#but I’m on tumblr mobile and it does Weird Things if you leave the app then go back in which is what I had to keep doing

[estrellami-1]

I saw your post and I decided, why not? I've never done this before! (I'm no good at thinking of prompts). Currently I have one thing on my mind: Good Omens. And maybe this is weird to ask, but could you maybe take a scene from it and steddie-fy it? I don't care who's who.

There's a scene, which is my personal favorite, where Crowley asks Aziraphale to hang out after having dinner, and Aziraphale, with a soft voice and a longing look, says "You go too fast for me, Crowley."

And of course the "just a little demonic miracle of my own" scene. That ones a bit longer to explain, so I'd search it up for a better experience. This is the one all of us, including the author, speculate is when Aziraphale realized he was in love with Crowley.

Uhhhhhh yeah peace out ✌

Okay yes I know exactly what you’re talking about, I’ve seen the show and I’ve read the book (more than once actually lol) BUT it’s been forever and right now I’m not remembering anything besides the vaguest outline of the scene in the forest, when he starts going by Crowley. And then a few random scenes that I had to look up 😩 strangely enough I couldn’t find the “you go too fast for me, Crowley” scene anywhere which SUCKS because now I need to see it just to see it 😂

Also side note I would LOVE to Steddify the entire thing, I feel like Nancy would make a great Anathema, and Robin would be a fantastic Madame Tracy, esp considering the fact that Aziraphale/Steve (that’s what I’m imagining, at least) literally inhabits her body. And there’s even a Party what with Adam and them! I’m thinking Dustin as Adam, Max as Pepper, Will as Wensleydale, and Mike as Brian.

Anyways. Yes I love this a lot, thank you 😂

“Didn’t you have a flaming sword?” Eddifer asks, tilting his head

“Uh- oh, uh-” Steve stutters. It’s embarrassing, angels don’t stutter, but he’s caught wrong-footed, not sure he did the right thing anymore, and with Eddifer looking at him like that-

“You did! It was flaming like anything,” Eddifer says triumphantly. “Lost it already, have we?”

“I… gave it away,” Steve mumbles.

“You what?” Eddifer asks incredulously.

“I gave it away!” He shouts.

Eddifer looks at him for a second. Blinks. Looks away.

Steve’s left with a feeling he did something right. It’s more comforting than it should be, coming from a demon.

~~~~~~~~

Steve tilts his head. “Is that you under there, Eddifer?”

“‘S Eddie,” he grumps, lifting his helmet and sighing. “‘S Alright, lads, I know him.” He shakes his head. “What the heaven are you doing here?”

“I could ask the same of you!”

~~~~~~~~

“Animals,” Steve hisses, locked in a dungeon. This is a pickle if ever there was one.

“Animals don’t kill each other with clever machines, Angel, only humans do that.”

“Eddie,” he says, can’t help the excitement in his voice. Then he sees what Eddie’s wearing. “Oh, good Lord.”

Eddie’s lounging against the wall, arms crossed, looking Steve up and down. “What the deuce are you doing, locked up in the Bastille? I thought you were opening up a bookshop!”

“I was! I got… peckish.”

“Peckish,” Eddie parrots flatly.

Steve huffs. “Well if you must know, it was the crepes. Can’t get decent ones anywhere but Paris.”

“Angel,” Eddie says, “you’re really something else.”

