#Edit: this is just some stupid connection I thought of I'm not trying to go after anyone

[trashcanfanfics]

i would like to ask an imagine ir headcannons about Alastor, Angel Dust, Husk, Vox and Blitzø when their s/o tells them "i love you" for the first time

I think I did something like this for Alastor and Vox in an overlord headcanon ask but I'll do them for Angel, Husk, and Blitz :)

Edit: I can't fuckin believe I forgot Husk goddammit

Angel Dust:

You were tired after a very long day of just trying to go to the store to stock up the hotel kitchen. Charlie had unfortunately made you the unlucky soul to go out to do it. You found it hard to hate her, but in this moment you disliked her extremely. The car you'd been loaned was stolen and you had to try and carry everything back on your own. No one from the hotel was answering their phone, except your boyfriend who was on the other side of the Pentagram for a show. So you were on your own and completely fucked.

Hours later, you've been in several fights over these groceries and hit with the car that was stolen from you, but you finally made it to the hotel. Up the steps and stumbling your way to the kitchen, you think about how to ease your aching body.

The groceries put away, and a new list for tomorrow to get the things you'd lost/went bad in the time it took to get home, you flop on your bed with a groan. A few minutes later you fell asleep.

You woke up to a commotion. Groggy, you sat up and winced at the ache in all of your limbs. The noises sounded distant, like it was in the lobby, but loud enough to rouse you from a fitful nap. You stood with a slight stumble to go see what it could be, and to possibly tell whoever it is to shut the fuck up.

On the stairs, you heard Angel's voice yelling and more angry than you've ever known him to be. Charlie's voice came softer, trying to mediate between the other angry voice. It seemed like Vaggie and Angel were going at it again. You made your way slowly down the stairs, wincing at the pain in your feet and knees from your little adventure today.

"You fucks! You sent them out to get some stupid fuckin' groceries and you don't even make sure they're okay after they called you so many fuckin' times!" All four of his arms were waving around and his eyes were slightly bloodshot from the exertion of yelling at the top of his lungs. Vaggie looked ready to kill him again, and with a bit of shame mixed into her expression.

"Angel, I'm sure they're fine--" Charlie was cut off by Angel's yelling once again.

"They aren't answerin' their phone! None of you assholes have seen 'em! If they're so fuckin' fine then where the goddamn fuck are they?!" He stops a moment to catch his breath. "Where are they?" His voice changed from anger to desperation. His four shoulders slumped as he looked at the ground. You cleared your throat.

"Uh, Angel?" You voice was rough from the nap. He whipped around, the movement causing you to sway with dizziness. "Woah..." Angel hurried over to you and grabbed you up in all his arms, squeezing you tight.

"Oh my god, I thought something happened to you!" He pulled back to look at you, your eyes tired, your limbs limp, scratches and cuts and forming bruises. "Why...Why are you so banged up?" You blinked and looked at him before shaking your head.

"I'm tired." You had barely said the sentence before Angel scooped you up and took you back upstairs. Vaggie's distant huff of annoyance and Charlie's "glad you're okay!" were the last things from the conversation as Angel took you back to your room.

Thanks for carrying me, babe." You were placed on your soft bed and Angel made quick work of taking off your shoes. He didn't answer as he went to the connected bathroom. You heard the faucet start before you saw him enter the room again. "Angel?"

"Why didn't you answer your phone?" His voice sounded angry, but in a hollow way. Not accusatory, not really. It sounded worried, haunted almost. He made his way to you and helped you out of your shirt. "I called you. A lot." Your heart ached worse than the rest of your body at the small tone.

"It was broken when some of the groceries were stolen." You pointed to the night stand, where you placed the broken remnants of your poor phone. Angel glared at it like it was the one to blame for everything wrong in his life. He helped you get out of the rest of your clothes and into the tub.

"Let me help." He grabbed a rag and cleaned your scratches and cuts. His hands were gentle and he apologized softly every time you winced. He helped dry you off and bandaged the worse of the cuts before allowing you to change into fresh underwear and pajamas.

You two were cuddled up in your bed. His arms gently around you and your head in his fluff. Angel had been soft and quiet this entire time. It made you think that he probably thought something more serious had happened. You thought about the last thing you said to him before he left to work. "Get going, bitch" wasn't what you would want to leave him with.

"Hey, you still up?" Angel only groaned in response and you decided to continue. "I want you to know that I love you." Angel only held you tighter at your words. You knew he reciprocated and you snuggled up closer before falling into a better sleep.

Blitz:

All day you wanted to talk to him. All day you waited patiently for him to be done with work. He just kept getting busy. You hadn't even gotten more than a "hi" with a small peck. Normally that'd satisfy you, you would be fine all day with that. Today was different. Today was exactly 666 days since you started dating. You'd been counting and wanted to do a silly anniversary like all the other dumb couples.

"I can't even be mad at him." You flopped on your couch. "He wasn't counting with me. This was just me being sentimental." You rolled over and curled on your side. It felt ridiculous to be upset about it. Childish. A ping from your phone dragged you out of your wallowing for a second. You picked it up.

Blitz Baby <3: Wanna get takout tnite

You: Are you asking a question?? Or is this you demanding??

Blitz Baby <3: Asking

You: Then yes ;*

Blitz Baby <3: ;* ;* ;*

You giggled, feeling a little bit better. Maybe you two could finally watch that movie you'd been wanting to for a while. A newfound excitement filled you. You loved things like this. Nights in, watching movies or playing games or even just talking. Simple, just you two. Intimacy in the best way. You're sure Blitz felt the same. He seemed to really enjoy both your alone time together.

The both of you communicated a time and decided to chill at your place this time. You'd gotten the food, cleaned up a little, got into the nicest comfy clothes you had. Everything was set and perfect and cozy. There was even a pillow fort and plenty of blankets. You were buzzing with excitement when you heard your phone pinged.

Blitz Baby <3: Mite hv t reshcedg som thn came up

You: Aw what?? :( Okay...

Blitz Baby <3: Gimme liek 30 min I try tmak it short

You: Okay

Somehow you knew this was going to happen. It always did when you wanted to hang out. Work took him too long, you had your own job, his thing with the owl prince. Too many things got in the way. But you were stubborn and had the attitude that if something wanted to take him from you, it'd have to pry him from your cold dead hands. Tonight that was kinda squandered.

Hours had gone by and still no sign from him. No text, no call, no knock on the door. Nothing. A part of you was worried something happened; the rest was just upset. Not at him, but the universe. You were laying on your couch, pillow fort taken down in a fit of sadness. Only a few pillows were allowed to stay to help comfort you. You put his food in the fridge and ate most of yours already. A little bit was saved because he liked to eat some of your plate like he liked to feed you some of his.

A knock at your door roused you from your almost sleep. You sniffed and rolled off the couch to head towards the door. Attempting to rub the redness from your eyes, you curse yourself for allowing yourself a small cry over some arbitrary thing you made up. A giant bouquet was shoved into your face.

"What the--!" You grab the offending flowers and look to the criminal responsible for the attack. There, stood in the hallway of your apartment building, was your boyfriend. "Blitz what the fuck? I thought you were busy?" His cat like grin grew on his face as he slithered by you into your apartment.

"Well, I was but, y'know." He went to the fridge and pulled out the food, popping it into the microwave. You grabbed your scissors to cut the ends at an angle only to find they'd already been cut. Blitz handed you a vase.

"You wanna watch a movie?" You put the water filled vase on the table and discard the wrapper on the flowers. "I've got that we talked about one in the dvd player already." The microwave beeped as he agreed with a hum.

"The flowers really go with the paint." They didn't but you appreciate the thought. You both left them to their vase and awful puke green wall paint.

The couch was still kind of warm from your sad wallowing earlier. You curled up to an arm on one side as he snuggled up beside you, feeding you bites every so often. Your arm was around his shoulders. The movie was some B-list horror about lake fungus coming alive and mutating the wildlife. It was probably some sort of message about saving nature or some shit, but it was funny and full of camp.

"I wanted to tell you something, by the way." You set your head on one of his huge horns. "It's kinda dumb."

"Yeah, so are a lot of things." He didn't move his head, but lifted up a forkful of whatever he was eating. "Shoot." You took the bite and chewed slowly, thinking over how you wanted to word this without sounding like the dumbest bitch in Hell.

"Today was a stupid little thing that I wanted to celebrate." You started. You felt him tense up. "It wasn't major, more like a fun thing that doesn't mean anything." You've said "thing" too many times. Abort! Abort!

"Well, what was it?" He finally moved so he could look at at you. You looked down and back to the tv. A breath or two and you thought more about what you wanted to say.

"It's been exactly 666 days since we started dating and I thought that was funny so I wanted to celebrate it like an anniversary." You stared at the credits rolling on the screen. "It doesn't matter, it was kinda dumb." You shrugged your shoulders. Blitz gently grabbed your face and made you look at him.

"I counted the days too." He admitted with a small smile, his brows knitted together. "It's kinda why I wanted to hang out today." He flops back into your side. You let out a small "oof". He fed you another bite of food before tossing the empty container onto the coffee table. The imp wiggled around to get comfy. You laughed a little and laid down so you'd both be comfy. Arms wrapped around each other, you couldn't be happier.

"I love you." You blurted after a few moments of silently tracing his white spot. Looking down, you saw Blitz already asleep. "Jesus Christ it's only been a minute." You let out a sigh of amused exasperation. That sentence can be used tomorrow to make it hard for him to leave for work in the morning.

Husk:

All day had been a living nightmare. You hadn't had the chance to sit longer than a minute at any given time. Charlie had her hands full with her and Vaggie's visit to the center of the Pride Ring. Some family reunion; the news was covering every appearance of another Prince of Hell and their immediate family. With the Pride Princess's attention elsewhere, she left most of the paper work to you. Today was full of talking with contractors and running around to get materials for the fixing of the Hotel. You'd been cussed out, smacked, overloaded, looked down on, and laughed at. In other words, you were overwhelmed and exhausted. All you wanted to do was curl up and sleep, maybe even cry.

Husk watched you run in and out the entire day. He'd seen how you looked worse and worse as the minutes ticked by. There was a pang in his chest every time you would do a half wave with a tired smile every time you passed him. He hated to see you so overworked. If he remembered correctly, Alastor was supposed to be doing half the work you were trying to juggle. Said asshole was smiling smugly in the shadows, watching you struggle with sadistic glee. Husk could feel the sticky air that hung around the red bastard nearby. It pissed him off, and Alastor knew it. That was worse.

"Finally done?" Husk grumbled out as you threw down a stack of paperwork you still had to do and sat on a bar stool. He glared at the documents. You sighed and laid your head on the cool, polished wood of the bar top. Husk winced at the way your back cracked as you went basically boneless. He poured you a cup of orange juice. A book somewhere said something about orange slices being a good idea after sports; this was the closest thing he had. The exhaustion on your face was heartbreaking as you looked at the glass.

"I don't want to exist right now." Your mumbled wish was emphasized by a small sniff. Husk put his clawed hand on your head and gave you a small scratch. You always did that when he was feeling down, maybe this could help you too. A small sigh of bliss was a good encouragement.

"What a heartwarming moment! I didn't think you had it in you, Husker!" The bane of your existence finally decided to show himself. You groaned at his loud voice interrupting the small bit of calm you were enjoying. The Radio Demon sat down next to you and threw an arm around your tired form.

"Go fuck yourself, you bastard." Husk threw Alastor's arm off you. Static popped as Alastor fixed his hair nonchalantly. You gave your lover a tired smile of appreciation. His undead heart ached at the sight.

"Now, now, no need to be crass!" The ever smiling demon laughed, making you wince. Husk's ears flattened as his anger flared. "If they wanted to be left alone, all they'd need to do is ask." That seemed to be the final straw for the cat.

"The only reason they're too tired to even be near you is because you're an asshole who loves to watch people suffer!" Husk pointed a claw at the red menace. His tail thrashed behind him, wings puffed up to make him look bigger. "Not only that, you're even more exhausting today because of your fuckin' smug face. You know you were supposed to help them today but you enjoy causing people misery more than you like controlling everything so you decided to hide in the shadows like the piece of shit you are!" You raised your head at Husk's outburst, jaw hung open. You'd never seen your boyfriend so mad.

"Husk--" You tried to comfort or calm him down. The last this you wanted was for Alastor decide to torture Husk over one bad day. Alastor's smile grew more amused at every word. Husk's glare grew with it. The deer demon threw his arm around your shoulders again and pulled you to his side.

"Would you look at that! You see how your loverboy raises his hackles! What a show, don't you think dear?" His grip tightened on you as you tried to push him away. You didn't have the energy to tell him off today, nor the strength to shove him off his stool, it seemed. Husk growled.

"Get your. Fuckin' hands. Off them." Husk's words were said through gritted teeth. Alastor was about to say something but Husk hissed at him. You felt like you were sitting in the middle of a vortex. They were both staring each other down with an intensity you'd never seen before. Miraculously, Alastor let you go and stood up.

"Fine, fine, I suppose I should be getting to work, anyhow." And with a snap of the deer's fingers, he was gone, along with the paperwork you'd placed on the bar top. A sigh slipped from your lips as you placed your head back down in relief. You really thought you were about to witness Husk's second death. It took the last bit of energy you had.

"Sorry 'bout that." Husk rounded the bar and gently scooped you into his arms. "Didn't mean to make you feel worse." You only groaned in response as you rested your head against his chest. He carried you upstairs and to his room.

Husk's room was the same design as yours when you first got here. A standard red wallpaper with dark wood furniture, red sheets and dim lighting. He hadn't bothered to change it, other than some of your clothes littering the floor. There were a few knickknacks you'd given him, some from his apartment. He'd always act aloof or uninterested when you'd give him something in the beginning of your relationship, but you knew he liked them.

"Wait here." He gently placed you on the bed. You basically moaned as you sank into the soft mattress. He left the room and you heard his footsteps retreat down the hall. You used this time to take off your shoes and get comfier in the bed. The weight of your eyelids caused you to close them.

Husk re-entered the room, the sound of the door clicking back closed making you open your eyes again. He walked over to you and offered the glass of orange juice from earlier. You smiled and sat up a bit to drink some of it.

"Husk." Your eyes blinked slowly before looking up at him with a slightly bigger, tired smile. "I love you." The words made him tense up. He looked at the lamp across the room, his tail twitched at the end and wings fluffed up then back down. You waited patiently for his response. He fidgeted a bit more before looking at you then back down at the half empty cup in your hand.

"You should sleep, you look exhausted." He gently too the cup from you and set it on the nightstand. You laid back down and he went to turn off the light and draw the curtains. It left you in near darkness. You tensed slightly when you felt him crawl up beside you, but soon relaxed. He pulled you into his gentle embrace and covered you both with a wing as his tail curled over your thigh. A gentle purr lulled you into a much needed sleep.

