (not any of the toman members) VULGAR LANGUAGE

Taglist:: @main-character0

Genre::enemies to lovers (if you squint) school timeline

Recap:: After getting sent to the principal with Baji and Chifuyu you become a lot closer. You ended up getting paired together for a school project and when working on it after school at Baji's house they suddenly kicked you out. You followed them but got sexually assaulted and they saved you. Chifuyu then walks you home.

You continued to walk in the dark evening.

"This is my house," he said as he stopped by an apartment. "I can get you some pants or something if you want? If that's not weird…" he blushed as he went over to his front door.

"No, that'd be very sweet actually," you smiled.

"Would it be okay if you waited out here?" He said as he put a hand up as a gesture to his idea.

"I-" you grabbed his shirt as he tried to walk inside. "I'm scared to…be out here alone," you blushed as you held onto his sleeve. His expression softened as he stared at you.

"N-No worries, you can come in," he blushed and took your hand leading you inside. You stayed by the door as he went to his room. He got some nice sweatpants and handed them to you.

"Sorry you can't come inside but if you change here I can just turn around. I promise my parents won't come out of the living room. They have all the beer in the living room so there's no need for them to come out here," he explained as he handed the pants to you. He turned around and let you change. He gently swayed on his feet as you changed. "You can give them back at school okay?" He said softly.

"Okay," you smiled. You tapped him on the shoulder and he turned around. His heart fluttered as he saw you wearing his clothes. His cheeks turned pink as he looked at you. He cleared his throat.

"Uhm uh again I'm sorry for what happened…" he said with a guilty expression.

"It's okay fuyu," you smiled as you called him by his Nickname for the first time. He opened the door for you and guided you back outside with him. He shut the door behind himself. "Will you be at school tomorrow?" You asked as you stepped outside.

"Yeah,I dunno if I'll stay the whole day but I will show up," he said as he rubbed the back of his neck. You nodded before kissing him on the cheek softly.

"Alright, I'll see you tomorrow," you smiled before running off. As you walked home by yourself you blushed. "Why did I do that?" You mumbled to yourself as you thought back on the kiss. You kissed him! And you have no idea if he's even the slightest bit attracted to you. What if your friends found out!? What would they say about everything that happened tonight….

Your mind raced before you realized you were home. What would you tell your mother? Were you going to tell her about everything that happened…but that would involve the police and that's a no no when in a gang but you weren't technically in the gang.

You bit your lip as you decided what to do. You opened the door and there was your mom. She looked mad, her hands on her hips. She then pulled you into a hug.

"I was so worried about you," she said as she held you closely. She then let go of the hug and looked at you. "Don't ever do that again! I was worried something happened!" She said worriedly.

"Yeah I was on my way home from my friends house and some guys on the side of the street were harassing me and…" you explained and your mother looked concerned. You really didn't want the police to get involved so you made up a little lie. "But then my friends from school came in and settled things with them. The guys harassing me ran off and I got distracted by talking to my friends who saved me," you explained further. I mean it wasn't a total lie but it wasn't the truth either. Your mom nodded.

"I see. You have some good friends,"

You thought of Chifuyu at her statement. His smile. Your cheeks flushed as you thought of him.

"Y-Yeah! I'm lucky," you chuckled before running off to your room. You laid in your bed for a while just thinking about Chifuyu…maybe some feelings were developing…BUT he's just a friend and he was the kid who used to spit on people in 4th grade and throw sticks at people. He's a little brat…who happens to be really nice to you. And respectful to women when it comes to feminism.

You put a pillow over your face, like you were hiding from your own feelings. You decided to write in your diary about how you were feeling. Every thought you had of Chifuyu went onto that page. You finished it up, closed the diary, and locked it. You laid back down on your bed feeling refreshed after letting out all of your thoughts.

That night you fell asleep wearing his jacket and pants.

☆—------------------

"Hey, Y/N, do you have my clothes?" Chifuyu came up to you at break when you were talking with your friends.

