#and the longer it goes on the worse it gets :))

[ninyard]

I just saw a post wondering what Andrew and Neil’s first proper argument is, and naturally I have to offer this:

Andrew and Neil don’t fight. They’ll ignore each other if they’re pissed off - but never for more than a few hours, or maybe until one of them has slept it off and decide it’s not worth it (usually Andrew). They’ll have tiffs but never over anything serious.

Except for in the months coming up to Andrew’s graduation. That is when I believe Andrew and Neil have their first real argument.

Andrew gets officially signed to his pro team around abouts the February of that year. It’s in a state further away that Neil expected, and since they found out, Neil keeps catching Andrew looking at apartments or researching the state and the team. He’s happy for him, of course he is, but he can’t quite identify what this feeling in his stomach is every time Andrew brings it up. The little fights that last longer than their usually bickering start not long after; Neil getting more pissed off by the little things Andrew does, Andrew having off-days with Neil more and more often, each of them asking for their own space because they know if they stay around each other they’re going to start a fight. It’s gradual in a way that they don’t realise for a little while that it’s getting worse, until just after the championship finals, and the season is officially over, when three days have passed without them talking for not much of a reason at all. Neil used his finals as an excuse, but Andrew didn’t have any good reason. After those three days, they’re finally alone in their dorm for whatever reason, and maybe Andrew has started packing or he’s just got some sort of welcome package from the team: everything explodes. Andrew tries to kiss Neil, and something feels wrong, and when Neil asks what the fuck is going on, all hell breaks loose.

Andrew doesn’t yell, of course he doesn’t, but he’s venomous. He’s asking Neil why he’s acting as if the world is going to end just because he’s graduating, he’s angry at him for becoming so dependent on his presence, he’s angry at himself for feeling like he’s found a future in Neil when this was never the plan. He was supposed to be nothing. A casual fuck, with an end date and no feelings but fuck if he can’t live his life without him now. Neil yells, because he does, and he’s angry that Andrew still seems so unsure about what they are, how comfortable they were, but suddenly things are different, and it feels like he doesn’t care. He’s angry at himself for building his life around Andrew, but he’s the only reason why Neil Josten exists. Andrew reminds him of that, and it makes everything worse.

It goes on for far too long, quickly becoming meaningless and just an excuse for either of them to vent out the frustration they’ve been keeping inside for months.

“You know that I won’t overstep your boundaries,” Neil points a finger at him. “So in your head it’s okay to treat me like shit and ignore me because you know that I will give you that space.”

He doesn’t even really think that, but every little thing, every little excuse is multiplied by a thousand when he feels this red hot rage. He hates the things that come out of his mouth, but Andrew gives it back, and his insistent refusal to back down just further butts their heads together and infuriates them both.

“I won’t chase after you because you’ve decided to allow me distance,” Andrew says, calm and ice cold. “You can’t invent boundaries for me and then be upset that they exist.”

Lows blows after low blows, unfair quips and insults from both sides, slamming of drawers and doors and throwing of things; they have never, ever fought like this before. It’s over everything and nothing at the same time. Andrew knew it was only a matter of time before campus security was called, but when he tried to tell Neil to calm down and lower his voice, it only made things worse.

They’ve been unkind and awful with each other for about an hour when Neil finds himself starting to get so furiously angry thats he’s upset, that he can feel himself being needlessly nasty with Andrew. For the first time ever he feels the tilt. He feels their foundations getting rocked, a crack in the base of the pyramid of their relationship that gives him the feeling that this might not last forever. He leaves their dorm with a slam of the door, and goes for a run. He hasn’t done that in a while, a run from his feelings, running from his problems and responsibilities. He’s not sure how long it’s been before he finds himself too far away from campus, because he just ran in a straight line.

When he checks his phone he realises he’s over an hour walk away from their dorms. He almost calls Matt, and hesitates over Coach’s phone number, but instead he clicks Andrew’s name. It’s only ringing for two rings before the ringing ends and there’s a quiet hiss at the other end of the line. Neil double checks that he’s answered, because Andrew hasn’t said anything, and brings the phone back to his ear.

“Can you come pick me up?” His breathing is heavy, all of his anger drained out through his feet with every single step that he took to get further away from their dorm.

“Where are you?” Andrew is quick to respond, and Neil can hear him already picking up his keys.

Neil tells him the name of some bar that he can see, and Andrew hangs up almost instantly afterwards. Neil starts to put his phone away, used to the abrupt endings of phone calls, but wishing he would say something more. He puts his phone away and wonders why Andrew can’t just give him something. He’s not looking for a Love you! Bye! But maybe just an answer that let him know he was listening. but then it starts to ring again, and it’s Andrew, and Neil doesn’t say anything when he answers.

“I’m leaving now,” Andrew says. There’s something in his voice. “I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

“Okay,” Neil responds. “Thank you.”

Andrew hums in acknowledgment, but this time he doesn’t hang up immediately. He hesitates, but he’s somewhere outside now.

“I will always pick you up.” He says after a while, after he’s shut his car door and the engine has rumbled to life, and maybe it sounds like I love you, I care about you, I need you. Maybe it sounds like I need you to know that i can’t lose this.

“I know,” Neil says, and it sounds like I can’t do this without you. “Thank you.”