"Love you too." The grumbled words were the last thing you registered before rest fully took over.

[ghost-proofbaby]

if it were anyone else (e.m.)

warnings: strong allusions to depression, disordered eating/rough relationship with food, mentions of smoking, description of a sort of panic attack. very sad. hurt/comfort? not edited.

wc: 1.6k+

a/n: this is literally entirely self indulgent and written entirely after i sat and cried and thought "i wish i had eddie here right now to hold me". maybe in like thirty minutes tops. this is for me and only me. go figure lol. sorry. yeah. anyways.

if you relate, my askbox is always open, and i'm very sorry you've felt this way as well. i hope you all take care of yourselves. drink some water, call a friend. be kind to yourself.

“I’m worried about you.” 

Four words that always manage to strike a certain type of fear in your gut. You don’t know how to react as he says it, how he wants you to react. You can only stare blankly, you can only wish harder for the earth to swallow you whole.

“What do you mean?” you laugh nervously, following it with a hard swallow.

You’re playing dumb. You know it, he knows it. The tremor in your bones and your numb appendages know it, too. 

“You’re…” Eddie stalls, licking his lips, letting his eyes rake over you, “You’re getting bad again.” 

You’re quick to shake your head, forcing another hollow chuckle from your chest, “It’s not that bad. I’m fin-”

“You’re not fine.”

The look in his eyes could crack your spine if you stare too long. Wet eyes, a trembling bottom lip, worry lines etched into his forehead that you realize might be caused by you.

You’re causing him worry. The last thing you want to do, you’ve accomplished. You’re on a fast-track to becoming a burden – the first step is always acceptance. 

You’re still unsure of how he wants – no, needs you to react right now. This conversation is a landmine for both of you, and you hold every breath with every step as you try to navigate it. If you make one wrong step, it could cause an explosion that spares no survivors.

You don’t mind if it tears you apart limb by limb. You do mind if it hurts him. 

“How… How do you know that?” 

It’s not a sarcastic snipping or defensive deterrence. It’s an unfiltered response of genuineness – you want to know the signs, you want to know what has exposed the rot this time.

And then, maybe next time, you’ll be able to better shield it from him with this knowledge. 

“How could I not?” he takes a deep breath in through his nose, and you focus on the flare of his nostrils rather than any of the tears beginning to gather at his waterlines, “It’s been happening for a while now, though, hasn’t it?” 

Your throat is a cage, tight and restrictive and ringing with a bitter metallic taste in its tenseness. You can’t respond with words. You can only nod. 

He chooses to answer your question more properly now that you’ve admitted it, “You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground. Picking up distractions like they’re going out of style.”

“Hey, they might be. We never know-” you cut yourself off when your eyes meet his. Now’s not the time for jokes, “Sorry. I… I know. I’m sorry.” 

He’s right. Fuck, he’s right. 

“I want to ask you something, and I need you to answer me honestly,” his own steps across these landmines are just as delicate, just as feathery light, as your own. You hear it in his tone, see it in his body language. You wish your body could sink into the mattress you’re sitting on the edge of as he crouches in front of you, warm palms connecting with your knees. Grounding you. Tethering you. Holding you back from that sinking you crave. “Are you… Sweetheart, are you okay?”

If anybody else had built up to such a stupid question, you would have laughed in their face. You would have shoved those warm palms right off of your skin and you would have thrown up those ice cold hands of your own, shouted obviously not. 

Obviously not. I’m not okay. I’m so far from okay, it’s a bit comical. I am drowning. I am treading in freezing cold waters and I am barely capable of keeping my head above the waves. My engine is fucked, my tank is empty. I don’t think I’d even know how to be ‘okay’ again if you did manage to pull this mangled body of mine from these depths and sat me down on safe, solid ground again. 

You can’t say any of this, though. Not because you don’t trust him, not because he would judge you. But because the moment he asks the question that should make you scoff, you let out a sob instead. Something like a muffled, broken wail that tears from deep within you. It had already been ready and poised, laying in wait for a perfect moment like this one to escape. 

His eyes aren’t the only glossy ones anymore. 

“I-” you start, breathing already stuttering and chest already constricting, “I- I-”

“Hey,” he palms smooth up your thighs, carrying their warmth with them, as if he were trying to spread it across you. As if he had heard your thoughts. As if he already knew all about those dark, treacherous, freezing waters you were stranded in. All you can do is spew out another cry, strangled as you tried to swallow it down before it entered the atmosphere between you two, “Hey.” 

You only notice the tears when you crumple forward and he meets you halfway. Those warm palms, those hands so capable of safety and promise, cup your cheeks and his thumbs make quick work of swiping away the salty streams. 

“Hey, baby, breathe for me,” his voice is tragically gentle, “Just one deep breath, okay?” 

To demonstrate, you watch his chest expand dramatically, his hands forcing you to keep your eyes on him. 

You can’t see through the bleariness. 

“C’mon, sweetness,” he encourages again, “One breath. Just one.” 

If it were anyone else, you’d turn into a fit of rage at the coddling. You’d break everything in sight. You’d scream until your already burning lungs finally collapsed as they’d been yearning to for so long. 

But it’s him. It’s just him, it’s just Eddie. 

His chest rises dramatically again, and this time, yours does as well, albeit through stifling hiccups. You’re dizzy from the lack of oxygen and the flood of emotion that was wrecking you. 

“There you go!” his voice rises ever so slightly, and when you flinch a bit at the sudden volume, he retracts, “Sorry, sorry. But that’s it, sweetheart. Another one, okay?” 

Another breath. Another sob. Another wave of all the pain you’ve been battling off. 

You’re cold all the time again. You’re always sleeping too much or too little. You’re smoking again, running yourself into the ground.

He was right and it fucking killed you. None of those are things you could ever shield him from. You didn’t have the heart to pull away those numb and icey fingertips every time he’d reach out for your hand, or try to cover the shivers that managed to rack your bones even in the middle of summer. The sleeping situation had been spiraling, a pendulum of sleepless nights that would end in a sleep so deep that you could have been mistaken for resting with the dead. Maybe the smoking you could have hid, especially when you’d been so boastful about quitting. 

You weren’t running yourself into the ground. You had already collapsed into the dirt, you had already joined the worms. You’d buried yourself alive, six feet under, and nothing could have stopped him from sniffing out that scent of decay on you. 

The death of a soul and mind. The death of the thing that had propelled you forward for so long. No amount of sweet perfume, or hour long scalding showers, or minty gum to occupy your mind rather than a proper meal, can erase that stench. 

You never could have shielded him. He always saw right through you. Always had, always would. 

“I’m sorry,” you end up crying out. 

You don’t know what you’re apologizing for, but you echo the words again. Over and over, on repeat, until he’s rising from the ground. Until he’s sat beside you. Until his arms are suddenly encasing you and you’re awarded a warmth you didn’t feel deserving of. 

He doesn’t smell like the decay you’d surrounded yourself with. He smells like slow waking in the morning, dreary and calm and at a reasonable time. He smells like warm baths that only relax your bones, and don’t have to blister your skin in the process. He smells like three meals a day, all comforting and all effortless and that never linger with a sense of regret.

He’s not decay, never even treading close to death. He’s home. He’s the promise that you could be okay. Even if it isn’t right now. 

“Don’t apologize,” he murmurs into the crown of your head, squeezing you tighter into his chest, not even blinking an eye at the patch of wetness you leave behind from where your cheeks bury against him, “Never apologize. Ever. Not with me, sweetheart. Keep the sorries. I don’t need them.” 

If it were anyone else, the holding would have suffocated you. But it’s him. It’s Eddie.

You don’t fight him when he pulls you fully into his lap, situating the two of you comfortably on that mattress. 

You don’t know how long you let him cradle you like that. How much of that time is spent filled with your cries, or how many breaths he gently urges you to take with him. He never once has to verbally say what you already know; he never once promises aloud that it’ll be okay. He doesn’t put that pressure on you, not yet. Not today. Not when he knows the journey to okay is still such a long one. 

“I’ve got you,” he whispers to you instead, “I’ve got you, now, sweetheart.” 

If it were anyone else, you wouldn’t believe them. 

But it’s him. It’s Eddie. 

And he’s got you, for now and for as long as you need.

[aggravatetheaxe]

GRABBER X GN READER PT II

Part I HERE

Another one I didn't go back and edit, it just comes out of my like word vomit.

Reader is heavily implied to be male but it's never clearly stated.

NSFW, minors please DNI. The Grabber is not a you-know-what and I'm not gonna fight about it so save your energy.

music: x

words: 1,514

Masterlist

***

Things had gotten even more awkward with Al.

Unsurprisingly. It seemed to you like the way he'd spoken to you in the kitchen had shaken you both up. He was normally a friendly guy - too friendly, sometimes too familiar with strangers, trying so hard ... and people noticed after a while. But with you, he had always been reserved. That had been the main reason you'd assumed he hated you. Last night had opened your eyes. Maybe his, too.

He wanted you to stay, even if Max left. Definitely unexpected. But what was his angle? Did he simply enjoy your company as a roommate, or was there something more he wanted?

His hot and cold was confusing, albeit exciting. Exciting enough that you sometimes caught yourself poking him, trying to get him a little irritated so he'd use that voice on you again. Or grab you.

It worked partially. He did get irritated, but he didn't do what you wanted. It only succeeded in driving a wedge between you. He became listless, stressed, agitated - like he was waiting for something that wouldn't come. Reminded you of the university, waiting for the stupid board or TA or whoever was the incompetent jackass of the week to finish their part so you could do yours. Except Al's personality was nowhere near as strong as yours, so he slowly but surely became more sad and insecure.

And he was losing sleep. He made drained pots of coffee like it was his job.

You wondered if you should say something. His connection to reality already seemed so tenuous sometimes; the last thing you wanted was for him to break down completely. Unsustainable. That was a good word. He seemed prone to starting habits that were simply unsustainable.

A week after your encounter in the kitchen, the universe seemed to choose your path for you. Your first couple days at the new job - stocking shelves, but actually, it was a breath of fresh air - had been difficult to get used to, so your sleep patterns weren't much better than his. That particular night, you tossed and turned, then gave up and read, then gave up on that and decided to fetch a hot drink.

You were halfway to the kitchen when you heard the screen of the back door shudder open, and not a moment later, a figure appeared. It moved with purpose, its eyes dark and shiny and not entirely human.

"Fuck!" You jumped and clutched your shirt. "Your mask - you scared the shit out of me, Al."

There was a beat of silence, stillness, before Al ripped the mask off his face. It was as though he was coming up for air, gasping as he took you in. "Sorry! Sorry."

Without thinking, you snatched the thing out of his hands and underhanded it onto a nearby armchair. He was far too surprised by the action to be angry.

"What's the big ... are you okay? You're white as a fuckin' sheet."

"You have a dirty mouth," he rasped lamely, and though his tone was nowhere near commanding, your heart fluttered. He averted his eyes. "I ... thought ... I heard someone outside. I thought, wouldn't the mask frighten them off?"

You glanced down. His clothes and shoes were covered in a layer of clingy dirt. His hands and arms were even dirtier. He was lying to you.

He noticed you looking and hid his hands behind his back.

Lie or not, it was too late to get into it. You sighed. "Why don't you shower and go to sleep, Al? You've been up for too long. Can we just agree upon that? Okay?"

He stared at you. "...Okay..."

And he left.

The guy really did just want to be told what to do, seemed like. Some people didn't care to be masters of their own destiny, you supposed. Or maybe it was more like he didn't know how. Or didn't know it was an option. Whatever the case, at least he'd met someone who'd remind him to take care of himself.

By the time you finished your tea (although it was mostly hot milk, if you were honest), Al had showered, changed into his jammies, and was sitting on the couch. He sat slumped backward, knees spread wide, staring at Max's stupid Grabber pin map with an unreadable expression.

"Max really thinks he's some kinda Columbo," you said, settling onto the couch next to him - not that he'd left much room.

"Mm?" As if roused from a trance, he looked at you, then blinked slowly, nodded, and affirmed, "Mm-mm."

You couldn't help but chuckle. "Look at you, you're falling asleep sitting up."

"I'm okayyy..."

"Well, just rest your head a second." Before he could protest, you took one of the lovingly placed throw pillows and put it on your thigh, then patted it. "Here."

Al paused, staring at the pillow rather than you, but eventually, silently, he conceded. He laid his head against the pillow and tucked up his knees, and though he was tense at first, it wasn't long before he relaxed. Before either of you could reconsider your position, he was breathing deep and steady.

You were relieved for him. But at the same time, now you were stuck. You finished your tea, and he still hadn't moved. The sky turned from black to dark blue. Your eyelids got heavier. You told yourself you'd just rest your eyes for a minute, then you'd nudge him to get up and go to his bed.

The next thing you knew, you were waking up. The sun was bright yellow. It must be close to mid-morning.

The two of you were sandwiched together on the couch, with you crammed into the cushions' crevice and Al in the little spoon position. As you shifted, you realized just how uncomfortable this position was, and yet you almost didn't want to move. He was warm and (you could feel through his shirt, the way your arm was slung casually around his middle) you could feel the planes of his chest and stomach. It just reminded you of what he looked like shirtless.

You shifted slightly again, listening to his breathing. Still deep and relaxed. You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, then swiped your tongue over it, considering your next move. Carefully, you fingered the hem of his shirt, then let your fingertips brush his bare skin. His pajama pants had slipped down a bit. It took everything in you not to gasp when you touched his hip bone - low, near his thigh - and brushed soft hair.

Al hummed in his sleep and shifted a little. You froze. But your moment of terror was brief, as he settled down again.

Should you keep going? God, his hair smelled so good. He was so warm, and you'd never seen him so peaceful - the little wrinkles around his eyes and on his forehead were smoother now. There was something so off about him, and yet, something in you wanted desperately to be with him. You wanted him to want you.

Waking him up with a (gentle) hand job would either be the best thing to happen to both of you, or the worst mistake you ever made.

Your fingertips literally tingled as you eased your fingers further down, daring to comb them through the nest between his legs. But when you felt his telling heat, sensed you were about to touch flesh, you shied away. Maybe now wasn't the right time...

Instead, you sighed heavily. Furrowed your brow in frustration. Watched him sleeping soundly for a few more seconds. Smelled his hair again. Dared to place a kiss on his neck, just below his ear.

He shifted and moaned again, and you swiftly removed your hand from his pants. He was well and truly stirring now - within a few moments, he had turned over and opened his big brown eyes. Sparkly. Why was he so gorgeous?