Steve can’t quite figure out if that’s a compliment or not.

~~~~~~~~

“Y’know,” Steve says, almost certain Eddie’s going to push him up against a wall again for it. It’s half the reason he says it. “I think, deep down, you really are quite a nice person.”

Eddie doesn’t push him up against a wall, only smirks into his drink. “Only because you’re just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing.”

[pretty-pink-seaslug]

Not me making Little Nightmares 2 theories 🙈

Spoilers for Little Nightmares 1, Little Nightmares 2, and the secret ending!! I can’t put this under a read more so you have to scroll past 😔

• Right so 1st theory: <<Six is possessed>>

My reasoning for this theory, Six gets sucked into the TV we search for her yadda yadda so n so, and then we finally get to her at the end, but obviously there was a huge change, really she looks mutated, this is where my possessed theory comes in! You know how when we find her we never see Skinny Legend again? (I’m calling the hat man Skinny Legend) And you know how in the maw Six looked damn near possessed with the starvation she suffered? I heard several theories that the longer you stay in the maw the more crazy you go, so the insanity of the maw could’ve added to her starvation, made her crazy, and well she feasts on the Lady. After she feasts on the Lady we get that end scene where she’s sucking the souls of the gluttons around her, so that theory from the 1st game ties into my possessed theory because we all know how she gets when she gets hungry— plus we don’t know what happened to her in the shadow realm (that’s what I’m calling the TV realm) so anyways since Skinny Legend never comes back out after we get Six, she could’ve eaten him when she got hungry, and since we saw the Lady kinda possessed her after she got eaten, Skinny Legend probably possessed Six after he got eaten, so I guess I also have the theory of Six takes the soul of whoeveror whatever she eats, BUT if that soul is stronger than hers and she’s unable to kinda like control it, she’ll be taken over by that soul, as we saw at the end of the 1st game.

• 2nd theory: <<Six got mutated>>

You know how near the end we see that weird long armed version of Six? Here’s my theory as to why that’s a mutated version; you know how this game is fucked and weird— again, we don’t know wtf the Shadow Realm is like when you’re not teleporting through like Mono did, plus we already know Six can’t access the Shadow Realm transit system like Mono can, so whatever world she was put in could’ve changed her, a lot, thus we get long arm Six. For now we’re gonna call her M Six, the M standing for Mutated. As we can see, M Six is completely docile until provoked, and everytime we provoke her the more she screams and cries, but we’re not hurting her physically, more like we’re hurting her mentally/emotionally, that music box is the little bit of humanity she has left, and if you were mutated you’d probably try to hang onto whatever humanity you have left, right? So us trying to damage her music box is like us trying to take away the only comfort she has left, thus leading her to get thoroughly upset and attack us. Of course after we destroy it she turns back to normal, but mutation doesn’t go away that easy, you know how cancer is a mutation and when it’s “cured” it’s not really gone, and it’s just in a more docile state because it got radiated away so hard? Well the mutation is like that! So even though she looks normal and acts a lil normal too, that doesn’t mean she’s completely fine on the inside, the mutation could’ve effected her brain like how it did when she was M Six, so she could still be a lil deranged from the Mutation, thus leading her to drop us in the ending, probably out of fear or hatred from us destroying her music box.

• 3rd theory: <<Six got replaced>>

This last theory comes off the secret ending, where we see 2 versions of Six. Remember how when we were after Six trying to get her out the shadow realm we were getting guided by this shadow Six? Well that shadow Six only came through after Six was in the shadow realm for an extended period of time. So my theory is that if you’re dragged to the Shadow Realm for too long, you’ll get split in half, your soul splitting from its body, and a Shadow Realm creature takes your body, leaving you out of it. As we can see from the shadow people Mono finds, they kinda just hang around things that either killed them, places they died, or things they were attached to. Where does shadow Six pop up? Near Mono! Mono saved Six thus Six kinda attached herself to Mono, my theory also says that Six didn’t know that once you’re out it’ll be hard to get your body back, either that or you can’t get it back at all. So she was bringing Mono to where she was, only to find out she can’t get her past self back, so from then on after Un-Mutating that version of Six we get in the pink place, that’s the fake Six, and the real version of Six goes to be a wandering Shadow, like the ones Mono absorbs.

K that’s all my theories, did you like them? 🥺 👉👈 Lol I was getting tired of everyone having the same theory that it’s an endless loop of pain where Mono is Skinny Legend and keeps trying to save past him to no avail, I don’t like sad theories 😔 Anyways, thanks for reading these! I unfortunately can’t put all this under a Read More cut because I work off mobile tumblr and to put it under a Read More cut I’d have to go on the desktop version and for some reason when I save this as a draft on the app it refuses to show up on the site. Have a nice day/night homies 😎✌️

@unluckyblackcat13 😎

[angelicspaceprince]

Dewey x Crafter Reader Headcanons

Ive fallen down a rabbit hole of crafting and I can't get up. Help me. I write hcs to help save my soul

I'll also edit when I have computer access so then there is a read more button or whatever they're called, I can't find it on mobile

Wrote directly onto the tumblr app so if there are any mistakes that's why. No betas, we die by our spelling and grammar mistakes here

You were a crafter before you met Dewey, having taken up most crafts by the time you were 17

Sewing, needlepoint, embroidery, cross stitch, knitting, crocheting

