#when you go to the tags to shit post but end up making a decent point and you’re like noooOooOooO cuz yk nobody will see it 😅😭

[sunnist4rs]

Fucking moids

[aloesarchives]

Kengan Headcanon: Gaolong's reaction to an opponent speaking about you in a unsavory manner

Warnings: Swearing on my end, reader been ogled at, gender neutral reader/pronouns

Series: Kengan Ashura/ Kengan Omega

Pairing: Gaolong Wongsawat x GN! Reader

Word count: 1988

Pronouns: They/them (reader is referred as partner and (Y/N))

(A/N: Been sitting in my file for a year. Now it's finally finished and posted. Please let me know if there is anything else I need to tag in my warnings.)

So I already established that in my headcanon of Gaolang that he respects women unironically, actually he respects people in general.

That’s because he’s just GOATED like that and is overall a decent person, especially in the world/universe of Kengan.

But back to the topic, the reason why I want to establish this is he is someone that doesn’t take no shit from anyone. Based on what we learned in Ashura, Gaolang looks down upon those who are cocky and don’t take fighting seriously. Looking more into it, he normally just gets irritated by them due to his calm and collected composure. 

In the world of the sport boxing, it’s no stranger that he will come across people who don’t fall under the definition of sportsmanship. Gaolang has his fair share of opponents that need a little bit of humbling, and he for sure gives it to them during the boxing match. It also doesn’t help his perception of them when they think and openly claim they can clean Gaolang up, making him believe they’re shallow inside and out. But he only does the pre-fight press conference because his manager told him it builds up his good reputation and consistent publicity. Knowing him, he wouldn’t really go to these but he does it for the sake of the sport and the benefits it brings as previously mentioned.

In a normal situation at a pre-fight press conference, he’ll get annoyed by these fighters and let that emotion subside after the press conference is done. He’ll reply nonchalantly to anything that’s thrown at him whether it’s questions or remarks from his opponents that tests the waters. He knows how to handle them and just waits to get into the ring so his fighting can do all the talking for him.

That’s until there was one opponent he had to fight he wouldn’t forget. Gaolang’s title as heavyweight champion was never challenged nor questioned at all. But during that moment in time, Gaolang’s title as champion was being questioned when another boxer was racking up wins left and right. Although this boxer was slightly younger, he was picking up fast and his fights looked impressive. Eventually, this novice boxer was turning heads and getting popular to the point where rumors and speculation about him being the new champion in the heavyweight division. It seemed absurd to think so, but it wasn’t out of the picture. 

Gaolang saw the boxer’s other fights and understood where the praise was coming from. Although Gaolang was confident in his abilities, he still was cautious of the other’s abilities and boxing style. So like always, Gaolang trained like he always does. This wasn’t new to you at all since you have been with Gaolang for quite some time and married for a few years at that point in time.

You thought this opponent was different as he seemed humble and didn’t bark a lot. After turning on the t.v. back in Thailand, you started watching the pre-fight press conference. Again, nothing new to you at all. When the questions from reporters started coming in, both boxers answered them as normal. However, you had a feeling that something was off about the guy. You could tell what it was but your gut had a strange feeling that couldn’t be shaken. 

It was not until the last 15 minutes of the conference that the novice boxer started to bite off more than he can chew. There was one reporter left that triggered a particular answer from him that caught Gaolang’s attention. However, what got a reaction out of him was when the boxer mentioned your name.

“But I will admit though, Gaolang. I’m jealous of you. You’ve got a beautiful and wonderful partner there. I wish I had someone like (Y/N).” 

Gaolang didn’t like where this was going. More so when someone mentions your name that wasn’t friends, family, or King Rama. He knows people like to use your name to throw off Gaolang but he knows how to deal with those who try to use your name to their advantage.

But it doesn’t mean Gaolang doesn’t feel any sort of anger when this happens, especially now.

Gaolang stood up and gave his signature glare to his opponent. He then walked across the stage and stood in the middle. The boxer did the same but he had a stupid shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with the face, Gaolang? I thought you would agree since you have (Y/N) to yourself, ya’know? Having such a fine person as a partner is something between us two men with good taste could understand.”

“Watch your tongue, (Boxer’s name). (Y/N) is not an object and is not to be ogled at, have some respect.”

But the boxer didn’t know any better and forgot to hold his tongue. The next few things that came out his mouth sent Gaolang’s blood boiling. Then there’s you  who gasped and covered your mouth as you watched what unfolded in front of you on the screen. Deepening his glare more while still keeping his stoic face, he looked down upon the novice boxer.

“Your words against (Y/N) are punishable crimes, and I will deliver the punishment without further question.”

With that, Gaolang turned and walked towards the exit. All chaos breaks out in the conference room. Meanwhile, you were sitting at home with the feeling of disgust and a pinch of fear. You never minded when your name came in the news, but this type of attention was something you feared and the fact a man said on live television with no hesitation was terrifying.

Basically, Gaolang went straight to his hotel room and took a cool shower to calm down.

The anger subsided but the feeling of repulse didn’t.

There are only 3 things that Gaolang shows pride, loyalty and devotion towards: the country of Thailand, King Rama, and you.

And how dare that boxer disrespect you in front of him. The absolute audacity!!!

After Gaolang finishes his shower, he calls you to see if you're okay. Whether it is physically or emotionally, Gaolang needs to make sure you’re doing alright. Gaolang, as always, is respectful towards you in anything. That’s why he has never mentioned you or your relationship to the public unless you allow it. But even then, he wants it to be lowkey af.

Sure, you have calmed down. However, you were a little shaken by this. I mean, I would if a random man said some unsavory things about me on public broadcasting.

Gaolang apologized for letting this happen to you, to which you told him that this isn’t anything too serious and that he should focus more on his upcoming title defense match.

However, this was and IS a serious matter to Gaolang. So the next few days, Gaolang trained with just a little bit more intent than normal.

(Meanwhile, that boxer is getting absolutely slandered for the shit he said on the internet. Those netizens don’t like how he dissed their favorite power couple)

At last, the day of the match that would decide who keeps the title is here. You opt to stay home for this as it would be better for your piece of mind. But you were more worried about Gaolang. Although you  know your husband well, actually that’s the problem. You know how exactly your husband is. Goalang isn’t a hard person to read. He’s rational, calm, loyal, and observant. One thing you notice about Gaolang is how defensive he can get.

People can shit talk him all they want, he could give zeros fucks at all. But insult Thailand, King Rama, or god forbid you, that person is gonna get fucking die.

It had been a couple of days since the conference. So you know the initial anger wore off. But still, you only hope Gaolang goes somewhat  easy on him.

But since the controversy at the press conference caused such attention, this match was one of Gaolang’s most anticipated matches yet for any of his titles.

The event started as per usual with any boxing matches, the sponsors, introductions/entrances, anthems, etc. The challenger seems as confident as ever, having barely any nervousness evident on his face. Same goes with Gaolang, but with his classic stoic stare. The match was on its way once the referee explained the rules and the first bell rang.

However, you knew something was wrong right off the bat with him. It wasn't like Gaolang was fighting alright, he’s a man that never half ass anything. But you can tell he wasn’t giving his all at all. You didn’t know why he wasn’t trying at all. This wasn’t like his fight with Kaneda, he put effort into that one. But something was different about this match and you couldn’t tell what.

It seemed like Gaolong was struggling seemingly, the commentators were shocked and questioned that there would be a new heavyweight boxing champion on their hands. Was this the end of Gaolong’s reign as boxing champion?

No, you knew we wouldn’t lose to people like his opponent. He would rather die than give them a win.

The third round came along and around seemed hype about Gaolong’s opponent and he seemingly being the winner. However, Gaolong was not phased by this. In fact, he still kept his calm composed aura like he always does. That’s when you saw that Gaolong was up to something. You didn’t know yet but it was something.

The 3rd match began and that was when everything suddenly changed. It was like a flip of a switch as Gaolong just started boxing the hell out of his opponent. Gaolong had landed more hits than his opponent could dodge. 

It was obvious to the crowd that this round was one-sided. Gaolong outmatched the hell of his opponent in every way he could. And with a finishing blow to the jaw, Gaolong had won by a knockout. The crowd went wild, the commentators losing their minds from the fast yet heavy KO.

Gaolong pulled the ultimate power move by letting his opponent think he had a sliver of hope in beating Gaolong. Only for Gaolong to straight up smash it to the group and pummel it until it was dust. He shattered the man’s hopes and dreams by letting him think he had a chance of getting a win only for Gaolong to show him that he is nowhere near his level.

That Gaolong was miles ahead of this cocky bastard and he made sure his opponent knew that. This loss will forever change his opponent for the rest of his career.

After the Gaolong’s win was finalized, all he wanted to do was go home back to Thailand and be with you. That’s it. He did his press conferences and interviews, but he didn’t care for them. All that mattered was you and he needed to get home to you as soon as possible.

As always, King Rama gives Gaolong a few days to a week off of work when Gaolong brings home a win. Every time Gaolong wins, it’s like an unofficial national holiday is happening. Thailand is bright and festive as ever everything he wins.

Now with Gaolong back home and off from work, he just spends his time with you. Maybe a little training but more so leisure and doing errands or chores with you. You were happy that Gaolong isn’t in a bad mood anymore but Gaolong now knows that people who weaponized you and your name against him just to stir the pot. 

Well, he takes that pot and creates his own fucking food with it because no way in hell will he let someone do that to you. He made it known with that match. Because after that match, his opponents never mentioned your name ever again.

Thai God Guard Dog privileges.

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Hope you enjoyed it! Please like or/and reblog it! Have a wonderful day!

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 1 - Pure Imagination

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: Basically A Star is Born but make it Sleep Token. A video of you singing Take Me Back to Eden gets attention online and you're invited to sing backup vocals at their next concert. Only, you end up doing a lot more than just that. The first in what will be at least a 3 part series.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Hand stuff (for now), mask play, concealed identity play, obscured vision/partial blindfolding, is this a musical now?, shower play with the lights off, monster kink? if you squint?, spiritual cult leader Vessel, dirty talk.

Word Count: 5.4k

A/N: I enjoy candlelit showers while blasting Sleep Token and inspiration struck one day while listening to Take Me Back to Eden. What if? So I wrote it. I have already planned out a part 2 & 3, so fear not, our journey has just begun.

Read on Ao3

-------------

So there I was, doom scrolling Instagram when *ping*

“Sleep_Token: We loved your video” My brows furrow. That can’t actually be their official account. Tapping the notification, I switch to my finsta, where I post anonymous videos of myself singing. I recently shared a clip of an acoustic cover of Take Me Back to Eden that got a decent amount of attention, but I didn’t think it got that much attention. The message thread opens just as another is coming in. 

“Sleep_Token: How would you feel about joining us sometime?” What the hell? 

I click their profile. Blue check mark. Holy shit. Shock has me so caught up I can’t even think of a clever response. Or any response for that matter.

What does ‘joining us' mean? Like for an orgy or going to a show? Because I’m down for both, but I only have tickets for one of those things. At least my brain is still cracking jokes. I stare at my phone and figure out something to say.

“Hi! Thanks! I actually will be at the show this Friday. I can’t wait :)” My heart does a little somersault as I hit send. 

“Sleep_Token: Perfect. Our manager will reach out for details. Bring something black to wear. We’ve got the rest covered!”

What the fuck does that mean? Reaching out for details for what? What is ‘the rest’ and how is it ‘covered’???

*ping*

The DM from the manager comes in. 

On auto-pilot, I go back and forth with the manager. Realization sets in… I’m going to be backstage at the Sleep Token show. I’m going to meet the Espera and sing with them. On stage. At the Sleep Token show. Friday. In less than a week. What the fuck.

Four days… I have four days to perfect my outfit. Immediately, I FaceTime my best friend. She answers on the second ring.

“Callie… you’re never gonna believe this.”

“Alright??… spill bitch”

-------------

My stride lengthens to keep up with the woman leading me through bright lit hallways. The week had flown by in a blur. Now it’s Friday and I’m being led backstage in sweats and a tank. I hadn’t fully wrapped my head around their invitation. But what I really hadn’t wrapped my head around was what had been developing since that night. Once I had gotten off the phone with Callie, I saw I had a DM request from a username I didn’t recognize.

“Hey it’s V” I think my brain had short circuited. It all felt like it came out of nowhere. I guess that’s the thing about change, it doesn’t happen until it just… does. We had started chatting  and it continued throughout the week, getting to know each other a bit, what we enjoy, what we don’t, our favorite colors, and even a bit of flirting. Another strange development in a situation that materialized all too quickly. But it was exciting. It has been a while since I’ve been truly excited about something or …someone. 

I think it helps that we don’t really know each other. Our identities are a secret. It’s sort of like getting to know the contents of a box without getting to know the box, if that makes sense. It’s hard to explain, but I like it. Being myself comes easier this way. There are less distractions.

My guide comes to a stop and knocks on a door. Anticipation grips me as it opens, a woman dressed in black greets us with a smile on her face. 

“Come on in! We’re excited to meet you.” The Espera, or the three female background vocalists, usher me into the dressing room and to a spot in front of the mirror. Their welcoming energy helps quell my buzzing thoughts. We fall into easy conversation as I work on my hair and makeup. The dress I chose is sexy but functional. Thin straps, square neckline dipping in a quick plunge, finished off with a thigh high slit. My hair tumbles around my shoulders and down my back in a lion’s mane of waves. My lips are painted the darkest shade of red, the only real part of my face that will be seen from behind the gold mask that lays on the counter before me.

The Espera give me a crash course in backup vocals. No pressure, just last minute winging it in front of 13,000 people. I still can’t wrap my head around this, even as they help fit the mask to my face. It looks just like theirs, intricate bronze scrollwork curling down my cheeks, leaving only my mouth and jaw exposed. The mesh panels over the eyes allow me to make out shapes and light. So I can see plenty, but it doesn’t feel that way. For me, I might as well be blind. It’s the feeling of being out of control, a vulnerability that leaves me a bit raw and on edge.

