#Wrote it as quickly as I could

[sukunas-princess]

Can I please talk about Sukuna winning you a plushie at the fair? I wanna talk about Sukuna winning you a plushie at the fair. I didn't proofread this bc I just wanted it to leave my head bc i'm too busy dedicating all my active brain power to [redacted] and [redacted] au stories OK thnx

So Sukuna refused to go with you at a time when it was going to be packed because, well... people. So you had come up with the idea to go on a Sunday morning before it got too busy. And everything is going so nicely - there isn't a whole lot of people, but all of the games and food stalls and everything are still open, so you get to still enjoy everything.

And you're walking with him, holding onto one of his hands while his other hand is holding on to a funnel cake that is being brave trying not to crumple under his death grip because it's the first thing he's eaten today, and you squeeze his other hand stupidly tight and start whipping his arm around and he's like "JESUS CHRIST, WHAT!!!" and he's about to turn his funnel cake into a ninja star if he has to because man does not understand what's happening.

You use your hand (which is still in his, btw) to point at an absolutely enormous Doberman plushie dangling above one of the game stalls.

And through a mouthful of crunchy fried dough and powdered sugar he's like "I thought you saw a fucking wasp or something..."

But you're just looking at him like 🥺🥺🥺 and he's like "Yes?"

and you're like "I want it"

and he's like "You have so many plushies at home. You do not need more."

and you're like "Yeah, but I don't have a doberman!"

And as he finishes off his funnel cake, he's like "Why do you need a doberman?"

And you're like "So I can cuddle a big scary guard dog when my big scary guard dog isn't there 🥺"

Congratulations! You almost took out your boyfriend with a coughing fit at how cringe I mean cute you are!

ANYWAYS

He can't say no to you.

He can never say no to you.

Sukuna is more than prepared to dish out whatever money he needs to spend in this rigged game, but by the time he gets to the counter, the stall owner has already taken down the doberman and is telling Sukuna to take it.

"But I didn't win it fai--"

"On the house." the stall owner insists, hands trembling as Sukuna hesitates in taking it from him.

And then off you go with your doberman plushie~~

Thanks for coming to my tedtalk.

[dandelion-roots]

committing atrocities doesn't count if you're a hot bi babygirl <3

[ID: the 'i have done nothing wrong ever' meme where wei wuxian is saying 'i have done nothing wrong, ever, in my life' and lan wangji responds 'i know this, and I love you'. End ID]

[hanzajesthanza]

when sapkowski is all “i don’t believe in absolute evil” like he didn’t write like vilgefortz and leo bonhart and birkart grellenort likeeee okkkk but those guys were preeeetty evil though

[vaya-writes]

Serving the Serpent - 5

Briar owes Lord Isen her life. She works off her debt by serving in his castle. Dealing with the rapidly changing circumstances of her life, she’s not used to anyone paying her much attention. It’s hard when Isen seems set on interacting with her. 

Cis female human with selective mutism x male naga (slow burn, co-workers to lovers, power imbalances, eventual smut). 2500 words. Content warnings for this chapter: references to the cult-like elements of Briar's upbringing. Divider from firefly-graphics

Briar participates in Discourse for the first time.

Previous - Masterlist

The following afternoon, Briar is starting to regret her carefree comment. Learning to read is one thing. Staying seated in Lockwood’s office, trying her best not to hunch over the table, fingers pressed a little too tightly around a piece of chalk, is another. Because learning to read, means learning to write. And learning to write means the dark elf taking the time out of his day to point out letters and pronounce them.  

He’s patient. She’ll give him that. Pointing to each letter before and after she copies it, fingers cramping. He pronounces each sound slowly, then regularly. Gives an example word that the sound is in. Watches for Briar to nod her understanding.  

His face is nearly as blank as the slate she writes on. The only time irritation had flickered across his features was when he pronounced the first letter. He’d waited a beat, before she realised she was expected to copy the sound. She’d opened her mouth. Hesitated. And dropped her eyes in shame when nothing more than a stuttered breath came out.  

To Lockwood’s credit, he’d recovered quickly. Had adjusted the cadence of his lesson, and nothing else, no longer pausing for her to speak. Just waiting for her shows of attention and occasional nods. No further frustration shows on his features. But it doesn’t stop Briar from feeling intimidated. 