Andrew waits a second or two then before hanging up, and Neil waits for him by the curb. Andrew is there quicker than twenty minutes later. Neither of them say anything as Neil slips into the passenger seat, and neither of them say anything as they pull away. Neither of them say anything until Andrew has switched the engine off, and the car is sitting in its parking spot. They look at each other then, and maybe then they understand what’s happening.

“I’m not above telling you that I don’t want to leave here,” leave you. “But this was always a certainty. You’ve had plenty of time to prepare.”

“I thought that I had,” Neil tells him.

It’s the truth, in some way. He realises then that all of these little fights, and growing agitation, and this almost primal urge to push Andrew away was how he’d prepared. He’s been trying his hardest to soften the blow that it would have on him, and if he pushed him away first, then it wouldn’t hurt when he inevitably pushed him back or let him go. Only, that was never going to happen, and that’s what made it worse - nothing could happen to them now that would not bring them back to each other. So when Neil pushed and pushed and pushed and Andrew was constantly hitting a wall instead of a door, all they were doing was filling the room with resentment.

They sit in the car then and talk about the reality: Andrew was moving away in just a few weeks, moving further away than they’d ever been apart. The truth was that regardless of whether or not Neil decides to spend the summer with him, August would come, and Neil would go back to PSU, and Andrew would stay wherever it was that he was staying. They’d been fighting more in a subconscious test with each other, to see if one of them were going to give up, to see it this was the thing that would finally tear them apart. They talk about that, too, as difficult as it is for Andrew to be honest about that kind of thing. Neil asks him if he thinks it would be better for them to break up, to give each other space, to let Andrew flourish on his new team and meet new people and grow into himself as a professional exy player. It’s the first time either of them have acknowledged the possibility out loud with each other, and it destroys Neil to ask it, and it destroys Andrew to hear it.

Andrew thinks about how Exy was supposed to be the deal with Kevin: how he was supposed to come off his meds, and Kevin would give him purpose, and he would find something to live for in the sport that would not love him back. Instead he gave him Neil. That was his something to live for, and while he’d started to learn how to live for himself, and he would eventually survive without him, he didn’t want to. He couldn’t. He would sooner give it all up just to keep him, and Neil knew that was the truth.

Neil thinks about how Neil was supposed to be temporary. Now it was the future, it was Andrew, it was a long and successful life. Neil Josten did not have an expiry date anymore. He could have things that were his own, things to keep, things to live for.

They knew it wouldn’t be easy, but as the evening went on, and they stay in that car and talk about the future, they’d truly come to the understanding that neither of them can lose each other. They will always be half of one another, and no amount of distance can change that. It’s hard conversation after hard conversation, and it’s emotional in the way that Andrew and Neil get emotional. All the fighting ends up being a catalyst for possibly the most personal, deep, intimate discussion they’ve ever had. There’s lots of silences and voices that threaten to raise but stay low. There’s a lot of questions, and answers, and questions without answers, too. Buts it’s needed. Andrew could not leave PSU without them having this conversation. If he had, I think they would’ve struggled a whole lot more with the distance, and the conversations they would have afterwards would’ve been far more difficult.

Ultimately that’s where they end the conversation sometime past midnight - with a semi newfound understanding of where they stand with each other, what they are, what the future means for them. It’s a fight that needed to happen, and in their own ways they apologise for the things that they said. Maybe they don’t say sorry, they just say everything is going to be okay, and distance will not be the thing that ruins this.

I don’t know. I really do think it’s a fight that’s needs to happen. I think it’s a terrible, angry, nasty argument, and they both feel awful about the things they said and did, but it had to happen. Yeah, could it have been communicated with words? Sure. But Andrew had to understand how afraid Neil was of losing him, he had to understand what Neil was doing to protect himself from it. And Neil had to understand that Andrew was always, always willing to fight for him, but he couldn’t do that if Neil wasn’t willing to see that he would.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Hi!

If you’re still doing these asks, do you mind maybe adding a part 5 to Passion for Fashion?

I would love to see how Danny and Red Robin’s impromptu date goes and Constantine’s reaction to all this.

And poor Killer Croc is so confused and uncomfortable around the twins, oh and not to forget Dan’s inner turmoil over losing a love interest because his body no longer matches his mental and spiritual age😂

I’d also love to see the reactions of the rest of the Batfam to Tim going on a date and their reaction to Dan’s flirting with Croc.

Your request came in after I had already written most of Part 5, but I hope I can include most of what you asked for in it and make it up with another Part of the Au for you.

Danny strutted down the runway, fighting to keep his gaze straight ahead as various flashes from cameras went off.

He mentally went through his checklist of proper catwalk tips that he watched the other day—or, more accurately, Dan forced him to watch from some free video website—ensuring his hands were relaxed, long strides were made, and his shoulders were firm but not stiff.

This was the contest's second round, with Tim Drake proposing the "Gotham Aesthetic" as the theme and challenge. Apparently, the teenage CEO spent most of his childhood taking photos of the city and wanted others to appreciate the architecture of the aged town.

There was no kidnapping attempt this time, and the contest was back on schedule. However, there was a delay because some of the models had dropped out after they were nearly sold (Dan called them cowards, but Danny personally thought they were wise to do so). Hence, fashion designers had to scramble for someone new or forfeit their position in the contest, allowing some eliminated to take their place.

It took nearly four weeks to confirm that the same designers were staying but would need to remake or adjust their outfits. Thankfully, Wayne Amature Fashion Show was more than willing to offer them time.