A knock raps at the door and my ears grasp at every little sound, attempting to make up for my lack of sight. The women gather as it clicks open. Their blurry forms disappear to the sounds of scuffling shoes. The door closes. My blurred vision watches as a dark figure slowly makes its way across the mirrored space. Fully blind I would know it was him. The magnetism of his presence is threatening to drag me in like the gravity of a blackhole. It’s supermassive…

I hold my breath as he surveys me. It would be a lie to say that I am not intimidated under his gaze. Despite the disguise, the feeling of vulnerability remains.

“This suits you. How does it feel?” He purrs his approval. The tension in my chest eases. 

“Thank you. How does what feel?”

“Your transformation.”

“Transformation? Into what?” My breath hitches, I can see his dark figure looming behind me.

“Your true self.”

“I’m not really sure what you mean by that. As excited as I am, I am also a little nervous.”

“What are you nervous about?”

“I’m not sure if it’s one specific thing. I just don’t know what to expect. I’ve never done this before. I know I’m wearing a mask but it still feels scary to have people actually watching me. This is worlds away from posting anonymous videos online.”

“I can understand. For us, the disguises are about showing the parts of ourselves that do not feel comfortable in our daily lives. Whether that is because we feel they should be hidden or we lack a suitable outlet. So it’s really not a disguise at all, but a revelation. By wearing this mask, I take off the invisible one I wear everyday. I embody the aspects of myself that I wouldn’t otherwise. So ask yourself… What would that feel like for you? Who would you allow yourself to be if you knew you were free from judgement?”

“I think it would feel freeing. But how am I supposed to figure that out tonight?”

“A lot can happen in just one night.”

Unsure of what to say, I sigh and tilt my head. A gentle tap on the side of my mask is his response. I stare straight ahead, looking upon our blurry reflections in the mirror.

“Envision yourself right now. A different version of you, a fantasy. Who could you be? How would you carry yourself? What presence do you bring? Take a minute. Close your eyes if you need. Think of the answer and then feel it. Become it. This is the transformation. It is first in your mind and then, in your being.”

I take a breath, close my eyes, and do as he says. I see the masked version of me, painted with black, a version of me that no one knows. Not even myself. She can be anything. I can be anything. This essence blossoms in my bones, radiating until it anchors itself into my being. Excitement ripples under my skin. I open my eyes.

“How does it feel?”

“It feels… different. I see myself but also… more.”

Vessel tilts his head.

“I saw paint. On my neck and it ran down.” Skimming my hands over my arms to illustrate my point.

“Stand.” I pray my knees don’t give out as I follow his command.. His proximity sends little electric waves skating along my skin.

“You know it’s true what they say. Depriving one sense, heightens the others. Close your eyes.”

I do as he says. Anticipation coursing through me.

“Touch, for example.” 

His hands skate up my arms, over my bare shoulders to my neck. His fingers stroke along my skin, pressing into the muscles and working at the tension. Other parts of me start to crave the same and the weight of arousal settles between my thighs. I exhale a sigh. His fingertips play along my skin, alighting little sparks. Just as I’m being lulled into a daze, he stops. Moving away from me, he leans against the counter, silently staring. The vulnerability isn’t as uncomfortable now. Security has replaced whatever fear I felt before. He reaches for something on the counter.

“May I? I have an idea for you with this paint.” 

“You may.” I tease lightly and I hear the sound of spinning plastic. 

The light of the room is dimmed as he steps closer. Both hands come around my neck and fear takes root in an instant. What am I doing? I’m alone with a man who is dressed like a demon god, his hands are wrapped around my throat, and we are in a room where no one can hear me scream…probably. Oh no…. Should I be worried about how that turned me on?

Instead of squeezing the air from my lungs, he works the paint onto my skin. His fingers splay as he drags his hands down both sides of my neck. His fingernails scrape over my collarbones, stopping just before the neckline of my dress. My eyes fall closed and I can’t help the sigh that escapes or the shudder that runs through my body. Nor can I help imagining what it would feel like to have his hands on my thighs. Leaving a sinful trail of evidence, as he explored more sensual areas of my body. Circling behind me, his hands clasp my arms, leaving one last mark.

“Look at yourself.” His deep voice jarring me from my haze. Even with my obscured vision, I can clearly see the twin trails of black that drag down my neck, stopping just before my breasts and the stark handprints on my upper arms.

“It looks like I’ve been marked by a monster.” I say, amusement clear in my tone. 

Silence. A brief moment of tension, then his hand wraps around my throat. He leans closer to me.

“Are you calling me a monster?” His teasing is mixed with tones of darkness. I shudder at the thrill. 

“No. Monsters are scary and I’m not scared of you” …Yet 

“Do you want to be scared of me?” His voice is low in my ear.

“Maybe a little” Maybe more than a little.

I see his head tilt in the mirror. I can’t see his eyes but I feel them flaying me alive, gleaning every dark desire snaking through my body. He releases me, putting a bit more distance between us. 

“As much as I would love to explore that, it’s about time we get ready to go on. You’ll be brilliant. If you get nervous just remember my touch and how it’s plain for everyone to see.” I could feel him wink at me as he said that. It wasn’t the worst suggestion. That would certainly distract my thoughts from wandering into anxiety, but it would distract me in other ways. Blushing, I step through the door he holds for me, and follow him down the hall.

-------------

Like a cutscene in a movie, suddenly I’m on stage and the show is taking off. The lights and sounds are overwhelming. I allow myself a few minutes to adjust. Slowly, I begin to pick up the swaying movements from the Espera. Taking cues from their hazy shapes. Then, I allow my voice to softly join theirs. The flashing mass of screaming fans mere feet away is difficult to tune out, but I let them blur into shapes through my mask and my voice rises to the music. With each song they play, my confidence grows, and I feel that vision of myself, from the dressing room, coming to life.

Well, I know what you want from me

You want someone to be your reflection, your bitter deception

Setting you free, so you take what you want and leave

Excitement strikes like lightning. Of course I knew this song was coming, but being a part of it? Dancing while every instrument reverberates through my body?  

Won’t you come and dance in the dark with me?

Tapping into that sensual side of me, I allow it to take form, my hips swaying to the rhythm. I trail my fingertips over my body, and pleasure ripples behind my touch. Hearing whispers of my voice wafting through the background is unreal.

Lipstick, chemtrails, red flags, pink nails

I once made a comment to Callie about how I fantasize about being in an orgy while this song plays because it never fails to turn me on. The way the beat builds and morphs, the lyrics on top of that, it feels like seduction. My voice vibrates through my being, sparking a dark desire that flares with the melody. My eyes fall shut as I remember our time together in the dressing room. I feel his phantom touch along my skin and surrender myself to the sensations.

You make me wish I could disappear

The music dies down, somber notes begin to rise. Recognition flutters in my heart. This is the song that first drew my attention to him… and his attention to me. My eyes snap open on instinct, despite my obstructed view, I see a dark figure approach me, blocking out the crowd. My heart begins to race. I tilt my masked face up at his towering form. He grabs my hand and leads me from behind my place in the background. There we are, front and center. I have no idea what he is doing or what he expects of me. My blood roars through my ears, beating against the tense curiosity of the all too quiet crowd. Curious cheers ring out, but my focus is drawn to him.

I dream in phosphorescence 

Bleed through spaces

My nails scrape restlessly against the fabric of my dress. I have no idea what he wants from me. We never talked about this. Am I just supposed to stand here? Am I supposed to sing a specific part or harmony? My thoughts race as panic begins to sink its claws into me. 

His finger curls under my chin. The gentle weight of him pulls me from the quicksand of my mind. 

I’m transfixed as he sings to me.

My, my those eyes like fire I’m a winged insect you’re a funeral pyre. 

A calm intensity settles in as I focus on the figure before me. Like a siren song his entire being draws me in until there is no one else. No crowd. Not even the band. Just him and me.

The music begins to build. I feel it in my chest. His hand lightly strokes my chin in invitation. The energy builds in my stomach and moves up my throat. God, it feels like it’s going to burst out of me. So I close my eyes and let it.

I will travel far beyond the path of reason. Take me back to Eden. Take me back to Eden

Our melody turns into harmonious wails. 

Take me back to Edeeeennn

My eyes open to a flash of white teeth as he grins down at me, the music continuing its heavy intensity. That grin against his mask and paint, looks every bit like the monster I mentioned. The music drops into a quiet tempo and he steps closer, leaning in as his hood brushes my cheek. 

“Stay.” He commands, before sauntering off, just as three chords are played. 

Well yeah I spit blood when I wake up

He crouches towards the swarming crowd as he recites the lines. Waving hands and screaming smiles line the front of the crowd. As I watch him move across the stage, I remember his painted marks on my skin. My cheeks burn as he approaches me again.

I need you to see me for what I have become

Long fingers wrap around mine, bringing my hand to grasp the microphone, joining him for the chorus. 

My, my those eyes like fire 

My voice is a sweet backdrop contrasting his, as we sing together until the beat drops off. The hand folded atop mine loosens, his arm falling slack and I let go of the mic. His free hand sneaks through my hair, cradling my head in his hand. The sounds of birds chirping flit around the notes of the piano. This intimate moment sets me ablaze as I remember there are thousands of people watching. Jealousy licks at my sides from the scrutiny of their gaze. I pay them no mind. 

His hands fall from my hair, as he lifts the mic, but sings to me.

I guess it goes to show does it not 

That we’ve no idea what we’ve got until we lose it

His words resonate through my chest. Understanding the opportunity tonight presents, I want to make the most of this night, of this connection, and just enjoy whatever is to come.

No amount of self-sought fury will bring back the glory of innocence

Sound pours from me as I join him singing once again. The music sweeps me along and I ascend with it.

We were tangled up like branches in a flood

What happens next takes me by surprise. Vessel loops an arm around my waist, drawing me in until my dress brushes against his belt. He screams the ending lines with such intensity I feel as if I’m being hit by a hurricane. I can barely make out what he’s saying. My heart seizes with another little thrill of fear. All I see is the fierce glint of teeth through the contortions of his mouth as the music fades out. 

Piano keys begin to play, as he leads me back to my place among the Espera. This is the last song of the show, Euclid. What a beautiful note to end on. I channel all the joy in my little heart into singing this final song. I know maybe the lyrics aren’t the happiest but I can’t help but feel light while singing it. Our voices fade out, as he brings things to a close.

The whites of your eyes, turn black in the lowlight

So give me the night, the night, the night…

-------------

We stopped by the dressing room long enough for me to grab my belongings and then he was leading me through more hallways. He holds a door open for me and I step into a gaudy locker room. Leading the way, I follow him through the space and into a long room. The harsh fluorescence glares off of the white tile lining the walls. On the left, is a mirrored wall of sinks and who knows what else. On the right, benches border each door frame, opening into showers. 

We walk a few stalls down, I hang my tote and arrange my clothes on the bench as he wanders away. Pulling out a hair tie, I twist my hair up into a messy bun. Butterflies twist through my belly as he returns to my side, hanging a towel on my hook. We’ve shared this entire night, this entire week, without seeing each other’s face, perhaps we’ve seen a deeper truth. Either way, I’m not ready for it to end.

Inspiration strikes and I stride back to the main door and begin to flick the lights off one by one until all that is left is the glow of the adjoining locker room. His masked face tilts as his attention focuses on me. Grabbing the door handle, I pull it closed behind me until only a necessary sliver of light shines through. Giving my eyes a second to adjust, I carefully make my way back to my bench. I feel another thrill of excitement at the atmosphere. The near pitch black, the silence all around us, almost like something you’d see in a scary movie. I hear clothes rustling from the bench he is at. I’m still working on undoing the straps of my heels when I hear the harsh splash of water against tile. Once all of my outfit has made it into my tote, I take cautious steps into the awaiting shower.

“I wanted to keep the mystery going but maybe it’s a bit too dark.” So dark, that I can barely make out the other person in my proximity. My hands feel along the cool tiles for support.

“Give it a minute. Your eyes will adjust.” He’s calm. Still. Giving me space to acclimate. No longer clutching at the wall, I can make out the shape of him easier. Barely, I see the steam from the water and pumps of soap attached to the wall.

“Will they adjust enough to be able to tell the difference between which is the soap and which is the conditioner?” I tease.

“Hmm might have to go with good ole trial and error on that” Our laughter echoes against the walls. 

Stepping closer, I let my gaze wander. The lines of his muscles catch what little light there is. My breath hitches, the difference in our height is exaggerated now that I am barefoot. The way he looms over me keeps his face masked in shadow. Again, the thrill of being alone with this strange, dark god shivers through me, bringing my awareness back to the arousal that has been burning all night.

“Well I will gladly volunteer as the test subject.” 

“And I will gladly accept. I didn’t want to assume…”

“I would actually prefer if you do assume.” I step closer to him. Even in the pitch black I can see his head tilt down at me.

“Did you enjoy yourself tonight?”

“I did.  I’ve never experienced anything like it.” I say almost reverently.

“Shall we keep the experience going then?” A shiver runs through my body

“Yes.” I breathe..

“Sing for me?” My brows jump up. Posting videos of me singing alone in my house and singing background vocals could not prepare me for this.

“What do you want me to sing?”

“Anything” My mind goes blank all for one song. I take a deep breath to still my nerves. 

Come with me, and you’ll be, in a world of pure imagination

Tentatively, I recite the words.

Take a look and you’ll see

Into your imagination

There is no life I know

To compare with pure imagination

His voice joins mine. 

Living there, you’ll be free

I stop, allowing him to finish the verse

If you truly wish to be

Courage is easier found in the dark I realize, when my hands begin to trail along his chest and I continue singing.

If you want to view paradise, simply look around and view it

Anything you want to, do it

My long nails gently scrape across his abs as his fingers trace the black paint along my chest.

“What a mess I’ve made.” The timbre of his voice sends desire rushing through me. Reaching back, he grabs something from one of the dispensers and lathers his hands. The creamy substance spreads down my shoulders as he begins to work out the tension in my muscles. His hands began to slip down to above my breasts. Working in slow circles. The combination of excitement and desire keeps my mind sharp despite the haze of lust. His thumbs swipe across my skin with a delicious pressure. Grasping the tops of my arms, he leans towards me and my lips hum in anticipation. His mouth grazes past my cheek. 