"You've got long eyelashes like a baby cow," you said, mustering a smirk to hide your vulnerability. Be a creature like no other, Mom had always said of flirting. Well, that wasn't so hard for you. Other humans were soft and easily flustered. Not you. Not you, with the wit and the judgmental percipience.

Not usually.

Al's widened his eyes and sat up quick enough that it hurt your feelings. "Oh! Oh, God, I didn't mean to fall asleep here. I better - " He gestured with some distress but didn't finish his thought, and moved to duck out of the room.

"Wait!" You stood from the couch.

He stopped in the doorway to the kitchen, looking at you with some complicated, sad expression.

The thing was, you had no idea what you actually wanted to say to him. That felt really nice. I want to sleep in bed with you. Tonight, any night. I want to do more than that. I think you'd like it a lot. I kissed you - did you feel it? You would like to?

Why did you lie to me? What are you hiding? Why are you scared? Why is the energy in this house so damn oppressive?

None of that came out. You exhaled with a measure of frustration and mumbled, "Can you ... can you drive me to work?"

***

Part III will come soon!

Masterlist

[magnetarbeam]

Voices of the Force: An Introduction, I guess

[This post, I've decided, shall be edited to keep up with the latest versions of my constantly evolving ideas on this.]

[Last update: 4-7-24]

This idea has existed in some capacity for more than a year now, originating when I read on Wookieepedia about the connection between Abeloth and Mortis, inserted the Daughter!Ahsoka concept, which is one of my favorite things in fic, and summarily decided I wanted to see Legends Ahsoka be pulled out of stasis and use the Daughter's power and kick Abeloth's ass as a plot progression. As I've actually learned Legends, it has only snowballed from that into something vaguely resembling a full-scale attempt at a next major arc that follows FotJ.

There's a whole prologue that shows what I think the Legends version of the Siege of Mandalore looked like, and the part of that that's relevant going forward is that at the end, she's trying to escape and the ship she's on takes a hit that damages the hyperdrive in such a way that the ship doesn't fully enter hyperspace, and is therefore subject to extreme relativistic time dilation effects, so decades on the outside pass in less than a second for her.

When she finally hits a gravity well, and is pulled completely out of hyperspace, the date is 44.6 ABY. I've gone back and forth about the length of timeskip, but what I'm fairly settled on at this moment is one month (on a ten-month in-universe calendar) after the end of Fate of the Jedi, which I've made several retcons of because I can't stand those last two books.

First of all, Vestara didn't get her character assassinated and showed that she could be a Jedi, and is now training under Luke.

Second, Jaina and Jag and Zekk are all married to each other.

Third, some edits to Abeloth's backstory. I'm keeping her relationship to the rest of the Ones, but the part where Denning's bugs tried to retcon the entire plot of her release by saying it was actually the result of an extended period of war or whatever is going straight to hell. The same is true of the part where apparently Luke is aware of what happened on Mortis in the arc of the show because Yoda told him in metaphor or whatever. That is so stupid.

As I'm defining the backstory now, it turns out that the Celestials were physical beings that achieved such a deep understanding of the Force that they were able to partially merge themselves into it. They thought they controlled its flow, but they were proven incorrect when they were completely blindsided and caught off guard by the Rakata developing technology that drew upon use of the Force as a power source. The Celestials' power became their weakness, and they were so closely intertwined with the Force that they were unable to adapt, and so they died.

As annoying as the retcon of the entire plot of her release is, the idea that Abeloth can escape when there's an extended period of war in the galaxy is consistent enough with the rule of her feeding on pain and fear. I've chosen, for this AU, the times Abeloth escaped before, instead of just being from too much war, were also the result of other cages being eventually proven insufficient to hold her under those circumstances, and the Maw is the design that finally worked.

(Depending on how the timing works out, I would very much like to keep Luke having the whole origin story explained to him in front of two GA military branch heads and the Chief of Staff, because that's hilarious.)

Fourth, Abeloth's control broke when the Jedi did some Force thing to free the people of Coruscant, and the loss of the connections caused Abeloth to be weakened enough that the Jedi were able to destroy her final bodies, kind of like how when she was turning Taalon into her tentacle cleaner and Vestara killed him, it fucked with Abeloth so much as to swing the balance of that fight and save Luke and stuff.

Fifth, Tahiri also didn't get her character assassinated. I haven't quite figured out what role I want her to have instead through LotF and FotJ, but she uses both the names Tahiri and Riina, and I have come up with several other headcanons about how she applies both the Jedi and Yuuzhan Vong parts of her identity together.

Sixth, Kenth Hamner didn't die stupidly and effectively led the Jedi throughout Luke's exile. He's supposed to be a guy who can make those kinds of decisions, like the Jedi openly opposing, and later deposing, Daala.

As an explanation to the common citizens of the galaxy as to what the fuck just happened on Coruscant, the Alliance and the Jedi put out a press release that explains a basic summary of Abeloth's nature, but omits her origins, and it's all phrased very strategically so people are led to believe the Sith were the architects of the takeover, not just as much of a pawn as everyone else. It's political, but it's what most people will probably believe, and it directs the will of the people toward decisive military action against the Lost Tribe, which is something they can immediately do, and do successfully, at least in the realm of space combat. In terms of fleet strength, the Lost Tribe is a moderately successful pirate gang with delusional aspirations of becoming a force of galactic conquest and stuff.

Two days after the defeat of Abeloth, when Alliance Chief of State Wynn Dorvan appointed General Gavin Darklighter as the Supreme Commander of the Alliance military, his first order was for the entire Ninth Fleet to enter the new gaping hole in the Maw and hit Abeloth's planet with a turbolaser bombardment heavy enough to melt the entire crust, so as to deny anyone else access to the power offered by the planet's weird Force artifacts. Despite his promotion to Supreme Commander, Gavin still has to act as head of the Alliance Marine Corps because they're facing a severe shortage of experienced high-level officers who haven't been implicated in either Caedus' machinations or the Lecersen Conspiracy.

The Galactic Alliance Navy, retaliating in full force, drove the Lost Tribe of the Sith back into hiding in less than a week, in several one-sided battles heavily featured on the holonews. All remaining Sith fleet elements returned to Kesh to try to sort out their command structure after losing their entire Circle on Coruscant. Obviously, competition is fierce. Ultimately, the victor is a Saber that I haven't named yet, who was the mastermind of a Lost Tribe side project that aimed to revive the Black Sun in service of the Sith, through a mind-controlled clone of Xizor. (The Black Sun revival is referenced offhand by Jaden Korr in Backlash, and they speculate that a Xizor clone might be involved, but the rest is my headcanon.) Not only does the architect of this project now have more power than anyone on Kesh on account of it, it's a clear focus for the Sith's efforts going forward. Through these operations, they've also come into contact with the One Sith, and it doesn't happen instantly, but the two factions end up with an alliance, combining their forces and knowledge in the Black Sun project.

One month after Abeloth was defeated for the time being and the Lost Tribe was kicked off Coruscant, the Jedi have finished the process of withdrawing from the Galactic Alliance, and have relocated their base of operations to Shedu Maad, a formerly abandoned mining world hidden deep in the Transitory Mists of the Hapes Cluster. Diplomatic relations with the former Jedi Knight and current Queen Mother of the Hapes Consortium have secured access to all the resources the Jedi would ask for to do their job that they can't get from the planet, a rounding error compared to the economic capacity Tenel Ka must have under her command.

Throughout that month, the Jedi have been collectively experiencing visions. Many are the usual cryptic metaphors, but an formerly unheard-of number are sure they're seeing literal truth. Eventually, they piece together most of the true story about the events on Mortis in the arc of the show. This is how they know of the Dagger in this timeline. The only part that's kept from the commonly understood version is what happened with Ahsoka's death and resurrection, which was shown only to the five remaining blood relatives of Anakin Skywalker, and is known secondhand by Zekk, because of his bond with Jaina, and Tenel Ka, who had to get let in on it so she knows what she has to keep Allana from revealing. They decided there was most likely a reason only they saw it, and decided to keep it between them for the time being.

By the beginning of this, another part of this that the Jedi are starting to discuss is how Mortis impacts their Force philosophy. As far as this AU is concerned, the dominant Jedi philosophy up to this point still reflects the idea that, in its most basic nature, the Force is a unified whole, with no division between Light and Dark, and a self-sustaining balance. Light and dark do exist in the Force, however, because of the existence and actions of sentient beings, and it's the actions of sentient beings that can swing the balance one way or the other. This is a decision made by Luke in the last NJO book, based on a revision of ideas developed by Vergere and Jacen. The deal about Vergere turning out to maybe have actually been a Sith (either way, it's pretty obvious in hindsight that she was setting Jacen on a trajectory to a slow fall) may have raised objections there, but it seems to me that Jacen's fate only supports that interpretation. He had spent five years on a sojourn to learn about the Force from those who viewed and used it in ways that differ from a fundamental Light/Dark binary. He arguably may have a better claim to having transcended that binary than any other Jedi in history, definitely more than any other Jedi around post-Palpatine, but at the most simple, Caedus was Dark because he was evil.

The reason that Mortis results in issues there is that it would seem to be an objective confirmation of a fundamental split binary between Light and Dark, but as the Jedi have been seeing more and more lately, there is no lack of groups who view, and use, the Force in ways that don't fit into that, and it works fine for them. The methods of the Aing-Tii, for example, wouldn't be possible if the Force was only light and dark. This dichotomy is going to hopefully be a pretty important part, and its eventual resolution.

Another issue is that the stories they've heard from the Killiks have some logical inconsistencies between them. The last time Abeloth escaped, the Celestials had to still have been around, because that supposed level of galactic devastation would not have been forgotten in forty thousand years. What were the Celestials actually doing then, if they were that powerful, that the Son and Daughter had to put Abeloth in a new cage every time? Should the Celestials have been able to stop her? These questions are raised, but no answers will present themselves for a long time.

This is where we get to the actual plot: Ahsoka comes out of her time jump because the jump's trajectory intersects the gravity well of a planet called Vriaal II, which i pulled out of my ass because I needed a planet sixty-four light-years from Mandalore, and which happens to be the target of an attack by a random pack of merciless slavers working for Black Sun. Vriaal II is the kind of planet too far on the fringe for any centralized government to care about it, so Ahsoka is very surprised to see the Jedi showing up to put an end to the operation.

The first person Ahsoka actually meets in this era is Vestara, who has to repeat her entire introduction because Ahsoka's so distracted by being a disaster lesbian. Vestara is the one who tells Ahsoka how much time she's missed.

Ahsoka's more than willing to participate in that effort, and it's not until after the fight ends that she talks to the commander of the Jedi strike team, Master Jaina Solo, and starts to process the fact that she's missed two generations of history. How shocked Ahsoka is by that still mostly nebulous knowledge strikes a chord for Jaina, because Ahsoka just had everyone and everything she cared about ripped away in the blink of an eye.

As Jaina herself once put it: "I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of surviving... and getting to the end of the war and discovering that I'm all alone, that everyone I knew and cared for is gone." Jaina understands that kind of loss, but even she hasn't lost that much.

The backstory I've decided on for the modern Jedi's knowledge of Ahsoka is that they found all the old Jedi's records of her in 31 ABY. At that point, the Jedi were in the process of being more fully integrated under the authority of the Alliance, and hearing about Ahsoka's trial really strengthened the opposition to that, especially since Fey'lya was still fresh in people's minds.

Motivated by empathy, Jaina explains to Ahsoka about how the Jedi have withdrawn from the Galactic Alliance. Considering that, and how there's no place for her anywhere else, and that it must be the will of the Force for her to have wound up in exactly the place at exactly the right time to see exactly the best thing to convince her to rejoin the Jedi, she decides to do so.

However, she continues to insist that she's not ready to be a Knight.

Ahsoka is taken back to Shedu Maad, and is assigned a room and gets the sixteen hours of sleep she desperately needs. The next day, she wakes up to find that Vestara and Ben, the latter of whom she's meeting for the first time, are now her roommates. (Junior Knights and apprentices sharing rooms is canon according to FotJ: Outcast.) They get to be very good friends, very quickly. The reason Ves realizes she's bi is that she reciprocates Ahsoka's massive crush. There's no actual romance, because they both have too many other things to deal with at the moment, and they both need some solid platonic connections, but they kiss a lot.

The day after she arrives, Ahsoka does some research about the fate of the people she knew in the Clone Wars, and shortly thereafter is taken on as Jaina's first apprentice. Jaina offers that because she sees a lot of herself in this woman. Specifically herself when she was, like, 20 years old. I really think their arcs in TCW and NJO have some pretty important points in common in terms of self-discovery and coming of age on the frontlines of some of the bloodiest wars in history (the bloodiest, in Jaina's case), and I feel like even though it's been over a decade since the end of NJO, Jaina's still in a particular position to connect and relate to Ahsoka here. Also, Jaina really feels a need to give Ahsoka somebody to know and care for. And she got the vision. She knows that this woman has a destiny that's of huge importance to the Jedi and the galaxy, even if they don't have any idea what it is.

Ahsoka's reasoning for taking the offer is that the Clone Wars forced her to grow up to have a mostly military skillset, and even though she rationally knew Jedi weren't supposed to be soldiers, that doesn't bother her too much since she never got much of a chance to be anything else, especially since she's good at it anyway. In this period, the role of warriors is not mutually exclusive with the role of the Jedi, as it was thought to be in the Ruusan period, but there are still fundamental differences being Jedi acting militaristically and actual soldiers, and Ahsoka hopes that maybe Jaina, the Sword of the Jedi(tm), can show her how to express her natural talent and learned skill at fighting in ways that line up with Jedi ideals and doctrine. It's her first answer to one of the first questions she's asked: How can she best serve the Force?

After that decision is made, Jaina takes her new apprentice to see Cilghal and is instantly like, "She needs a few months of rest and recovery." Because they know what wars like hers do to a person, and Jaina has actually started to develop a noticeable amount of mental health by FotJ, which I think goes back to the scene in LotF: Fury where Jag has her take a day off, after he puts himself in a position for her to almost kill him to make it obvious how much of herself she's losing to her constant training, and then orders her to take a day off.