Dan had already made Danny's outfit but figured he would remake it anyway. Once completed, new designs were crafted, adjusted, and flung into an idea box. He created so many it was as if Dan were a man possessed (Pun intended).

Danny needed to figure out how much fabric he was going through, but sometimes, he had to remind the other to sleep, eat, and shower. It seemed the other kept forgetting he was human now and needed to do these things for his health and Danny's poor nose.

Dan also seemed obsessed with exploring new parts of Gotham just to take pictures of buildings to get "inspiration." Danny went with him as he had nothing better to do, and the pair made an unlikely duo.

Both got stares in the streets—Danny for strutting around Gotham wearing some of Dan's regretted challenge outfits in an effort to learn to catwalk in them and Dan for dressing as close to the homeless as he could. For all that Dan could make amazing pieces of fashion, the man only filled his own closet with mismatched joggers and pajamas.

Danny had to force him back to change at one point since Dan had intended to walk around in a bathrobe- with shorts and stained short sleeves underneath it. He drew the line on bathrobes.

It was so embarrassing to be gawked at all the time that Danny could not help but wish Dan would try just a little. This was somewhat worse than when he was alone because at least then he knew it was just how stupid and awkward he looked in the outfits.

Now, he just felt subconscious about trying too hard compared to Dan.

"Relax, kid," The other scoffed, snapping a picture of the Brown Bridge. "By the time you're my age, you honestly stop caring about what other people think, so long as you like how you look."

"Can't you at least comb your hair?"

"I forgot how to do that."

Danny snaps his head in his direction, blinking owlishly "What?"

Dan shrugs. "My hair was fire for a literal decade, brat. How was I supposed to comb it?"

"Oh," Danny supposes, that makes sense. After all, Dan was more ghost than human at that point, driven mad by his grief and a colossal monster. He sort of forgot that. "Do you want me to show you how?"

"Ew. No. Too much work. Humans are so high maintenance." Dan rolled his eyes and shifted his tone into a mocking one. Comb your hair, change your clothes, take a bath."

"You smell like shit, Dan."

"You look like shit!"

"We have the same face!"

"It's better on me!"

Their public arguments also attract lots of stares. Danny would feel embarrassed by them if he wasn't so busy bickering with Dan as they moved about.

Ultimately, Dan had made his outfits formal steampunk during the break. Danny wished he had stayed with the Dark Academia idea because he felt he was walking around in a costume instead of clothes.

Dan told him that it felt too basic to go with Dark Academia since, now that he saw more of Gotham, he thought it better represent the city as a whole instead of the elites of Gotham. Danny debated with him until he agreed to make two of the four outfits- meant to represent all four seasons of Gotham's beauty or something stupid like that- to be dark academia.

Danny nears the end of the runway, stopping right before the judges to strike his pose. His eyes never leave the center decorative flower in the far back, but he makes sure to slowly turn his head as if he is gazing at the crowd.

There are gasps as he pulls off his tophat in a twirl to hide the way he presses the button on his hip. At once, his pants and sleeves light up in the gentle glow of the Brown Bridge's famous historic lampost show. It's no brighter than his ghost glow, but it makes him look like a vision, especially when he puts the hat back on with a mysterious curl of his lips.

Danny practiced that move for weeks—even when it made him cringe—and he is happy to have pulled it off successfully as he twists around and struts away. The Brown Bridge only lights its lanterns in the winter, so this hits a true Gotham native here for the seasonal challenge portion.

With his superhearing, he manages to catch Tim Drake-Wayne's dreamy sigh. Danny fights the urge to fist bump. If they impressed the special judge so much, then they just guaranteed their spot in the next round.

Each round meant they were closer to completing the mission. Since it's been practically impossible to find Batman—even when the man was running around dressed like a giant bat—this was their best bet.

Once he's backstage, he rushes to Dan's area, already ripping off most of his outfit for the last piece. Spring dark academia vaguely reminded him of rich school uniforms, but at least they didn't have ridiculous amounts of belts and metal on them.

Dan already has the outfit set out and quickly helps him change. He adjusts the vest and collar for Danny, glancing angrily at the model walking up the line. "Come on, we only have a few minutes before the last two models finish their walk for the Winter portion."

Danny nods, throwing on the gargoyle ear cuffs, only to pause when he sees a strange card on Dan's station. He pushes aside the black rings to grab a tiny green card with a giant question mark. "What's this?"

"Some guy saw my work and wanted to commission him a suit. Apparently, he was tired of how no one could style the question marks." Dan answered, distracted while reapplying some powder to Danny's face.

"A question mark? Why?"

"It's his gimmick or something. I didn't bother to ask for too many details. He will be going to our house soon to get his measurements done," Dan says, twisting Danny's face with his chin to make sure everything looks good. Danny lets him, blindly slipping on his rings and bracelets. "Thought it be a fun little side project."

"How did he hear about you?"

"You remember how you took those boxes of clothes to the job search office to give to people? Apparently, one of his employees' younger brothers borrowed a suit for his prom, and he thought the photos were nice." Dan shrugs. Then he glances in alarm at the stage hand who signals for them. "Never mind that. It's almost our turn again. Get out there!"

Danny scurries away, but not before he sees a beautiful redhead woman in green- was that leaves and vines???- stride over to Dan as the clone puts away his makeup.