“I think… this is conditioner” He murmurs in my ear. I can’t help the surprised giggle that escapes me. I can feel his amusement even as he turns from me. The muted clicks of the dispenser can be heard over the shower stream. When he faces me again, the energy shifts. A thrill runs through me as he grabs the back of my neck with one hand.

“May I?” He echoes the familiar words he spoke earlier in the night.

“You may.” I breathe and his lathered hand begins running down my neck, as his other creeps up into my hair. My head tilts back. The glow from the distant light flashes off his sharp grin. His hand moves lower down my chest, as he works at the paint there. I’m not sure which is more arousing. Him painting me or washing it off. My nipples harden and a dull throb settles between my thighs just as his large hand sweeps over my breast. His fingers capture my nipple, flexing and rolling against my soft skin. I exhale shakily as he moves on to the other, giving it the same treatment. Grabbing my hips, he pulls me into the water, washing away his claim, his touch laying stake to a new one. Then he flips me around, I catch myself on the cool tile wall. As he steps closer, I can feel him pressed against me. 

“I very much enjoyed having my mark on you, clear for everyone to see.” His voice is low against my ear, as his lips drag over my neck, gently nipping at my skin. The hand on my right hip slides down my thigh. My legs tense in anticipation. His fingers begin swiping in teasing strokes, closer and closer to where I burn for his touch. 

“Tell me, what has you so wet for me?” I let out a whimper as his fingertips slide through the evidence of his claim. 

“Was it on stage? When I whispered in your ear?” Stay. I shook my head. That definitely turned me on but it wasn’t where it started. The memory of us in the dressing room, with his hands around my neck flickers through my mind. Just that quick thought stokes the already well fanned flames of arousal.

“Before the show in the dressing room” I say and receive a hum of approval. I’m rewarded as his finger dips inside me ever so slightly. His strokes are shallow, only increasing my need for him.

“What about it?” His fingers slow, urging me to respond. It’s hard to think through the fog of my desire.

“When you painted my neck.” Relief washes over me as he picks up his still too slow pace. His left hand moves from my hip, trailing over my fluttering stomach, paying brief attention to my breast, before sliding around my throat. My thighs clench around his hand before I can help myself, my body vibrating with anticipation.

“Ah so this is what you like?” His grip tightens as he speaks and my hips rock back desperate for more than this teasing. All I accomplish is grinding my ass against his cock. He inhales sharply but presses himself fully against me. 

“So eager.” He laughs. “Is this what you’ve wanted?” His fingers still move at a languid pace, but curl deeper inside me.

“Yes” I nod enthusiastically.

“But it’s not enough is it?” I shake my head. Because despite the pleasure I felt, the need was greater. The need to feel more of him, to have more of him. He obliges, sliding in a second finger. I cry out, my cheeks heat from embarrassment at the echo. I press my lips together, stifling my moans. His fingers still. He leans forward, his chest against my back, pressing me into the wall.

“Don’t stop singing for me now” He purrs and the rumble in his chest vibrates through my own.

“It’s just you and me. There’s no one else.”

I exhale heavily as my mouth parts. Right away, he rewards me with deliberate strokes of his fingers. The hand around my neck lazily works at the muscles there and waves of ecstasy shoot through me. My nails catch on the grout between the tiles as pleasure begins to coil tight in my muscles. I’m lost in the way my moans reverberate around us as his thumb carefully starts working my clit. It’s consuming. The stretch of his fingers, dragging over every sensitive spot inside me, playing my body like an instrument. His hips roll against my backside, grinding against me. I can feel the hard length of him, thick and hot against me. I begin to crave more and the thought alone of feeling all of him inside me brings me towards the peak. 

“Someday I will have all of you and you will have all of me. Until then I will have the memory of how wet and tight you are around my fingers. Wishing you were wrapped around my cock instead.” My hips rocked, practically riding his hand as the pleasure ramping up inside me spun so tight I felt it would snap at any moment. “Every time I look at my hand I want to remember how it felt to have you come on my fingers.” A ragged cry left my throat as his words pushed me over the edge. The tension inside me broke. Shattered shards of pleasure sliced through me as my body shook. His hand slipped out of me and I felt him work himself against my ass. Tremors skittered through me as I began to come down from my high. The cooling fire in my core alighting anew at the knowledge that he would soon follow. The hand around my neck had slid to brace himself against the wall.

“I want to feel you claim me again.” Shortly after those words left my mouth, I heard him groan. He shuddered against me as I felt hot spurts of him against my hip and back. His cheek came to rest against the top of my head. We stayed pressed against the wall as our breathing and heart rates slowed.

“Well I’m afraid I’ve made a bigger mess than when we started.” My body vibrates against his as I laugh. He pulls me back to the water and gets to work cleaning me off.

“Ves. Thank you, for tonight.” The nickname felt a bit strange on my tongue but appropriate given the standing of our relationship now.

“The pleasure was mine. Thank you for joining us and thank you for indulging me.” 

“Of course. I wouldn’t miss a once in a lifetime opportunity.”

“I’m flattered… We will see each other again, you know.” Now it’s my turn to tilt my head at his words.

“Will we?” The possibility hadn’t even crossed my mind. Everything happened so fast.

“If you would like… There is still so much left to explore.” Even in my sated state, the purr of his words spark arousal. 

“Oh I think I would like that very much.” Tension crackles between us. God if I don’t get out of here I’m going to be in over my head. Exhaustion was starting to creep into my bones. 

“I think it’s past my bedtime.” I say with a yawn. That gets a little laugh out of him.

“Well you run along home before I’m inclined to drag you back into this cave and never let you go.” Again, he’s teasing, but the edge in his voice promises something darker. “Or someone comes looking for us and turns all those awful lights on.” His hands grip my shoulders as he leans down and plants a kiss on the top of my head. “We wouldn’t want to ruin the mystery.”

“We sure wouldn’t” Reluctantly, I walk away. I dry off the lingering evidence of what just occurred between us, slip into my clothes, and return to the harsh light of reality.

[steddieasitgoes]

@steddiemas Day 21 Prompt: Home and/or Dinner

I honestly think this is my favorite one yet!

Tags: Pre-Relationship Steddie, Eddie Munson Has A Crush On Steve Harrington, Holiday Parties, Overstimulation (the bad kind, not the fun kind), Steve Harrington Is A Sweetheart

wc: 2215 | Rating: G

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

The holidays were always a quiet affair at the Munsons.

A few gifts, wrapped in week-old copies of the Hawkins Post, placed under a modest tree from Merrill’s. Wayne’s famous (well, famous to Eddie) chocolate chip pancakes in the morning with a questionable amount of syrup and a reheated casserole from Ms. Jenkins down the street for dinner.

No church or family plans, just the two of them, a couple of beers (root beer in Eddie’s case until a few years ago), and whatever movie Eddie had insisted they watch before he turned the TV over to Wayne and the Christmas basketball game.

It was good. Great, even.

Eddie loved his holiday traditions with Wayne.

He did, but sometimes he’d catch sight of Ms. Jenkins welcoming her brood of kids and grandkids into her cluttered trailer or spot Gerald loading the passenger seat of his pickup with toys for his nieces and nephews and wonder what it would be like to have a big family to spend the holidays with.

Turns out, it’s loud.

So, very, loud.

The Hopper-Byers’ new house is bursting at the seams with guests. The entire We Survived The End of the World gang is here along with some guests — Wayne and Ms. Henderson. Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair stopped by for about an hour before excusing themselves to finish up holiday shopping (said in a hushed tone to not ruin Santa for Erica — as if she still believes, Eddie had thought). But mostly it was just the usual gang.

Eddie learned, in the form of Dustin’s “you’re being stupid” voice that it's become a tradition for them. Gathering a week before the holidays to pig out on food and dessert, play games, and exchange presents. Celebrate the year coming to an end and them making it.

As the apocalypse gang grew every year, the celebration got bigger and bigger until they were tripping over each other inside of the Byers house. That is, until this year when Joyce and Hopper got their shit together and finally moved into a decent-sized house on the outskirts of Hawkins. It’s no Loch Nora mini-mansion, but it works for them — even if it's still a tight fit when everyone is together.

Murray, Joyce, and Ms. Henderson are gathered in the kitchen — arguing over when to take the turkey out of the oven and the proper milk-to-cheese ratio in macaroni casseroles. A small radio sits in the corner, attempting to play Christmas music over the static. That’s the con about living farther out, Eddie supposes.

El and Max have claimed a fold-out table on the outskirts of the kitchen where they’ve been decorating cookies for hours, it seems. El’s simple and artistic, Max’s a chaotic mess of spilled-over frosting and candy sprinkles. (Eddie’s stolen one from each and thinks they’re both delicious much to their delight.)

The den’s been co-opted by Hopper and Wayne, and the TV volume turned all the way up (“We can hear just fine! It’s you kids that are making it hard,” Hopper gruffed when one of them pointed out the volume). They’re switching between basketball games while nursing beers and pretending not to hear the argument going down in the kitchen.

Jonathan and Argyle are hiding out in his room — smoking and trying to drown out the noise with whatever record he managed to pick up from the store he’s working at. Eddie thought about joining him, but the scowl he earned from Wheeler Jr. had him changing course.

The rest of them have taken refuge in the spacious basement. It’s too chaotic for Dungeons & Dragons so the boys and Erica have taken to playing an intense game of Monopoly. The threats he’s heard hurled at each other have been clever and downright terrifying. Way worse than anything they’ve uttered at his DM table. Those heathens.

For some reason, Steve’s taken on the role of the banker. Something about Dustin skimming from the top last time he held the role and played. Now, house rules say the banker has to be an NPC, and well, Steve fits the bill. Unfortunately, he seems to be struggling with the math of it all judging by the scoffs and annoyed eye rolls thrown his way. Eddie would go help, but he doesn’t think he’d be much help. Godspeed, Steve.

Nancy and Robin are there too, sprawled out on the couch and lost in their own little world. Occasionally Robin gets up to flip the record on the record player, but mostly they sit together, gossiping and talking about who knows what in hushed voices. Eddie might understand every little thing about dungeons and hobbits, but girl talk? That’s an alien language if he’s ever seen one.

As for him? Well, he’s hovering in the middle of it all. With Steve occupied, he’s taken on his babysitter role of sorts. Racing up and down the stairs to fetch whatever snacks the gremlins demand, rustling Max and El’s hair on the way in, and nodding at Hopper and Wayne on the way out. He narrowly escapes being sucked into being the official judge for the impromptu Murray vs Ms. Henderson pie off and almost makes it up to Jonathan and Argyle’s room before Dustin is bellowing for him.

It’s fun, mostly.

Getting to see everyone relaxed and having fun. A far cry from the last time they were all together like this back in March.

In some ways, it's what Eddie’s always dreamed it would be like. Being part of a big family, a cog in a never-ending machine of noise and organized chaos.

But it’s also becoming a lot.

Lucas is about to put a hotel on Boardwalk that has everyone shouting and throwing their own pieces at his head. Steve’s trying to keep them under control but it's a losing battle. One that pulls Robin and Nancy from their own little world to join the chaos.

And then there’s even more noise.

A crash from upstairs, the blaring voice of Joe Strummer coming from Jonathan’s room, more shouting, Wayne and Hoppers stopping, and giggles from Max and El.

Suddenly all Eddie can hear is noise.

It gets louder and louder and louder until finally, he’s certain his eardrums are going to explode.

Taking the stairs two at a time, he pushes through the chaos going on upstairs (dropped pies and frosting stains and shouting at TVs) and makes his way onto the wrap-around porch.

The crisp cold air is the first thing that hits him. Like an idiot, he ran out of the house without a coat or scarf or hell, even the warm hat Ms. Henderson knitted for him earlier in the month. He shivers, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arm as he tries to take deep breaths, watching as his warm breath twirls in the breeze.

As his body adjusts, so do his ears. He can still hear the chaos going on inside, but it's muffled now. Distant. He can hear himself think for the first time in hours and for once, it’s nice.

The snow is falling in slow but steady flakes, dusting the backyard in the white. Or, it should be white, but the hoard of Christmas lights decorating the house illuminates the backyard in reds and greens. It’s a real Christmas wonderland out there, now.

Reaching into the pocket of his jeans, he pulls out a pack of cigarettes and his trusty lighter. The first inhale of nicotine warms him from the inside out, sending the goosebumps packing as he focuses on his steady and slow inhale and exhales.

At some point he zones out, so focused on the snow falling and the repetitive nature of lifting the cigarette to and from his lips that he doesn’t hear the creak of the door or the heavy footsteps that follow until the intruder is standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

“Figured you might be needing this,” Steve says, hand outstretched with Eddie’s coat.

“Thanks, man.”

They swap, Eddie takes the coat from Steve and Steve takes the lit cigarette from Eddie, keeping it safe while he shimmies his way into the monstrosity that he calls his winter coat. When he’s finally situated in the plaid nightmare, he reaches a hand out ready to take his cigarette back only to find it perched between Steve’s lips.

Oh.

That’s different.

Sure, they’ve smoked together before. Bummed off cigarettes in the ally behind Family Video and in the parking lot of Palace Arcade waiting for the gremlins to be done. But they’ve never shared the same one. Never pressed their lips to the same filter. Felt the dampness of their mouths on their own lips.

“Sorry,” Steve says, lips turning up in a small smile as he removes the cigarette. “Couldn’t help myself.”

Eddie nods, unable to say much else as their fingertips brush when he takes it back. Is it weird if he puts it between his lips right now? Is he supposed to wait a minute? Let Steve’s taste linger for a moment. God, he’s being so weird right now. In the end, he brings the cigarette to his lips and takes the smallest inhale, nearly coughing as the smoke floods his lungs because he’s so distracted by the way the filter feels different now that it’s been in Steve’s mouth — as if that makes any sense.