"Don't say it like that!" You turned to him to see Baji behind him. His nerd glasses and hair tied up again. All of your friends started freaking out thinking that you had done something with Chifuyu last night. You had told your friends you were studying with them so it kind of made sense.

"Why not, princess~" he teased you to get a reaction out of your friends. You blushed and playfully hit him on the arm. Your friends freaked out and you opened your bag.

"Don't call me princess," you blushed madly as you handed him his clothes. He laughed.

"Alright Alright, I was just playing," he took the clothes from your hands. "Thank you," he smiled and patted your head. "We'll see you in science N/N! (Nick/name)" he waved as he walked off with Baji. You sighed and turned back to your friends who were all eyeing you up.

"So, what was that about?" Rina raised one eyebrow at you.

"I can explain!" You said with panic in your voice.

☆—-----—------------

That evening when you got home you went into your room and flopped onto your chair. You unlocked your diary and started writing about Chifuyu while eating an apple. As you were writing you got a phone call. You looked at it surprised, and paused your music. Chifuyu was calling you. You picked up the phone and answered.

"Hello?"

"Hey!" He spoke on the other line. "I was wondering what you have for social media?" He said and you could tell he was shy through his voice.

"Oh I got a few actually," you said as you turned your computer on.

"Sweet!" He chuckled.

The call between the two of you lasted at least an hour when your dinner was ready. Your mom came into your room. You told chifuyu and muted yourself and you set down the phone.

"Suppers ready!" Your mom said sweetly. "Who you talking to?" She said innocently.

"A-A boy. He's one of the ones who saved me from the creeps the other night," you explained as you smiled.

"I see, what's his name?" She said with a cross of her arms.

"Chifuyu, Matsuno Chifuyu," you nodded and she smiled.

"Alright dont have too much fun," she chuckled before leaving your room.

"Mom!" You blushed before picking up the phone again.

"So you told your mom what happened?" Chfiuyu said in a serious tone.

"W-What? No, I...I made up a story," you whispered the last part. "And how did you hear what I said!?"

"You forgot to mute yourself, you hit the wrong button," he chuckled and you heard a loud bang on the other side of the line.

"What was that?" You asked him.

"I fell off my chair if you must know," he sounded unamused. You laughed at him.

"I gotta go now," you chuckled as you spun in your chair. "My dinner is ready," you blushed as you held the phone to your ear.

"Okay, I'll talk to you later," he said as you heard him pick up his chair and stand up.

"Okay see you," you said before hanging up and setting your phone down. You went downstairs to go eat. You sat at the dinner table and as you ate your mind wandered off about Chifuyu. That's when you heard your mom informing your dad about what had happened last night with the creeps. After that awkward conversation, you did some homework and went to bed. You laid in bed thinking about Chifuyu, upset that you wouldn't see him the next day because it was a weekend...

[ddarker-dreams]

Hi Lock~ I wanted to ask you abt how you got into literature, and how you’d maybe recommend someone else to start? I want to expand on my reading (and also you’ve hyped up Dostoevsky sooo much I’m hooked but I KNOW I’m not at that lvl yet haha) but there’s so many different sources and stuff idrk where to start. I have seen your list of recommendations and other people’s lists as well but Im never sure if they’re a good place if someone is just starting into literature; I’ve been really interested in Picture of Dorian Gray, Jane Eyre and Frankenstein right now, do you think they’d be okay? Did you look at books you knew you’d be into? Or did you try out smth new entirely? Also did you look at any sources online that you could recommend? I know I’ve asked a lot so you of course don’t have to answer them, but please let me know what you think!!

I also wanted to ask, as someone who’s read many classics in literature, in your opinion, how would you define literature? And what do you think makes a book a classic?

From a very clueless anon, hope you and bun bun have a great day and stay hydrated!!!!

hello anon!!! there are so many interesting questions here, i'll try answering them to the best of my abilities!!!!