She gestures with a business card, and Dan blinks as she talks once before he eagerly takes out his design journal. She must be a performer asking Dan for a new forest design or something.

Danny wonders why Gotham has so many people with oddly specific gimmicks.

He turns his head away to stride back into the catwalk, head held high as he does so. Danny makes the mistake of locking eyes with one of the judges- Tim Drake-Wayne is gawking at him like the people of the street do- and he snaps his gaze away, fighting to keep his composure.

He thinks he does well since Team Fenton snatches first place in this round. Drake-Wayne catches him at the after-party, praising his final outfit so much that Danny offers to give it to him, knowing Dan wouldn't mind.

Drake-Wayne goes red, early agreeing, but since they are so different in size—the CEO's waist is slightly leaner but with far more muscular forearms—Danny tells him to come by his house that weekend to have Dan resize it for him.

It should be fine since the Question Mark man and Leaf Lady will also be there that day for their own measurements.

[wanderingsoul6261]

Credit for gif goes to userbeaufort

James Beaufort x Reader

Title: Distracted

Synopsis: James and Reader have an argument after she feels that he is being too overprotective. She gets injured during a volley ball game and he comforts and apologizes.

Warnings: mentions of blood/wounds

Sorry if volley ball is described inaccurately in the brief moment it's discussed. Last fic for about 24 to 48 hours. Decided to take some time off to rest up. Sinus infection had gotten worse. My ears are plugged and hurt. I have about 8 to 9 more requests, so more is definitely coming.

The fight that they had was just full of nonsense. At least, that was in regards to Y/N’s own opinions. James felt as if he was in the right, only wanting what was best for his girlfriend. He just wanted to make sure that she was safe. He thought that he was being overprotective. Y/N thought that it was that with a hint of jealousy. It was known though that neither of them could come to agreement on what it actually was. 

“Can you stop breathing down my neck, just for twenty four hours?” Y/N raised her voice slightly, turning to look at James. He had been following her around, making sure that she was okay and safe. She felt suffocated though, that if he continued to stick around that she would die due to lack of oxygen. 

“I just want to know that you are okay. Is that too much to ask for?” 

“Yea. It is actually, because if you stick around any longer, I might get arrested and charged with murder!” James paused his steps and stared at her. Confusion and slight anger was portrayed on his face. 

“What is your problem?” He asked. Y/N turned around, looking at him as if he just slapped her. And he might as well just have. 

“What is my problem? It’s you, James.” Now it was his turn to act as if he had just been slapped. James took a staggered step back, a look entirely of hurt and confusion the only thing to be seen on his face. 

“What?” Y/N had almost felt guilty, seeing the blow that she had just landed, even if she knew that all that he wanted to know was that she was safe. Instead, she had only stood her ground and raised her chin slightly in defiance. 

“You heard me.The problem is you.” James didn’t know how to react, and if they weren’t currently in the situation that they were in, Y/N might have felt proud to have put James in the state that he was currently in. “You’re suffocating me. I feel like I can’t breathe. I take a few steps in any direction and I’m knocking myself into you. And it’s constant, James. It’s like you’re being some possessive boyfriend. What’s next? You are going to start dictating who I can or can’t be friends with?” James did say anything. Honestly, he didn’t have much to say, so he only remained standing, averting his eyes from her gaze and looking anywhere else. His jaw clenched, but he knew that he couldn’t be mad at anyone but himself, even if he was angry at the current way she was speaking to him. 

“What?” Y/N questioned. “Cat got your tongue?” And just like that, James was gone, turning around on his heel and stomping down the hall. Y/N had felt nasty for the way that she had just treated him, but she also knew that she had to make her voice heard. She felt that there was no other way for her to have accomplished it in any other way than in that moment. 

—-

It had been a few days since the two of them had talked. Y/N had rightfully been angry and James himself had rightfully, even if he had deserved it, been upset and hurt. They had both mutually agreed that it was best to give each other some time to cool down and relax. The last thing that either one of them had wanted to do was come back and say anything that would be highly regretted. Not that Y/N didn’t already regret the way she snapped at James. She had honestly wished that she could just go back and choose a better way to have got about it. 

But the damage had been done, and the only thing that she could do now was wait until he had cooled down enough to talk.

In the meantime, Y/N had a volleyball game to prepare for in a few days, and she would be lying if she said that she was good to play. Even if it happened a few days ago, the argument was still fresh in her mind, and had been affecting her ability to focus well enough on the task of the game. 

No matter what happened, she could never stop thinking about him. 

Y/N had wondered if she should check in with them, considering their lack of conversations over the past few days. Her friends would easily tell her no and to let him stew in the moment. A few of them had even gone as far as to tell her to give him hints that she wanted to break it off, because it would quote, light a fire under his ass, unquote. But Y/N couldn’t do it. She wasn’t that brutal. However, she didn’t want to back out on her defense, knowing that her feelings were justified, and she didn’t want to do anything that might suggest otherwise. 

That didn’t change the amount of times that her finger hovered over the send buttons to numerous different messages. 

Im sorry 

Love you

I hope you are doing okay. Let’s talk soon. 

One of them consisted of just heart emojis. There were even times messages consisted of a mixture of those messages. 

Even as the volley game against a rival college was about to start, Y/N was doing just that. She sat on a bench in the locker room, biting her nail as she tried to make up her mind on whether or not to send the message. Y/N wasn’t even sure if he would show up tonight. 