That night she lies awake in bed. It’s only when the room is silent, when she’s certain that everyone is either asleep or about to be when she’s able to vocalise. Fragments of sound, not complete words, as she tries her best to remember how Lockwood had spoken, and mimic each phonic. 

Somebody nearby stirs and she’s startled back into silence. She pulls her pillow over her head and sighs. Perhaps she could find some other time alone to practice. Or perhaps just mouthing the sounds would be enough.   

Despite the disadvantage, Briar wakes determined to see the day through, and learn as much as she can during her next lesson. She picks up breakfast on the way to the third floor, where she meets Emilie and assists her with the usual cleaning. The lizard chats as she works, going from room to room to strip the beds and clean the private bathrooms.  

She’s tense in anticipation of entering the lord’s chambers, but finds them empty. Arol’s too. She doesn’t think much of it until lunch time, when she parts ways with Emilie to meet with Cook. Isen and Arol’s meals are absent from the trolley. Part of her regards the change with curiosity.  

“Lockwood stopped by. He said you’re to skip your lesson with Lord Isen today, and to meet in his office early. I’ll have your lunch delivered there.” 

Briar blinks. Tilts her head to inquire why, but Cook misses the gesture as he turns back to work. Once he’s out of earshot, Briar lets the huff escape from her chest. Carries on with the rest of her duties, delivering the noble’s meals. 

Dinah is busy as per usual, buried in paper and parchment, sorting with deadly speed and precision. Her eyes flick up as Briar enters, and she inclines her chin a little as the woman places her tray on the desk corner.  

Briar finds herself faltering as she stops outside the newly occupied offices. She’d been avoiding the newcomers to the castle like the plague. The coral pink naga has a way of leering at her that makes her uncomfortable. And the scaled woman – Briar's not yet sure what she is – has an unwavering gaze; sharp and deadly. It raises the hair on the back of her neck, and has her struggling not to turn tail.  

When her job is done she waves down Emilie, fortunate enough to catch her as she returns from a break. 

“Is something wrong?” 

Briar shakes her head. Points to herself and then towards the stairs. She usually collects the floor’s dishes after her meal with Isen, but wouldn’t have the chance today. 

“You need to go?” 

Briar nods. Then points to her trolley. 

Emilie raises her scaled brows. “You want me to clean up after lunch?” 

She nods. ‘Please.’ 

Emilie hums and hars for a moment, before relaxing with a smile. “I guess I can do that. But you’ll owe me.”  

Briar gives a relieved smile. ‘Thank you so much.’ She even curtsies on the spot to show her gratitude, exaggerated and low. 

Her work taken care of, Briar hurries off to her next stop. 

When she arrives in the dimly lit office, Lockwood isn’t alone. She stiffens immediately in the doorway, eyeing Lord Isen and a lizard newcomer with apprehension.  

Isen smiles at her, gesturing for her to enter. “You’re right on time. We can start as soon as you’ve eaten.” 

Briar tries not to clip her motions, but she can’t help but be unnerved by the additional pair of eyes. ‘Start what, my lord?’ 

Isen gestures to the stranger. “This is Berron. He’s one of my translators. He’s going to teach us to sign your letters.” 

Briar didn’t realise it was possible to go tauter, but she does. It’s been... months, since she’d spoken to anyone fluent in Sign. She thought she be lost in silence forever when Stella died. 

She tries not to gape at Berron, who in turn tries to keep his appraisal light. 

There’s a silence in the room. It seems as if Lockwood and Isen await her reaction. She supposes the breach in etiquette might be warranted this once. Hesitant, she speaks to the lizard.  

‘You speak Sign?’ 

Berron gives an apologetic smile. “Just the basics, I’m afraid. I’m more fluent in the Serpentine dialect. But I can sign the common letters. They’re what you’re learning, yes?” His Common is nearly unaccented, and he gestures a sign occasionally as he speaks.  

He’s not fluent. But hope begins to bloom in her chest. ‘Do you-’ she hesitates. ‘Do you know how to say this?’ She adds a gesture. 

He winces. “No, sorry. What is it?” 

“Her name,” says Isen, who watches the interaction closely. “We still don’t know it.” 

“Ah,” the lizard frowns. “Well, with any luck, soon you’ll be able to spell it!” 