“You okay? You sort of booked it out of the room.”

“Yeah,” Eddie sighs, before leaning against the banister of the porch. “Yeah, m’good. It just—“

“Got too loud?” Steve supplies, mirroring his position. “I get it. I remember my first holiday dinner. There were a lot less of us in ’83 but shit. It was still so loud.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty loud son of a bitch.” Eddie’s caught off guard by Steve’s snorting. Stealing a glance, he finds Steve lit up in reds and greens, a smile etched on his face so deep he can see the spot where smile lines are going to emerge in the next ten years, catching the way his eyes already wrinkle in the corners. Fuck, he’s beautiful. “But, uh, yeah, I don’t think I’ve ever been in a house that loud before. Not even when I’m fucking around with the Corroded Coffin boys.”

“Well, I doubt that. Your music is very loud.”

“Uh, yeah, ‘cause it's metal, Steve.”

“So I’ve been told,” Steve says, smiling that soft, private smile again.

If Eddie was braver, he’d close the distance between them and press his lips to his. But if this year has taught him anything, it’s that he’s not. Not really. So he lets a quiet fall between them instead. They continue to stand shoulder to shoulder, passing the dwindling cigarette between them despite the pack in Eddie’s pocket being brand new, and watch as the snow steadily starts to pick up.

“You know,” Steve says, then stops.

Eddie turns, watching the gears tick in Steve’s brain as he decides what to say next. It’s magical watching it all pass on his face — the knit of his brows, his pupils dilating and returning to their normal size, letting the hazel shine through. The way his lips open and close like some gasping fish.

“If it ever gets to be too much, you can tell us. Tell me. Hell, I know I need a break after a few hours with those shitheads. Maybe we could come up with a code word or something.”

“A codeword? That’s might nerdy of you, Steve.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Steve says, waving his hand through the air as he bites back a chuckle. “But yeah, a code word. It’d be easier to say than “hey it’s too loud and I can’t think” you know. Plus, it would annoy the shit out of Henderson.”

“Well, then. Count me in. You know I love annoying the shit out of that kid. Gotta keep that ego in check somehow.”

They spend the next few minutes going back and forth trying to decide on a word that could work. Steve wants something common — a fruit or a vegetable. Eddie disagrees, saying it has to be something uncommon so they don’t accidentally say it, but common enough that it doesn’t sound weird casually being dropped in conversation.

They wrack their brain, throwing out silly words left and right until there’s a crash from inside. Their heads swivel in tandem toward the source of the noise. A flurry of shadows passes on the other side of the window as Steve shakes his head and sighs.

“Come on,” he says, handing the cigarette back to Eddie. “If we’re not at the table the minute the food gets served, we won’t be eating. The gremlins know no manner.”

Eddie laughs, stubbing out the cigarette on the ashtray precariously balanced on the banister, “Teaching ‘em manners seems like a job for their babysitter.”

“Nah,” Steve snorts. “Maybe one for their Dungeon Master, though.”

Just as the words leave Steve’s lip, there’s a shout from inside followed by another crash.

“Think it might be a job for both of us, actually,” Eddie laughs. “Together?”

“We need all the help we can get,” Steve says. “Together it is.” 

[theorphicangel]

𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐧𝐨 𝐜𝐢𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐬. | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Tags: enemies to lovers, college au, smut, 18+, slow burn,

synopsis: It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single, brooding man in possession of a good future in genetics, must be in want of a girlfriend.

Or at least a fake one to get his family off his back.

(college au & fake dating trope ft my favourite grumpy man who doesn't fall first but ends up falling harder. ouch.)

taglist: @oharasfilipinawife @palesatan @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @amelialysm @crimin4llyins4ne @strawberryjuice9 @beezusvreeland @faretheeoscar @lunablackcosplay @t4naiis @peachey-pie @mcmiracles @hardlystrictlystarwars @migueloharastruelove @fruityfucker @kingtwhiddleston

series

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Chapter 5: Crime and Punishment

Miguel would be lying if he said that he’s been able to sleep well lately.

He’s been lucky to get any sleep at all.

He’s managed to fit into the college lifestyle pretty decently. He’s set up a routine that he follows religiously: Wake up, work out, coffee, read up on pre-lecture notes, lectures, eat, work shift, lab work, eat, study, read up on his post-lecture notes, sleep and repeat.

That's all he can do here. Ever since he’s arrived onto campus he’s been successful in maintaining a bubble away from…all of that shit going on at home. It’s been a pretty useful distraction.

But…something that he can’t consciously admit to himself, is that being in a bubble means leaving everything that’s going on at home on a backburner.

Miguel stares up at his ceiling from his bed, his hands behind his head, resting on his pillow. If he stares for long enough then he can just about match up patterns from the wall paint and if he stares for even longer than that, then they start to slowly move. He’s been awake for a few hours now, only managing to make it to around 3am before waking up or rather jolting awake. But he’s used to early mornings. Always was.

Unexpectedly, his phone begins to vibrate on his bedside table. He frowns, his alarm isn’t due to go off for five more minutes. Leaning onto his side, he peers over at whomever is calling him at this hour. His screen brightens up with the caller ID.

��Gabriel is calling….’

Miguel stares at the phone for what seems like forever until it stops ringing.

A minute later, just when he thought he was in the clear, text messages began to come through. One right after the other.

Gabriel: (sent 6:56am)

- I know you’re awake mig’

- Look, if you’re not going to answer, fair enough, but you’re going have to face it and communicate with us one day.

(sent 6:57am)

- Just talk to mamá por favor. If not now then it’ll be worse at thanksgiving.

- Trust me.

Miguel places the phone down after reading the messages from his home screen. He chews on his bottom lip, a mix of emotions beginning to grow in his gut. He’s not sure what they are exactly but they seem to make up the familiar combination of anxiety, guilt and fear. He curses to himself under his breath, rubbing his hands across his face.

‘Por dios, you’re so pathetic. Tonto, what are you doing?’ [fool]

He can’t help but reflect on his avoidant behavior, he knows what he’s doing but he just can’t seem to muster up the courage to face his problems. He knows that going to college is essentially him avoiding his problems and he knows that he’s in the wrong for leaving his brother to try and pick up the pieces despite Miguel supposing to be the older sibling.

Falling back into his avoidant behavior Miguel pushes his thoughts away with a sigh and forcefully drags his limbs out of bed.

He’s about to head to the bathroom to brush his teeth when another text comes through from Gabriel.

And this one is impossible to ignore.

Gabriel: (sent 6:01am)

- ‘Also…why is your car for sale on Craigslist?’

- ‘For 69 bucks?’

Miguel: (sent 6:01am)

-What?’

/

“Girl, are you okay?”

MJ’s voice snaps you back out from reality and you stumble over your words in giving a reply.

“What? Oh, uh– yeah, yeah. I’m fine.”

It was an obvious lie, but MJ doesn’t get paid enough to deep dive into your problems and judging by your body language you’d rather she not say anything at all anyways.

Telling your mother – or rather — lying to your mother that you had a boyfriend has to be one of the stupidest things that you have ever done. And trust me, you have done many stupid things.

But where the fuck were you going to get a boyfriend? And most importantly, who?

Lyla had suggested Peter at first and you had too but that was before you realized that he had an ever-growing crush on MJ. And like I said, you don’t get paid enough to care but you’re pretty sure that she likes him back. Now more than ever, you’ve been noticing them together, often third wheel to their awkward but cute interactions together. He’s nervous and chatty but she’s a good listener and you figure that they balance each other out.

Now only if you could find someone like that. Someone that your mom would believe that you’re dating. Maybe you should ask Peter if he has any friends who are available. Maybe you could–

Your thoughts are disrupted by the sound of MJ calling your name. You glance over to the counter to where she’s serving a customer and by the looks of it…it’s a very well-known customer.

“Someone wants to see you.”

As she tells you so, you can’t help but notice her tone indicating a tone of flirtation between you and this particular customer but once you see the look on his face, you know that it will never get to that point.

Miguel is the one standing by the counter and a chill runs down your spine when you meet his eyes. He’s staring at you, unblinking, with his jaw forcibly clenched.

Shit, you think, he definitely knows by now.

“Uh, sure.” You say, putting down the towel that you were currently wringing with your hands. As you make your way around the counter you try your best not to look nervous as you approach him.

“Outside.” He murmurs, his tone and face grave.

You follow him without a single word, a hole of anxiety opening up in the pit of your stomach.

The two of you make it outside, the bitter October air nipping at your bare arms. Wrong day to wear a short sleeved shirt, you think to yourself, attempting to distract your mind from the tension of the conversation that you’re about to have. You can feel your cheeks begin to go cold and you cross your arms in a failed attempt to maintain your warmth.

“What the fuck is this?” Miguel shows you his phone screen.

You could tell he was seething, despite him seeming to maintain his calm externally. His phone screen is open on a website browser illustrating an advert for a car and you recognise that it’s his car.

It was your advert.

You squint your eyes, pretending like you’ve never seen it before. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Don’t keep up the bullshit. I know it was you. Who else would do this shit to me for revenge?”

You shug, attempting to seem nonchalant. “Maybe you have a lot of enemies out there Miguel, especially with the way that you treat people.”

Miguel frowns, a crease appearing between his brows. He opens his mouth to speak yet you manage to beat him to it.

“How’d you even know that was me? It’s not nice to throw accusations around y’know?”

Miguel snorts. “And you know what else is not fucking nice? Selling other people’s cars!”

At the sound of his raised voice, you look around to see if there was anyone approaching. It was early morning, the morning lecture coffee rush awaited you in just fifteen minutes. By then you had to get rid of Miguel.

You were infuriating him by the second, it was beginning to grow clear that your innocent trick was not working. That deep pit of anxiety in your stomach began to grow larger and larger, your palms getting sweaty in the process.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have done it if you were a little nicer to people and if you hadn’t posted that review.”

“Oh, so it was you?”

Shit.

Miguel continues on. “It’s illegal to sell other people’s property without permission, you know that right?”

“Of course I do.” you lied. You stammer for a few seconds, searching for an excuse. “You nearly made me lose my job for fuck’s sake.”

“You didn’t lose it.”

“Nearly!”

“But you’re still here aren’t you?”

You groan aloud, not believing the words that are coming out of his mouth. “You’re acting like such a jerk!”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

You cross your arms. “You don’t even have proof that it was me. That’s not my email account.”

He clicks his tongue. “Quit the lying, it doesn’t look good on you. Plus, Peter told me you were looking for my car.”

Remember earlier when you said that lying to your mother about having a boyfriend was the stupidest thing that you had done? Yeah, well scratch that.

“You could get criminally charged for this, do you realize that? Attempted theft or whatnot. And then not only would you lose your job but it’d get you suspended from the university too.”

Your face falls. “I wasn’t actually going to sell it–”

“But it seems like you didn’t think about that did you?” His tone was venomous, sharp enough to cause physical pain to you.. You can’t help but feel as if he was getting some sort of pleasure out of this, out of threatening you. “Not so smart are you? I’m almost glad that I caught you, if Peter didn’t tell me–”

“If you’re going to go to the cops then I’ll take full blame.” You interrupt. “Peter had nothing to do with this.”

Miguel raises a brow. “I didn’t think you’d take full responsibility.”

“Yeah, well I don’t like to do bad things to innocent people.” you spat.

“Innocent?” He repeats. “Wow, tienes sentido del humor.” [ ‘you’re quite the comedian’ / you have a sense of humor’]

You bite down on your lip. “I'll take it down but you promise not to drag Peter into this?”

Miguel nods. “You have till the end of the day to take it down.”

“Okay.”

“Good.”

“You won’t call the cops on me?”

He shrugs. “I can’t promise that I won’t and–” Miguel points a finger at you to stop your interruption. “There’s nothing that you can say that would change my mind if I do.”

Your shoulders defleat. Great. You’ve just somehow managed to make your life a living hell all for the satisfaction of revenge.

“Oh.” He turns around to face you. “And for your information, I deleted the review ages ago.”

It takes a few seconds for his words to sink in.

Oh great.

“You fucking–”

“What? Bastard? Jerk? Go ahead, call me all of the names you want, nena. Don’t you think that you’ve done enough damage for once?”

Ouch. You’re not even sure how to respond to his last comment.

You remain silent as you stand on the curb watching Miguel leave, your fists are curled up by your sides. Your nails dig into your palms until it hurts, trying to distract your mind from the full tsunami of anxiety that paralyzes your body.

What the fuck do you do now?

You don’t think that your life could get any worse than this. Not by a mile. In less than 48 hours you’ve managed to be not only a liar but a criminal.

As you step into the cafe there might as well be a visible gray cloud over your head. MJ knows not to ask any questions as you return back to your station. She gives you a longing look, wordlessly asking if you were okay. Ignoring it, you keep your head down, trying to bite back your tears until the end of the shift.

‘Keep it in until the end of your shift.’ you told yourself. ‘Keep it all in.’

You: still nil*

Miguel: 2

*[point redacted due to illegal activity]

leave a comment to lmk if you would like to join the taglist!

[brucewaynehater101]

I think the whole Tim doesn’t know self care thing is shit bc he is great at it!!!!!

the parts where we show Tim struggling with self care is when everyone in his life that mattered were dying one after another and he was going half manic with grief.

but when he is not actively drowning in grief he is great at the whole self care thing in most comics

Hmm... I'm not sure if you're referencing a specific post/AU of mine or just the fandom idea in general.

I do find it strange that somehow Tim is often seen in fanon spaces as highly competent, independent, and efficient, while, at the same time, not being able to do basic care tasks (like cooking, eating properly, laundry, etc).

On the other hand, his Red Robin comics are some of his more popular ones (at least in being referenced in fanon material). That's the baseline a lot of people base him off of. That, or they exaggerate the Drakes' abuse for Tim.

In all honesty, I could see that, after Red Robin, he may become worse at taking care of himself if he never receives proper support for all of his grief and hardships. Similar to a severe depression, it wouldn't be too speculative to fantasize that (after all the bullshit of RR), he let's his self care tasks fall to the wayside. It could be a cool fic to see him getting frustrated at not being able to do all of the shit he used to do because he's so godsdamned tired.