I don’t know if you plan on coming to the game tonight. But I think we should talk soon. Y F/L/M initials 

She let out a heavy sigh, running her hand through her hair, finally pressing send. And then she waited for several moments, waiting to see if he would open and read it. When ten minutes passed and she was finally being yelled at for not being on the court yet, she figured that he was probably still mad at her. 

Y/N tossed her phone into her gym bag, leaving it at that. Which obviously, with the continued emotions only adding to inability to play the game. She should have told her coach, but yet, here she was, running out of the locker room and onto the court, her mind filled to the brim with thoughts and questions, and ultimately, him. 

The game though had surprisingly started out pretty okay. They were almost done with their first set when Y/N saw James walk into the gymnasium. They locked eyes momentarily, her heart fluttering. He showed her his phone, likely telling her that he had seen her message. But he still didn’t look too enthused. She swallowed thickly, turning back to the game when her name was called. The ball was just over her, and she jumped, spiking the ball over the net, scoring a point for Maxton Hall. 

As the team captain, she knew she had to keep her mind distraction free, but it was definitely easier said than done. They couldn’t do well if she wasn’t there. But even with that thought in mind, she still wasn’t doing well enough. Halfway through the game as a whole, everything in her mind, thinking about the argument, about him, and what might come of them after the game had gotten too much. 

She had the space and time to dive for the ball in front of her, hitting it up and over the net just in time before it hit the ball, none of the other girls close enough to hit it, They couldn’t take the risk. So she dove, and in the end, she almost wished that she didn’t. 

No matter what she did, she couldn’t stop herself from cracking her face against the floor. She laid there for what seemed like several minutes and wasn’t even sure if she hit the ball over the net. Instead, she heard the crowd murmuring silently, her teammates coming over to check on her. 

She lifted her head off the floor. Y/N saw the blood. She brought her hand to the left side of her face, feeling the wetness of the blood and gingerly touching the outline of a gash. Her head snapped up to meet James’ own panicked look. He was standing up from his seat, watching her, his eyes wide. It only took a few more seconds and her coach pressed a towel to the side of her head for him to come running down. Her ears were ringing by the time he made it to them. 

She watched as he spoke to her couch,  but her mind was so fuzzy that she couldn’t exactly find it in herself to make out what was being said. 

And then James was escorting her out of the school and towards Percy, where he was waiting for them. One arm was wrapped around her waist while the other was pressed to the towel currently on the wound. 

“We have to take her to the hospital, Percy. Nasty little cut on her forehead.” James spoke to his chauffeur as the two of them slid into the car. As the car got moving, the two sat in silence for several moments. 

“My phone is in my gym bag. Can you tell my parents where we are going?” she asked. He passed his phone to her, but as she grabbed it, he replaced his phone with his hand. 

“I want to say I’m sorry.” he spoke softly. Y/N looked at him in shock. “I shouldn’t have been acting the way that I was. It wasn’t right of me. I know you can look after yourself.” James turned his head to look at her. His eyes glanced at the place where the towel sat. 

“I should be the one apologizing.” His eyes snapped back to her. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you the way that I did. I know that you only want what is best for me, and snapping at you the way that I did wasn’t the best way to show my appreciation, no matter how mad I was.” Y/N explained. “I just hope that we can fix this and use it moving forward in our relationship as a reminder. That is, if you want.” 

“If I want? Just because we had an argument doesn’t mean you’re getting free of me.” He joked, a smile gracing his lips. “It’s only one of many that we will have in the coming future. Arguments aren’t avoidable.” Y/N gave him a smile, leaning into him. She went to press a kiss to his cheek, but he had turned his head enough to make her lips land on his own. They leaned into it, and Y/N could feel a cheeky smile grace his lips. 

When they pulled away, Y/N held his gaze. 

“Promise?” His cheeky smile turned into a soft one. 

“Promise.” 

[canonizzyhours]

i read more canyon fic than i should.

it used to be because i was interested in the actual canon edizzy dynamic some other posts here have talked about and i wanted to find good darkfic about izzy topping from the bottom. then i realized i was never going to find that and it became something i did in good faith hope that i would understand the canyon better, maybe i'd find some really good fic about their take on fanon izzy and i would finally get why they found this compelling. at this point it's something i do out of morbid fascination, i'm still trying to understand the canyon but what i keep understanding is that their perspectives are always worse than i expected.

anyway here's what i was thinking about today. at this point i can sort canyon fic into categories and there's this one subgenre that's always fascinated me - and it goes well back into the early post-s1 hiatus era - where izzy becomes a weirdly passive character who never really does anything.

you can see exactly why this is happening. the author is so immersed in canyon meta that they refuse to engage with any of izzy's canonical motivations from s1 - the craving for power, the homophobia, the fetishizing obsession with masculinity, the contempt for the crew who work under him, the cruelty, the sense of entitlement to control ed's life: they've been convinced that none of that stuff is a part of izzy's character. but when you take it all away, you end up with a guy who would never actually do any of the stuff izzy canonically does in s1. and if you gave him any other motivations that pushed him to do other stuff instead it would become really obvious this is just a completely different guy (there's several OTHER genres of canyon fic where they do exactly that and it is super obvious this guy just has nothing to do with izzy anymore). so you end up with a character who does absolutely nothing except stand around in the background of scenes gazing at edward thinking sad thoughts about their dying relationship and every once in a while the author remembers to have him say "fuckin' twats."