“Or write it,” murmurs Lockwood, who pulls out the chair at his side table. “Shall we begin?” 

Isen stays for the lesson. Practices signing letters as Berron instructs, and Lockwood sounds them out for Briar. She feels a little ridiculous, having a team of three trying to teach her literacy. She reassures herself that Isen is at least having his signing lesson, learning some greetings from his translator.  

All in all, it’s a learning experience for everyone in the room. Even Lockwood appears engaged for the next two hours. Before long he’s signing and pronouncing letters at the same time, before Briar dutifully copies him and writes them down. 

The novelty fades before the week passes. Isen participates long enough to learn how to sign his letters. Once Briar has passing knowledge of the signed alphabet, Berron finishes his tutoring. And her days go back to normal.  

She cleans in the mornings. Serves third floor meals at lunch and dinner. Takes her midday meal with Isen, where he insists she teach him Sign when he’s not busy with paperwork (he’s always busy, but he makes time). Starts learning how to string letters together, and what sounds they make. Gets used to writing with chalk. Then with a pen. And rinses off at the end of the day before trudging down to the common room for a fitful sleep.  

Her nightmares persist. They’re not as frequent, but are no less harrowing. And without a full night of rest, her days are draining. She’s not sure if it’s the inconsistent schedule, or the strange array of work she’s been given, but she feels busy. Like if she were just a cleaner, or if she just served meals things would be simpler.  

She wishes she could talk to Lockwood. To ask him to assign her a permanent position already. But he’s already doing so much for her. Putting aside an hour of his time every day to sit with her while she writes, and her lips form the shapes of letters– if silently. Besides, it’s not like she would be able to make herself understood.  

Still. Objectively, her life has improved. She knows her way around. Is getting used to the minutia of things. She’s still intimidated by Isen’s circle. Pryden and Fern scare her the most, but they’re rarely at the castle. She doesn’t know what they do for Isen, but whatever it is, it’s done elsewhere. 

Whatever they report back to Isen, it keeps him busy. The next time they return, Briar finds Isen awash in paperwork. Enough so that he doesn’t have time for their lunch lessons, only brief reprieves to eat. 

‘You still haven’t replaced Amos?’ 

He frowns. “I haven’t hired a new aide yet, no.” 

‘What are you waiting for?’ 

He squints. “Pardon?” 

She rewords her query. ‘Why not?’ 

Understanding spreads across his features, and he shrugs, turning back to his food. “It’ll take time to train a replacement. Unless you think I should hire somebody not qualified?” His tone turns teasing at the end. 

Briar resists the urge to roll her eyes. Gives an impassive shrug, before continuing her meal.  

Isen leans back in his chair, watching Briar with an unusual interest. “What would you do in my place?” 

It takes her a moment to realise it’s not a rhetorical question. She pauses midbite when she does. Points at herself as if to say, ‘you’re asking me?’ 

“Sure. I want your opinion.” 

She lets her features contort this time. ‘Why?’ 

He crosses his arms. “Humour me.” 

She takes a moment to think. Spends most of it composing herself, and smoothing her expression once more. ‘What type of assistant do you want?’ 

He tilts his head. “What do I want?” 

She points towards Amos’ old room. Signs ‘assistant’.  

“What kind of aide do I want?” 

Nod. 

He shrugs. “Somebody diligent. With initiative. Thoughtful. Around when I need them. On top of things like my schedule.” 

She nearly rolls her eyes again. Restrains her sigh. ‘Then hire a cleaner. What do you want your aide to know?’ 

“Do you mean their qualifications?” 

She gives an emphatic nod. 

“Oh. Well, nothing fancy. They don’t need to be a graduate of anything, I can train them myself. But they’ll need basic literacy and numeracy skills.” 

Part of her sours at the last comment. ‘And are there any schools in the Lowlands?’ 

“Is there what where?” 

‘School. A place of learning. A place of knowledge. Place. Know,’ she gestures until Isen catches her meaning.  

“A school? Here?” He pauses for a moment, speaking as an aside, “Show me that again-” copying her gesture, before, “No. We tried once, but people didn’t show up.” 

Again, she wants to roll her eyes. This time, he does wrangle a reaction out of her, and she has to take a moment to pinch the bridge of her nose. When she looks back up at him, ready to start again, he’s grinning. 