You'd experimented with them all and even though each one had its merits, you definitely had your favourites

Then life happened. You had to start working, unable to attend college, and soon you had no time to craft. If you were awake, you were working

Mostly low paying jobs to cover rent, bills etc, taking on as many shifts as possible

It was actually during one of your shifts you met Dewey

You started working at a local music shop, mostly serving and organising CDs when a very excited Dewey rocked up, wanting to find the newest release for one of his favourite bands

You got to talking and realised that you had similar music tastes and, even though you really wanted to get to know him more, you had to remain professional. You were still on the clock

Luckily for you, however, you were invited to go see a group of local bands performing to celebrate your friend's birthday

You recognized Dewey the moment he stepped on stage and was in awe at his musical skill

You figured it'd be weird to go up to him and start talking because a) if he didn't recognize you then having a stranger come up to you and say that you remembered him from work would be odd and b) if he DID recognize you from work that'd be even odder

You didn't want to give off stalker vibes, so you stayed at the bar, content just to leave it

Dewey, however, saw you in the crowd and had a different plan in mind

Still riding the adrenaline high from being on stage, he walked straight up to you

"I don't know if you remember me, bu-"

"I remember you."

"Oh."

You both blushed heavily as you shift in your seat. "Drink?" You offered. "I....I liked talking to you earlier, I'd like to talk some more."

Dewey positively beamed at that, sitting down next to you as you effectively start ignoring your friend's birthday party celebrations in favour of talking to the man in front of you

The rest, as they say, was history

You ended up dating pretty quickly after you first met, moving in with each other after only dating for 6 months

It was an accident, you had your power cut off (again) and it was the middle of winter. Dewey offered you a warm place to stay temporarily and after 4 weeks of looking for a new apartment, he just said "you're already living here, just move in with me."

It made things easier, now there were two people contributing to bills

Rent was never paid in full, but something was always sent in

Patty wasn't impressed by that but Ned wasn't as fussed, just happy to have something coming in

It helped that he really liked you and felt that you were a good fit for Dewey

Even though things still remained tough, you were happy just to have a roof over your head and someone who loved you

When Dewey started working for Horace Green, things became easier

Bills were paid with his paycheck, yours became groceries and fuel money

Even then, for the first time in a long time, you had spare cash

Most went into savings but being able to afford your own Netflix account? Felt amazing

Despite having a bit of extra money, some habits were hard to break.

You rarely bought clothing from anywhere but thrift stores and Walmart, Dewey prefering Walmart but essentially doing the same thing

Unfortunately, that meant the clothing you had bought wasn't always the best of quaility, especially when Dewey was the one wearing it

Just the nature of his jumpy, clutzy, accident prone and slightly messy self meant you were constantly buying him new shirts and mending his sweater vests

To be honest, it was getting old

You'd also been missing crafting for a while so. Two birds, one stone

The next time you were in Walmart alone, you grabbed yarn and knitting needles and on the few days a week you were home alone, slowly you started to knit him some new sweater vests, using an old one that was beyond repair as the template to make sure each one fit

The first one was just a plain, fadded red to get yourself back into practice before slowly beginning to add simple designs similar to the few he owned now

Then a couple of weird themed ones, a couple of his favourite bands, one with music notes in the design, one that was birthday themed, one with mini guitars, whatever amused you and you thought would amuse him, you knitted onto the sweater

Each vest took three weeks to make. By the time his birthday came around, you had made him ten new vests, having kept it a secret the entire time

You were super nervous when he opened up his present, but the giant smile on his face was worth it, excited with the concert tickets you managed to get for the two of you (in the pit, of course) and with each new sweater, he got more and more excited

"These are amazing babe! Where did you get them?" He asked as he got up to try his favourite (the one with a replica of his Gibson knitted around the bottom) on

You go quiet. "I....uh.....I made them."

He looked over at you like you just admitted you had found a cure for cancer

You'd neglected to tell him of your crafting past, it never came up so you never said

Now, however, he was keen to see you craft

He never even dared to try it out for himself, but enjoyed watching you knit or crochet without looking at your work, watching TV or chatting to Dewey as you just continued to work

Every year, he got at least two sweaters from you, and you made sure to knit a sensible one and a silly one

What amazed you was the fact that Dewey seemed to have fewer accidents

He took extra special care of all of the stuff you make him, never spilling so much as a drop of coffee on them and tried his best not to get them snagged on the one sharp part of the doorway into his office

One day he came home, nearly in tears

You were folding up laundry but you dropped everything and came rushing over, thinking the absolute worst but instead he simply pushed something into your hands and said "I'm so sorry"

Turns out, he took off his vest when he came in to play a song with the kindergartners, something he now does daily as part of his role as music teacher

He didn't notice one of the kids grabbing it and wandering off with it

It was covered in paint, one of the Gibsons were cut out and the yarn was beginning to unravel, despite clear attempts to keep it from doing so

It was ruined