(how i got into literature)

i'd been neglecting published works for most of my life because i just preferred fanfic way more. it wasn't until a bit into 2021 that i saw this Discourse Causing Post that 'you can't grow as an author if you don't read published works,' or something among those lines. i thought this was really interesting because i'd never given it much thought. around that point, even though writing was a hobby, i felt really motivated to improve. i normally spent no more than a day or two on a story before moving onto the next. which is fine, because fanfic writing is a hobby, but i felt i'd be capable of more if i put in the extra time and effort.

so basically i got into it because i wanted to write my silly little yandere fics better jdfklgjsdg

(recommendations for getting into literature)

i focused on the genre i thought i'd be the most interested in: horror. then i branched out from there. i looked up what people considered must-reads for the genre because i figured that'd be a good place to start. if you know what sort of genres you like, doing some research into its most prevalent/foundational works isn't a bad idea. that's the approach i took. authors throughout the centuries influence and inspire one another, i wanted to be able to map those connections out. this also helps give some context to older books with references that'd be loss on a modern audience.

(how i went about looking into books to see if i wanted to read them)

i research everything like my life's on the line, so i do look into books before i read them. i go for a synopsis that doesn't include spoilers and consider if that's a story i'd get invested in. if not, i'll read some reviews for fresh perspectives. if i'm still kinda meh by then, the book gets passed on.

(defining literature/classics)

UHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH literary theory is not my field of expertise ... i'd personally define literature as any written work such as fiction and nonfiction. it can encompass so many things that defining it feels tricky. as for how i'd define a classic, all art is subjective or whatever, but there are stories that just have the It factor. whether that is their cultural impact, or works that are pillars to the genre(s) they were written in. you can see the ripples that it made after its publication.

finally, as for the books you listed (jane eyre, the picture of dorian gray, and frankenstein), i'd highly recommend them!!! all of them are apart of the gothic genre, which is one of my favorites. they've all stood the test of time for good reason.

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

am I the only one who's scared for the upcoming Aegon the Conqueror adaptation...? The Dance is a lost case. It's destroyed, ruined, made into a minced meat and served as dog's food. It's unsalvaegable atp. But HBO wants to do the same to Aegon and his sisters and it makes me both furious and frightened. Mattson Tomlin will be the screenwriter. Ok, so far so good. He seems like a decent guy. He didn't post anything that'd imply he's going to turn this series into his own fanfic. But what next? I've researched the process of making a tv show, and if I'm not mistaken, Tomlin's sole job is to write the "core" of the story (the sequence of events, how it might begin and on what note should it end, a rough draft of dialoques, things like that) And then that script will be passed forward to five other screenwrites who can do with it whatever they want. What if Condal and Hess - the biggest f**cking hacks in the whole world - will be among those screenwriters chosen by HBO?? It's going be a nightmare. Oh god, the villainization of Rhaenys and Visenya while also making them a total weaklings without ambition or agenda. And yes, it's more likely than not that these asshats will make the Conquest, as well. They're HBO's favorites, since they made the ever successful House of the Alicent.

Oh, and I'm sure they gonna fuck the dragons just as much as their riders. Do you want to see Aegon riding a saggy, rotting Balerion with a dropping neck? Well that's exactly what you gonna get.

They hate Targaryens and everything that's associated with them.

Oh no, I'm right there with you anon. I honestly hope this show somehow dies like the Snow show. His perception of Daenerys is extremely telling of his inability to understand the bigger picture of the story.

Him accusing Dany of being "genocidal" in season 3 is fucking ridiculous. He's somehow construing her actions to overthrow a monstrous and oppressive system as genocide. Like, media literacy is just not present apparently. Since Dany shares parallels with the Conquerors, this perception is very... concerning. So, from my perspective, this is already doomed to be another shit show.

Considering how often people in the fandom like to interpret the relationship of the Conquerors as strained at best, I have very little confidence anyone HBO hires will be much different. HBO definitely hates the idea of any healthy relationships, romantic or otherwise, as we've seen in GOT and HOTD. I definitely think Visenya will end up hating Aegon and/or Rhaenys, and Aegon will probably resent Visenya and abuse Rhaenys.