There are some other cool fics out there that do highlight Tim being on top of his game with disinfecting, taking his medicine, and getting himself on the proper diet after his splenectomy.

I wonder if you have an issue with the common tag, "Tim Drake has the survival skills of a wet paper bag."

I personally get a little bit unnerved when a fic backs Tim into being parented against his will. Just the lack of choices, the disrespect of him having and still being able to make decisions for himself, and the feeling of being trapped are not a good combo for me.

These are just personal preferences, though.

For the Tim being good at self care bit, perhaps fanon writers could use his ability to take care of himself in the moment as a subtle indication of his mental state? For instance, Tim, at the beginning of the fic, has a relatively clean apartment, showers regularly, eats decently, and gets a decent amount of sleep. As he falls further into the plot (maybe chasing a horrifying case, falling out with the Bats, losing a loved one, etc.), his self-care falls to the wayside. As the story is wrapping up (if it's a good ending), the writer could indicate that Tim invites his family over for dinner (to showcase a clean apartment and ability to cook again).

This would be a background but mental health accurate indicator of how Tim is feeling throughout the plot

[proshippers-against-censorship]

hope what i’m bringing up here is appropriate for this blog. i could try finding any other outlet, internal or outside resources that would help me get through this, but i’m trying not to ruffle any feathers.

so, since last year i’ve been watching something i used to be into when i was younger and participating in its fandom. through rewatching it i found out that i shipped two characters that i always had a noticeable affinity towards, except i realized i like the pairing way more as an adult because of everything i missed between them since i last saw the show. they were paired with different characters by the end and even if it was shown to make more “sense” for them according to the greater fandom, i initially didn’t care because of how much i enjoyed their dynamic thoughout the show’s duration. i felt that it brought out a bunch of discussion to be told whether you saw it the lens of a romatic or platonic relationship. most of what happened in the show’s main timeline could not go on without their involvement, and their individual development arcs kicked off because of the undeniable romantic relationship they tried to pursue at one point.

the big thing about their relationship that apparently makes it a “proship”/comship is the huge age difference between them, and unfortunately that’s unfortunately all what the fandom sees them for. i feel that even when talking about the romantic/sexual aspect of them together and the implications, they have one of the least discussed dynamics i’ve seen of many of the major characters, which doesn’t make sense because they’re both the male and female mcs. it’s always “thank god they didnt get together, i’m sick at the thought of them with each other” even though thats beyond what their relationship was like as the story was drawing to a close. one tweet i saw which was a quote of one which showed a screenshot of the characters in the ship i’m talking about in a canonical platonic showing was something along the lines of “the four people who still ship this must be on suicide watch” which is just an awful thing to think of about anyone.

i do try to feel good about shipping them publicly despite all thats been brought towards me for it. or, at least the nothingness of it. a lot of blogs i’ve interacted with and been interested about following in the past through tag scrolling have blocked me for shipping it. i know this because i always notice that a couple blogs who mainly post about the fandom aren’t on my dash. it’s weird, i don’t even like it as a “standard” underage ship. i’m not saying they’re wrong for keeping themselves safe from things they don’t like, it just glooms me out because i still want to interact with much of the fandom, even if we don’t agree on stuff. i’m too old to be spiralling over these things and activating the sanctification in me i’m trying hard to undo to enjoy my hobbies. why does it even matter to me this much that people block me because they don’t like shit i create or post

with this i feel like anti culture absolutely neuters any kind of intellectual discussion about characters who were in a “problematic” relationship and gone out of it to be part of a standard platonic one. i don’t how unique it is for this ship, but i do imagine that people look into the bad things about it far too much. and hey, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure

(i’m being vague to protect myself from antis who might find me out and send me dumb shit, forgive me)

No, no, you're very right. The rise of anti culture has definitely led to a decrease in having decent, intellectual conversations about pairings in media and how the relationships between characters shift in ways that display incredibly important aspects of their stories.

But that ties back to the loss of media literacy, I fear.

[hfjonewiki]

Hi! I hope this isn't a strange thing to ask but could you tell me more about ii-critical? I'm writing a research paper on the ii community and I wanna gain more insight to what that part of the fandom was all about.

My main questions are: Why did it exist? Why were you apart of it? What were the posts like? What was the biggest drama? Hell, what platform was it even on??

I wasn't that deep in the OSC when it was up and running (only really got into the community in ~2018) so a lot of community context from that era is lost on me. If you have any other object show oldhead insight for ii you wanna share, please do! I find fandom fascinating and would love to here more stories.

hoooo boy...... cracks knuckles. i went over it a little bit in a previous post but i'll try and give more info this time

(also this should go without saying but please don't try and seek out anyone mentioned or involved its been like 6-7 years since all this happened. also most of us were mentally unstable teenagers hence the. everything)

ii-critical originated as a tumblr blog created by someone named mira (i have no idea if they still go by mira or what their pronouns are now. i'm just gonna stick to they/them for convenience) as a way for them to discuss their criticisms towards the show's writing. the blog was created in mid-to-late 2017, during a time period where "(media) critical" was becoming a common tag. the trend was started by "su critical", a tag created by steven universe fans to discuss the show's faults in response to the show being in a rut of making some VERY dubious decisions (i believe it was started around bismuth's introduction, which was heavily criticized at the time for MANY reasons). the "critical" tags were often created for fandoms who tended to be hostile towards criticism of the media they were based around. the inanimate insanity fandom didn't really have that issue, thankfully. and so, the blog "ii-critical" was born.

at the beginning, the posts were about mira going through an episode beat by beat, and pointing out things they both liked and disliked about it. occasionally, there were posts analyzing a specific character. i'm kind of speeding through the "what were the posts like" section because that is by far the LEAST interesting part of the ii-critical mythos

i found the blog very shortly after its creation. it caught me at a good time, because i was at a point where i was becoming disillusioned with the show (episode 11 was the most recent episode at this point, and i really disliked it due to it being at the peak of ii's melodrama era. the show just felt miserable to watch. s2e11 sucking butt is still an opinion i stand by today Lolzor). mira and i started talking and i was brought on as the blog's other moderator, and i wrote my own analysis posts.

the blog was decently successful and didn't actually get that much hate. most people agreed with our criticisms and were, like, normal about the concept of a thing they liked being flawed. at some point we had a decent amount of followers and made the ill-fated decision to create a discord server for the blog. for added context: at the time of the server's creation, mira was 13, and i was 14. we were NOT old enough to be running a public discord server that at least 50+ people ended up joining.

the server had a lot of problems, mainly in regards to the channels. since we were both at the age where you are hormonal and stupid, we decided to make the nsfw channel accessible to everyone, and didn't even ask for people to include their ages in their intros. a concerning amount of people assumed that mira and i were both adults, or at least older teens until we said otherwise. we also had a blacklist and vent channel, which, word of advice, you should NOT have in a public server. shit gets out of hand SO fast. i vividly remember there being at least one guy who posted in the vent channel on a near-daily basis about pretty serious stuff. trust me when i say that people shared some HORRIFIC information in there. also, we had an emoji that was just a drawing of donut from bfdi with his whole cock and balls hanging out because we thought it was funny. i'm pretty sure there wasn't a "please don't post the donut balls emoji in non-nsfw channels" rule anywhere either.

i could go into more detail about various happenings, but that delves too deeply into interpersonal drama that frankly has no business being shared publicly. one of the most concerning things that happened, however, was this one guy who would come in vc, barely say anything, and fuck around with his gun the whole time. and yes, you could hear it. eventually we got reports of him being predatory towards a younger member of the server, and he was banned. i think that was the first thing that made mira and i go, "oh, we might've fucked up". there was also another incident where somebody was leaking information from inside the server (yet another reason why the vent channel was a HORRIBLE idea), and we banned a bunch of inactive people until eventually realizing somebody had stolen the username and pfp of a real user and impersonated them to stay in the server. this whole ordeal lasted like, two weeks. and again!! we were just BARELY no longer preteens at this point!! and we still thought, yeah, we can handle this. we're super capable. at one point we hired two other moderators (one of whom was 14-15, and the other was an actual adult for once. having an adult moderator led to us FINALLY locking the nsfw channel off to minors, since we had somebody who could moderate it for us), but this was towards the end so most of the damage had already been done

i was removed as a moderator on the blog after a large amount of interpersonal nonsense that, again, i'm not going to get into. it was mainly just because i was spending too much time in the server instead of posting on the blog like i was supposed to. a couple weeks later, i was suddenly banned from the server and mira had blocked me on everything. again, interpersonal nonsense and both of us being mentally unstable, not anyone's business. we reconciled a few months after and both apologized for being dumbasses, so we at least ended things on better terms.

another notable thing is that sometimes, crew members would pop in and out of the server, and they were surprisingly chill about the blog's existence. it was mainly justin and sam from what i remember, and resulted in this legendary image:

i don't remember this bit, but at some point taylor may have responded to one of our posts and was Not Nice about it? again, i don't remember this, take it with a grain of salt. but knowing his history with getting into shit with fans for no reason and how it got to the point where it was cited as a reason he was removed from the team, yeah that tracks

talking about ii-critical is strange, because i don't know where to draw the line between "infamous blog from the early days of the tumblr osc", "stupid pointless infighting between teenagers", and "genuinely horrible decisions and moderation that caused real damage". i'm trying to stick to just the first one and giving info about the last one when necessary. i'm aware a lot of this is gonna paint my past self in a VERY unflattering light, but that's who i was and what i did when i was 14 and i just have to accept that.

ii-critical was just a facet of the tumblr osc circa 2017. a lot of what happened can be traced back to larger issues with the fandom, especially when it came to restrictions on nsfw content. remember, this is pre-tumblr porn ban. i knew an ALARMING amount of people who had nsfw blogs, and even posted nsfw art while they were minors. i don't wanna seem like i'm making excuses for fucking up when it came to moderation and keeping our members safe, but it's important to know that the blog and server were very much a product of a specific point in tumblr history. we saw minors casually posting nsfw on a regular basis and thought, "yeah, it should be fine to have the nsfw channel open to everyone, right?" and like i said, we didn't originally require ages upon introduction. people didn't realize how badly we'd fucked up until the damage had already been done.

i could go on about the dozens of other ways i fucked up, but that would start to dive into the interpersonal side of things. i think i covered everything that actually mattered. i don't plan on talking about ii-critical to this extent again any time soon. everyone who both ran and was part of the blog and server have moved on, i don't wanna keep dragging people back to what's probably a very unpleasant period of their lives.

that said, if prompted, i will talk about the 2012-2014 deviantart era + "dark ages" of the osc AT LENGTH if prompted. i swear i have wisdom beyond the shitty blog i ran with my friends as a teenager. you dont even know about the Ball OC Discourse

[ninetqs]

fic writer interview

tagged by bella swan @foggieststars

How many works do you have on AO3? 60 😳 but just 4 for f1 (actually 7 because 3 are on anon but you don't get to know what they are)

What's your total AO3 word count? 879,483! Top 5 fics by kudos? this is so embarrassing i don't even want to answer this. i'm only going to include fics i think are decent because there's one fic that would make this list that i see as legitimately bad and i refuse to link it

crossroads (klance), 109kw 9.2k kudos -> i wrote this when i was 18 years old and still in high school 😭 i don't even like this ship anymore not even a little 🫣 the fic is pretty good though

roommates (klance), 6.3kw 5.6k kudos -> see above...

route to reality (wriolette), 11.4kw 5.4k kudos -> not my fav ship but i think this fic is pretty good as a pwp. especially since i wrote it before they were even released the characterization has held up surprisingly well

to whom it may concern: i’m in love with zhang hao (haobin), 20.4kw 3.8k kudos -> i love this fic so much!!!!

below the collar (beomjun), 93kw [incomplete] 3.3k kudos -> literally my mortal enemy but not that bad imho... just i have personal beef with it

bonus: my beomjun social media au (350kw+) had tens of thousands of likes before i accidentally deleted it. definitely one of the best things i've ever written if not the best ever

my most kudosed f1 fic is the lestappen social media au which. yeah. we can still get the sebchal fic up there guys just 900 more kudos

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? i usually didn't in other fandoms but for f1 i've been trying to!! i just feel so awkward saying the same thing over and over even if my "thank you sm for reading!! <3" are genuine. like i get worried someone will be like "why has she not had an original thought in any of these replies"

What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending? definitely crossroads because you don't even find out if they end up together lmao 18 year old me was a bitch for that one... other than that maybe we're all eating each other (lestappen) because it's kind of bittersweet? it's not exactly angsty but it is supposed to make you feel like shit

What's the fic you've written with the happiest ending? almost all of them because i like happy endings... :)

Do you write crossovers? no zzz

Have you ever received hate on a fic? literally all the time 😭 especially when i wrote for txt like 50% of the messages i got would be hate. for the fic or sometimes just for me lmao

Do you write smut? If so what kind? i do BUT i hate writing it so i rarely write pwp anymore... and if i do it's because i've scammed myself into thinking there's a plot somewhere even if that's debatable (example: chalex fic) i also think i'm really bad at it so it makes me shy 😞

Have you ever had a fic stolen? i've had fics reposted on other sites without permission but idk if they claimed them as their own. afaik i've never had a fic stolen and rewritten for another fandom

Have you ever co-written a fic? i think once... but i'm really horrible at finishing things so i'm probably the worst person on earth to try this with

What's your all-time favourite ship? iwaoi from haikyuu and junnana from revue starlight

What's a WIP you don't think you'll finish? you mean ALL OF THEM...