You hush Dewey as you pull him close and reassure him it's ok, you can make him another one

It took a while to settle him, he treasured everything you made him and he allowed one to get ruined

But once you assured him it was fine and you knew it was an accident, you ended up spooning in the couch as you mentally start planning the new sweater

A month passed when he found a wrapped up parcel on his desk

He was running late, didn't have time to grab a coffee and accidentally grabbed his vest with a massive hole in the back rather than one of your handcrafted ones

Still, he made it to the classroom before any students arrived, so he quickly opened it up and a huge smile plastered its way onto his face

A new sweater vest that was near identicle to his ruined one, a bit cleaner and better designed than the old one

You'd also made him a pair of socks, something you'd been experimenting with, with the AC/DC logos on the side

He found the note at the bottom 'Hope you have a good day. I love you. Y/N. P.S. These are not allowed near the kindergartners ❤'

He quickly changed into the sweater, feeling so much better than he did 5 minutes ago

The socks became his lucky socks and he'd wear them to his gigs, stating that it was like you were up there with him

He shushed you when you pointed out that it meant he was technically stepping on you, telling you "you know what I mean" before giving you a kiss

He'd give you requests for scarves, beanies, the lot. Socks were for bed or performances only, apparently, but everything else was worn whenever

You even made beanies and scarves for members of the band who wanted them, each having the School of Rock logo on it plus the kid's name

Dewey loves wearing and telling everyone about the stuff you make because he thinks it's absolutely incredible you're able to create something like this

And he treasures everything you make him

Most importantly, he's there to listen when you rant that the yarn isn't working like it should, or just about crafting problems in general, and be an ear as you problem solve an issue and is there to celebrate the victories when it finally works

Gets really good at yarn shopping too, picks up the brands you prefer and learns to read the packaging labels

Just

He loves the fact you can create something just like he can

[dear-selena]

Omg, if you’re feeling it could you make a Caught Web Handed part two? I loved part one sm!

Caught Web Handed (Pt. 2)

Peter Parker x Reader

Request: “Omg, if you’re feeling it could you make a Caught Web Handed part two? I loved part one sm!”

Summary: When a new Tumblr blogger who claims to be Spider-Man starts reblogging a ton of Spider-Man fanfiction, including yours, the community goes into a frenzy and you confront the boy who promised not to say anything. 

Warnings: Some swearing, this is literally so meta be warned

A/N: I would like to thank the anon who requested this two months ago! I’m sorry it took me so long to write this out! I genuinely didn’t know how to continue this story until recently. If you want me to continue this, please let me know! I could possibly write one more part to this, but only if you guys want it. 

Words: 1971

REQUESTS ARE OPEN 

Part 1

—————-

You love that Tumblr started the group chat feature, but damn, you wish you got notifications from it.

Yawning, you cover your mouth and suddenly crave your bed. Last night, you stayed up messaging a ton of bloggers in a new group chat someone created for your favorite web-slinging hero and didn’t even realize how late it was when the conversation whined down. 

The group chat is called “Them Spider-Man OCs 😩😍🕸🕷❤️💙” and is filled with a bunch of your mutuals. The entire night was spent complimenting one another on each other’s fanfictions, and sharing anything and everything about everyone’s OC’s. You couldn’t help the giddiness you felt when people told you how much they loved Trevor Trenton, your Spider-Man OC. 

Because Tumblr mobile refuses to send notifications when you get new messages, you stayed on the app for hours to make sure you were as involved in the conversation as possible. You knew you could have left the conversation at any moment, but you were just way too excited to finally bond with all your mutuals at once. 

Walking down the halls of Midtown High, you lazily stroll to your first class as if you had all the time in the world to get there. You hadn’t seen your friends yet this morning, making time go especially slow. Not knowing what else to do, you decide to open the Tumblr mobile app and check for new notifications in your group chat. To your surprise, a green circle appeared on the group chat photo someone edited of Spider-Man swinging through Queens with heart emojis all around him. 

You open the chat, and your heart jumps immediately. 

(Your Favorite Spider-Man Blog): Guys did TheOfficialSpiderMan account reblog your work too or is it just me?!?!

Suddenly frozen in place, you reread (Favorite Spider-Man Blog)’s message. With your heart bouncing in your chest, full of uncomfortable adrenaline, you quickly leave the chat and check messages and had to stop yourself from screaming. 

An account called TheOfficialSpiderMan had indeed reblogged your latest update on your Trevor Trenton fanfiction. 

Tapping on the blogger’s icon, you start investigating if this was truly the “Official” Spider-Man. The first thing you do is read the bio: 

“Yes, I’m the real Spider-Man XD. Still trying to figure out how to use this site so bear with me.

Queens, NY | Avenger | Science Nerd”

Looking at the blog’s avatar, you see that it’s a selfie that the hero took while swinging in the air. You’ve never seen a photo of Spider-Man like this before, but you couldn’t tell if it was edited or not. If this is a fake account, this person must be really good at photoshop… 

Scrolling through the blog, you notice that this person’s not only reblogged your fanfiction but almost all your mutuals too. You recognized some of the stories as one’s you’ve read prior and almost all of them were from people who were in the Spider-Man group chat with you. Eventually, however, you scrolled to the bottom of the blog and found a simple text post. 