I've always thought the GOT dragons were extremely uninspired. They dulled their colors and made them all look the same. I liked the HOTD dragons a lot more; but I agree that Vhagar looks kinda bad (she looks like a turtle 😭). Since Balerion is supposed to be older than Vhagar is in HOTD, they might go with the same idea for him, which is sad. Especially since they did a good job with Caraxes and Syrax (aside from keeping her the same size the whole show).

It's so sad and frustrating how determined HBO are to just destroy everything connected to ASOIAF. Time and again, they've proven that they just don't understand what GRRM wrote at all.

[kawaiichibiart]

....PRSK April Fool's Events I'd like to see happen:

Y'all had to have know this was coming: we play with the NPCs.

Everything is literally the same (visually), the VAs just switch who they play.

This is another obvious one: Sekai Swap

Again everything is (roughly) the same (visually), but the siblings have switched roles. So: Tsukasa is the one who ended up in the hospital and Saki is the one who forgot why she decided to pursue her dreams (in this case it was becoming a pianist). Shiho is the one who was part of a group before joining her current one (Leo/need), who was assigned a role and got bullied for things she couldn't control, and Shizuku's the one who wants to go pro (as an idol of course), so she finds jobs that could help with that (honestly the Hinomoris are giving me the hardest time to figure out a good swap for). Ena is the one who pushes herself too much and compares herself to her friends, while Akito is the one who seeks validation for his singing and gets disappointed when people prefer his selfies and OOTD posts over his singing ones.

The School Sekai, Stage Sekai, and Street Sekai are all created by one person (personal vote goes towards: Saki, Minori, and An, I will also accept Toya because I honestly think that'd be fucking hilarious), the Wonderland Sekai and the Empty Sekai are both created by a group.

Personality swap but the characters keep their....quirks (? I don't know what else to call it). Like, Tsukasa could have Kanade's personality but he'd still be loud as fuck. Ena could have Saki's but still be a bitch (I say that affectionately). Etc., etc.

...we need more kid designs and thus kid 2d models, but SEKAIs were created when they were kids. Saki would visit the School Sekai whenever she was out of the hospital but still unable to see her friends. Minori got to meet Haruka, Airi and Shizuku earlier and they all decided to become idols together. An and Akito are guiding these two, scared, lost, kids around the Street Sekai and introducing them to street music earlier. Tsukasa and Mafuyu are both the only ones who start off alone. Tsukasa goes into the Wonderland Sekai whenever Saki is at the hospital and their parents stay with her. He doesn't like being alone, so the Sekai brings him comfort and it was hard for him to accept that someone else could enter his Sekai. Mafuyu would go to the Empty Sekai to find comfort in Miku. She's a lot more like Len, hiding behind Miku, shy, absolute baby. She also has a hard time accepting others can enter her Sekai. For those two, Sekai was a safe haven, a place to ease themselves and find comfort. So when other people start showing up (not the VS), they're upset.

...this is a sign I've read too many groupchat fanfics: they're all part of a Nightcord (because I'm pretty sure we've all agreed Nightcord = Discord) group chat and all the area conversations are about shit that has been brought up in the chat. Bonus points if all of the convos are mixed units. Extra bonus points if they have no idea who started it in the first place.

I'd love a subtle fuckery where, again, everything is pretty much the same, but certain characters have had their colors swapped. Tsukasa and Saki, Shiho and Nene, Minori and Honami, Shizuku and Kanade...

Unit Shuffle 2: Electric Boogaloo

There's a world where rather than Tsukasa saving Toya, Toya saves Tsukasa. Where Kohane is the one who chooses An as her partner. Where Airi, Haruka and Shizuku are the ones who put on a show for Minori and pull her up on stage in their Sekai because they want her to see as the lights become a pale peachy/orange color for her. Where Mafuyu is the one doing the saving and not being saved.

Different childhood friends. That's it. Potentially could go along with number 10.