“You’re cute when you get exasperated.” 

She narrows her eyes. Emphatically picks up her now empty plate and takes it to her trolley.  

“Stop, I’m sorry. You weren’t finished speaking.” 

She puts her chair away before stopping in front of his desk. Reigns in her annoyance. Makes herself the picture of a perfect servant. 

‘I would go to the city. It’d be easier to find an aide there.’ 

Isen grins. “You remind me of Arol, you know?” 

She can’t identify his tone. Quirks her brow, lets herself get sucked in to the question.  

“Polite to a fault.” 

She blinks. Hyperaware of how he watches her reaction.  

Briar laces her hands in front of her. Bites down on her lip. She knows he’s goading her. Knows he just wants a reaction. She takes a deep breath. Is about to turn and leave before- 

‘-and you’re ignorant.’ 

He tilts his head. (When she reflects back on this encounter, she’ll be thankful beyond belief that she hadn’t taught him that word yet.) Then he waits, expectant for her to continue. 

‘Why should a parent send their child to school?’ 

He takes a moment to process, understanding he’s being questioned, before giving an apologetic wince. “I don’t follow.” 

‘Why did you go to school?’  

“To learn?” 

‘Why?’ 

He shakes his head. “Uh- it was expected?’ 

‘Why?’ 

“So I could learn to read and-” 

‘Sure. Why?’ 

“My father wanted me-” 

She cuts him off with the shake of her head. ‘Why?’ 

He crosses his arms again, defensive. “It’s what I was meant to do.” 

She pauses. Uses the hiatus to hammer in her point before signing again. ‘Why should I go to school?’ 

He’s quiet for a moment. “Did your parents want-” 

She shakes her head. 

He takes another few seconds. “It’s not expected?” 

No. Again.  

“So you can read and write?” 

‘Okay. Why?’ 

“Why what?” 

‘Why should I read and write?’ 

He frowns, like it should be obvious. “So you can get a better job. So you can get paid. To help you communicate.” 

She shakes her head at each answer. ‘Women cook. Women clean. I was meant to cook and clean. Why should I go to school?’ 

He grits his teeth, confused by the roundabout conversation. It’s the first time she’s seen him visibly frustrated. “Because I want you to be my assistant.” 

The statement is enough to halt her tirade.  

They’re both silent for a moment. Isen, biting his lip, regretting his outburst. Clearly it was something he’d meant to keep to himself. Briar, compartmentalising. Trying to process that information at record speed, wondering if it’s worth dropping her point.  

It’s not. She’s nearly finished. 

After the extended pause, she straightens. Points out the window, towards the peasants in the lowlands, to make her point. ‘Why should they go to school?’ 

Isen takes a moment. Then another. Then his shoulders slump – just barely. “You’re saying they have no reason to come to school?” 

She nods.  

“Oh.” 

He doesn’t look at her, frowning down at his plate, seeming to digest the knowledge. His thoughts have changed direction.  

Eventually he notices Briar, expectant.  

“Yes?” 

‘You want to make me your assistant?’ 

He purses his lips. It looks like he hadn’t planned to tell her for a while. “Eventually. Yes.” 

She stares him down. Lets him stew in the scrutiny until Isen is the one to drop his eyes, experiencing shame, or perhaps guilt, but not quite sure why. 

She waits until he looks at her again to sign her goodbye.  

‘I can’t count either.’ 

Next

[the-last-quest]

While I’m all for Nine being able to go to Green Hill and finally getting a home with Sonic and Tails I think that leaving him the grim made the most sense for his story.

To me Nine’s whole story is his want for a home. He wants someplace safe where he doesn’t have to worry about harm that others may inflict onto him, or having outside forces like the Chaos Council control every aspect of life.

That was his original plan with the Grim. He wanted to build a world from scratch where he was free from everything. He included Sonic in his wants, wanting the hedgehog to be happy and stay with him, the coconut trees being a testament to that.

That however changes after his fight with Sonic. That’s when it changes to not wanting anyone who could hurt him. The Alpha Grim’s built to follow his every command. To protect him from anything that could ever harm him.

He fights for the Grim until the end. Even when it’s clear he has no shot at winning. When each part of his attack fails. When he’s left only the fortress he built for himself.