“Hey Everyone! It’s me, Spider-Man. I’m just here to interact with you guys cause I’ve heard that I have fans on this site. I just wanted to say thank you to everyone for supporting me. Love you all

The post, although wholehearted and sweet, immediately fills you with worry. If this truly was Spider-Man, that means your favorite hero, the hero you’ve been fantasizing about through your writing, was reading your stuff. He was reading this personified version of himself that you created for your silly romantic pleasure, and that scares you shitless. A part of you feels exposed in a way you never thought possible, and even though your Tumblr username doesn’t quite give away your identity, you still feel extremely vulnerable. The thought of the man behind the mask seeing your work makes you feel quite uneasy, especially because you don’t know who the man behind the mask is. 

Suddenly, the bell for first-period rings, and you’re brought back to reality. As peers shuffle through the halls around you, you shove your phone in your pocket and pick up the pace to get to your first class. While walking, you couldn’t help but wonder Why Spider-Man chose to solely reblog fanfiction. There are plenty of Spider-Man Tumblr posts consisting of gif-sets, fan edits, and general news about him, so why fanfiction? 

It was as if Spider-Man has some sort of motivated intentions. 

——————

Peter Parker hits the reblog button on yet another well-written story about him. 

Well, better yet, him as a superhero. 

Ever since he found out that you write fanfiction about Spider-Man a couple of months back, Peter couldn’t stop wondering what else was written about him. After a self-debate for whether or not it’d be a good idea to actually make a Tumblr account and find your work, he decided to go for it. After all, he was pretty bored last night, and what better way to interact with fans that through a popular fandom website? 

So he created “TheOfficialSpiderMan” and immediately started reading fanfiction. 

He has to say, he was quite amazed at how talented his fans were. A lot of the stories and characters they created were so unique, and the plots they wrote up were quite clever! He instantly picked up on some tropes people would write about, including ones where the reader was Iron Man’s child (he has to admit, he found those stories quite meta). 

And after a ton of scrolling and reblogging, he came across a story about a version of Spider-Man named Trevor Trenton. He immediately knew that this story was yours, and took notice of your Tumblr name, (Your Tumblr blog name). He wanted to follow you but figured he should lay low right now. ‘I shouldn’t be giving certain fans special attention… especially if this certain fan is a good friend of his and possibly his crus-.’ 

“Hey, Peter!” 

Peter turns around to see Ned with his usual smile on his face. 

“Oh, Ned! Guess what?” Peter proceeds to shove his phone in his best friend’s hand. “I found (Y/N)’s Tumblr account!” 

Ned’s eyes go wide as he examines Peter’s phone, seeing a post with your blog name on it. “Oh my god, Peter,” Ned starts to laugh. “You did not just join Tumblr to find her fanfiction.” 

“Of course not,” Peter protests, going to show the blog account. “Spider-Man did.” 

Ned looks up at Peter with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Damn Peter,” Ned says sarcastically. “Didn’t think you’d be one to join fandom culture.” 

Peter rolls his eyes as the bell rings, indicating that second-period was about to start. Saying a quick goodbye to Ned, Peter quickly makes his way to his robotics class, a class that you just so happen to share with him. As Peter enters the room, he scans it and instantly spots you at one of the workshop tables, head buried in your phone, and wide-eyed. 

Peter smirks. He knows exactly what’s going on. 

He makes his way over you, and plops down in the seat next to you, causing you to look up at him in surprise. “Oh, hey Peter.” you squeak out, completely caught off-guard. 

Peter couldn’t help but stifle a laugh. The last time he saw you this flustered was when MJ caught you writing Spider-Man fanfiction back at his place, and he had to admit, you looked pretty cute. “Hey, (Y/N). What are you looking at?” 

You look back at your phone and quickly snooze the screen, shoving your phone in your pocket. “Oh, i-it’s nothing…” You say unconfidently, a blush appearing on your face. “Just a stupid Tumblr update.” 

“Oh?” Peter asks, knowing what you meant by ‘update’. “Does it have to do with Spider-Man?” He couldn’t help but push the conversation on you. He was too excited to see your reaction. 

“Actually, yeah.” You finally admit after a moment. “My mutuals and I are kinda freaking out cause a blog that claims to be Spider-Man is reblogging our stories. It’s weird.” 

“Really, weird?” He questions. “What makes that so weird?” 

“Why would a superhero go online just to read fanfiction. Superheroes shouldn’t even know about this kinda stuff. They should be focused on, I don’t know… saving the world or something. It’s just weird that he’s only reblogging fanfiction and-.” You cut yourself off when you look up at Peter and see he’s just sitting there, head propped up against his hand, leaning on the table with his elbow, sporting a knowing smirk of some sort. Confused at why he was looking at you like that, you almost question him. But that was when you started to connect the dots. 

It feels like Spider-Man has some motivated intentions. Peter Parker is intentionally talking about this with you. 

You squint your eyes at the boy in front of you. “Peter, did you tell Spider-Man about fanfiction?” 

Peter blinks, his smirk off his face. “W-what? No, I didn’t.” 

Your glare intensifies, and Peter sits up straight. “Are you lying to me? You just had your ‘I-know-something-you-don’t face on.” 

Peter swallows, suddenly nervous. He didn’t think you’d react like this. “I’m not lying, (Y/N). I did not tell Spider-Man about fanfiction.” 

You did… a couple of months ago… 

You look away, now glaring at the table. “Then explain how Spider-Man knows about fanfiction and why he only reblogs it?” 

Peter starts to sweat. “Uh, I-I don’t know. Maybe he likes to read?” 