Once again, visually, everything is the same, but the last names are all over the place. Meet the Kamishiros: Ichika and Ena. Oh, the Aoyagis? You mean Aoyagi Shiho, Aoyagi Emu and Aoyagi Rui? It's strange how Saki Hinomori and Tsukasa Yoisaki look so alike.

[warsamongthestars]

There's several reasons I separate TBB and TCWs Bad Batch. Quite a few of them are micro, cos I'm analytical as hell and the little details set me off.

How bout two big things? Two, in your face, things.

First one isn't so bad. "There's two different shows by two different writing and two different broadcasters, they're going to have obvious canonical differences based on the paperwork and contracts alone, but because it still irrevocably alters the story and characters, no matter where that alteration came from, it is still two different canons that aren't going to fit nicely if at all."

Okay maybe it is complicated, but that's real world shit for you. Clone Wars was a Cartoon Network production, the recent stuff has been Disney--and frankly, Cartoon Network has better quality and taste (HELL YEAH STEVEN UNIVERSE!)

THe second one goes into the show. Some proper in-story analysis, to tell you were the break is at.

The Bad Batch arrived on Anaxes after dealing with an Insurrection on Yalbec Prime. They brag about it, they talk about it, its important to their introduction. Its important enough that a lot of fanfics and fanstuff talk about how it happened.

It was an insurrection. Insurrections are defined as "An uprising against an authority or government".

And they didn't describe just any group conducting an insurrection--they describe Yalbecs, so the inhabitants of Yalbec Prime. And then they describing killing the Queen of the Yalbecs, so the primary ruler of Yalbec Prime, planet of Yalbecs. Of which Tech comes in to say, that hte stinger of the queen is a Delicacy on some planets.

... Do you know how nasty of a picture that paints?

Based only on the simplest information given and what we know; because they're Republic Troopers--we can assume that Yalbec Prime was a Republic world. (We weren't told otherwise, so the assumption must be the most correct answer at this time.)

So, the Yalbecs were rebelling. (Because why would they attack the inhabitants unless they were the insurrection being put down?)

Using this minimum information.

THe Yalbecs and their queen, were rebelling against Republic Authority (we don't know if it was in favor of the Seppratists, it could be that they wanted Neutrality too).

If we can assume the reason, its probably because folks eat their damn Queen (a very good reason to rebel if you rely on a ant or bee like hierarchy and the queen is also your mother--given the implications that yalbecs are insectoids and that there were queen pheromones).

The Bad Batch are called in to put down the Insurrection, which we can assume they did, based on the fact that they're alive and intact.

... So.

The TBB Show wants to tell me that... The Bad Batch don't want to follow orders to eliminate insurrectionists and that's why they left the Empire?

Based on the above, they absolutely would follow those orders. Enthusiastically, with bragging rights.

One could make the argument that ECho set them straight, and that'd be a good story and start. TBBshow didn't do that, and regulated Echo to the bitching corner and then just kicked him out entirely--so you might have that idea, but the Show certainly didn't.

The darker argument is that the TBB would put down a society of insectoids, but not humanoids--and that... leaves a rather nasty set of implications, given the multi-sentient species of the Galaxy. I'd love to think that's not the case, but if TBBshow insists it, then we have to take it as the case for the Batch on the TBBshow.

When you're writing, what you show or say to or for the audience will be taken as fact by the audience for the show played. While we can give interpretation and imagination for things you don't say, it will always come down to what you've Shown and what've you Told, and what the conflict between the two is.

If you don't show it, or don't talk about it, and don't leave room for interpretation, then it didn't happen.

( One can argue that the TBB show does leave room... Via the holes its poked in itself. I've never seen so many pockets filled with absolutely nothing. )

And when you show contradiction without just cause, you risk breaking the flow of the story, and thus breaking the suspension of disbelief... And that's when the Audience enmass starts leaving and cursing.

While you cannot predict who's suspension is broken at any given time, what you can control is the flow of the story and its beats.