And that fortress in the end is the home that Nine wants. It where he chooses to stay at the end. He got the home that he didn’t always want, but the one he wants now. A home where he can’t get harmed from anyone, but also where he can’t get close to anyone either unless the situation turns out the same.

In the end Nine got what he wanted, even if it isn’t what he needed.

[superfluouskeys]

ghost of you (2/3ish)

Wheel of Time || Moiraine/Lan

Lan can never sleep when Moiraine’s masked the bond. He’d never admit it.  Usually he spends the time standing guard at her door until he can feel her again.  He imagines the breaks from their connection are relaxing for her, an indulgence she foregoes primarily for his comfort.  Tonight, for example, she wants to see Siuan. She hasn’t told him what transpired during her meeting with the Amyrlin Seat earlier, or any of the other secret meetings she arranged with her sisters, nor does he expect she will.  But she has been uncommonly stormy this afternoon, even by her standards.  It’s a particular area of her life into which Lan is reluctant to pry, but as the events of the day proceed to wind themselves into knots, he does begin to wish Moiraine were more inclined to accept some small gesture of empathy. “It’s been nearly two years,” she says in the present.  “I thought you would welcome the break.”  It must be true, for she cannot lie.  Even after all this time, Moiraine truly believes that the bond is a burden to him, and not a lifeline.

Read More (AO3)

[grahamkennedy]

My Mack and Jody playlist is almost five hours long

[zelsisi]

How to Properly Kill an Emperor...With Your Problematic Sibling

So this is set in SWTOR during Echoes of Oblivion with Outcast's brother OCs Cuyan (Jedi Knight) and Kaden (Sith Warrior). I’m glossing over things here, it's not supposed to be exactly like the Echoes of Oblivion. I changed some things for the sake of this story considering it's on the OCs and not the story itself.

Also! Hi Outcast! @outcastcommander Been awhile vod! We need to talk more again, only if you want tho. I hope you like this piece (yes it was me as the anon asking lol)!

Here's a preview:

When the two heard what was going down here, of course they wanted to help. Except for very different reasons. For example, Kaden wants to put his former Emperor into the grave for good, afterall a lot of things in the galaxy is his fault. The blue eyes of his brother seem to twitch a bit as he catches the thought through the Force. Meanwhile, Cuyan wants to do it for a multitude of reasons. One to help Satele, the former Grandmaster of the Order and the one that helped him down the road he was on. Two, he hates that he agrees with his brother for wanting to just finally put down the major pain in the osik that is The Emperor. So what if he also wanted to get even for all the bullshit he’s been through? It's not that major. Who is he kidding though? Definitely not his brother who obviously caught wind of the thought through the Force and just gave him a look with his white eyes.

Regardless of why they’re doing this, the fact is that they are doing it. Running head long into danger. Again. For the thousandth time at least. A fact that both have been…quite vocal about as they board the ship that holds the ailing bodies and minds of Master Satele Shan and her students, who they find fairly quickly after carving through the Emperor’s Servants and the Scions.

Both of them kneel and close their eyes, using the Force to go into Satele’s mind. The landscape there is of stars and barren landscapes. Illusions of enemies long dead arrive causing them to fight back to back. The brothers activate their sabers, the glow being the only light close enough to them than the stars. Both are fairly aggressive but Kaden is more honorable in his fighting as he jumps from enemy to enemy, emitting force waves and force slams as he goes. He doesn’t take every opening but that’s his way, better to fight honorably than to take a cheap shot. Cuyan, on the other hand, while he does jump around from enemy to enemy, he’s a bit more…dirty. His fists and feet and head, aided by the force, become his secondary weapons. Every opening he sees he takes, even if it's cheap, his style greatly contrasting to his brother’s.

As the fight winds down, Cuyan’s footing slips on an unstable piece of the area as he dodges to the side, leaving him open to a strike which is quickly intercepted by Kaden’s off hand saber being thrown to throw off the strike. The blue eyes sharpen towards him as they deal with the last of them, “I don’ need your help!”