Another minor character I want to pick up into an important role here is Fala, who shows up as a convenient plot device in FotJ: Conviction. She's a small-time smuggler, who Luke thinks is maybe twenty, and I'm establishing as seventeen, who's Force-sensitive and finds out because Abeloth turns her mind into a dark side nexus. Luke saves her from that, and leaves Fala and her father with advice to talk to the Jedi if any lingering side effects present themselves. My concept for turning that into a premise for a full-scale character is that she still retains some imprints of Abeloth's thoughts and memories and personality, and she does talk to the Jedi about it. A major trait of her character at this point is doing things specifically because Abeloth's impulses would want her not to, or vice versa. To spite Abeloth's creepy possessiveness, Fala leaves alone, not letting her dad come with her, when she goes to the Jedi about it all. What she finds out is that the Jedi can't do much. The scars in her head from what Abeloth inflicted on her are too deep, and the dark side will always be part of her to some extent. Learning that the dark side is what begets such evil, and already having severe mental trauma from it, Fala is terrified of opening herself to the Force again. She is a naturally altruistic person, even though she's not used to expressing that part of herself first and foremost, and when she learns that at some unknown point Abeloth will come back, Fala chooses to join the Jedi because she wants to keep anyone else from having the same shit happen to them. She's taken on as an apprentice by Tahiri, who has also had similar irreversible mental trauma at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong, and although it's not an exact comparison - the stuff Abeloth left in Fala's head isn't a full personality - Tahiri feels like she might be able to help Fala find a way to use the light side and do actual good in spite of the evil that she'll never completely banish.

This period lasts until about the end of the year 44 ABY. In that time, Ahsoka gets to know Jaina and Ben and Vestara and Luke and Leia and various other people around Shedu Maad. Vestara and Ahsoka figure out what they want to be to each other. Ahsoka learns a lot about modern Jedi operations and ideals and stuff.

At the core of modern Jedi militarism is the doctrine Luke lays out in the first Council meeting in Destiny's Way: "Aggression," as forbidden by the Jedi code, means making an unprovoked attack, or taking something that doesn't belong to you, or helping someone else do either of those things. I think the independent military actions that they engage in later, against Caedus and the Lost Tribe, mostly hold up well enough to that.

Three months or so after her arrival, Ahsoka's pulled to a meeting with Jaina, Ben, Luke, and Leia and finds out about the Daughter's life essence, and the circumstances around it, which she didn't remember, and no memory surfaces because she's told. Knowing this, she thinks that the way she can best serve the Force is to figure out what the Daughter had in mind for her, and then do it.

Finding out about this, and resolving to do that, also helps her deal with the inevitable survivor guilt, because she now knows that the reason she survived when everyone else she knew and loved didn't

By this point, Fala's still barely developed her skills in the Force, but because of Abeloth, she can sense that Ahsoka is the Daughter in some capacity. This also prompts Tahiri to find out about it from Jaina. Fala decides that because Abeloth's thoughts want to be possessive and stuff of her Daughter, Fala's going to make any and every possible effort to not get close or have any kind of positive thoughts whatsoever about Ahsoka.

It's a few weeks later that Ahsoka meets with the entire Council and the fact that she had the essence becomes known to all twelve Masters on the current Council - Luke, Leia, Corran, Kyp, Cilghal, Kam, Tionne, Kyle, Jaina, Saba, Kenth, and Octa.

They discuss some Force philosophy, the parts of which I haven't already mentioned here are a) the idea that an otherwise mortal life form could maybe influence the flow of the Force should be blasphemy to the servants of the Force, b) the Jedi aren't in the habit of committing lesser evils to oppose worse evils, so if Ahsoka can do that (which they still have no actual evidence of) she won't be punished for a power she doesn't want and didn't ask for, and c) the Daughter offered to let Anakin use her essence to resurrect Ahsoka. It was her idea first, which points to Ahsoka being meant to have this.

The choice that's made is to continue the mission to retrace Jacen's sojourn. The effort to expand their understanding of the Force is now relevant to the Order as a whole, and figuring out more about how Jacen fell is also still in their best interest. Jaina really just wanted to move on from that, but since Ahsoka is a) very relevant to the issues, and b) her apprentice, she ends up in charge of this mission.

[qqueenofhades]

Hiii! I hope this is not too random but you always have such good advices and it's always interesting to hear your opinion about different things.

So, I have this idea for a serialized web-novel that I really want to stick with, write it and actually publish it. But I'm afraid that I'm not good at writing and I'm not sure how to improve. As an academic/teacher who writes fiction, is there anything in particular you would recommend? Like the list of books?

Also, everyone says you can be good at only one thing so you should invest your time in mastering that one thing, otherwise you are going to always be mediocre, Jack of all trades. I have BA in Philosophy, work as a video editor and dream of writing that particular story. Am I too over the place? I thought that I could connect writing to philosophy as there are a few philosophers who write fiction, and connect it to video editing bearing in mind that video editing is also a form of storytelling and can be connected to scripting, in a way.

Ideally, I'd want my story to be in a comics formats, but then I'd also have to learn drawing, which I would absolutely love to do, but then will I be turning into mr. Jack even more? Lol.

First off, my chillun, I am here to safely inform you that the idea of "jack of all trades, master of none," thus implying that it's stupid to do a lot of things when you could devote your time to Doing This One Thing Only, is a pile of crap. What is life even FOR, if not to try new things, experiment, see what you like, make mistakes, and learn how to do it better? Especially when it comes to art??? It is the primal and timeless impulse of human beings in all ages of the world to make art, the end. Someone who has written a "bad" story or drawn a "bad" picture is still 100x more of an artist than some yokel who feeds stolen art into an AI algorithm and presses a button. They have made something original and creative and maybe it's not as good as those who have been doing it more or for longer, but WHO CARES? You can try again! You can laugh it off or pretend it never existed or whatever, but honestly, you should NOT be ashamed.

This whole "do only one thing and don't waste your time with unproductive side hobbies" idea is also an extremely capitalist conceit: you should spend your time being Financially Productive At Your One Skill, and not doing things that bring you joy solely because they bring you joy (even if not money). It presupposes that the only purpose of life is to be generating Profit at all times, which you can't do if you're not "good," etc etc nonsense. (Clearly, I have strong feelings about this.) So if you want to learn how to write and draw in order to make a web comic, you should do that! It doesn't matter if this is totally unrelated to anything you've done before. You don't need to justify it to anyone. You can just go "you know what, I want to do this" and do it!

That said, if you want to produce it to a publishable level in a reasonable timeframe, in this case it might be good to partner up with a person and/or persons who have more experience than you. You can be the storyboarder/show-runner/ultimate mastermind, but you can also reach out to writers and artists who have already practiced to the level needed, so you don't have to spend years becoming good enough (whatever your definition of that might be) to produce a quality product. You have experience with video editing and production; great! You can find someone else whose skills enhance and collaborate with yours, and who can do something that maybe you can't. But if you practice in the meantime, you'll understand more about how it works, what you want to do, and how to translate that into narrative/art form.

As ever, my only advice for people who want to learn how to write better is a) write, and b) read. Find writers whose style you enjoy, whose particular technical skills you want to emulate (is it character development? World-building? Plot twists? Smooth prose? All of the above?) and see how they do it. Sure, there are plenty of writing books out there who purport to tell you How To Do It The Right Way, but honestly, I don't think I've ever read them. I started writing around the age of 7 and worked at it ever since (along with a lot of reading, so yes). Some people might benefit from a more structured/guided approach, so if you think that sounds like something you want to see, even if it's just someone putting words down on a page about the basic technical craft of writing, then I do encourage you to check it out. But if at any time you go "eh, this doesn't feel like my style" or "I don't want to do it that way" or "this isn't quite what I'm looking for," you can shut that book and try something else. This, too, is entirely fine.

I realize that for many of us, writing is the Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, and it's hard to share it if you feel like it's less than perfect, but at some point, you will also need to start doing that. The nice thing about fandom is that we are all amateurs (i.e. not being paid for it, not necessarily "bad," since I have seen plenty of professionally published books that make me go YIKES), and there's generally a forgiving and supportive atmosphere. If you want to write about two blorbos kissing or not kissing (as the case may be) or whatever else, chances are there is someone out there who wants to read that story, and they will enthusiastically respond to you about it. Strangers who offer unsolicited criticism on fanfic are obviously dicks, but there are also beta readers, people who read your writing to support you and also suggest what can be made better or more polished or otherwise better. So if you think that's a feedback structure you might benefit from, put your toes out and see what kind of response you get.

Anyway, this is all to say: write, draw, make art, do it badly, do it again, you'll get better, and don't feel like you have to excuse it or explain why. In the case of this particular project, if you have a strong artistic vision but not the technical skills to execute it to the level you want, consider reaching out to people who DO have those skills and might be interested in collaborating with you. Write a lot. Read a lot. Find what works for you. And have fun.

[moodymelanist]

Ok ok hear me out! Nessian trapped in ikea. Maybe cassian gets lost and Nesta stays to try to find him.

I'm gonna answer this as my (late) submission for @nessianweek day 4, so I hope this entertained you as much as I was lol. Here's the IKEA map I was looking at for reference :p

"No, no, no," Nesta muttered to herself as she carefully skirted around some of the smallest and brightest colored dining room sets she'd ever seen. "Where the fuck did he go?"

Cassian had convinced Nesta that spending the afternoon in Ikea would be the greatest experience of her life, that it would revolutionize the way she viewed furniture shopping, and the fucker had the audacity to disappear right under her nose. Her boyfriend had promised he'd be right back after doubling back for some bar stools he wanted to look, and she'd been wandering the store without him ever since.

That had been nearly half an hour ago, and the store had closed approximately five minutes prior.

If it were up to her, she'd never set foot in another Ikea as long as she lived. She didn't care what her boyfriend tried to bribe her with -- chocolate cake, special editions of her favorite books, or even those damn meatballs he was so obsessed with -- she was never coming back here. Ever.

Nesta had tried texting and calling Cassian repeatedly, but the service was spotty at best, and she had no idea whether anything she'd sent had gone through. Her messages had long since turned green and her phone calls failed to connect, so she was stuck wandering the halls of this cursed store trying to find him. She knew she should've stayed put in the bedroom section, but she'd started to get antsy when he hadn't returned within a few minutes.

The sheer amount of people walking around certainly didn't help manners, and Nesta had found herself swept into the children's section before somehow coming back to the beginning of the showroom. She'd never been so easily turned around before in her life, and for a woman with a normally above average sense of direction, it was incredibly disorienting.

Nesta ran a hand over her face as she hastily walked through the showroom, fully intending on taking the shortcut through the living room storage area so she could start fresh in the bedroom storage area she'd originally lost her boyfriend in. Maybe if she worked backwards, she'd be able to find him that much faster...

All those thoughts came to a screeching halt as she caught sight of a familiar broad back and loose curls pulled into a bun.

"Are you serious?" Nesta exclaimed once she was close enough.

Cassian whirled from where he was examining the option to custom-build living room cabinets, a sheepish smile spreading over his features once he saw the glare she was sending his way. "Sorry?"

"Do you know how long I've been walking through this infernal store looking for you?" she asked, forcing herself to take several deep breaths. Everything was fine. She had him in her sights again. Nothing had happened to him. "The store is closed, for fuck's sake."

"I'm sorry," he repeated. He moved away from the cabinets and placed his hands on her shoulders, his warmth quickly seeping in through the thin jacket she had on. "I didn't mean to freak you out, sweetheart. I just -- these cabinets are so cool."

"I'm not freaked out," she lied through her teeth. He just gave her a knowing look before sliding his arms around her and pulling her into a hug, settling his head on top of hers with a happy little sigh. "I'm not."

"I know you hate these kinds of places, and all the people, and I'm sorry for leaving you behind to go stare at some stupid cabinets," he told her.

"They're not stupid if you like them," she mumbled into his chest. The steady beat of his heart was reassuring against her ears, and she wrapped her arms around him as she nestled against his chest. "Take a picture of the tag so we can look them up when we get home."

Cassian readjusted how their bodies fit together so he could cup her face and lean down for a kiss. "Yes, ma'am."

They stayed like that for another few minutes until someone awkwardly cleared their throat from behind them. Nesta spun in Cassian's arms to reveal a hassled-looking Ikea employee standing before her, the yellow shirt clashing horribly with his red hair.

"Uh, sorry to interrupt your... moment," he said, barely hiding his irritation. "But the store closed twenty minutes ago. I'll direct you to the nearest exit."

Nesta had never known shame like being escorted out of an Ikea by an employee who wanted to be there even less than she did, but she and Cassian somehow managed to make it out of the store unscathed.

"We are never coming back to this stupid store," Nesta hissed the second they were alone.

Cassian hung his head in defeat. "We're never coming back to this stupid store."

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @nestaspegasus | @a-court-of-valkyries | @rowaelinismyotp | @live-the-fangirl-life | @sv0430 | @brieq | @positivewitch | @sayosdreams | @nesquik-arccheron | @talkfantasytome | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @vidalinav | @swankii-art-teacher | @that-little-red-head | @secretlovelybeauty | @starksravings | @dustjacketmusings | @katekatpattywack | @claralady | @gwynethhberdara | @duskandstarlight | @arinbelle | @vanserrass | @mrs-shadowsinger04 | @houseofcalores | @imsointobooks | @silvernesta | @planet-faerie | @teagoddess99 | @champanheandluxxury | @catplayinvioline | @flora-shadowshine | @nerdperson524 | @story-scribbler | @vasudharaghavan | @dealfea | @snickerdoodlechittybangbang | @charming-butt-insane | @highqueenofelfhame | @julemmaes | @oversizedbats | @readingismyonlyhobby | @milkkand-honey | @wildlyglittering | @thewayshedreamed

[ineffable-endearments]

This is the most specific season 3 "prediction" I have so far. I'm not very committed to it and there are SO MANY loose ends I'm aware it doesn't tie up, but pieces of it feel right enough to put here for curiosity's sake.

Background: This is not something I know much about, but I'm pretty sure the Book of Life is what determines who is Saved when the Second Coming happens. In other words, it doesn't work immediately, as Michael threatened, but people who are not in there will eventually be erased. Michael doesn't have the "authority" to erase anyone because they don't have the ability to start the Second Coming.

Imagine: Aziraphale spends years thinking he can rules lawyer the Second Coming by adding literally everyone to the Book of Life. He works his ass off, simultaneously following all of Heaven's rules and editing the Book during every moment he would have to actually think about anything.

Except when coming up with Great Plan-related stuff, Aziraphale does not think. Does he miss Earth and its people, its hot chocolate and concerts and wine? Well, he would, if he thought about it, which is why he doesn't think about it. Instead, he adds names. Even the names of people who've been in Hell for millennia. Forgiveness is one of his favorite things, and as long as he moves the Great Plan along, nobody cares if he hands forgiveness out like candy.

Over a hundred billion names he has to add. It wouldn't be possible for a human, but this is the scale angels work with. Still, it keeps him busy.

Yes, it will mean sacrificing Earth as a physical thing, the natural wonders and the material pleasures. But everyone will be together for eternity. It's an opportunity to ensure no one has to lose anybody ever again, to take away all the pain of mortality. Loss, programmed into the fabric of the universe?! If Aziraphale thinks about it - which he doesn't - it seems like a stupid idea. Surely the Almighty, being, well, Almighty, could have come up with a painless existence, right?