“Or someone told him to find it?” You look back up at Peter, whose clearly uncomfortable, making it easier for you to believe that he’s lying. “Maybe while they were at their Stark Internship or something?” 

Peter mentally facepalms. He’s not getting out of this, is he? 

“(Y/N), please.” Peter pleads. “I promise I didn’t say anything to S-Spider-Man. And even if I did, why is it so bad? Why is it bad that he’s reading fanfiction?” 

“Because!” You shout, catching the attention of some of your classmates. Embarrassed, you force Peter to crouch down close to you so you can whisper. “The stories on Tumblr can get a bit uncanny. What if he finds smut about himself?” 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “What’s a smut?” 

You roll your eyes. “Exactly, and I’m NOT going into that right now.” You shudder, realizing what could happen if your favorite hero finds stories like… that.

Nevertheless, you push those thoughts out of your head and continue on. “But seriously Peter. You told me you wouldn’t tell him about this stuff, and how he’s reading a ton of it? Something doesn’t add up.” 

Peter wants to argue back, but he honestly doesn’t know what to say. He can’t assure you that your writing is good and that he’s enjoying seeing his fans’ creativity because he’d have to reveal his secret to you, and that’s the last thing he wants to do. Especially now. 

Before he knows it, your packing your stuff back up, getting out of your seat and slinging your backpack over your shoulder. “Find me when you can tell me the truth.” With that, you walk to the other side of the room and sit at a new table, just in time for the teacher to walk in and discuss the new project. 

Peter couldn’t help but mentally beat himself up. Was doing all this a mistake? He genuinely just wanted to find your work and actually interact with his fans. He never expected it to backfire like this. Now he has to find a way to assure you he wasn’t technically lying, all while keeping his identity a secret. With all the thoughts racing through his mind, there was one that stood out: 

He fucked up.

————–

-Peter Parker Tag List-

@sweetcoffeeblandtea // @house-arya // @jovialpeanut // @bookstoreblossom // @jackiehollanderr

-Marvel Tag List-

@sammghgecko

-Permanent Tag List-  

@mindset-jupiter // @romance-geek // @imcharishope // @fakindob // @cutiekoa // @wowursofunny // @cals-cigarette // @supernerdycookietrashblr // @delicately-important-trash // @unlikelygalaxygive

[thesentientmango]

How does formatting on tumblr work?!!! I have an ao3 account and I’m trying to cross post, but tumblr confuses me SO MUCH 😂 Sorry if this question annoys you. You don’t have to answer. 😂😂

Tumblr is a confusing site, and it is a lot harder than A03 to format on here but I will happily show you how I do it! 

So first things first do it on the website not the app, it’s easier, maybe not by a lot, but tumblr has a lot of weird things on mobile, like you can’t select multiple paragraphs at a time and there’s a max paragraph limit also it’s a lot easier to add a read more on the website . So go to your dashboard on the website! You’ll see something that looks a little bit like this:

The circles indicate where you can go to get to the text post where you can copy on your writing. The blue pencil will just bring you to a menu that looks the same as the bar of different options that are on the dashboard menu already.

So once you’re on a text post (in not saying this is the best way to do it, but this is how I do it) copy and paste your writing in. Maybe before you do that add a summary and that kind of stuff but then copy your writing in there. 

So you’ve got your writing in the text post but say you wanted to add a read more, so first figure out where you want it, make a new empty paragraph (you might need two empty lines, it varies for me sometimes) and press the three dots that pop up, it should be next to adding a photo and a gif.

Cool! So now you’ve got a read more but you want to use bold or italic or strike though, so select the word(s) you want changed and a menu should pop up with the options above the words. This sometimes desides to not work very well on desktop, and if that’s the case just save it as a draft and switch over to mobile. Mobile’s pretty similar it just pops up above the keyboard.

Cool! So now you’ve got your writing all bolded and italized and all that good stuff, but since your cross posting from A03, maybe you want to include a link to this on A03, so if you want to do this write whatever you want to include the link on, and then highlight it and click the sideways ‘8’. A little bubble should pop up, but if it doesn’t again using mobile is fine for this, but if you do before you post if you’ve saved on mobile you might want to check the read more is still there or leave that till last because sometimes it doesn’t save if you save on mobile.

And then of course there’s tagging, but that’s pretty self explanatory, you type what you want to tag it as in the tags box at the bottom! I hope this was helpful, if you have any more questions I can’t promise I’ll know the answer, but I can try!

[scoobydoomistakes]

What with Tumblr‘s years of commotion, and the very kind concerned messages...

...I feel it’s important to say don’t worry — I’m not gonna abruptly delete/abandon SDM.

The whole point of the blog is to make people smile, and if it can still do that, the show must go on.

That said, please leave your favorite other platforms you’d like to see SDM on in the comments! More on that near the end of this post.

Of course, since I was informed recently...

...twice, for some reason...

...that the blog had, apparently, been secretly flagged explicit for who knows how long...

...and seeing as things like wholesome, family-friendly cartoon gorillas...

...are constantly flagged as adult content... well, the future feels a bit sketchy. 

So, let’s talk a little about the state of Tumblr – and to (hopefully) inject some levity into this mess, let’s use the one true medium of communication...

...Scooby-Doo reaction images.

They can make anything easier to discuss. It’s been scientifically proven.

To start things off, there are 3 vital keys to running a platform well:

1. Communicating with the community