“Clearly. Tell me brother, how would Kira react if you didn’t come back from this?” That shuts up his brother real quick and Kaden can’t help but feel smug at that and gives a small smirk, “Regardless of your capabilities, this enemy is more cunning than most. As you and I have seen first hand as he was the Emperor of the Sith, saw the way he consumed Ziost, and then saw what he did as Valkorion.” Cuyan’s blue eyes go wide as they go through a wide variety of emotions. The fear of being raised by the Sith so much so that he left and later killed the Emperor as a way to face his own demons. The utter failure he felt after Ziost was consumed, he was a Jedi Knight wasn’t he supposed to save as much as he could? And the utter loathing that he felt when he returned inside his own head after killing him as Valkorion. The final part causes a shiver to run down Cuyan’s spine and he realizes how glad he is that his head is free from that…being.

Kaden sighs lowly as he deactivates his sabers, “Regardless of the past we’ve had, we both want to see that bastard dead. So watch my back, I’ll watch yours.” His hand becomes a fist as it hovers over the area of Cuyan’s armor where his heart is. It's a gesture they used to do as kids before they…made very different life choices. Cuyan freezes and watches it, clearly remembering the gesture but still tenses up. Whenever one of them had touched the other recently it was because they were fighting. Kaden pulls back. He doesn’t know if the touch would even be welcome or if he’d allow it. Both of them turn away from the other.

“How touching.” The brothers whirl around at the familiar voice to see Valkorian. Their eyes narrowing and their sabers activating in near synchronization as they spit out. “Valkorion.”

[compacflt]

I have an anecdote about when I worked for a company and a co-worker left to work in a different state on military aircraft. He had to get a TS clearance and because we had worked for several years together he asked if I would be okay with being interviewed for his clearance. I said sure and an interviewer w the gov, arranged to come to my place of work and conduct the interview there. I was asked questions about him like how well did I know him, and whatever answer I gave led to more specific questions like if I answered a question about knowing his wife, they would ask if I thought his marriage sounded secure etc.

This memory of that experience was on my mind while I read your story and I wondered who Iceman would choose for his TS clearance interviews (and who the gov would choose for him) and what would they say? I feel like their "secret" would be uncovered in even a low level clearance (years later I had to submit names for a low level Public Trust clearance for my job) It was so embarrassing because I did not have many friends I was comfortable submitting for that as I kept my work and home life very separate.

Anyway, that is my "cool story, bro"

Thank you for such a great and well researched story!

this is indeed a cool story bro and touches on what is literally my story’s fatal flaw, which is: Yeah, a shitload of people would’ve known about it. I am going to hijack your question to talk about that, so my apologies, though i will get around to your question by the end. This is gonna be a really long post. I have a lot to say and a lot of ground to cover.

So I wanna start out by talking about the structure of this story and its core conflict, because while I’d like to say this story is rooted in an accurate depiction of the US military, obviously that’s not true; it’s rooted in the dynamic of the story that i wanted to tell, which is the story of a guy coming to realize the truth behind a Big Lie—him passing as straight. And that’s a pretty universal story, but it’s made more specific by the fact that a) the guy canonically wants to be the best in an institution that enforces the Big Lie and b) the guy canonically is so successful because he follows the rules/orders of that institution. So, for character growth, to put it simply, the guy (Ice) has to come to the conclusion that the Big Lie is a lie by himself. He can’t be told/ordered that the Big Lie is a lie, otherwise he hasn’t grown out of “just following orders.” (I’ll get to the Big Lie in a second. I made charts and story structure graphs below.)

The only other story about a Big Lie I can think of off the top of my head right now is Passing (1929) by Nella Larsen, which is about a Black woman in Chicago trying to pass as both white and straight. It’s a great book and I’ll try not to spoil it, you should really read it for yourself, but the terminology I’m going to use in this post comes from an analysis of it, so just to bring you up to speed—Clare, the woman trying to pass as white, is recognized by a friend, another Black-but-passing woman, Irene, who is shocked that Clare has abandoned her heritage (the truth of her, that is) and married a hyper-racist white man who doesn’t even know that she’s Black. So the book sets up a dynamic of the Big Lie that I’ve outlined here (hopefully it makes sense):

I built on this dynamic for my fic. Ice is both a “dupe” and a “passing figure,” in that he believes the lie that he is straight and also passes for straight—but it’s also more complicated than that because he’s not actually straight (getting to that). Mav is an “in-group clairvoyant” and can recognize Ice as passing because he is also straight-passing. The Navy are a bunch of “dupes.” But…what is Slider, for instance, or your question’s hypothetical government official who, yes, will 100% find out because people always find out?