What are your writing strengths? i think i write interesting fics? like idk they may not be the best written but i think the concepts i make up are always unique and well-executed if that makes sense

What are your writing weaknesses? my actual writing is pretty bland imho, straightforward and not poetic. but i guess this isn't always a bad thing

What was the first fandom you wrote for? i think... the first ship i ever wrote was narusasu when i was 9 or 10? and i posted it to ff.net. but if you mean "first fandom i wrote for seriously" it was dangan ronpa and i wrote a lot of hinakoma

What's a fandom/ship you want to write for but haven't yet? i really really want to write galex and i have many ideas for them but it's so hard for me to focus my brain on something that isn't charles for an extended period of time

What's your favourite fic you've ever written? real love story (soogyu) -> 50kw

i wrote this as a pinch hitter in an exchange for one of my bestest friends in the entire world. i was told 4 days before the deadline they needed someone to write a fic as my bff's original writer had dropped out, i remember seeing the recipient and being like ffs 😭 fine i'll do it but at what cost... i proceeded to write 50k words in 78 hours which was levels of mental illness i don't think i'll ever reach again. and SOMEHOW the fic turned out good? i reread this every few months to remind myself i can actually write lol

i tag anybody who hasn't done this already idk i can't keep track of who has been tagged already and i'm embarrassed what if i tag someone that's been tagged 500 times...

[mowbrayvongothe]

Again another day when I listen to The Magnus protocol and speak my mind freely apologies to those who actively see this and read my thoughts they don’t make sense!

spoilers for The Magnus Protocol 27- Driven below

I’m deeply exhausted today waking up at 5am for results isn’t fine

Results day landing on TMP day is great btw

Also love the sfx

Oh sweet Lena

Lena isn’t too happy

“It is a cluttered eyesore” Lena?

Oh Lena is terrified of the minister nice

Sam why are you a little shit

I love you

Gwen???

Hm

Ha nice Gwen

No Alice?

Ohhh Gwen has many plans love that for her

OH FUCK OFF AUGUSTUS

GOD LEAVE US ALONE

SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UPPPPPP GODDDD

Hey voice I don’t know ANYTHING

I’m too exhausted to consume tmp

Thank you to whoever delivers the transcript my mind cannot work without you

Oh wait fuck this is in 1845 I bet you like that Augustus you ancient freak

Chemistry talk again can alchemy calm down

oh I’m tired

Hm alchemy again

Ahhh purification yummy yummy

WAIT

institute? Ahaa

Oh oh nothing I’m calm

CALM.

I’m tagging this after and going to bed

An hansom cab?

Clearances/growlers huh

Oh the background noise

Oh sweet

Haha this sounds like an organ

Oh disappearing? Nice!

Ahhh oh my god

OH IS THAT CAB AND THE COACHMAN KIND OF LIKE A TRAP???

Feels like it if both the cab and the coachman are attached and the trap is easy and ‘fashionable’ travel then it’s easy to take people. Nice.

“Hunting ground” hm weird

This feels like the hunt again

Oh it’s like a Venus fly trap aha nice.

OH MY FUCK

Ohhohoh I love this

“The growler has no need for eyes”

oh this is the hunt please I refuse to believe this isn’t about my baby the hunt

Oh my god

BOYLE???

BOYLE??

Ohhh so he sacrificed someone.

O

The

WHAT

rh

WHAT

WHAT

WHAT FUCKINF EHAT

ESCUSE ME

HA

PAUSE

TIME OUT

MAGNUS INSTITUTR???

EXCUSE ME

Jesus

So whoever wrote this. Founded the Magnus institute

And whoever founded the Magnus institute had a keen eye to sacrificing people for researching and observation

Huhhhhh I wonder who THIS could be referencing

AND I WONDER WHY AUGUSTUS IS READING THIS??

RIP this

AAA

OH

“The rate of digestion is linked to his fear” OH OH OH MY GOD

They said itTHEY SAID IT

LAI LAI TURN THE TV ON THEY HIT THE FUCKIGNKENDND

Oh oh?

Does Gwen want those people dea

YEAHHH ALICEEE

“I’m openly trans on the internet” nice.

Ok so Gwen just wants everything to look nice

So the Magnus institute wanted poisonous washing machines and the ability to look at the stars. Nice!

“Pretty decent sex” nice!

Hilltop centre. WHEN I FUCKING GET YOU.

TREVOR HERBERT????

WHAT THE FUCK

Alice I need you

“More magnussing”

OH OH

OH OA

Alice

ARCHIVIST?? SHES GETTING THE TINFLY FEELING

OH SHES FEELING IT

SHES HAVINF THE SPIDER SENSES

I haven’t collected my thoughts but oh ok that was an episode.

The pre-case is just essentially the whole preparing for the ministers arrival cough Trevor Herbert Jesus fuck.

The case was pretty much as usual their version of the end. I would’ve assumed it was the hunt and was very dedicated to that idea but after the founders experiment we know that the more afraid you were of dying the more they stripped and digested your body down like a Venus fly trap which excretes digestive enzymes the more you move. Which is nice truly this feels like a Venus fly trap situation.

The founder said they were the founder of the Magnus institute and the voice reading this statement out to Sam is possibly Jonah Magnus’ original body. Which makes sense in a way.

The post case was a post case!!!

Gwen got given strange emails with old case files which either means JMJ is giving her important archivist cases or they are giving her trevor Herbert’s statements.

Sam and Celia had a very important convo which was nice and Celia getting straight back into magnussing was great I love that for her

The same few locations that were familiar in TMA are popping up especially ‘Hilltop’

The shopping centre not being used just feels like a drug front but instead of drugs it’s fear

Trevor as MP. Who was predicting this???

I’m quite enjoying the fact that instead of TMA where everyone isolated themselves making them more vulnerable to the fears they all kind of help each other? Will be absolutely lush if they still die though tbh.

Also does Celia get a feeling of dejavu with her TMA-self? She has the sense that these people are helpful and in the TMA-verse they are but in here they aren’t. Especially with her reaction to it being ‘archivist’

Anyways this is great and I didn’t scream at my friend over text because I’m alone in listening this between the two of us if you’re seeing this later I hope you know I’m cursing you

[chicgeekgirl89]

Read Chapter 8 on AO3!

Carlos has never hated his condo more in his entire life. Why did he pick so much grey when he decorated this place? And black? And  beige? He’d thought it was sleek and modern at the time. Now that he’s stuck here recovering he feels like he’s trapped inside the pages of a newspaper. 

He hates to admit it, but he kind of misses his mom and his sisters. It took a week for them to start leaving him alone again. Considering his sisters both live more than an hour away, they’d done an admirable job tag teaming coming into town to pester him and make him eat his vegetables and take his supplements. He’d been relieved at first to have some space, but now he’s so bored he’d take their nagging again in a heartbeat.

T.K. had come by with the supplements as promised, but Carlos hadn’t seem him because he’d been sleeping and his mom had refused to wake him up. He’d been annoyed when she’d told him, especially because T.K. had left two days later for New York. And without a cellphone Carlos has had no way to communicate with him at all.

His new phone finally shows up halfway through his second week of recovery. When the doorbell rings to announce the delivery driver, Carlos whips it open so fast he scares the shit out of the guy and has to apologize.

It takes three tries to get it set up and he almost throws it against a wall and smashes it all over again in frustration. But then it finally comes life and he’s relieved to find that all his contacts populate back into place automatically. He won’t need T.K.’s post it note after all. 

The first thing he does is send him a text.

Carlos

[2:35pm] How’s New York?

T.K.

[2:36pm] Sorry, who is this?

Carlos

[2:37pm] Haha very funny. I’m the one whose phone broke, not you. And my number is the same.

T.K.

[2:38pm] Sir, I’m very sorry about your broken phone, but you have the wrong number.

Carlos snaps a selfie of his frowning face and sends it. The response comes back seconds later.

T.K.

[2:40pm] Still no idea.

Carlos sighs and unbuttons his shirt, then snaps another selfie.

T.K.

[2:43pm] Ooooooooh, hey Carlos. How’s it going?

Carlos

[2:45pm] You’re such an ass.

T.K.

[2:45pm] *smirk emoji*

[2:46pm] New York is fine. My favorite Thai place closed. But I’m finally eating decent bagels again.

[2:46pm] How are you? Stitches driving you crazy yet?

Carlos

[2:47pm] God yes. They hurt. And they itch. I want to rip them all out.

T.K.

[2:48pm] I can’t recommend that.

[2:49pm] Your mom and sisters still around?

Carlos

[2:50pm] They have finally decided that I can be left alone for several hours at a time. Thank god.

[2:51pm] How’s your mom? I’m sure she’s happy to have her favorite son home.

T.K.

[2:52pm] Lol yeah she’s happy. Actually, I need to get ready to go. We’re seeing Wicked tonight. It’s her favorite.

Carlos

[2:53pm] A classic. Have fun Defying Gravity.

T.K.

[2:54pm] The Texas boy knows his musicals. I’m impressed.

Carlos

[2:55pm] It’s Texas, not the moon.

Their texting is sporadic over the next week. T.K. is busy, and with the time change it makes it hard to send more than a couple texts before one of them is needed somewhere else. 

It’s crazy how much he misses someone he’s only spent about twenty total minutes of time with. His texts with T.K. have become such a safe space. He feels seen and heard when they talk. Not having that and being forced to stay home for days on end makes him realize how lonely he’s been the last few years.

He’s also bored out of his freaking mind. His stitches come out after two weeks and he’s allowed to return to light duty at work, which is a good distraction as he eagerly counts down the days to his date with T.K. like a kid waiting for Christmas. 

When the day finally arrives he is a mess of nerves. He changes clothes three times before settling on a green shirt, jeans, and a pair of boots.

In a burst of creativity he’d suggested a honky-tonk for their first date. It seemed appropriate that T.K. get a strong reintroduction to Texas culture after being back in New York for so long and T.K. had eagerly agreed.

Carlos pulls up to the honky-tonk ten minutes early and grips the steering wheel tightly, sucking in deep breaths. This is going to be great. They’ve waited so long. The universe has to finally throw them a bone tonight, right?

…not THAT kind of bone. Although…he wouldn’t say no. In fact he would say a very enthusiastic yes. The thought of T.K.’s lithe body in his hands…

There’s a tap on his window that scares the shit out of him and immediately douses his lust fueled imaginings. Mischievous green eyes peer at him through the window and he pushes the door open, unfolding himself until he’s standing in front of T.K. Strand. 

“Hi,” he says, aware that he has a very stupid smile on his face.

“Hi,” T.K. says. “You looked like you were pretty deep in thought in there.”

His face flames. “Just um, thinking.” He blows out a breath and takes in the cute little patterned button down T.K. is wearing. “You look great.”

He smells incredible too, like he’s just been in the shower. There’s a silver chain glinting around his neck in the lights of the parking lot and Carlos longs to find out where it disappears to underneath his shirt. 

Fuck. He has got to get control of himself.

“You look nice too,” T.K. says, biting his lip.

Carlos wonders if he’s having similarly lusty thoughts. He hopes so. “Is this really happening?” Carlos asks. “There’s no injuries or work things getting in the way this time?”

“Not a thing,” T.K. says, taking a step closer. “Just you and me. On a date. For real.” He taps a finger against Carlos’ chest. “Lead the way officer.”

Carlos holds out a hand and when T.K. takes it he feels like his heart might explode. 

They step inside the honky-tonk to a whirl of sound and color. The place is already jumping, busy on a Friday night, and Carlos has half a second of doubt. Maybe they should have gone somewhere quieter. But one look at T.K.’s face, his eyes bright with excitement, tells him this was a good choice. T.K. Strand is clearly here for a good time. 

“Do you want something to drink?” Carlos asks as they head toward the bar. “Club soda?”

“Shirley Temple?” T.K.’s eyes twinkle. “I’m feeling festive.”

Carlos laughs. “Shirley Temple it is. Do you want to try and find us a table?”

“On it.” He disappears into the crowd as Carlos maneuvers himself to the bar. 

It takes forever to get the drinks and the bartender gives him a weird look when he orders the Shirley Temple. It makes him wonder if that was T.K.’s strategy all along: to make him feel awkward in front of a stranger as a cute little joke. It feels like something he might do. He’s for sure a tease.

He finally grabs hold of both their drinks, then searches the crowd for T.K., spotting him standing next to a table across the room. He carefully slips through the crowd, struggling to keep the drinks level. “Hey,” he says when he gets close. “Did you find us a spot?”

T.K. turns around an odd expression on his face. “I’m so sorry,” he says.

Carlos’ heart plummets and cold sweat breaks out on the back of his neck. Is T.K. chickening out? Did he not want to come here in the first place? He’d seemed so happy on their way in, what could have—

“I didn’t know they’d be here,” T.K. says, shifting to the side and revealing a table full of people.

Carlos catches sight of a face he knows. “Oh, Paul, right?” he says.

“Yeah, hey Carlos. Good to see you again,” Paul says.

“Carlos, this is my team,” T.K. says. “Meet the 126.”

He introduces them and Carlos gets to put faces to the names he’s learned over the last month and a half. Mateo, Marjan, and Judd all smile and wave casually, but there’s an oddly eager energy to the group that makes Carlos wonder exactly how much T.K. has told them about what’s going on between the two of them. 

“Well here, grab a seat,” Judd says as they all scoot around to make room in the booth they’ve claimed.

T.K. looks at him and turns his back on the group so they can’t hear. “We don’t have to sit with them.”

Carlos smiles. “It’s fine. Really,” he insists when T.K. doesn’t look convinced. “They’re your friends. And it’s pretty full in here anyway.”

The booth is already crowded and they have to sit very close together to fit. T.K.’s thigh presses into Carlos’ and he has to work very hard to keep his mind on track and in the moment. “Soooo,” Mateo says, wiggling his eyebrows, “is this finally the big date?”

Marjan smacks him. “Shut up probie!”

“What?” he asks, offended. “It is right? T.K.’s been talking about it for weeks.”

Carlos feels a laugh bubble up deep inside him and has to swallow it back down. T.K. may not have been raised with any siblings, but it’s obvious that his teammates are enthusiastically fulfilling that role in his life. 

“I haven’t been talking about it for weeks,” T.K. says, taking a sip of his drink, his cheeks a touch pink despite the calmness of his tone.

“Yes you have,” Judd says immediately.

“I have not!”

“You really have,” Paul says. 