Acknowledging issues, explaining upcoming fixes, answering common questions. This shows users you care, and are listening!

2. Fixing problems as they arise

Patching bugs, stopping platform abuses, adding vital absent features. This allows both creators’ content and the community to keep improving!

3. Moving in an understood direction

Working towards improvements & goals that most users agree are logical. This gives people confidence in the future!

Having all 3 is ideal, but isn’t always possible... 

...but fortunately, nailing 2/3 covers well for the 3rd! 

For instance, if you want to move in a direction that’s unpopular, but have a history of fixing issues well, and you communicate about changes in a consistent and timely manner, users will largely understand. 

Sadly, in the almost 5 years I’ve been here...

...Tumblr has made no visible attempt at a single one of these things. 

Communication is almost nonexistent, major issues persist indefinitely, and improvements never come.

I would go in-depth into each issue that the community has reported for years, but the file size of that much text would prolly crash the internet. 

And saddest of all, when a rare change does come, it causes more problems than it solves.

See also: the history of the mobile app, and tomorrow’s new rules.

What Tumblr needed was to finally own up to the users... 

...AKA, the people who watch the ads that make Tumblr earn money... 

...that yes, there are huge issues, and communicate on what they’re doing to fix – say – abusive content and the broken safe mode filter.

Instead, they’re banning even any legitimate, positive, properly-flagged content that’s considered explicit... despite the fact that they can’t even make the existing safe mode work... and it meant giving a literal two-week notice to artists who depended on the platform for the last 11 years?

Even for 110% family-friendly blogs like SDM... 

...well, it’s concerning to know things can be deleted or banned incorrectly at any time. 

Heck, my grandma’s Santa collection was apparently very explicit...

...so for all we know, this Santa-Scooby rug could get this post flagged too.

Be careful – there’s no tool to see which of your posts are currently flagged to request reviews for them. It’s all a mystery.

As far as we know, posts may be taken down at any time, and old flagged content may be lost forever. 

If SDM gets posts flagged wrongly all the time, what blog can’t? SDM has a flawless 4,200+ post record of safe content, and even its flags aren’t automatically reviewed. And this level of broken-ness extends to every facet of the platform... and seriously, don’t get me started on the mobile app.

I’m sure there’s loads of very nice people working there, but as a company... 

...the way Tumblr operates is inexcusable.

Despite refusing to communicate, admit issues, or improve things over the last 4-5 years, Tumblr was quite adept at accusing my mother of following Russian propaganda accounts, breaking gifs randomly for about half a year, making text display on mobile never work right, breaking blog titles, swapping images between unrelated posts, and so much more.

Now, all this said... 

...we only complain so much because we care about this platform. 

We want to see Tumblr succeed, improve for everyone, and be profitable for those working there.

Nobody wants something they care about to figuratively turn into a decrepit old skeleton, falling out of the fuselage of the internet.

Now, that’s an analogy you don’t get to use every day.

Buuuuuuut to be safe, since we’ve politely asked for communication and fixes for years to no avail, I feel I should ask all you smart people... 

...is there another platform you’d like to read SDM on as well? Especially one that supports its weird long-form-post nature?

With so many people leaving Tumblr, if SDM can help bring them a laugh somewhere else as well, I’d gladly look into it.

I’ve even considered what changes it would take to make SDM work in short social platforms’ posts...

...but I dunno, isn’t the in-depth silliness sort of what makes SDM fun? Having multiple images, gifs, and lines of riffing is pretty essential to the blog. 

And as flexible as YouTube video is, it'd take far more work for way less content... plus, I’ve always liked the “scroll through with friends and chat” aspect of SDM being in post-form. You can talk over it, and spend as long laughing at a derpy frame as you like.

I’m also reluctant to just host SDM as its own site – people want the convenience of all their content aggregated together into a feed. It’d have advantages for me, but makes more work for you guys to see it. 

So, have another blogging platform you love? Let me know! One way or another, it’ll all work out in the end.

Oh, and a final FYI: I’ve seen posts of 250k+ people planning to log off on the 17th for 24 hours, in order to hopefully make Tumblr notice they need to actually listen to the users for once. 

If you’re interested, feel free to investigate – I’ll be posting right after midnight today, and will be off the site for the rest of the day. 

Your pal,

–Colin 

[youknowmymethods]

Content Creator Interview #3

In the third part of this series it’s @ohaine ‘s turn (*waves*) to pick @ashockinglackofsatin​ ‘s (satin_doll’s) brain about inspiration for baroque and larger than life OCs, what poetry has to do with fanfiction, and how a chance encounter with a masked swordsman kicked her down the path to fandom and fanfic writing. 

(My apologies if the formatting looks a bit weird to you. This looks fine on my desktop, but a bit crazy in the mobile app. Not sure what’s going on or how to fix it, so...)

                                   “He drapes the black cloth carefully. He doesn't want to disturb more than necessary. As he works, he murmurs to them, softly, ever so softly. Periodically, he pauses and stares into the distance, as if he's watching for a visitor. No one will come now. Not out here. Not for him.”

-Telling the Bees

If you read enough, if you pay enough attention, every now and then you’re rewarded with a fanfic author who not only truly understands the character they’re writing, but who also truly understands writing itself. They’re a gift. Not only to their readers but to other writers who take inspiration from them, who learn from them, who aspire to be as good as them.