In comes my ginormous-and-overly-wordy WWGATTAI Plot and Character Dynamic Summary Graph. You don’t really have to read it all, the only important bits for this discussion are the leftmost column (“plot”) and the green quadrant (“out-group clairvoyants”).

To summarize—people who know the truth can’t actually act on it, because for Ice’s character growth to make sense, he has to come to the truth himself. This forecloses the possibility of any outwardly homophobic action (by which I mean someone like a govt official or one of my lame OCs actually challenging him on his illegal relationship) in the plot, because for 90% of the story Ice is so fragile that he would probably just cave immediately and double down on the internalized homophobia. So, for plot purposes, everyone—including Mav, as it happens—has to sort of tiptoe around Ice’s obvious not-straightness and give him an unreasonable amount of grace so he can figure it out for himself. 

And therein lies the fatal flaw of this story. It is, like, not conceptually viable. Of course people would find out, of course the government would interrogate him about it, of course he’d have to confront the truth much sooner than TWENTY-FIVE years after he first starts messing around with Mav.  Which literally breaks my heart because I didn’t realize it was a fundamentally busted story until long after I had finished writing the base plot & couldn’t fix the overarching problems 😭 The thing is, it had to be this way, because there is at least a thirty-year gap between TG86 and TGM22, and TGM is obviously the emotional climax of the series and my story had to match that. So—fanfic and its canon constraints, everyone. 

But also… I can explain away these logical inconsistencies with story structure & character dynamic graphs to make the story make sense, sure, but it doesn’t change the truth of the matter, which is that… I hadn’t ever really thought about things like security clearances, and therefore wrote around them because I didn’t even know to consider them. And I know there are a bunch of other details in this story that betray my immaturity (anytime I talk about alcohol, for instance—I still am not legal to drink in this stupid country & have only cheap bad experiences to draw on; THE HOUSE—if i could rewrite this story from the beginning they would not have bought a fucking house together, what was I thinking???) and the lack of thought about the real-life logistics and consequences of secrecy is one of them. 

And it’s exactly what I mean when I say “I look at this story and all I see are its flaws,” which is why I wanted to write this post & get it on record. I have just enough life experience to read my own writing and know that it’s fundamentally unconvincing, and not enough life experience to know how to fix it. :(

But, to answer your original question, you’ve got me brainstorming a scene where Ice is asking Slider to be his character witness & Slider’s like “Look bro do you want me to lie to the federal government under oath for you because I will” and Ice has to be like “Legally I cannot ask that of you but”

[woodlouseonastring]

me and my friend were messing with an art prompt generator in art class today and

it's so them

[triglycercule]

putting on mtt offical themes and fanmade theme songs and group songs when i sleep all so when i fall asleep and dream i can see them and see what theyll be like and then i wont have to think of them 24/7 through my day when i can just think of them during night. this possibility could either end up in me getting killed by them so gruesomely that i wake up traumatized or i wake up happy and satisfied from a restful night of trio dream time

[syn4k]

[deep sigh] <- once again rotating the mianite sfgg dlc in our mind

[mejomonster]

genuinely though. would love to know if I tend to describe a Lot, or barely describe, in my writing style usually. anyone who's read my fanfics? ;-;

[sourtaste]

   ✽   ˖*    𓂃     frigid   winds   roaring   outdoors   nip   incessantly   at   any   sliver   of   skin   it   can   find   leaving   a   crimson   tincture   in   its   wake.   he   sits   perched   upon   granite   steps   unmoving   as   if   one   were   a   gargoyle   ornately   carved   into   gothic   architecture,   feline   -   like   hues   observe   last   throng   of   individuals   whose   names   adorned   strictly   upheld   guest   list   disappear   into   bright   yellow   taxis   and   luxury   vehicles   driven   by   personal   chauffeurs.   the   way   in   which   presence   is   disregarded   for   chatter   amongst   peers   about   market   stocks   or   impromptu   trips   to   sicily   does   not   go   unnoticed.   in   fact,   events   that   transpired   in   convention   center   proved   he   had   no   place   in   this   world   of   wealth,   splendor,   and   influence.   to   all   who   resided   within   it,   he   would   remain   an   outsider   —   a   trespasser   who   got   his   place   at   the   table   due   to   ambiguous   familial   connections   with   one   of   the   prosperous   names   in   new   york   city.   flutter   of   peach   in   his   peripheral   makes   his   head   turn,   though   he   wishes   he   ignored   newcomer   the   second   their   eyes   briefly   meet   before   returning   to   prior   position.   ❛   what   are   you   doing   out    here   ?   ❜   inquiry   hot,   nearly   scolding,   on   his   tongue   as   it   drifts   into   the   chilled   atmosphere.   he   doesn't   truly   wish   to   know   the   reasoning   behind   counterpart's   arrival,   but   one   has   hope   bubbling   somewhere   in   depths   of   chest   curtness   serves   as   a   warning.   a   flashing   sign   discouraging   other   from   continuing   approach.   ❛   you   should   go   back   inside.   ❜ @achingblushes