T.K. glares at them. “I hate all of you.”

“Mmm be careful,” Marjan says, her eyes lighting with teasing. “We’ve got a lot of dirt on you T.K. So many things Carlos could learn tonight…”

“Like the time he backed the engine into the side of the garage,” Mateo says.

“Or the time he swore he could run around the entire building in under a minute, tripped over his own two feet, and fell face first into the asphalt,” Judd says.

“Or,” Paul says, “the time—“

“Okay, that’s enough!” T.K. declares. He pushes against Carlos, trying to make him slide back out of the booth. “Let’s go, we’re leaving.”

“No, no come on!” The protests from the group are genuine and full of laughter and T.K. settles back into his seat.

“You’re all just jealous that I have a date and none of you do,” T.K. says, affecting a superior tone.

“Hey I got a permanent date,” Judd says. “She’s just working tonight.”

“Judd’s wife Grace is a 911 dispatcher,” T.K. explains. 

“Nice,” Carlos says. “That’s a tough job.”

“She was made for it,” Judd says proudly. 

T.K.’s friends are great. They laugh and joke and talk with ease, including him in the conversation like he’s always been part of the group. Judd buys another round for the table and then they get some appetizers to share. It’s not exactly the date Carlos had in mind, but it’s good nonetheless.

T.K. is snarky and fun; everything he does is charming and adorable. If Carlos wasn’t already completely besotted, he definitely is now.

It’s ridiculous how comfortable it all feels. Like this is the most normal thing in the world. Like they’ve done it a thousand times instead of just one. 

A little voice in his mind whispers that this is all he’s ever wanted. To feel like this. He’s craved this type of casual intimacy in his life and it’s surreal to finally be experiencing it.

“Oh my god, I love this song!” Marjan says, shoving Paul so she can get out of the booth. “Come on! Let’s go dance!”

The rest of the group follows her, leaving T.K. and Carlos alone. “I really am sorry,” T.K. says. “If I’d known they were going to be here I would have—“

“T.K. it’s fine,” Carlos soothes, placing a hand on T.K.’s knee under the table and squeezing gently. “I picked the place. And they’re nice. I’m having a good time.”

He moves his thumb back and forth over the fabric of T.K.’s jeans without even thinking about it and something in T.K.’s eyes lights up. “Wanna dance?”

He looks T.K. up and down, his face twisting into a delighted smile. “Yeah.”

They stand and T.K. grabs his hand, pulling him toward the dance floor where dozens of other people are starting up a rowdy two-step country dance. “Do you know how to do this?” Carlos asks as they join the throng.

“Not a clue.” T.K. sticks his tongue out and wiggles his eyebrows comically, making Carlos laugh. 

“Copy me,” Carlos tells him, turning around so T.K.’s behind him and can follow his moves.

He’s actually not half bad. He’s not exactly half great either, but he bops along easily enough, at least from what Carlos can tell every time he turns around and catches a glimpse of him. It’s a little graceless, T.K. is all bouncy fun, like a puppy, but it’s pretty cute and he doesn’t run into anyone or step on any toes. 

The next dance requires a partner, so Carlos turns around to face T.K. and watches in amusement as T.K. does the required shimmy to one side and then the other. “Not bad for a New Yorker,” he calls over the noise of the crowd and the music.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that I was the life of the party at every bat and bar mitzvah I ever went to,” T.K. says.

“I believe it.”

He leans close, his breath warm on the side of Carlos’ neck. “But you know, the real reason I wanted to come out here was to watch your ass move around in those jeans.”

Desire, hot and strong pours through him. It must show on his face because T.K. cocks his head to the side, his eyes dropping to Carlos’ lips like he’s having the same kind of feelings.

“And? What’s the verdict?” Carlos asks, feeling a little light headed. All the blood in his head is quickly rushing somewhere else.

“I think…” T.K. meets his eyes and purses his lips in exaggerated, fake thought. “It’s a pretty spectacular ass.”

The room is crowded, there are people bumping up against them, but Carlos is so intensely focused on T.K. he barely notices. This feeling, this want, this ache of desire has been building for so many weeks and if he doesn’t do something about it soon, he might explode.

As if T.K. senses this he reaches for Carlos’ hand and begins pulling him through the crowd. God help him, Carlos doesn’t have the strength to stop him and the next thing he knows they’re moving down the small, dark hallway that leads to the bathroom. It’s obvious what’s going to happen next and Carlos is weak as fuck because he’s going to let it. 

T.K. shoves the door open, thank god it’s an individual bathroom and no one is inside. Carlos flips the lock and the second he turns around T.K. is on him, hands grabbing his hips for leverage as he crushes their mouths together. 

Carlos sees fireworks. They explode throughout his body wherever T.K. touches him, fizzing and popping and taking his breath away. His own hands come up, one of them cradling the back of T.K.’s neck, pulling him closer, while the other clings onto his bicep for support just in case his knees go weak from lack of oxygen. 

T.K. opens his mouth and Carlos doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, sighing into it as their tongues slide together, hot and wet and so much better than Carlos has imagined in his shower fantasies. T.K. tastes sweet from his drink, cherries and sugar, and it only makes Carlos even more desperate to drink him in.

He reaches for the top button on T.K.’s shirt, needing to touch him, needing to feel the softness of his skin underneath his fingers. He manages five of them in record time, an amazing feat considering he’s only going by feel since he can’t stop kissing T.K. long enough to look. He shoves a hand inside the fabric to wrap around T.K.’s ribcage and pull him even closer.

T.K. huffs a laugh into his mouth and Carlos grins into it their kiss. This is crazy. He’s never felt so reckless. So free. He loves it. It’s like T.K. has unlocked a part of himself he didn’t even realize he’d hidden away.

He pulls back, barely taking a breath before nipping at T.K.’s earlobe and then scraping his teeth down his neck. T.K. makes a sound that goes straight to Carlos’ dick and then ruts his hips forward into Carlos, causing more stars to explode behind Carlos’ eyelids. 

His hand fists into the back of Carlos’ shirt, pulling it tight and Carlos takes that as his cue to keep going, following the line of T.K.’s collarbone with his tongue, pressing a kiss into the hollow at the base of his throat. 

His plan is to continue working his way across T.K.’s chest, but T.K. has other ideas, grabbing his face and hauling him back up into another bruising kiss before his hands find Carlos’ belt. The second he gets it undone he starts to drop to his knees, but Carlos grabs his arm, keeping him upright.

“The floor is filthy,” Carlos says.

T.K. looks at him like he’s crazy. “I have done this in much dirtier places Carlos,” he says, trying to go down again.

The thought makes Carlos sick to his stomach and he grips T.K.’s arm more firmly, refusing to let him move. “But you don’t have to,” he says gently, but firmly. 

He knows T.K.’s past. He knows how he’s been used and treated like garbage, and he is never, ever going to treat him that way. T.K. doesn’t exist for Carlos’ pleasure. They’re not starting their relationship this way. Making out is one thing. Forcing T.K. to his knees on a disgusting bathroom floor is another.

T.K. takes a step back looking hurt and confused. “Are you saying you don’t want—“

“No, I definitely do,” Carlos says quickly. “I just…not here. I don’t know if other guys made you feel like that’s all you were good enough for but you deserve better than a dirty bathroom floor T.K.

The guarded look in T.K.’s eyes goes soft and his body relaxes again. “You’re really sweet. You know that?”

Carlos blushes. Which is crazy since this man just had his tongue in his mouth and was about to put it somewhere else much more intimate. “I want this to be a partnership,” he says. “I’m not using you T.K. I want you.”

T.K. crowds up against him and kisses him again, gently this time, his fingers cradling Carlos’ face. “You’re one a million Carlos Reyes,” he says when he pulls back. His smile turns mischievous. “Fine. I won’t kneel on the dirty floor.”

“Good,” Carlos says. “I don’t need you to.”

“But,” T.K. says, his hands sliding down Carlo’s chest, “there are plenty of other things I can do just fine standing up.”

Before Carlos can protest T.K. has undone the button and zipper on his jeans, his hand teasing along waistband of Carlos’ boxer briefs before sliding inside. Carlos’ head slams back against the door, a sound ripping from his throat that he’s never made before in his entire life. All thoughts of germs or bathroom floors or anything other than the feel of T.K. taking hold of him are immediately driven from his mind.

He’s brought back to reality all too soon by a series of sharp knocks on the door just behind his head. 

T.K. withdraws his hand. “Be out in a minute,” he calls, then bites his lip, studying Carlos’ face. “Well that was fun.”

Carlos swallows, trying to find his voice again as T.K. turns and heads for the sink. “Uh huh,” is all he manages to get out.

T.K. chuckles. “I’ll take it that’s a five star rating?”

“Yes. Definitely,” he says, finally regaining enough presence of mind to start zipping up his jeans as T.K. redoes his own shirt buttons.

The knocks sound again, more insistent this time. “We should um…do you want to get out of here?” Carlos asks, his brain soaked in lust fueled dopamine. He’s not nearly done with what they’ve started.

“Eh, I don’t know. It’s kind of nice in here,” T.K. jokes, looking around.

“T.K. Do you want to come back to my place?” Carlos says, too far gone to play games right now.

T.K. kisses him, chastely this time. “Yes,” he says. “I do.”

He opens the bathroom door and Carlos tries not to make eye contact with the person who was waiting outside. They’ve nearly made it down the hallway when they bump into Paul. “I was wondering where y’all went,” he says.

“Just taking a little break,” T.K. says easily, while Carlos squirms internally.

Paul’s eyes travel over the two of them, a knowing smirk growing on his face. “Your buttons are done up wrong,” he says, nodding toward T.K.’s shirt.

“Are they?” T.K. glances down, but doesn’t fix them. “Huh. Wonder how that happened?”

“Mmm, I could hazard a guess,” Paul says.

Carlos’ face is on fire and he tries desperately not to fidget. He has no idea how T.K. can act so calm and innocent. Even in in the dim light of the hallway he knows everything about them screams ‘bathroom hookup.’ 

“So Carlos and I are going to head out,” T.K. says, still nonchalant. 

“Oh are you? Do you need a ride home or anything?” Paul asks, still playing the game T.K. is crafting.

“I think we’ve got it covered,” T.K. tells him.

“Uh huh, I’m sure you do. Nice seeing you again Carlos,” he says.

“It was nice to see you too,” Carlos manages, his voice sounding a little strained in his own ears.

“Don’t get into too much trouble!” Paul calls after them, amusement coloring his voice.

“Well that was embarrassing,” Carlos says when they finally make it outside. 

“Paul won’t say anything,” T.K. says. “Not to anyone else. He’ll tease me about it forever. But I don’t care. It was worth it.”

“Was it?” Carlos asks as they reach the Camaro.

T.K.’s eyes are bright even in the darkened parking lot. “Definitely.”

[problematicfactive]

New intro Post

New intro post! How exciting! This is my celebration for reaching 25 followers so fast! Thank you all for your overwhelming support in this journey, it really has been a lot.

If you're new here, my boyfriend and I are both introjected from extremely problematic medias revolving around a very bad person that lived in real life. We are both from fictional medias, bit the person of which we introjected is very much real, and We've gotten a LOT of shit for it.

Spaces that claim to be safe spaces for systems-- or God forbid, safe spaces for *problematic* introjects and alters, tend to be rude or spiteful towards individuals who are factives from problematic sources.

I firmly believe this hateful stance comes from a place of not understanding, so I've created this blog to give people who don't understand a chance to talk and speak to us without losing their cool as we also stay anonymous on this blog. They're always nice until they find out who you are /hj . Since it's creation, the blog has since turned into a big place for problematic factives to just feel safe and seen. I'm beyond happy about this, and glad my blog can serve both purposes. More under the cut!

We post a lot of everything!

We answer asks from people who have questions about us or about being problematic factives, we make positivity posts for problematic factives, problematic factive culture is... posts, and lots of other things you could think of. Feel free to vent in our askbox or message us for a chat! We'd love to have a friend.

Some things off the top of my head that I can't do on this blog (but if you end up making a blog for these things and need a mod, totally hmu!)

Stimboards/Moodboards etc. - I would literally love to do these but the problem is I know like nothing about anyone. Of you were to ask me for a Donald Trump moodboard I honestly do not know what I would do my mind would just blank. That being said, in decently good at making them so if there were a person I knew well enough to do a stimboard on, I definitely could

Icon edits - This is somthing I'm capable of doing, but it isn't something where I would want this entire blog to just turn into requests. If you're making a blog specifically for these creative requests things totally hmu

Art - I cannot draw but my hope is that that changes in the future.

-

Meet us!

My last intro post didn't really have any information on us as people let's try and fix that.

I can't tell you my name, but you can call me Anxiety. I'm the main mod and significantly less source connected/more source ashamed. I go by he/Anxiety with Anxiety being able to work in place of either a name or a pronoun. Unless the host is helping out with something, anything that isn't labeled comes from me. I'm the only one out of the two of us with the physical ability to type so when he posts something, it's a little special occasion and deserves a label.

My boyfriend doesn't have a name option other than a source one. On the blog he has only been referred to as my boyfriend, but if you need a name for him, call him NPC. He uses he/him pronouns and will sign off any post that he thinks up all on his own with -NPC and tagged with # npc posts

Tagging

Here is some of the tagging we use on this blog

# problematic factive culture = Problematic factive culture is.. posts

# kindness and positivity = Kind and Positive asks we've received

# good thoughtful questions = Good questions we received as asks

# positivity post = Positivity posts

# problematicfactive blog things = things that ate moreso related to one of the mods or running the blog than they are about problematic factives

# rainy day drafts = drafts that could be super old because I made them and them left them in the drafts so I could post when I don't have anything else to post

# queued because I am asleep 😊 / queued because hopefully I'm sleeping = posts that I queue to be 5-ish hours away from the last post. I often post somthing at 12 am Eastern Time regardless of the last something was posted, so those early morning positivity posts tend to also be queued with the tag

If you come across us and like what we do, consider boosting or realigning this post! I'd love for as many people to find out we exist as possible

# askers experience = Asks sent in where an asker tells me about their life

# npc posts = posts my npc wrote as a mod on this blog (does not apply to posts where "my boyfriend's answer" is me paraphrasing or trying to speak for him)

[horseshoegirl]

Horseshoegirl's Masterlist

❗️Back on a trial basis. We shall see.