so i was thinking about this today and what hit me like a lightning bolt is this exactly predicted what would happen in s2. the writers wanted to redeem him in one season and since all his motivations in s1 existed to push him to be awful, they had to resolve all of them as quickly as possible. so within the first half of the season izzy had let go of his creepy psychosexual obsession with ed and belief that he should control ed's life and his homophobia and contempt for effeminacy and learned to respect others instead of needing to dominate or be dominated.

but just like in those fics, this turned izzy into a character who no longer had any real personality traits besides saying twat sometimes, or any reason to actually do much of anything at all. and since the traits they got rid of so completely defined who he'd been up to that point, giving izzy any NEW motivations or personality traits would just make it really obvious this was functionally an entirely different guy.

this is the exact reason he was so boring in 2x05-2x07. with those traits gone there is no longer any reason for him to do anything in particular. the only thing they can do with him at this point is demonstrate that his redemption arc is complete by repeatedly having him do the opposite of evil stuff he did last season, and once they've checked off every box on that list, they have to kill him off because there is now nothing else he can possibly contribute to the narrative.

it's so funny to me that if i had taken seriously the lessons i learned from reading canyon fic i would have been able to predict at the very beginning of the season, as soon as it became clear they were speedrunning the redemption, that he would be dead at the end of it. those fics showed me exactly why there couldn't possibly be any compelling reason to keep a fully redeemed izzy in the narrative.

#394.

[shiftingconfessions]

TW: Beginner venting!

(Would appreciate advice)

I've first heard about shifting in 2021, but only believed in it in 2022.

My heart was so broken from trauma, depression and Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) that certain night I was just crying and didn't know what to do — then I just remembered about shifting. Belief and hope born from the pain.

Now I'm going to be honest, I'm not the type that can claim they've tried everything for years. I didn't; and what I did, I didn't do it consistently. The thing is: I'm a highly sensitive person. And I sure don't handle failure well. I feel heartbroken and afraid it's going to take more years for me to succeed, every single time I perceive I'm in my CR after a shifting attempt. I know we're always shifting, and a part of us always shifts in the attempts — but honestly? That means to me as much as knowing that technically polar bears aren't white. It can get to the point I feel physical pain in my chest, and sometimes it triggers full blown gastritis crisis. So I tend to give up again and again.

I know I should be patient, stick with a shifting routine, build and fellow a plan assuming that I will shift. I feel like I really believe in shifting and that I'm going to shift — the question is "when". That's what haunts me. It hurts just to think that this will take longer. My CR situation isn't great. SAD engulfed my whole life. I'm 20 and I can't study, work, nor date, and I almost don't get out of my house. My family have bad monetary conditions and I know I'm being a burden. I feel like a failure and the despair grows as time goes by. I'm in therapy and I'm trying to get better, but I still am not. And towards my SAD, yes, I can say I've tried everything, for more than a decade. So just "resolve your CR problems and then come back" isn't quite an option.

I feel so confused. People say shifting is so easy, so why so many people have difficulty with it? This makes me feel guilty for still not being able to. And also makes me so jealous. Guess this is kinda common for baby shifters, the jealousy. I'm jealous of the success and jealous of their skillsets/gifts. Which again makes me feel guilty, because it's pretty icky to desire their outcomes and don't pay the price they did. Well, that doesn't apply to cases where people shoft after little to no effort and time; then I just feel unlucky. When I see posts like "I've taught my friend/sister/brother/etc how to shift and they did!", oh, it's the worse. I get so jealous of these ones, because it really seems so good to be "adopted" by an experienced shifter. I honestly feel like I'm walking without sight; I just know where I want to end at, but the path is a messy mystery.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not lazy. It's not like I'm not willing to pay the price of magic — like, common. It's just a little learning and then I'll have the whole multiverse. And although I really am hardworking, I don't say this just about me. I feel like most of us aren't lazy at all; to work is human. The problem is the emotional and psychological part of the journey. The problem is the time. The problem is how long is this process going to take.

"Just be patient and do the right things consistently" I tell myself, but I don't really know how to do that. Not when my heart aches and my CR devour my remaining sanity. And It's such a hard thought knowing heaven is just behind a door I can see but fail to open.

I can understand why people that already shifted see our pre-shift reactions as drama (I mean, is just a tiny bit of stress time in comparison with a life full of shifts). But right now, it really hurts. It really is intense for me. I don't know how to care less, how to feel less.

I don't have any friends into shifting, and I would love to just have someone I trust to talk about it. Sometimes I think I could tell my besties about it; but I know that they'll think I'm just being delusional, escapist and that believing in this is self-destructive. Or worse, they can believe in it and end in a place similar to mine. I plan on telling them when I already shifted, though.

I want to make online friends into shifting, but I'm so afraid people will hate me because I'm currently not the most pleasant company.

.