[gingerbreadmonsters]

IT'S MY BABY!!! hello pretty rae!! 🤩🤩 hehe i lob u too - and while i may not be be able to reciprocate in chibi form, i'm sure i can cobble something together for you that might do the job 💕💕💕

chibi rae beloved

or: sometimes, you just have to commit felonies after midnight.

gn!reader, no content warnings, squishy fluffy stuff because i say so. it's 2am and i should not be awake.... and yet...... this entire formatting is a total farce and entirely for the sake of the bit, but whatever - you know what i mean. everything i do is for rae @sri-rachaa <3 vincent doing some early christmas shopping in just over 500 words.

"Did you miss me, lovely?" 

A familiar arm wraps around your waist from behind, warm and strong, trapping you against the pleased-sounding vampire who's just come up behind you. Moving the pan off the stove (you know Vincent well enough that he'll probably keep you distracted long enough to burn, and you really don't need that today), you lean back against him, closing your eyes as he kisses your temple.

"Mmm, I don't know,"  you say through your smile, head falling back against his shoulder. His jacket is cold and faintly damp against your skin, but he's warm - he must have just come in from outside. "Did I?"

You can hear him pouting, even with your eyes closed. "You should have!" His hand sneaks under your shirt, thumb smoothing gently over the skin, and it's not the cold that makes you shiver slightly. "I'll have you know that I've brought you back Christmas presents, thank you very much."

"Spoiling the surprise? I'm disappointed, Mr Solaire," you tease. It's always fun to push his buttons a little bit. Or a lot. It depends. "Going to put them under the tree or what?"

"Well…"

You turn slightly to look up at him, and you're met with that mischievous grin you know so well. Oh, god, what's he planning now? And, now that you think about it, where's his other h-

"I wouldn't say that's really the right place to put it."

Oh.

His other hand - so that's why he was only holding you with one arm! - sneaks out from behind his back, stopping just over both of your heads with a graceful flick. Of course. A delicate bundle of mistletoe, and you're suddenly very grateful that you turned the stove off. Ooh, you must be on the nice list this year.

"So? What do you think, lovely?" He tugs gently at your hip, turning you to face him, sighing happily as your hands slide up his chest to rest over his shoulders. "Do you like it?"

Dork. "I'm not sure…" Oh, it is fun to wind him up a bit. "I can't really tell what it's for. What do you do with it?"

He takes the bait, of course, and the game is wonderfully familiar. "How about I show you?"

"Sounds like a plan - mmf!" He must have got tired of waiting, arm pulling you even closer as he leans down to kiss you. It's a bit tricky at first, getting the angle right, but you know what Vincent always says. He's very good at finding the best angles.

His lips are slightly chapped from the cold, but you've never minded. He hums quietly against you, tongue brushing gently over your bottom lip, and shifts his weight slightly as you press up harder against him.

"Lovely - mmm - baby, can I-" He's breathless against you, neither of you willing to break away properly while he speaks, and he "Can I put this down now and kiss you properly? My arm's going numb."

Like you need convincing. Once you nod, he wastes no time - a forgotten bundle of mistletoe hits the floor, and as he dips you backwards to kiss down your neck, you get the feeling that you're going to get a lot of use out of this particular Christmas present.

masterlist

this is an original work by @gingerbreadmonsters - please do not repost or misattribute

[seventh-district]

several days and 15 thousand words later, i am relieved to report that the suffocating urge to Write Something has been sated and no longer has me in a chokehold