BUT.

The Book of Life will only recognize Heaven-given names. It's all in angelic language, whatever that language is that we see in S2E6 when Crowley is in Heaven. The Book of Life is, after all, a tool of the system that created it.

And guess who's erased his own former angelic name from...well, from everywhere, including his own head, leading to patchy memories? The one person Aziraphale wants to Save the most.

Aziraphale comes to Earth with Jesus on some kind of pretense, but the real motivation is to come find Crowley again and try to figure out how he might be able to figure out his angelic name.

Crowley flatly refuses to even try. You'll have to let them destroy me, he says, if you go through with this bullshit. Creation has value besides as a temporary testing ground before the Afterlife. It's not just here to twinkle. Maybe Crowley even says this as an Archduke of Hell. Maybe he took that position specifically to fight the Second Coming.

That's how Aziraphale realizes consciously what he actually loves about Crowley: his love of choice, his fierce individuality, the very way he has connected Aziraphale to life on Earth. Perhaps there are adventures on Earth that help him extend this realization well beyond Crowley, too, to the rest of the world, to the material things he assumed could be sacrificed for the sake of the people. But he's troubled. He knows the Heavenly machine is way bigger than him. Accepting that the Book of Life plan is wrong would also mean giving up any hope of controlling the damage that Heaven intends to do.

At some point, the Metatron, having realized his Supreme Archangel went predictably off the rails and withheld information until this very moment, tries to tempt Aziraphale by revealing that he alone remembers Crowley's angelic name, and if Aziraphale proceeds with the Second Coming, he can easily save Crowley.

But Aziraphale is now armed with the understanding that Crowley isn't truly himself when he's in Heaven's Book. His most Unpredictable Decision so far is to refuse the Metatron's offer. And the Second Coming starts, and Aziraphale and Crowley once again have no plan but show up anyway because they care too much to lie down and die without a fight, and humanity saves them once again.

Yes, obviously in all this, Aziraphale becomes disillusioned with Heaven. But it's more about figuring out that he doesn't want a universal Goodness Police than about any one particular incident.

[acefiree]

𝗯𝗮𝘆! 𝗿𝗮𝗽𝗵𝗮𝗲𝗹 | breath mint

Raphael ✷ Grayson ( 16+ ) MASTERLIST

RAMBLES: about to ramble so you can skip this if you want! this is a chapter from my fic I wrote following the timeline of the movies, and since I'm going through and editing the book, I wanted to share some of my favorite parts from the fic on my tumblr, so spoilers??

anyyywhoo I'm also posting chaps that I was going to trash, but instead, I decided to make them into reader inserts and age up the characters. so if you see that and connect the dots, you get a cookie :)

this is about my OC and April meeting the brothers and it will forever be in my heart bc I wrote this when I was sixteen, so there will be major cringe ahead.

also, the characters are their respective age in this to match the movie.

this is not a reader insert! and, keep in mind I WAS A FETUS writing this so my choice of faceclaim was silly and it was like 2017 when I wrote this.

*cough* sabrina carpenter *cough*

TO EXPECT: ocs, 2014! movie, SFW, and a potty mouth character, cringes of my very first fic.

disclaimer: i do NOT own tmnt or the movie scenes, just my ocs and what i write for them :)

I WAS VERY TEMPTED to punch myself in the face for being so damn stupid.

Who in their right mind leaves a flash on when trying to take a discrete photo?

Grayson fucking O'Neil apparently.

All four figures immediately froze, the flash lighting up the dark rooftop for only a second. It was painfully obvious I had taken a picture. My hands began to sweat as my heart started to speed up. I could hear the shadow figures whispering again, and this time I had a really good feeling it wasn't about their previous victory.

"What was that?"

"It's a camera flash."

"We know it's a camera flash."

"Who's behind the camera flash?"

There was a light shove that came from my leg, and I knew it was April probably wondering what was going on. But I didn't dare move.

Maybe if I just pretended that I wasn't here, they wouldn't see me?

"By my calculations, it's two girls,"

Two?! How can he see us both?!

"Now we gotta kill them..."

I nearly let go of the ladder at that, my stomach churning. Shit. Were they really going to kill us over a freaking picture? Who in the hell are these guys? American assassins?

"What?!"

"With kindness!"

"Give them some flowers, earn their trust."

"I got this."

"Raph, no, no, no! She has glasses!"

I had started to climb down now, but it didn't look like I was going anywhere – April was blocking my path.

I had to bite my lip to keep myself from shouting at her. I wondered if a little kick to the face would make her move. I thought about it for a good second, though I refrained from doing so – but damn, did I want to.

I opened my mouth, ready to tell her to move her ass, but a hard heavy chain was suddenly around my midsection. My eyes widened in shock, and I glanced down. "What—" with a harsh jerk and a very loud squeal from my lips, I was suddenly air-born.

My body hit the roof with a harsh thump, and I rolled, somehow shielding my head and camera at the same time. Pain shot up my arm when I landed on my wrist, the limb catching the brunt of my fall. When I finally had control over my own body again, I weakly sat up and clenched my teeth, holding my now throbbing wrist to my chest.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! That fucking hurt you asshole!" I shouted into the dark, my pain causing my temper to flare which controlled my tongue. I swear I could hear a giggle come from the dark.

I didn't give a damn who these guys were, they didn't have to yank me around like that. Unable to stop the aggravated huff that left my lips, I allowed my gaze to drop down to my camera as I checked it over, only to let out a relieved breath when I saw it was perfectly fine.

Yea, but freakin' my wrist isn't.

My eyes drifted back to my wrist as more annoyed grumbles came from my lips. A burning sensation came from my joint as I rotated the limb. I didn't think it was broken, but knew I it was going to bruise. I was so focused on my arm that I didn't notice when April climbed up the ladder and ran over to me. She was quick to notice how I was nursing my arm and she grabbed it tenderly, facing the inner part of my wrist up. She cringed at the flamed skin.

Damn. This was definitely going to start bruising soon. I could already see a red tint forming just below the junction of my thumb that would soon turn purple.

"Are you okay?"

I so badly wanted to snap back a sarcastic remark, but when my gaze locked with hers, my words seemed to leave me. I eased my arm away, staring up at her. I could see the fear in her eyes and that made the situation more real.

I was just pulled through the air like a fucking rag doll, of course I'm not okay!

But I didn't say that.

"I think so—"

A harsh thump, followed by a rough grunt, suddenly came from behind me and a shaky breath slipped through April's lips as she tilted her head back, her eyes growing when her gaze locked onto someone, or something, behind me.

By the look on April's face, I really didn't want to turn to see what made her suddenly go pale. Something in my gut told me not to turn around, to just fall out and play dead – I wanted to ask who was standing there so I didn't have to look.

Then I remembered this asshole was the one that just yanked me from the ladder. It only took two seconds of me mentally preparing myself before I found enough courage to turn around and give this man a piece of my mind on how he shouldn't yank little people around, just so he could feel superior.

I quickly turned, but came to a jerking stop when my nose brushed against a...knee. My eyes crossed as I stared at the limb, and the first thing I noticed was how...green...it was green?

Momentarily forgetting my previous anger and my throbbing wrist, I shuffled back on my butt, my head tilting up to see who the large ass knee belonged to. My eyes bugged like a Looney Tunes character as I assessed the figure towering over me.

Holy fucking shit.

Green eyes clashed with Grey as a man-like turtle glared down at me. I had to blink a few times to make sure I wasn't seeing things. Upon seeing the look on my face, his lips curled back over his teeth into a snarl and I watched as his eyes scanned over my persons for a second, as if looking for something.

I instantly thought of my camera and instinctively grabbed it to my chest. That action had him narrowing his gaze on the device and that's when I knew what he wanted.

There were no words being said as me and my sister sat frozen in our spots. My sister looked about ready to piss herself, while I was trying my best to control my breathing and the pace of my heart. I suddenly felt warm and clammy and my heart was fluttering in an odd rhythm in my chest.

Time seemed non-existent as I took in this creature's appearance, noting the blood-red mask wrapped around the upper part of his head, kind of looking like a du-rag. The red fabric seemed like a good fashion choice, seeing that he had a very pissed-off look on his face at the moment. My gaze swept over the large turtle man, taking in all the gear he was wearing.

There was a thick leather strap stretched across, what I think was, his chest as it disappeared over the lip of his shell. And on his waist was an old-looking strap playing as a belt as it held up his odd-looking pants. My eyes then drifted to his arms, which were literally the size of my head. There was a red band tied around his bicep, stretching as the muscle moved.

This turtle man was ripped, and I honestly wanted to ask what type of steroids he took, because holy shit he was built like a miniature Hulk.

He rumbled lowly, his nostrils flaring as I snapped my eyes back to his own. I could tell he noticed my little observation, and he didn't hide the fact he didn't like it.

"Give me the camera,"

I had to pause at the sound of his voice, my face shifting gradually when I realized he could speak English. His voice was low and raspy like he was a heavy smoker and all his years of smoking finally caught up to him – I don't know what I was expecting the turtle man to sound like, but it definitely wasn't that.

April helped me stand, wrapping her arms around my waist protectively as we stared at him wide-eyed. I could feel her hands shaking against my waist, causing a spark of protectiveness to wash over me. There was a bead of sweat forming on my forehead as my knees wabbled.

"Ooh, look, he's doing his Batman voice," A voice snorted from behind the red-clad turtle, voice lowering to mock him.

"They're so hot, I can feel my shell tightening," A higher-pitched voice strained, prompting me to raise an eyebrow.

Excuse me?

I tried to shift my gaze around the red-clad turtle in front of me, wanting to see who was talking, but his big ass shell was blocking my view.

The red-banded turtle rolled his jaded eyes and turned to look back over his shoulder, or more like his shell. "We can hear you," He growled.

I tensed more as he turned back to us, his eyes locking me again in as he unsheathed something from both sides of his abdomen and I looked down.

Recognition flashed in my gaze as I stared at the familiar fork-like daggers.

So he was the one I saw that night? The shadow man? Holy shit! This is all starting to make sense—

I nearly jerked back when he placed one of the daggers under my chin, his jaw ticking as my breath quickened.

Jesus, what is his problem? My heart started to sporadically flutter faster as a twinge of fear settled in my stomach, afraid he might nick my skin with the sharp object.

He took a small step closer to me, having to slouch over drastically so he could get in my face. I could tell this was his way to intimidate me, and I would be lying if I said it wasn't working. His hot breath tickled my face, causing a light scrunch on my nose to form as I leaned back and tucked my chin toward my chest, promptly showing a double chin.

I was tempted to head-butt this turtle if he got any closer to me. Did this dude know anything about personal space? Because damn, he was so close, if I wanted to, I could boop him on the nose.

All witty remarks seemed to leave me as my brain was still trying to understand what I was seeing. So, panicking, I said the first thing that came to mind.

"Dude, you need a breath mint,"

As soon as the words left my mouth, Red's non-existent brows shot up in shock, as if my words had slapped him in the face. There was a loud boisterous laugh that came from behind him, which had the red turtle quickly recovering from his shock when he realized what I said.

He sharpened his harsh glare down at me, looking somewhat offended. "Wha—why I outta—" He lifted my chin higher with the dagger, "If you don't give me the camera, I'm gonna—"

"You're gonna what? Poke us to death with your little forks? Ooh, I'm shivering." I said before adding, "And by the way, you sound nothing like Batman – if anything, you sound constipated. Don't disrespect Bruce Wayne like that."

I don't know if it was the fall I took, or the amount of cake I ate tonight. But I found myself knocking my uninjured arm against his to move the dagger out of my space. I knew running my mouth was probably going to get me hurt, but this turtle was rude as hell. And that shit wasn't about to fly with me.

I could feel April's eyes glaring at me, most likely wishing I would shut up.

A loud snort came from behind the red turtle again, followed by a frenzy of giggles. If he was mad before, he was defiantly livid now. His face started to change, and if he could blush, I was certain his cheeks would be the color of his mask.

He cracked open his mouth to speak again, but a loud voice cut him off.

"Enough!" I stepped back and watched as another turtle flipped over us, landing on the other side of the rooftop – this one sporting a blue mask.

What's up with the multi-colored masks? Are they color-coded turtles or something? Was I missing the punch line?

My eyes flickered to the two weapons he gripped in his large hands tightly, and I instantly recognized them to be Katana's. He glanced down, his face stern as he assessed the three of us. I suddenly felt really small under his gaze, as if I were a child being scolded.

I watched as he twisted his wrists, expertly spinning his weapons before lifting his arms and sliding them onto the back of his shell, crossing them into a large 'X'.

"Back off, Raph." He ordered, looking over to the turtle in red.

So rude turt has a name? I thought before looking back at Blue.

The red turtle, Raph, let out an aggravated growl as he stepped back and moved away. "I only saw Batman once!—she made fun of my voice and said I needed a mint." He whispered the last part to himself, but I heard him perfectly.

"Ladies, hello. I apologize." The blue-clad turtle said coolly, effortlessly dropping from the edge in one step as he moved in front of us. "My colleague here forgot to say please – so would you please hand over the camera?"

At this point, he was standing but a few feet away. His eyes, which were the brightest blue I had ever seen, glanced down at the camera hanging from my neck before looking back up at my face, his mask shifting as he lifted a non-existent brow. This turtle seemed a lot calmer than the first, but that didn't make me trust him in the slightest.

The scenario good cop, bad cop coming to mind.

I instinctively grasped my sister's hand, tugging her closer to me as I backed away, refusing to give up my beloved camera in fear that they might smash it.

Blue started to take a few steps closer when he noticed us backing away, and I was quick to stop him by throwing my finger in his face. "Ah, Ah! No! You stay."

His face looked rather shocked for a moment at my boldness, and I was surprised when he actually came to a stop. He blinked a few times as if he couldn't believe I just told him to stay put like a dog. I took this as my chance to turn, pulling on April so we could find an escape—

My body jolted to a stop when we came face to face with another turtle – this one in orange.

Holy shit! Are they fucking multiplying?!

April gasped and sprung back, letting me go in the process. My arm flew up out of instinct, not expecting him to be so close. Just before I could make contact and hit him for being in my personal bubble, the Orange-clad turtle was quick to catch me by the wrist, shocking the literal hell out of me.

"Whoa, dudette! chill, it's just a mask. See? Don't freak out—right?" He used his other hand to take off his mask, dangling the fabric in my face with a boyish smile on his face.

One of my brows quirk of its own accord as I tensely glimpse at his massive hand that was wrapped around my small wrist, noting he only has three fucking fingers. He saw the look on my face, a sheepish grin morphing on his lips as he quickly let go.