18+ minors DNI. Ageless and blank blogs are blocked without warning.

❗️Reposting fics, including designs, line breaks, banners or any graphic materials, including binding fics, is strictly forbidden without my written consent. Be a decent human being, and don't steal people's work.

❗️I write because I enjoy it, I post because I can. Anything that I might receive from posting is a gift. That being said, please leave your comments and reblogs if you want to (I understand if it's intimidating, scary, etc. your feelings about it are valid!)! But I do ask if you would like to leave a comment, please do not let it be something you would not want yourself to read or get on a piece of writing that you wrote - if the opposite, I kindly ask you to back out and not say a word. Think and ask yourself, will I be hurting someone with my words if I type this?

^ SO PSA ABOUT THAT: I don't tolerate hate. Never have. Never will. Nobody should have to suffer putting up with it or should be spreading it. If you send me that shit, anon or not, you will be blocked. Silence is an answer too, and you have no idea what someone is going through when you send in your awful comments. It might lead to the end of someone's life. Think about that for a second.

Being an Anon is a privilege. Abuse it? It's gone. And it's never coming back.

Damn Those Dog Tags

Your sister Ridley has passed away, leaving behind her ten-year-old daughter, Sadie. The Dagger Squad goes out of its way to ensure you and Sadie have people you can count on. Boring Saturday nights turned into game nights, rowdy dinners, and cheering events at Sadie’s soccer games. Any milestone or opportunity they want to be there. But the last to join the group is Hangman. The moment you met Jake Seresin, your heart screamed the cocky pilot was looking for a good time, not a long time. Deciding to keep him at a distance to protect your heart, Sadie has other ideas when she learns he was purposely left out.

Set Me Alight

When you agree, somewhat apprehensively, to a week-long camping trip courtesy of your best friend Nat, you end up irate to discover Jake Seresin is also on the guest list. He's everything you hate, everything you want to believe you hate. Because the day you met him, he said some things he could never take back. Not to mention his nickname for you grates on your every f-ing nerve. But when the two of you get stranded in the Washington wilderness, it's not just the elements or the creepy feeling you're being watched that has you feeling trapped, it's the emotional baggage too. Struggling to survive the wilderness is one thing, but navigating the labyrinth that is "Jake the asshole" is another beast altogether. Somehow, you've got to deal with both if you're gonna make it out of these woods in one piece.

Coming soon

In a universe where the ink on your wrist seals your fate, finding your soulmate is supposed to be one of the happiest moments of your life. For you, however, this joy is overshadowed by a hidden truth only unveiled in the rarest of circumstances; you are a second-chance soulmate. The secret, you may ask? Your existence, held hostage by fate until your soulmate, "Jake Hangman Sersin," loses his first match.

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw

Way Down We Go

DTDT ONESHOT: Rooster knows he fucked up. Badly. Sadie kicking him out was the wake-up call he never knew he needed. With nowhere else to go, Bradley finds himself knocking on the front door of the last person he ever expected to turn to.

[corpocyborg]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Tagged by @merge-conflict! (Thank you!)

CURRENT WIPs LIST

CYBERPUNK 2077

Secure Your Soul: AU in which V never left Arasaka but still ends up tangled up in the story of the Relic heist.

Beyond the Event Horizon: Post-Devil Ending fic in which a war between the humans and rogue AI occurred while V was in Mikoshi, and she is brought back to life in an artificial body as Arasaka's new future weapon.

Crawling: Post-Tower Ending fic in which V accepts a job at the FIA with Reed and ends up unraveling the mystery of what really happened to Songbird.

MASS EFFECT

Ruthless Remainders: A series of Post-Destroy Ending vignettes in which Garrus and Renegade!Shepard finally have time to deal with the consequences of all the ruthless war-time calculus.

Hounds of Hell: Mass Effect 3 AU in which Shepard stays with Cerberus and winds up indoctrinated.

I thought it would be fun to share a bit from all 5 of my current WIPs so... Bear with me... I tried to keep 'em short but this may still be a bit lengthy haha...

From "Secure Your Soul," Ch 5 - The Beginning is the End is the Beginning

"Bein' heir to the Arasaka empire," Jackie grumbled under his breath. "Sure as shit better'n bein' the son of Raúl Welles." Despite the severity of their situation, it took conscious effort for V to prevent herself from smirking. There it was. That fundamental truth. Deny it as they might, she thought, everybody wants to be us.

From "Beyond the Event Horizon," Ch 2 - New Future Weapon

As she waited backstage, she watched a video feed of the main set on a large television screen. The crew was still prepping. The set looked decent, though. She'd been worried they'd make it too flashy, but the marble columns and crimson drapery actually exuded the same inborn, self-assured authority she was aiming for herself. That was the value of working with professionals like WSN News. 

From "Crawling," Ch 1 - A Hazy Shade of Winter

"Reed," she said, her voice thin. "Thank you." He paused in the doorway, but he didn't respond right away. Although she could see only his backside, she still had the sense that he looked as drained as she felt. "That's all right, V," he said finally. "You have nothing to thank me for."

From "Ruthless Remainders," Ch 1 - Tuchanka

Watching her sitting in Tuchanka's red dirt, he understood why she had wanted to be here alone. He still remembered the conversation they'd had on board the Normandy, during the height of the war, and the way her face had looked when she'd realized he'd figured out what she'd done. Her jaw had tensed, but her eyes had never changed. They'd stared unflinchingly into his, and his initial reproaches had died on his tongue. He'd almost said, "How could you?" But instead he'd said, "Damn war."

From "Hounds of Hell," Ch 1 - Art of War

"Shepard," A familiar voice from behind her said. "I was hoping it would be you." "Illusive Man," she responded, without looking up from her work at the terminal. "I came here with the Alliance. Had to take down some Cerberus troops to maintain my cover." "Any one of them would have laid down their life for you if they’d had to, Shepard." "Well," she paused at the keyboard for a brief moment, rereading the last line of code. "Luckily, they didn't. They're in a biotic stasis. You get here fast enough, you should be able to collect them."

Okay... so there we go... a bit from all 5 WIPs. Hope you enjoyed!

Now for my tags...

@fereldanwench, @illusivesoul, @ghostoffuturespast, @luvwich, @gamerkitten. As always, no pressure!

[thornescratch]

this is a little out of nowhere but do you know if there are any primers for running a fic exchange? I saw you mentioned bring back a caps exchange like a month ago (which would be so cool). it kind of inspired me with another fandom, but I can't find any good guides and was hoping you might have some recs.

(Sorry for the long delay in reply. Clearly when I say I will get to something in a day or so, I-- uh, will not. Life's been a lot. Very sorry!)

With the proviso that @weaglerock did most of the actual hard work of the ALLCAPS Exchange and my role was mainly to make shitty promo manips (actually I still like this one) and nag people to turn stuff in and occasionally pinch hit--

Honestly, AO3 actually has some of the best resources for you, if you're planning to be like most exchanges and run your exchange through/post there. They've put together FAQs and tutorials and I think they're pretty straightforward and easy to understand.

Tutorial: Running a Gift Exchange on AO3

Archive FAQ: Gift Exchange

Challenges tutorial: creating and running a gift exchange

Signing up for a gift exchange

Reddit is also handy, and I've found a number of their posts with good advice: here, here (more from the user POV rather than the runner POV but good to think about, and this post were ones I referred to.

General advice:

I find if you have a random question and you can't figure out how to make shit work with AO3 or something, Fail Fandom Anon is a decent way to ask for help. Every post has a thread related to various Bangs/Exchanges going on, and you can post an anonymous request or question. Quality and quantity of response can vary based on when you post it (if the post is almost at comment limit and about to move to the next, you might not get much; just try again with a newly opened post), but usually someone will respond.

Most of the exchanges I've helped with were done before discord got huge, so I haven't utilized it as an organizer as much, but I've been in exchanges as an author where it originated from a fandom discord, and it did streamline communication to have a dedicated channel/discord for the participants. But mostly we used tumblr, gmail, and a googledoc for notifications and tracking.

Always assume some people are simply going to dip, for legitimate or other reasons. Shit will happen. It's super frustrating to delay opening an exchange because you're scrambling to make sure everyone gets something and that it's of decent quality so I'd advise definitely lining up multiple pinch hitters (and assume some of THEM will also bolt randomly) in advance, or be ready to do it yourself, or build in an extra time period of complete works being due before going live, or optimally, all of those things. Having more than one organizer/moderator is helpful!

Highly encourage people to include detailed author letters to accompany their requests. Have regular timeline check ins and reminders. Also, it's easiest to assume everyone's a newbie and err on the side of over-explaining. Have templates and formatted examples on hand for transparency; this includes examples of how you want people to make their requests and examples of an author letter.

Anyway, honestly my best piece of advice is to find a moderator who's already done this before and is good at all of it and will do most of it, and then just act like you've always been there and tag along for the glory. It worked marvelously for me. (But no, really, in the end I think the best bet for success is go back to an exchange from any fandom you enjoyed and felt was well run, look at their set-up/timelines/rules/verbiage, and then model after that accordingly. Obviously don't copy everything directly, or if you do, credit the those organizers.)

And, like, have fun.

[kemalamalam]

RULES: post 5 songs associated with your OCs and 4 outfits they'd wear

i saw @bhaalsdeepbat doing the tag game and i wanna make one too i hope you dont mind 👉👈

huehuehue this is Chevrotain, my durge bard

they got fucking wormed half way through the game and became hard to look at so i changed their hair then they look half-decent (not as good looking as the default but still)

im gonna be sorta infodumping about their lore bc im insane for them

1. Bloody! Bloody! - Junie & TheHutFriends

so in my canon Chevrotain isnt the dark urge like the origin character but another bhaalspawn, theyre still a bhaalspawn though so their gameplay is still a durge playthrough and this song is so accurate to durge's storyline?? like

Ain't it funny how I scare myself sometimes

..You take his hand quite literally..

..I probably shouldn't have said that..

They said, the lady in red / Bloody! Bloody!

Durge being literally shocked at kicking the squirrel involuntarily?? / the Gale incident / durge saying freakish shit most of the time / literally Orin

this song is my number one go to when i think of Chevrotain 😭

2. Abbey - Mitski

i mentioned that Chevrotain is a cannibal 🥺 its funny bc they dont have any sense of taste, they also have a huge identity crisis thanks to Bhaal whispering to them on their "role" and they whole "you were created bc blah blah blah"

I am hungry I have been hungry I was born hungry What do I need? I am something I have been something I was born something What could I be?

the theme i like to go with them is "starvation", like being starved of fatherly love from Bhaal, being starved of their own identity, being starved of their own mind, being starved of a home.. so this song fits into it SO PERFECTLY

3. Our Word - 36 Questions, Jessie Shelton

GAH this song is so cool from the coolest musical i know (i only know like 6 musicals 🙃), its literally a musical podcast?? so cool.

anyways Chevrotain is a bard right, they usually manipulate people with their words, a lot of deception and persuasion bonuses, so they are a very deceitful and as a result they are a very distrusting person.

the song is about a girl who was raised to be a compulsive liar - when she accidentally broke her dad's ship in a bottle - her mom told her to lie to get out of trouble and it worked, so she kept lying and lying and lying to get herself out of situations.

the song ends with a near death experience, but all she can think in her dying moments is how her parents are going to lie about her existence just to avoid the hassle of dealing with her death.

And it's our word Yes, our word It's our word Yes, our word Against theirs

the thing about Chevrotain is that they cannot trust easily - and what they fear the most is that theyd be tricked the same way theyve been tricking others - its a constant for them and this song embodies it perfectly (･ω･)b

4. Animal Cannibal - Possibly in Michigan, Karen Skladany

haha cannibal mention

iconic song tbh, this one isnt as intricately tied to Chevrotain's character quirks in my mind as the others and its more of their whole vibe and sthick

Who knows how some people turn to strange ones Is it up to me to make them into dead ones? (Here we go again) I bite at the hand that feeds me Slap at the face that eats me Some kind of animal cannibal (Animal? Cannibal)

the tricking people into thinking theyre an unassuming bard even though theyre an experienced necromancer

and that they rebel against Bhaal pretty aggressively (well, as aggressive as you can when youre going against your literal God father without being punished by death 💀) such as never calling Bhaal as "father" pre-amnesia

5. The Milk Carton - Madilyn Mei

have i ever mentioned here that Chevrotain fell into the Feywild when they were around 9?

they were following a grinning cat named 'Alice Alice van Malice' who later became their guardian because fucking Ethel spotted baby Tain, took them in bc she realize that a bhaalspawn would make a strong hagspawn, since Alice didnt want to be responsible for a horrific fate of a child he decided to keep watch of them 😭

so this song is more to baby Tain's perspective, that they are now living in a stinky swamp in the Feywild and sleeping on a cold slab of stone instead of the cozy foster home they were in before..

I think I really miss my bed Oh when, oh when will the nightmare end? I had it good, I had it good And yet I left and can't retrace my steps Think I forgot a couple things My brain is still at home (Stop telling me all about your problems)

..but hey, at least theyre not dead!

Outfits/Style

Chevrotain's style is called classy and youthful in the DnD universe and timeline, but in todays world we call it grandmacore ❤

ok well it has a prince-like flare to it, the embroidery would be all silver bc one thing about Chevrotain is that theyre good at commiting to the bit, also the clothes beinf airy, flowy and puffy is important bc they dont like their clothes being skin tight bc they get uncomfortable easy.

its all billowy blouse + black pants combo bc its a classic and i love it SO MUCH, i eat this combo all the time everytime

im too shy to tag anyone else for this akdnsjnd anyone who wants to join in from seeing this post.. please tag me in it bc im nosy and i want to see ur Tav/Durge :3