What is said and what is shown, are important, because Theatre / TV show stories are entirely made by what is Said and what is Shown.

Lastly, as for "What is canon".

... The TBB Show has different writers to the Clone Wars, which in turn had different writers from the Star Wars Prequel Films, which in turn had different writers for the Original Star Wars.

Of course none of it but the OG is canon.

Its all just an Argument about what enhances the story of your personal Canon and who is telling the story.

[ashfae]

A03 meme

A03 meme time, except I've been writing and posting fanfic to the internet since before A03. And before fanfiction.net. And before Geocities. And before the World Wide Web. There's fic of mine with ASCII doodle illustrations somewhere out there where the wild BBSes once roamed…I was tagged by @moveslikebucky; thanks Buckie, here goes. <3

how many works do you have on Ao3? 54. (and yes if we added in all the fanfic outside of A03 it'd be a larger number but I can't be bothered to consolidate it all)

what’s your total Ao3 word count? 341,744, which is better than I was expecting, yay.

what fandoms do you write for? At the moment it's just Good Omens, but there's been a lot of Dragon Age, some Lord of the Rings, and way back in the day there was Harry Potter and a lot of anime. I am toying with dipping my toe back in LotR, there's a thing I wrote ages ago that's entirely finished and just needs editing and I've been meaning to get it out there for ages. It's long though, so that'd be a commitment.

what are your top five fics by kudos? What Custom Strictly Divided (507) Like an Echo Far Away (415) (this one wasn't in the top five last week when I first started writing this post! So I think @mielpetite gets all the credit for boosting it with amazing fanart) What Comes From Your Hand (402) Give Me Your Illusions (346) Nightswimming (307)

do you respond to comments? Yep! Sometimes just with "Thanks!" or hearts but I try to. Though they get away from me sometimes and then I do a bunch all at once.

What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Definitely Warmaiden, which is my "What if Éowyn got the One Ring?" fic, from an idea that occurred to me one day and wouldn't leave. Clearly that doesn't end well for her, or anyone. From GO fandom it's probably Silent Night, which I still want to expand into a larger fic to be a set with Give Me Your Illusions. Someday, someday.

What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Most of them! But for the happiest I'd say Swan Lake Revised, cowritten with @mostlyjustgoose. And if we ever get part three up it'll be even more happy. And smutty. Very smutty.

Do you get hate on fics? Very rarely. I've been lucky there.

Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Oh here's the irony. I used to do a lot a lot a LOT of online roleplaying and mygod I wrote smut. So much. So. Much. I don't do as much rp these days but even so the threads I have going are still frequently pure filth. But in fic, much less so, even though I want to. Why it all gets channeled into rp and not as much into my fanfic I do not know. Honestly I want to write a lot more of it. Smut forever!!

Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Sometimes, when I have a good idea. But the craziest one I ever wrote, ages ago, was a pure crackfic for my 21st birthday, where I imagined a bizarre party for myself in which LOADS of fictional characters (mostly from anime) showed up so I could make them interact in wacky ways. It was utterly ridiculous but amused me. Making all the characters voiced by Megumi "She's Everywhere!!" Hayashabara meet up and wonder why they all sound alike, for example. Also I wish I'd written an Artemis Fowl breaks into Gringotts to rob it fic before I became so disillusioned with both Artemis Fowl and Harry Potter. Heigh ho.

Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yep. It was impressive how lazy the person was about it too, they stole all the html as well. Someone brought it to my attention pretty quickly.

Have you ever had a fic translated? Twice, yes. Into Portuguese, as I remember.

Have you ever co-written a fic before? Hi @mostlyjustgoose, I adore you, please co-write things with me forever. <3 Our baby is Unusual Strings, a reverse omens AU love story, and it's SO. CLOSE. to being done. So close. Aughhhh. I love our angel!Crowley and demon!Aziraphale so, so much.

What’s your all time favorite ship? Aziraphale and Crowley, Faramir and Éowyn, Hiccup and Astrid. Don't make me choose between those three, my head will explode.