[gamemakerm]

the book i have been proofing for work might be the first proofing project i give up on before the end of the book

[izzy-b-hands]

I get two fucking sentences in on every new draft for every new idea lately, and then my brain goes 'hm, no, actually that's stupid/boring/cloying/not going to be something you can write at your current ability'

I am. vibrating with rage at my brain rn over this bout of writer's block. Bro we literally want to die whenever I go longer than like. a fucking week without writing SOMETHING; why the fuck are you making this harder!!!!!! Just let me write a full fucking thing even if it sucks!!! but i literally physically start to feel sick and can't push myself to keep typing as soon as the above thoughts hit. I have a stupid number of untitled, barely started to almost completely done drafts, for multiple fandoms (mostly our flag tho admittedly lmao), all of which have been started within the last maybe fourteen days.

i wanna scratch my brain out of my fucking skull lmao. free to a good home after i get it out, if anyone else wants to try and rehabilitate it

[cerise-on-top]

I was on Tik Tok and a video appeared of a woman getting ready (makeup, clothes, etc.) to wait for her police wife, I thought of this scenario with Alejandro. Could you do a oneshot like this?

Hey there! Please don't request oneshots or fics or something like that from me, I usually only write those when I'm inspired ^^; I made an exception this time, but please keep that in mind!

Waiting for Alejandro

Among those gentle dreams of twosomeness, where the lovely was the ordinary and loneliness was as far away as the end of the universe, you prayed. With your eyes closed, with your mind showing you beautiful, vivid dreams of your loved one caressing you, giving you the love you yearned for, you murmured along words of love. The gods would be benevolent enough to let you experience that happiness just once more. Where the wars would never end, where the fights were eternal, you hoped for a small respite from it all, granting such to a lone, tired soldier. A warm hand on his cheek, a smile you almost forgot in your wake, tender words exchanged. The pain of being alone was forgotten for just another moment, tearing your heart open any other time. But alas, a dream was as fleeting as a petal drifting through the wind.

Birdsong, louder than what you were used to, tore you from your peaceful slumber, the light shining through the window. It was not bright, but it almost blinded you. And even on this morning, as the birds sang about their love for one another, as they joined one another into an aria of affection, you felt the lightness of your bed. Even this morning, Alejandro had not yet joined you. You turned to his side, images of him slumbering away flickering in front of you. Your safe haven, your sanctuary of rest, was incomplete without him. Taking his pillow into your arms, you closed your eyes. His scent had faded entirely by now. As it was, nothing remained aside from blurry memories. Had you taken him for granted this entire time? Had you not been a good enough partner? Would he even return? Pangs of insecurity gnawed at your heart. Everything was going to be alright, Alejandro was alright. He was going to return soon.

And on your nightstand laid your phone. In your sadness, it seemed less appealing than usual. And yet, somehow, this morning, you felt more drawn to it than usual. Anxiety coursed through you. A simple “I’m coming home tonight” would ease any and all insecurities you had, but the disappointment of not seeing any messages would be too great. Taking it off the charger, you held it in your phone for a moment, running your finger along its case. Curiosity was a strong drive for many, but for you it held more sadness than anything. How long has it been since you had last seen Alejandro? Too long, but today likely wouldn’t change anything. Devoid of any contentment, you sighed. Maybe you should go back to sleep, delude yourself within those dreams of love. He was to return, for you would fight a seven nation army by yourself and boast an empty victory otherwise.

Another few minutes passed, sitting hunched over your phone without ever turning it on. You didn’t know the time, it didn’t matter. It was nothing you needed to know for the time being. An answer to your prayer came in something you didn’t want to see: Your phone vibrated, the screen lighting up and displaying a message.

I will be home in one and a half hours, wait for me 🥰

The sender was Alejandro.

Without batting an eye, you unlocked your phone, hovering your fingers over the virtual keyboard. You wanted to respond, you needed to, but your mind went blank. What were you to say when your mind wouldn’t respond, but your heart sang a little tune? Dancing in its cage, soon to be freed from its shackles. On its stage, it grew warm underneath all the lights. There was naught but a single person as its audience, but the cheers were as wholesome as they were genuine. It beat, it danced in hope. One and a half hours. All this time you were alone, you grew tired, exhausted even. Jumping up from your bed, you made haste towards your closet, picking out some lovely clothes. Alejandro had always loved seeing you in these, complimenting you every time. Today was a day unlike any other. It was special to you in so many ways, you hoped you could make it a day unlike many others for Alejandro as well.

The time spent in the bathroom was not marked by its brevity. Your hygiene made for the base of it all, combing your hair and brushing your teeth so you could feel clean. Although you would have loved to indulge in this little ritual, there was relatively little time. Between rushing to put on your fancy clothes and applying your makeup, you messed up quite a few times. Your speed could have rivaled that of professionals. Even as you poked your eye a few times, even as you applied more makeup than what was likely needed and you had to scrape off little bits. Looking in the mirror, your heart sank. What have you done to yourself? The precipitance caused you to look questionable at most. Alejandro deserved better than that. It was a special day, one to be celebrated. You could under no circumstances afford to look the way you did.

This time with more leisure, you applied everything yet again. Although you may have looked far from perfection, Aphrodite would have been proud of you either way. Rushing to look at your phone, you looked at the time. Ten minutes and the text would have been one and a half hours old.

You stepped outside. The warm sun hit your face and you looked around. No one yet. For as much as every fiber of your being wished for the time to fly by, for those ten minutes to be skipped, you tried to submit to your patience. You had waited for months, surely you could wait another few minutes.

And yet, those ten minutes didn’t seem to pass. If pain and suffering could turn seconds into minutes, then this little waiting game of yours had been turned into hours. Even as you took in the sun’s warm rays, closing your eyes while remembering all those times Alejandro complained about your vitamin D deficiency, as he forced you outside to soak up the warmth, the time didn’t seem to pass. With a sigh you leaned onto the rails.