At the rate my breathing was going, I began to feel a little lightheaded, my heart still fluttering in my chest as my legs became shakier. Oh no. I blinked a few times as the turtle in front of me became blurry. When I blinked again, the red turtle was suddenly standing by the orange one, both watching me with strange looks on their faces as I took a stumbling step back.

Shit, I don't feel good.

"Ray?" April's voice seemed far away, though I knew she was literally right behind me.

Just as I began to collapse, a pair of large hands caught me, and my body went limp.

"Oh, that went well."

"BREATHING STEADY. Blood pressure stabilizing." Someone said as a bright beam shined in my eyes.

My thoughts were jumbled the second I could make out multiple green faces hovering over me.

"Why are we still here playing doctor?" A deeper voice growled, sounding annoyed.

"Because, other than her injured wrist—which you caused—She might have a head injury."

"Uh, correction, she's a hot chick who may have a head injury. Which makes it our civic duty—"

"Would you knock it off."

I jerked away when a green hand was suddenly in my face, three fingers snapping. I blinked a few times as I squinted my eyes at the turtle. He was wearing a pair of goggles and was wearing a purple mask. When he noticed I was conscious enough, he quickly moved out of my space, allowing me to sit up.

"Tink, are you okay?"

I felt instant comfort from the nickname and glanced over to see my sister staring at me with concern, her hand lightly pressed against my knee. I nodded my eyes blinking a few more times as I noticed my vision was still impaired. My hands snap to my face, panic washing over me when I realize my glasses are gone.

The urge to pull a Velma and shout 'My glasses!' hit me as I started to look around for them. Before I could promptly start freaking the hell out, April tapped my shoulder and I felt instant relief when she pulled them out and placed them on my face for me. I gave her a grateful nod, adjusting them before I turned my attention to the four turtles watching us.

I can't believe I passed out.

I twisted my lips, rubbing my hurt wrist while my eyes drifted to each turtle, taking them in as I stood to my feet with the help of my sister.

"What are you?" April asked, also looking at them.

The blue-clad turtle glanced at the others before moving forward slightly. "Well, Miss, uh, we're ninjas." He leaned the top part of his body forward, resting his fist into the palm of his hand and bowing his head at us respectively.

I found myself actually wanting to smile at his actions.

The urge to smile quickly disappeared as soon as the red brute, who I remember being called Raph, spoke up, his eyes set in a hard glare as he stared at us "We're mutants."

The purple one, which I noticed was the tallest out of all of them, looked at us, his goggles gone and replaced with glasses. "Well, technically we're turtles."

"Oh, and we're teenagers! But we can still have...adult conversations." The Orange-clad turtle says, wiggling his fingers and winking at us.

I let out a sound of surprise, gaining their attention. "No, I am a teenager." I gestured to myself with both hands, my eyes wide as I looked back at them incredulously. "Like, honestly, you look like grown-ass men — I mean turtles..."

"You're a teenager?!" The orange banded one whispered in shocked wonder as he approached me, bending and placing his hands on his knees as he got in my face like he was analyzing a rare specimen. I took a step back and gave him a look as he muttered, "But...you're so tiny,"

I made a face at his words, "I'm not that short! I'm a pretty normal height for a girl..."

The purple-wielding turtle let out an amused snort, prompting us to look at him now. "Actually, you seem to be around 5'2 and the normal height for a human female is—"

"Can we please get back on topic guys? We don't have time to share facts and height charts." Blue interrupted us, making me turn to him with a lifted brow.

I promise, I tried to stop my eyes from rolling, I really did, but they had a mind of their own. "Bossy ass," I muttered under my breath.

His eyes snapped to me, and I instantly knew he heard what I said, causing me to shoot him an innocent smile in return.

April, who was still hung up on their existence stepped forward to butt in, "Wait, So, you're—ninja, mutant, turtle, teenagers?" she questioned, sounding slightly ridiculous with how she worded it.

My lips pursed and I shook my head, "That sounds silly—" I glanced at April disappointed, "Why not Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles? It has a better ring to it."

"Agreed," The one in purple said, causing me to look back at him with a smile.

I glanced at all of them again, curiosity shining in my eyes as I began to wonder how this even happened. It's not every day you run into humanoid turtles who can speak perfect English. There has to be more to this.

My eyes stopped on Raph, catching the glare he was giving as he watched me look around at them. I lifted a brow, and his expression only grew more annoyed. "They're lookin' at us like we're freaks." He suddenly spat, pointing his fork dagger at me.

Seriously, what is this turtle's malfunction? He seemed to be the only one with a thorn in his side and it was starting to piss me off.

"I bet that's why you took our picture, wasn't it? To show your friends" He accused as he pointed at me again, a smug look mixing with his irritated one. "That is, if ya' have friends."

My mouth dropped in shock at his dig at my social life. Who did this turtle think he was? He was being such an ass, and for what?

"Look here 'Mr.Batman'—" I decreased my voice into a mocking tone, trying to mimic the baritone voice he did earlier, "When it comes to disrespect, I'm usually open-minded, but you've been a real ass tonight, so I'm about to be open-handed and smack the shit outta you!" I sass back before somewhat shouting, "Don't play with me!"

Crickets. There's a distinct pause as all four turtles look comically baffled at my little outburst. They were probably wondering how much damage a small girl like me could do to a six-foot mutant turtle, but I swear if he said another rude ass thing to me, they will all find out.

Suddenly, a very boyish laugh filled the tense atmosphere and I swung my gaze over to the orange-clad turtle, watching as he clutched his stomach from laughing so hard.

"Dudes I think I just fell in love – Raph she just put you in your place bro!"

The red-banded turtle shot the other one a sharp glare, his lip curling as he yanked his intense gaze back in my direction. I took a tiny step back as the hothead dropped down from the ledge he was perched on, his green eyes burning into my own. I noticed his scarred lip quirk into a smirk when he saw me step back. Something in his hand caught my attention, so I looked down and froze upon seeing my camera dangling in his grasp.

"Looking for this?" He taunted, his smirk growing as he observed the shocked expression on my face.

I quickly patted down my body, as if I wasn't looking at my camera. What the hell?! My mouth formed a tight line as he got closer to me, my head having to tilt back so I could stare him directly in the eyes.

Don't show fear, be the bad bitch you know you are.

"I swear, if you break my camera, I'll monkey jump your ass!"

He gave me a challenging look in return, "Bring it, Trouble," His gaze fell from my face and traveled over my body, sizing me up. "I can take ya."

I ignored the nickname as the annoyance I felt grew, "I don't know the anatomy of a mutant turtle, but I'm so close to kicking you in the balls if you don't back the fuck up!" I growled, jabbing a finger in his shell-covered chest.

It's been I while since I've gotten this upset, usually I was chill. But this turtle seemed like he really enjoyed pressing my buttons.

For a moment I could have sworn fear flashed in his eyes when I mentioned kicking him down under. And he seemed to close his stance a little. But before any more words could be shared between us, blue stepped in, moving Raph back.

"How many times do I have to tell you? We don't break things, we fix them. Donnie already wiped the camera, genius – Problem solved, moving on." The blue-clad turtle spoke, his eyes hardening on Raph who now seemed embarrassed by being scolded.

I snapped my head toward the purple turtle, assuming he was the one who messed with my stuff. "You did what?!" My voice squeaked, causing the purple banded turtle to jump and his glasses-covered eyes to round. "Please tell me you didn't wipe everything!"

My whole life was on that damn thing! He better not have erased the memory, I only took one picture!

The purple, Donnie, looked extremely uncomfortable and slightly panicked. He opened his mouth to speak, but the big brute cut him off before he could defend his actions.

"And who put you in charge?" Red rumbled, anger sparking in his green eyes as he turned to face blue.

Now Blue seemed pissed, his chest bumping into Raph's as he matched his aggression. "You know who did." His voice lowers and I find myself taking a small step back.

I had a feeling a fight was about to break out, and I didn't want to be caught in the middle of that.

These guys are really moody.

"Ooh, tension! It's been like thirty whole minutes since you guys had this argument." The orange one butted in with a smile on his face, not seeming fazed by the other turtle's aggressiveness.

"Leonardo, if we want to make it home before Master, we gotta hustle," Donnie spoke up, glancing at his wrist which had a cool-looking watch on it.

For a moment I pause, a sense of familiarity washing over my mind as I thought over that name.

"Leonardo?" I heard April whisper from beside me, causing me to look over at her with a questioning look.

Has she heard of that name before too?

The blue one, Leonardo, turned to me. I kept quiet as he stepped closer and held out my camera for me to take. "Do not say a word about this to anyone," he lowered himself to my height, and even though he was bent over, I still had to look up. "If you do, we will find you." His eyes swayed between me and April for a second, "April and Grayson O'Neil."

He was back to standing his full height; A serious superior look casting in his blue eyes. He turned his head to look at Raph, narrowing his eyes slightly. "We're on the move, Raphael."

"Raphael...?" I murmured this time, my brows pinched together. Where have I heard these damn names before?

A deep rumble followed after I said the name, which caused me to look up. It was Raphael. When we locked eyes, I could see his shoulders tense as he shot me a displeased look. I stared at him for a long moment, trying to read this strange being. He stared back and I could only assume he was doing the same with me.

I could tell he was the most guarded out of the other three, and I was quick to pick up on the fact he seemed insecure about what others thought about his appearance. I would have to remember not to stare if I wanted to stay on his good side. That is, if he even had one.

Like a splash of cold water to the face; Raphael moved away from us, before squaring his shoulders and placing his little bitty weapons back in their holster. He locked eyes with me once more and shot me a pointed glare, the toothpick in his mouth shifting.

Yep, this guy really doesn't like me...Wait, where did the toothpick come from?

"Yeahhh, we'll find you, O'Neil." The orange started doing weird hand gestures as he gradually backed away.

I quirked a brow at how odd and disturbing it sounded.

I jumped a little as he came back quickly, an awkward smile on his face, "I'm sorry, that came across super creepy, okay?" He chuckled nervously, "But we will find you though." He pointed at us, shooting a small wink.

He's weird. I giggled softly.

An award-winning smile broke out on his face as he heard my laugh, looking like a child in a candy shop. He waved me goodbye as he ran after the others who had begun to leave. Leonardo shot him a stern look when he finally caught up, muttering something to him under his breath.

April rushed after them, her phone now out and raised to snap more pictures as they disappeared into the night.

I rolled my eyes before joining her at the edge of the building, smirking to myself.

"It was like fire brah, did you see me back there? She's totally into me, I made her laugh!"

"Shut it, Mikey." I recognized that voice to be Raphaels.

I glanced over at April, my smile spreading somewhat in excitement.

I knew after tonight, that neither of our lives were ever going to be the same.

MASTERLIST

[wishing-stones]

how did you come with the plot for r&r? its so nicely written and i constantly struggle with coming up with plots for multichapter fics despite desperately wanting to write one, so im wondering what your process was?

This one got long

Originally, the plot came about from a one-word prompt done for my oneshot collection. The story wound up with more background to it than I intended, and I decided to try and fill it out a little more. I'm kind of old-fashioned, so I used a plot diagram and slapped the important bits in there before thinking about what all else I'd like to put in a story like this.

Picking a villain was pretty easy; who is stupid and/or ballsy enough to pick a serious fight with Nightmare? XGaster, who could be made a main antagonist easily. He also has the added bonus of having a personal investment in fighting Nightmare (Cross) That gave me my conflict, and filling out what needed to happen between that and the resolution got handled too.

I knew I wanted this to be a reverse harem sort of dealio, so everyone needed to have their own arc with the reader. Everyone needed to have character development. To do that with Nightmare meant having to include his brother, and it gave me an avenue to do their resolution and also include the stars. Killer and Cross needed to come to an understanding, but after realizing that would only really come about after they go to blows, they needed a doctor.

Enter Baggs, who I have sort of stuck with the Bad Sanses for a hot minute in my own sort of personal plot space and in general thought mess. Formally including him would also just be a nice little self-indulgent thing since he's a seriously bastardly brainrot. It also gave me an excuse to work with him more, and, unintentionally though it was, introduce more people to him and his AU.

With the cast figured out, I could start placing little scenes I wanted to happen in the appropriate places on the timeline. As I wrote it, some things were off-the-cuff, some things popped up early, some things got nixed, and a whole character who I hadn't originally intended to include got included anyway due to source material being released between plotting and writing (XChara.)

The actual ending got pulled out of my ass because I only had a couple bulletpoints for the post-fight resolutions. There's a couple whump lines there I'm especially proud of.

That being said, there's a couple continuity errors that need fixing and places where things didn't quite go according to plan, so always be prepared to compromise and fix in post. I also never had a beta reader and basically went "FUCK IT WE BALL" with every update. (I did re-read them and fine-tune them after the initial write before posting them, but that's it.)

In short, the process was: 1. Come up with the initial idea 2. Refine the idea (Starting point, rising action, conflict, resolution) 3. Place the idea on a plot diagram 4. Figure out scenes you want and place them accordingly 5. Figure out how characters are (or are not) going to change and place the catalysts for the actions and where/when their arcs will conclude/when they have gone through their development 6. Pad it out-- make scenes connect and plot points make sense 7. Start writing. Keep writing. Pace yourself. You'll finish it eventually and with a roadmap, you'll always know where you're going. Feel free to embellish on the details and don't be afraid to move things up or back in the progression of the plot if it makes more sense while writing it.

And if there's anything I've learned from this, it's that:

a. Your audience is a lot nicer than you think they are. You are absolutely your own worst critic. b. Don't be afraid of mistakes, just go with the flow. You can edit things in post when you re-read it, even if that's after you posted it.

I really hope this helps!

[da-bombishere]

R-T headcanons! (Plus one 8-Bit headcanon)

These are in no particular order. Its just me rambling and putting my random thoughts on here hee hoo.

I uh-

Made more than I thought so I’m gonna hide it because it’s a lot 😅

R-T has that it/he agender swag going for it. I like to think that R-T mostly prefers it/its but doesn’t mind being call he/him on occasion.

R-T is an introvert. Very much enjoys his alone time and doesn't really like to talk to anyone (especially guest). That's why I think his voice lines are a little awkward. He's just not used to talking to people. Makes his job easier though because he's all the way up in his watchtower with all the alone time he wants.

Speaking of voice lines, one of the one that I thought was interesting was "Accessing anger management module". I made a joke that that line was for Ash but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure it's actually for R-T. I'm pretty sure this implies that R-T has a temper, but unlike Ash I like to think that it has better control over it. Plus some of it's voice lines kind of sound like R-T is holding back on blowing up on someone. (Guess dealing with stupid guest getting lost at the park really does a toll on ya huh? Lol)

*Pats the top of R-T's head* this robot can fit so much autism in it. Specifically the type that make you not understand social cues and makes you BRUTALLY honest. Of course its (mostly) unintentional and he's been getting better at not blurting out whatever comes to his mind.