What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? Shut up shut up I will finish all of them ALL OF THEM I SAY…sigh. Beauty and the Battousai. Though I should probably mention A Demon in the Dreaming and The Queen Bee. (they're plotted and outlined and parts are written aaahhh come on ADHD meds help me out here)

What are your writing strengths? Dialogue, definitely. I'm good at putting humour into things. Got compared to Patricia Wrede once and honestly, life goal achieved there. I can do memorable phrases and descriptions and edit well.

What are your writing weaknesses? What is plot. Why does it hate me. Why are my original characters one-dimensional cardboard. What is worldbuilding and how do I do it without getting stalled into paralysis. Baaaah. This is why my original novel will never be finished and I keep running back to fanfic instead.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? Hoo boy contentious subject! I love reading it so long as it's translated somewhere in the footnotes, I'd be happy to write it if I knew other languages, the question of whether it should be italicized or not has apparently Officially been settled by The Publishing Industry on the side of Not.

First fandom you wrote for? Oh gosh I think it was the Dragonlance books by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. The first that ever got shown to other people was Ranma 1/2 though.

Favorite fic you’ve written? It's still What Custom Strictly Divided. Though Unusual Strings comes very close.

Gaaah I'm always worried I'll tag people who don't want to be tagged so, erk, um...if they're willing, @racketghost, @indieninja92, and @holycatsandrabbits! And you, if you're reading and want to do this, please say I tagged you. I meant to really, honest. ;)

[regulusstarz]

Part two of my previous post! Now with step 2 and 3. This is still somewhat incomplete (especially step 3) so things can change. I don't currently have a picture of step ,2 clementine, but i might add it later once I've played through the game again!

Also apologies if this is badly written or too short, it's almost 6 am and i got like 0 hours of sleep.

Clementine has her own problems in step 2. Pran canonically moves away, so she's still a bit heartbroken about that. Her favorite person just dissapearing like that. Clementine had tried to beg him to write her letters, but had no idea if that'd actually work (Pran did write her letters, but never sent them.) So she was completely down for the next few years. The pain had lessened as she hit 14, but Pran was still a thought in the back of her mind. At that age she had started getting insecure of being a late bloomer. She hadn't had a "crush" on anyone yet and she kept somehow hearing love stories from people around her, which didn't make it any better. Her main issue is her problem with self-acceptance and trying to find out who she is.

Her relationship with tamarack in step 2: they're closer than ever. Pran moving away had left her alone with her best friend, Tamarack, who she was now desperately clinging onto (not literally). Clementine is anxious about Tamarack potentionally moving away like Pran did, so she spends as much time as possible with her. (Clementine had actually mistaken her want to be close to tamarack as a crush, which it wasn't). Despite that, Clementine is always trying her best to make Tamarack feel more confident in herself and do her best to keep the mood upright.

Her relationship with Qiu in step 2: Since Qiu pulls away from basically everyone who isn't their friend, Clementine is also shut out. And unsurprisingly, she doesn't care all that much about it. She had never had a close relationship with Qiu, and she didn't care about building a close relationship with them now. They aren't enemies or anything, but also not friends in any sense.

Other relationships in step 2:

Opal: Clementine really doesn't care much for her mother in this step. They can live in harmony with one another but Clementine is so busy in her own world that she doesn't really try with Opal.

Ren: Ren and Clementine are a bit closer in this step, considering each other somewhat friends, but still not all that close. Though they do have a few good hang out times togheter (especially if tamarack is there too).

Vianca: Vianca and Clementine get along pretty well. They aren't besties but they're pretty good friends with each other.

serenity: Clementine isn't sure what to think about her. They can hang out togheter, But clementine wouldn't go out of her way to actively make conversations with her.

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I don't have much for step 3 yet. But i DO know that Clementine and Pran are getting a cute (and probably angsty) reunion! I have started writing a fanfic about it, but it's still a wip and will probably never be finished. That's pretty much Clementine's origin actually, but whatevs. I'll post about step 3 Clementine once more information about it is out!