Thanks for the ride, amigos!

The door to a car was forcefully closed shut and you opened your eyes. Indeed, there he was in all his glory, waving to those who had driven him home. The waiting had paid off. However, you had no control over yourself as you slowly moved towards him. As if on instinct, as if a moth drawn to flame, as if a child seeking its mother’s affection, you sped up, running right at him. Your heart beat loud and heavy in your ears, it was almost unbearable. However, he, too, seemed to have taken notice of you, standing still as he awaited your embrace.

Stumbling and tumbling about, you eventually reached him, wrapping your arms tightly around him. If he was smoke in the air, then you were the jar he was being captured with. You never wanted to let him go again, simply reveling in his touch instead. Alejandro seemed to reciprocate as he wrapped his arms around you as well, laughing as he did so.

“Someone’s very eager to see me today, eh? Good to see you too.”

“I missed you so much, you have no idea.”

The grip he had on you was somewhat tight, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. And for a moment, he was no longer a fighter, holding the one he loved the most. The wars were over for the time being, he could finally focus on something equally as important. And for a moment, the world was at peace. However, in order to protect such properly, he had to let go of you eventually, holding onto your shoulder for a moment longer still.

“Look at you, all dolled up just for me. You look stunning today, mi amor.”

“Thank you, I wanted this day to be special for the both of us.”

Taking on his role of a warrior yet again, he put his arm around you, shielding you from any and all harm there may be. Even in the comfort of his own home, Alejandro couldn’t help but fight whenever needed. It was his calling, his raison d’être. Even during the most peaceful times, threats of war always lingered. His walls were high still, only lowering them so you could get inside his heart and paint it with your love. Walking you towards your shared home, he hummed a little tune.

“I’m so glad to finally be home again. Now I can spend my time with you and relax a little bit.”

“Shit, I didn’t cook anything, though. I’m so sorry, Alejandro.”

He laughed yet again. That melodious, loud laughter you came to adore over the years you spent with him. After opening the door, he gave you a gentle peck to your forehead.

“Don’t worry too much about it, we can always just order some takeout.”

[this-should-do]

god i am obsessed eith the tonal shift between ahlf life 1 and 2 in regard to the sense of success at ur accomplisments

in 1, nothing you do ever gives u a sense of success or accomplishment, u killed people, u killed aleins but u have so much more to do. its an empty feeling, oh u killed the tentacles? cool go down the hole, dog urself deeper into this mess. oh you killed the gargantua and turned on the railway? go down deeper into the water and blood deeper into the bowels of the beast you created of the facility. you kill the nihilanth and u look up at the fireworks knoeing you are going to die, you cannot escape the explosion and the mess youve created. ur pulled from the mess and you are told you have guranteed urself a future of killing and endless battles or a battle u can never win. mothing you do matter none of it is worth anything. you are cold and alone and soaked in blood and people are only getting more scared

but in 2 the mood shifts, the smallest battles give people hope for a future. you can kill even a few soldiers and even if you do have to go deeper, the people around you cheer, if only for a moment, theyre alive and breathing and so are you. so many things yo do youre asked to do them again and again and each time these people are excited, thwyre grasping for a semblance of hope til thwir nails bleed and they cheer becuz they are alive and in the sun and watching their breath freeze as they cheer in the cold air of the mountains. the grass is green and growing and its more life than uve seen since before you moved to the middle of a desert to work in a concrete prison far from the warmth of the sun where it bakes all that it touches.

do you think gordon feels the happiness of the rebels? feels a sense of accomolishment in even the smallest thing he does? is he satisfied or fullfilled for helpjng these people? can he feel the sun warm the skin of his face and the bite of eastern european chill on his nose the way the rebels do? does he relish in that he is alive still? is he coming back? or do you think he still feels dull as he sinks deeper and deeper into the recesses of his mind and the concrete cage of balck mesa where his old life died?

[lynxfang]

I watched Martyn Inthelittlewood's POV for Limited Life and it was DELICIOUS. He was incredibly good in it. Had a lot of fun throwing together this concept. Scott basically called for horror/monster artists to draw cool art of their coral look... and I decided to add some dumbass lore to it. "Curse of the Coral" tied with "Curse of the Gills" in my head, but I went with coral.

I imagine the top left pic was the last hours.

[arizonaconservativegal]

I can no longer tell the difference between CSPAN and Bravo 😂

[straawberries]

hi happy halloween im out of food again

please commission me or donate

ive pretty much given up on being able to afford moving out so just being able to afford to live until i get kicked out would be nice

c*sh*pp (does this actually need to be censored?) is delilahswagga, p*yp*l is @delilahkill

not asking for a lot here even a few people donating a few dolalrs or getting 2 dollar commissions would help me a lot

[c0rpseductor]

i want to do a complete posthumous surgical analysis of lore olympus when it’s over and a complete work but frankly i’m not sure it’s ever going to fucking end given webtoon’s profit model and the fact that lore olympus is like its main cash cow. i’ll be doing my fucking retrospective castigation at age 69

[gotouda]

sekaiichi hatsukoi & junjou romanticas art morphing over the past decade has been so scary. also i wish she would just finish them already and do something new and horrible

[420-what-you-smokin]

I made this monstrosity literally a day after sonic idw 63 came out because the idea kept haunting me enjoy

[grahamcarmen]