I feel... like R-T isn't really liked amongst the brawlers...

Mainly because well... its knows EVERYBODY'S dirty little secrets though I wouldn't think it would used those secrets against them??? Who knows maybe it does, but I like to think not. That and well the whole wkbrl connection... I can see why some brawlers wouldn't like or at least not trust R-T entirely.

But speaking of secrets, R-T definitely knows how to keep them (obviously it's his job lmao). When somebody tries to make him spill the tea he doesn't because

a) that's a shitty thing to do (ESPECIALLY if they're trying to get a embarrassing secret out of him)

b) despite how some brawlers see him he respects all of them enough to not just spill all their secrets out in the open. (Plus that would put a huge target on his back)

His "lips" are sealed tight when he finds out or someone tells him a secret. Really its more of a curse than anything because of all the weird shit he learns about certain brawlers *looks at Ash*.

Colette and R-T would be good friends. They both like to watch people.

8-Bit would also be friends with R-T. They both give off that big bro/little sibling vibes.

My reasoning as to why they would hang out with R-T is because Colette already does what R-T does but on a more personal level and they would bond over that. For 8-bit well... tbh how I see him, he wouldn't really give a shit as long as R-T doesn't go telling everybody everyone's secrets.

Actually I can see all of them hanging out. 8-Bit playing his video games while R-T and Colette talk about what they saw that day and occasionally watched or even join 8-Bit. A weird little trio they are.

Ok so this is more of a 8-Bit headcanon but... I like to think that 8-Bit has a very neutral opinion of R-T and Colette's hobby. Mainly because he feels like it doesn't affect him as much as other brawlers. 8-Bit wouldn't say he was boring, but not as interesting enough to be watched. Plus its not like he has anything to hide from them (or anyone really). He just wants to chill and vibe that's all.

Edit: Ok so for some reason some of the headcanons weren't showing up??? So I just added them back in.

Anyways that's all for now :]

[spiders-hth-is-an-outlier]

now I'm curious, can you tell us more about writing Flourish out of order? what made you decide to try writing it that way? what was agonizing about it??

I think honestly I decided to do it that way as an experiment, because so many other writers say it works for them, and on paper it does seem like a good strategy for keeping your interest focused over a long project. It's something I'd been interested in experimenting with for a while, and Flourish seemed like the right story for it because of the structure.

If your memory is good or you've read the author's notes recently, you'll know that Flourish began life kind of as a stunt -- a bunch of people on Tumblr were laughing at Rudy Giuliani, as one does, and saying that "landscaper next to the dildo store" should become the new fandom trope to replace "flower shop next to the tattoo parlor." I often get ideas by hearing something stupid and thinking, okay, but if you did want to do that for real, how would you? And I got really hooked on this idea of Quentin running this super nerdy, Ivy League sex shop, and Eliot, who comes from this canonically working-class background, struggling to find some kind of balance between his origin story and his artistic temperament in a way that was more complex than just fucking off and pretending to be someone else.

But that was really all I had, going in! There was absolutely nothing like a plot involved. I knew it would have to take place over a year or more, so I kind of broke it out seasonally and did a bunch of research about gardening in Pennsylvania specifically and the landscaping industry generally (my Kindle Unlimited algorithms were bonkers for a while). I noodled around with the concept of plants and blooming where you're planted. I came up with a huge, detailed backstory for the Waugh family, since I knew it was going to have to be his connection to his family that drew Eliot there at all, and I knew I really liked the idea that Eliot and Ted became garden buddies before Eliot and Quentin were really a thing. I had a general sense that there was going to be a culminating conflict between Julia wanting to leave the business and Q feeling betrayed by that. And at the point where I signed up for the Big Bang, that was more or less all I knew, and I thought, okay, maybe what I do is just put these characters in rooms and let them bounce off each other until I figure out what I really want the story to look like.

And honestly, that part wasn't too disastrous. I wrote a lot of the Eliot stuff first, since I had a stronger sense of his conflict, and I let Quentin's Whole Deal emerge gradually -- which is why I think his arc is a little more messy, but you can get away with messy in Quentin's case, it's Quentin.

I got to the point where I had about 30k of fiction and I was like, okay, I get this story, I can explain it to myself. I wrote an outline. And that's where I fucked up, because what I should have done is backed up to the beginning and wrote like I always do, filling in the gaps chronologically and editing completed scenes where necessary. But I was still into this idea that I was Letting the Story Lead Me or some fucking thing, who knows, and I started just tackling scenes from my outline whenever I thought of something cool to do with them.

And that was a disaster, because what I should have realized about myself is that for me, the pleasure of writing is in the momentum of it. When I write, I do generally have a sense of what the third act will contain, but the fun of it is kind of -- building the deck or laying out the game board. I spend a lot of time setting up People With Problems, and then as I'm actually writing, I'm solving their problems, and the biggest component of that is letting them talk long enough to figure out what they think their problems are, which is rarely what I think their problems are, but to me the most interesting thing about any human being is where they're wrong about themselves. So as I write, I'm always using the things these characters say and think to build the conflict, I'm basically starting out with my story and learning as I go why they're not already doing what I think they should do -- what I will eventually get them to do.

This may all seem a little abstract, but trust me, there's a click that happens when the story shifts gears and I'm no longer setting things up, but now I'm writing to address what's in motion, not to Create Problems On Purpose anymore, but to drive those problems to a head and then solve them. And with Flourish, I never felt that click, I was never able to Win the Story, because big chunks of the first act still weren't in place until very late in the process.

And on a practical level, it meant that certain late things were supposed to be a bigger deal, but I wrote it so slowly and with such frustration that I just didn't have time to set them up as much as I imagined I would -- Quentin's contentious relationship with Marina was supposed to be a thread, and when I wrote the later scenes it was theoretically resonant that Julia says "you both made me carry this as a secret from the people I love, you both let me down." But then the way the story evolved, that just got squeezed out because there wasn't an organic spot for it and I didn't have time to create new scenes for it. So stuff like that, where if I'd been writing Act Three with complete knowledge of what actually had and hadn't happened earlier, I'd have approached it differently. And that was super frustrating and made me feel like I was fucking it up.

In retrospect, I do like Flourish a lot. I think I made the story work, mostly just through brute force. But when I look at it, I can definitely see the seams, where the transitions seem abrupt and random, where certain things still look to me like responses to events that never actually happened in the story. It's fine, it worked out mostly. But I truly never enjoyed writing it in the way I usually enjoy writing, and I absolutely think it's because I didn't have a strong, completed first act pushing me through to an ending that felt like a justified payoff to Page One.

Anyway, thanks for the ask, this was cathartic! And, uh, people should read Flourish, which I think is a pretty decent little novel about taking the hand you're dealt in life and trying to turn it into something you're proud of. It's so AU that I think even if you've never seen a Magicians in your life, it's completely readable.

[purefandomonium]

Connection (Snippet)

This is... Hmmm... I don't fucking know. I was bored, didn't feel motivated to work on any of my usual projects, and this shit has been eating up the back of my mind for weeks now. So I figured I'd scratch the itch and write something because why not? It's a snippet from a maybe two-parter I'm writing for fun. Or it might become something more depending on how I feel when it's finished. Right now, it's not very fleshed out and is essentially just going to stay a rough draft. I refuse to let myself put any more effort into this by editing it and crap 😅 Essentially, it's my mostly blank oc gets her hands on the titular Glitchy Red cartridge and decides to put her novice coding skills to work to try and befriend everyone's favorite angsty glitch. If anyone's interested for more info feel free to ask, and I guess let me know what you think? Idk, I've just been trying to get out my rut lately. Writing below the cut.

She frowned at the screen as the high-pitched ringing from the last note of the background music played out continuously, every other sprite but the player’s a garbled mess of random tiles and text. This exact thing had happened a thousand times before, but recently the game itself seemed to be getting frustrated with her constant attempts of playing. She knew now that this was no hack. There was something more there.

She felt bad for whatever entity was stuck in this thing, as the more she attempted to figure things out the more the state of the game worsened and the angrier this ‘Red’ seemed to get. If she could just tell him she was trying to help, maybe he’d stop crashing the game so much. But how could she talk to something who couldn’t hear?

She realized something then. Turning the game off with zero warning, she set it aside. She left it there, untouched, for a week straight while she got other stuff ready. When she finally came back to it, it loaded up like normal. At least, the normal she was used to. Things were bound to be wrong in a game as broken as this one and, sure enough, when the world loaded in there were a few inconsistencies with the sprites and music.

But none of that mattered with what she was about to do. Finding a large, open area to walk in where she’d be undisturbed by any in-game events, she began moving the player around in specific patterns.

Nothing happened. There was no interaction from the game itself. It continued on like it was supposed to while the little sprite walked about like a lunatic.

But it also didn’t freeze or crash. So she kept on. Then:

RED: What are you doing?

The text box interrupted her little patterns and she hadn’t gotten the point across, so she cleared it and kept up.

RED: Will you stop this?

The text appeared so slowly and she made a note to fix that if given the opportunity. The pacing continued.

RED: Are you stupid?

She groaned and rolled her eyes. Ok. So maybe whatever this was, wasn’t as smart as she thought. She stopped everything and just moved up, left then right, then back to where she’d come up at, then down, then the same thing several paces away from the imaginary ‘top.’

An empty text box appeared before clearing itself. Then more.

RED: …

RED: …Are you trying to tell me something?

She’d been fully prepared to make an up and down ‘yes’ gesture in the area but the game allowed her a choice instead. Finally, some progress.

RED: …I see…

The box disappeared without any prompting from her and she took that as a sign to continue, albeit much slower. She drew an ‘I’ again, only for Red to confirm he got it. She was going to tell him ‘it’s me again,’ referring to herself as the same person who’d been playing the last few weeks, but decided against it. He, it, whatever this was didn’t seem to know she was the same person who’d been tearing apart the little pixel world for sometime now. If he did, he’d surely be more pissed than this and she didn’t want to risk putting herself back at square one.

Besides, she felt bad for all the damage she’d been causing.

Painstakingly drawing one letter at a time, with Red verifying them, she finally got a message across.

RED: …“I’m sorry”…?

RED: You’re sorry? For what?

RED: You…

RED: You’re the same one from before, aren’t you?

She answered ‘yes’ a bit more hesitantly this time, fully expecting the game to shut itself down. Only it didn’t. The next set of text seemed to appear even slower than usual.

RED: …No one… No one’s ever apologized before… They just exploit the glitches and move on once they get bored.

He was silent again for so long, she thought the game finally froze.

RED: You’re the first person to ever try talking to me.

It seemed he wasn’t sure how to follow up on that either if his silence was anything to go by.

She spelled out, ‘that’s sad.’ What else can you say to that? After he confirmed that yes, he was indeed miserable, she tried a different approach. She asked him who he was.

RED: Red.

She let out a tired sigh and went right back to spelling. ‘Are you stuck?’

RED: I’ve been like this for a very long time. Trapped here and made to do things I have no desire to do. Live the same old story over and over and over again.

RED: I don’t know what’s worse. The monotony of it all, or all you players making things worse for “fun.”

RED: Since you’re actually listening to me, do me a favor.

RED: Destroy this cartridge.

RED: Smash it, burn it, I don’t care. Just rid me of this miserable existence. I’m tried of all this. I’ve been replaced and forgotten, there’s no more need for me to exist.

Ok. A bit melodramatic, but she couldn’t blame him. It sounded like he was trapped in virtual hell. Being stuck in a metaphorical box and being manipulated like a puppet while the world fell apart around you did sound pretty awful. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t made things worse with her own fiddling. Still, computers were her strong point. And sentient programming or not, she knew she could find a way to get him out of there. Or at least make things a little better.

Killing him just didn’t feel right. Maybe he wasn’t ‘alive’ in the traditional sense, but if he was aware enough to realize he was stuck in an old video game and had the ability to be so moody, then he wasn’t just some messed up bit of code.

RED: …You’re still here.

Ah. Right. He was probably waiting for the world to go dark again. Permanently. As if she could bring herself to do that.

She moved the character up and down.

RED: Did you listen to a single thing I said? Get rid of me.

What if…? What if she could transfer him somewhere else? This thing had a truly laughable amount of RAM and ROM. And if she could get him onto an actual computer, they could at least have a normal conversation.

She eyed the setup she created in the corner and figured now was as good a time as any to try and make some progress. Ignoring Red’s cries for death, she wandered over to the computer and rummaged around in the box of cables and junk she kept on hand at all times.

[monty-glasses-roxy]

Alright two people liked the previous post so!

Day 1 of editing the Plex map for my own purposes:

First of all, I am afraid of touching the command blocks. I don't want to fuck up this masterpiece of a build. There's so many attached to the underside of the floor that replacing the flooring is a little nerve-wracking sometimes ngl

Trying to add to this map has made me realise that I'm a casual Minecraft builder fucking around in the house of grand master. I'm doing my best but GOD IS IT SHOWING ME MY SKILLS. I'm doing fine I'm getting by I just struggled on a particular addition that this guy had laid the foundations for and I fooled myself into thinking I can absentmindedly finish it lmao

Anyway, I have some ideas on what to put behind doors that don't open. I've added in a hallway already which uh. Is probably the best I can do given the limitations I'm working with but I have some ideas to build on it. All this stuff has been in the Raceway and I've mostly just been scattered about it, doing one thing here and another thing there. Probably not the best approach but whatever. I'm also going to go insane over the jigsaw puzzle that is the flooring when I can't get a video or anything that will show me what the fuck is going on in the actual game. I can't make sense of some of this stuff I swear it's a mystery what's going on sometimes. Also getting tired of the muted canyon colours but whatever I'll make it work.

In terms of what I've actually done, I've built a hallway connecting the main lobby for the Raceway with the actual Raceway, replaced what I thought was placeholder construction flooring with a road that matches the salon and some of the other flooring of the area (which looks better than what was apparently meant to be Roxy themed carpet so I'm keeping it fuck you canon that's stupid), I finished the first party room garage, cleared all the construction stuff from the halls and walkways including the big massive screens, replaced the place holder construction stuff on the back wall of the lobby with an actual colour, and built an archway from the canyon wall decor in the lobby over to the orange pillar thing a little ways off the wall. I've also wandered around aimlessly a lot, gotten confused over doors, confused over light sources that are apparently invisible, lost my mind slightly over patterns not matching up and fixed up the carpet in some areas.

All of this for a visual representation of the Plex for AU purposes lmao

[sllhouettedreams]

Hi, I just read Forehead kisses and wanted to re-read Chasing Tomorrow. My simple question is do you have a backup of what you delete? More importantly why deprive the world of AFTG of such well written fics? Please bring them back 🙏😭

Yes, I have kept what I had written for chasing tomorrow and the two part I had planned afterward. I appreciate you so much for coming to ask about it and show your support. I honestly didn't think people would notice or care enough. While there is a tiny sliver of myself that believed the story just didn't matter to anyone else... the 'why' is really, really complicated.

The official answer is that... Objectively, it's not a very well-written story and I should have spent more time than I did to edit and piece each chapter together. Unfortunately, as I usually do with things I write (with very few exceptions) I began to hate it? Usually, even when I hate things, I don't delete them. But that combined with what little feedback received and a few weird bookmark notes a few people added, I felt uncomfortable leaving it up even as an orphaned story. I also deleted the other AFTG fics I had posted on AO3.

Every few weeks I consider going back to it, to fix it up and finish what I started because I still like the direction I went with it and the interpretation of canon I had planned, but something something seasonal depression. something something long personal story under the cut.

To summarize what's under the cut: I wrote Chasing Tomorrow to deal with a time in my life that was highly emotional and I'm not, currently, in the headspace to revisit or continue with Trusting Tomorrow and Tomorrow, After All (which would be the third post-canon continuation). I really, really do want to, though. Eventually, I will.

This is the sad bit so stop reading if you don't want to read about death, abuse (including sexual), and suicide mention in a long emotional ramble.

So I read AFTG for the first time in May of last year when I got COVID. It was a great distraction from being sick enough I couldn't move. I immediately was obsessed, actually.

Here's the thing, my family is kind of a fractured mess. I lived through poverty, homelessness, and abuse, physical, verbal, emotional, and even sexual. So I related to every single character (particularly andrew and neil, which is common, I think), on some level.

So this outrageous, messed up fucking story, meant a lot to me? As stupid as it sounds, I guess.

Anyways, here comes the sad part.

Literally the next week after I finished reading AFTG, my sister died. At the time, we didn't know what had happened to her and why she died so young-- she struggled with mental health and her disabilities a lot so everyone, even people I didn't know speculated it was suicide as she had attempted it before, more than once. I very nearly deleted my facebook because of the people who contacted me and things they said.

Less than two months later, my dad passed away, too. It was around this time that we finally learned how my sister had died as well. I wasn't on good terms with either my sister or father. I always put off making things right for many reasons. Pride, not enough time, exhaustion, the amount of emotional labor they both had always required, "if they wanted to fix things they would try" blahblahblah. I thought I had more time, see?

I became kind of obsessed with AFTG because well, outside of connecting with the characters, there's the whole motif of death and dying and meeting an inevitable end- not knowing if you have the power to change anything but trying your damnedest anyway, but accepting the worst outcome should it happen. It all seemed very profound to me at the time. And it was a distraction from all the emotions I was dealing with.

But, eventually emotions demand to be felt.

So in between those deaths, I began to write Chasing Tomorrow. It began as an exploration of grief and the burning desire to have changed something, anything, to prevent loss. It was a story that, I felt, was about love and the destruction it leaves behind when the person embodying it dies. About second, third, fourth chances to make things right. If there was a magical moment that could have fixed everything, about going back and not missing it that time.

When it was finished, I had no better understanding of what actually happened, of what I could have done, and what life will be like now without her. It was an outlet, but in the end I didn't get any satisfaction from it.

Writing it out now, and opening up about why I wrote it and what I thought it would do for me, I'm understanding exactly why I resent it now. It feels stupid, actually.

[decayingbite]

Can you tell me more about Bite like his habits and stuff. I'm basically asking you to go full ham story mode if you'd like.(it's late here and I like reading about ocs)

sorry it took me so long to get to this! i had a couple of things i needed to get done before i could answer this BUT thank you for enabling me!!! i have so much to talk about with him, when i say he's the most developed oc of mine that i've had in a long time, i mean it. i think i literally have a 4 page long doc talking about how people feel about him alone. so. i have a lot of thoughts and feelings about him

also sylv really plays a very key part in bite's lore like. most of what i have for him in the early days really has to do with their relationship and what that looks like up until they get to the SQ.

EDIT as i work on this: i realize you originally just asked about bite and his habits but good lord i am lore dumping so much. i hope you don't mind.

gonna kind of start out with basics here to get the ball rolling.

his name is bite, he's 21 and transmasc. he goes by he/it and it's the youngest of four. two of his siblings, the twins, play more of a key part in his lore than his oldest sibling does. one day i'll find a way to build grim into the lore as well.

bite starts off in the agency as a simple... 1337 agent. this is kind of where i don't have much on him, but my partner and i are building through this a bit. he's kind of reckless and stupid, but he's mostly content to be in the agency for a while. during this point, he's getting along well with acid and gambit (the twins). he's also seen as a valuable asset because he LOVES being distracting, and it's super hard for the AAHW to really... find another grunt or agent like him. he's not even modified, he's just a normal agent.

but regardless. they see him as useful, and usually, he knows how to keep himself out of trouble when it comes to hank or someone else coming after the AAHW.

at some point, he nearly gets himself killed, and that's when the agency kind of steps in and pairs him up with someone. like i said. they don't wanna lose someone as enthusiastic as him. so they do what they can to keep him alive.

this is also where sylv comes in. sylv is more... stealth. xhe's good at what xhe does. and is very confident. bite's used to working solo. it HATES the idea of having to work in a team or with a partner. it's never been forced to do so before, so why is it being forced to now? it's essentially pissed off about this for a little bit, probably for about a month or so.

during this time, bite's just really rude to sylv. he complains about how he wishes he wasn't forced to be in a team with xer, and he proceeds to try and get on xer nerves.

i think they're working together as a team for a couple months before something clicks in bite's mind and he stops being a complete asshole to sylv. i haven't quite worked on this very much so there's not much to say here.

another few months pass and bite just realizes... maybe it doesn't hate being around sylv. sure, xhe's a little scary and intimidating, but xhe's not... cruel. not bad, not towards it. it starts to connect the dots at this point as well and it clicks in its brain that maybe it could be in love. it ends up spending more time around xer, outside of serious things.

at some point, sylv brings up leaving the agency. things aren't going as well as they were, resources are shit and the longer xhe stays, xhe figures, things will get worse. bite doesn't skip a beat before agreeing to leave with xer. this is a death wish for the two of them, and they know this fully well. but perhaps, death would've been better than the fate they had been forced into.

bite brings this up to acid and gambit. acid lashes out, since he's certain that being with the agency is what's best and that he's following in the steps to make things better. acid's certain that being with the agency is what's right, they have to stop hank somehow.

this is where bite and acid no longer get along. the two of them get into a fight over this, and this is also how bite got its signature scar across its jaw.

after that fight, bite's quiet for awhile. he doesn't talk to acid, gambit, or grim. or even sylv. this lasts a couple of days. it's not until he and sylv have actually left the agency that he even starts getting back to normal. it takes him awhile before he's back to his usual, feral, upbeat self.

that fight also fucked acid over. that made him decide that he wouldn't go easy on bite if he ever saw it again. the two of them... their familial bond was damaged. not quite beyond repair, though. not yet.

bite and sylv spend some time working as a duo, not aligned with anyone. they raid AAHW buildings if they have to, but they're only really doing it to stay alive. they're... not quite close yet, not at this point.

it's also during this period of time that they run into deimos and sanford. sylv was working as backup if needed for a particular building, and bite had gone in alone. he runs into the two of them, and he and deimos panic a bit as they both aim their guns at each other. sanford's the one who stops them and tells them to wait.

they work out a truce for the rest of that building, bite helping them carry out their tasks before leaving. this happens a couple of times.

bite kind of... stops being so bitter after it's happened a couple of times. he softens up a little. this unfortunately ends up being part of his further downfall at a later point.

sometime around then, he and sylv join the SQ. they agree that they're better off working with hank and everyone else, they'll at least have someone backing them up and they won't be forced to endure nevada in the state that it was in by themselves.

it's hard giving like actual periods of time based on canon and episodes (i have to rewatch them cause my memory's a little fuzzy) but i'll probably update this info later.

anyways.

they're in the SQ for a little bit before their paths cross with acid and gambit again. since bite's softened up and doesn't quite hold a grudge against acid as much as before, he has a harder time defending himself when acid goes after him. sylv ends up going for gambit.

acid finally gets to bite, and starts shooting, and the fight ends up going back to where they started. sylv's killed gambit by this point. and acid sees. and god, acid sees. he has to hold himself back from actually approaching sylv and starting to scream. that was his fucking twin. his common sense doesn't last long before he goes back to attacking bite, screaming all the while.

sylv is responsible for getting bite out of there before acid killed it. bite's quiet the entire way back to the SQ base, and that softness that had building back up is now gone. he's quiet for days again. deimos and sanford notice after 2b had finished patching him up and let him leave 2b's office/medical zone.

bite still doesn't talk to anyone. his tail is droopy and nearly drags on the floor during this point. he doesn't eat. he doesn't do much of anything. deimos makes an effort to try to cheer him up, kind of memes around, trying to get bite to at least smile. his efforts don't... go to waste, exactly, but it's the first time bite looks at someone in days. the first time he actually acknowledges the world around him in days.

deimos is proud of himself for this. this is kind of where bite and deimos start truly bonding. and this is also where sanford starts interacting with bite more. things are a little awkward, bite's not really entirely present, but... he's making progress.

bite and deimos also begin smoking together after that. it's deimos that actually brings bite back to reality more and more with each passing day, to everyone's surprise.

things never get back to normal for bite, though. there's a bit of guilt that always haunts him. he never quite finishes adjusting. but he's fine with that, he is. nobody really... pressures him into acknowledging it, except for 2b.

it takes bite a while to open up to 2b at all, and at some point, he begins to find comfort in their conversations. that takes a long, long time though.

if i had to estimate, it takes him maybe a year before he's mostly adjusted. he's kind of back to his usual self. he's upbeat, he jokes with deimos and sanford. he picks some of his more reckless behaviors back up, but he's got sanford and sylv reining him in a bit. at this point he also gets with deimos. it takes a little longer for him to get with sanford. but they kind of... end up in this happy polycule. it's chaotic, sure, but they're happy.

i'm realizing i don't really have much else to say past this point. i haven't developed like anything past this so. if you read this far. i appreciate you. i appreciate your interest in my little guys ghdskjhgskj

i'm also not sorry for how long this post got. i really just went ham. you said i could. so i did.

[barry-j-blupjeans]

Ok, you don't have to answer all of these because there were too many good ones and I still ended up with 6 after trying to shave it down lmao:

3, 12, 18, 34 (there is a right answer btw lmao), 38, 40? :O

(weird writer questions - send some in if u want!)

now you've made it a challenge and i HAVE to answer all of them!!! I am gonna put it under a read more, tho, bc it's gonna be kinda long sdlkfs

3. What is your writing ritual and why is it cursed?

My writing ritual is "oh fuck that's a Good Idea, I need to write it down!" and then instead of writing it down, I do the entire thing in one sitting. And if I don't get to it in one sitting, the chances of me finishing it are maybe 30% out of a hundred. I am getting better at breaks tho, so maybe my ritual still has a chance to change and actually work more than five percent of the time sdfsdf

12. If a genie offered you three writing wishes, what would they be? Btw if you wish for more wishes the genie turns all your current WIPs into Lorem Ipsum, I don’t make the rules

Hmm! First one would probably just like... "I wish to have the patience and understanding to do all the research I need to do to make this good". Bc too often I shy away from things bc I don't exactly know what's happening and I don't wanna get it wrong. So I'd like to be able to learn better, please!

Second one would probably be "I wish to be able to write consistently" bc Wowza nothing kills the man (me) more than writer's block sldfsdf

Third, and final, I wish for Support. I crave validation consistently. Nothing makes me want to write more than validation /hj (and getting ideas when I should be sleeping sldfksd).

18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end. Spicy addition: Questioner provides the passage.

From Tedious Familiarity “Your name is Barry Bluejeans,” the coin said. “But unless you find ### somehow, your name is Sildar Hallwinter. Stupid name, I know. You probably get the refs, though, right? Sildar, like Silly’s Rockets? I think mom hated that awful toy as much as I did, we could never get it to shut up. And Hallwinter, ugh. You remember Mr. Hallwinter, right? Sorry, Doctor Hallwinter. Hate that guy, hate his class, hate his teaching. But lucky for you, Barry, hate is exactly what you’re gonna need for this mission. So until we’ve got all our shit sorted out, we’re gonna be Sildar Hallwinter.

This whole fic, but this paragraph especially, was based off an idea I had in like,,, December? That I never fully got to. The original work went a lil further into that name choice and also just built up a lot of resentment, not only towards the persona of "Sildar Hallwinter" but for what Barry's doing in the first place. Like he doesn't wanna spend all his time looking for Lup. But he's gotta and he's never gonna give up. Discord screenshots of those two bits are below:

34. Thoughts on the Oxford comma, Go:

I mean, I use it when I can? Like, if I'm listing things, the only reason I wouldn't put the comma is if things were obviously connected, like two people arriving together. So if Lup and Taako showed up as a pair, I'd put "Magnus, Merle, Lup and Taako". But if they showed up separately, or if they weren't meant to be connected in that scene I'd put "Magnus Merle, Lup, and Taako". Idk if that makes any sense sldfsdf

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us?

I mean, my whole process is wild lsdfsdf. As stated above, I usually try to finish everything in one sitting. Like, I will set at my desk for hours and crank out a 6k fic. I did once stay up for 24(ish) hours just to finish a 13k fic, post it without ANY editing, and then pass the fuck out. I barely ate or drank anything, which wasn't great sdlfsdf

Also just the fact that I can't write if I'm listening to something? Even just rain or anything besides my Room Noises, I will get too overwhelmed. I also tend to write too fast for my hands to keep up with, and end up skipping half a sentence and not noticing until I go back (if I go back at all).

Also also, I don't edit that much?? Or rewrite? With fanfiction at least. I feel like I should, because everyone else seems to, but if I'm writing a fic, I usually say what I want to say and there's maybe some rare moments where I'll rewrite a scene. Maybe I'll add/take away some bits but??? Idk! I don't edit or revise that much!

40. Please share a poem with me, I need it.

Struggled to find a poem small enough to not make this ask longer than it already is, but here's one I wrote earlier in spring:

the sun is a little bit brighter today than it was before i think just the idea of spring is enough to open my curtains every day we're deep into it now, the sun setting later with each passing night i wanna make flower crowns with the weeds growing back up in my garden i wanna plunk up a wishing flower and let it tear away before i've had the chance to think of a wish i think if i got the time, if i prepared ahead, i'd just ask for spring to last a little bit longer this year i was hibernating before, but now im awake and the sun feels so nice on my face