On a sunny Saturday morning in April 2016 for the very first time I opened satin_doll’s page on AO3 and read her first Sherlolly story, “Telling the Bees.” I cried fat, ugly tears for Sherlock, for Molly, (inconvenient, not to mention embarrassing as I was in a public place) but I smiled because I’d found one. A gift. It was the beginning of a love affair with her work, the beginning of a masterclass in writing and understanding, but maybe even more importantly it was the beginning of a wonderful friendship. And it began with the same first words I’ve used to introduce her here.

It’s a joyous thing to be given the opportunity to talk to her about her writing. Whether it’s a revelatory character study, like “Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose,” the heart-wrenching romance of “Doubt,” even the so-perfect-it-could-be-canon world of the “Dark Company” series, satin_doll pulls you down a rabbit hole, into Sherlock’s world in a way that makes you understand him better, and teaches you something about yourself in the process.

 Funny, clever, insightful, she’s my number one writing crush, I love her to bits. 

Over Christmas 2018 satin_doll (@ashockinglackofsatin here on tumblr) was kind enough to answer my fangirling questions about her writing and characters. I hope you all enjoy reading what she had to say as much as I did.

  OhAine: So, starting at your beginning, how did the spark ignite?

satin_doll: I started with fiction before I could actually read or write. When I was four years old, there was a television show on about Robin Hood. My mom would park me in front of the television every day when this show was on (probably to get some relief/keep me out of her face for a little while so she could get something done) and I was absolutely in love with Robin Hood. I made up stories and made my mother write them down for me. This is how I learned to read and write: she started teaching me my letters when I asked her what the little black marks were on the paper. Once I learned, I read everything I could get my hands on. I read literally everything. I was absolutely fascinated with words.  I belonged to a children's book club, went to the library, read my parents books (both my mom and stepdad were voracious readers, so there were books everywhere.) I especially loved books about fantastic things - magic, sorcery, dragons, etc. I loved mythology, superheroes, science fiction and fantasy. I collected comic books for years. Not much changed as I got older. Speculative fiction is still what I'm drawn to.   

Despite my obsession with books and stories, I never considered myself a "writer" until after college. In school, I had the usual literature and writing classes until I met Mr. P, my creative writing professor. He was a well-known poet (think Pulitzer Prize) and our creative writing was almost exclusively poetry. I fell in love with both him and poetry and continued to take classes with him for years. One of my proudest achievements was breaking into a particularly choosy literary magazine and being published in it before he was. He never let me forget that. He also was fond of saying "Novelists are failed poets", which I took to heart for a long while once I understood what he was saying. He wasn't criticizing novelists, just making a point about how to write poetry. That's about the extent of my training as a writer; the rest is just me and my periodic forays into hubris. 

OhAine: Is voracious reading how you discovered fanfiction? 

satin_doll: No, it was on the old Compuserve bulletin boards. And loved it. But it didn't really occur to me to write it back then.

In 1998, I belonged to an online discussion group about Zorro. I had a video tape of all the old Disney episodes and I adored Guy Williams. One of the ladies in the group - I still don't remember why she chose me - asked me to write her a story about Zorro, so I did. I think Zorro ended up in a bathtub with a lady, taking his mask off and introducing himself by his real name. I don't know what happened to that file, I wish I still had it. As I recall, it was a nice story and I was very pleased with it. At any rate, that was my first fanfic as an adult that I shared with someone else, and after that I couldn't quit doing it.

OhAine: It’s that sharing that makes fanfiction unique, isn’t it? Because the reader isn’t some abstract concept, far removed from you, we’re all part of the same fandom so you get an instant connection, almost real-time feedback.   

satin_doll: Exactly. And that feedback is critical for a writer, no matter how much some of us protest that we "write for ourselves." We don't live in a vacuum and psychologically speaking, for writers, sharing our work is an important form of setting boundaries, which is expressing who and what we are. This is especially true for fanfic writers, I think. When we post work, we're not doing it so that we can go back and look at it ourselves. We're communicating and we're communicating something important. We join a fandom because we like it, and to communicate that enjoyment with other like-minded individuals. We want to share what we love and what we know. When we write stories about the characters or using a particular setting or universe, we're expressing, communicating - hopefully - something important about ourselves, both individually and as a group. 

When I write fanfic, I write it to communicate. I don't expect lots of kudos or comments; in fact, I'm usually surprised that anyone reads it at all, let alone takes the time to leave a remark or anything of that sort. But it's out there, and hopefully someone will read it and it will touch something inside them, have a little meaning for them. Don't get me wrong, I'm not writing to change anyone's life. It's enough to trigger some feeling, some emotional response, make them think or even just go "hmmm." I recently received a comment from someone who said they "had never thought of it that way." That was extremely satisfying to me, it meant that I had reached someone, made them think or consider something a different way and that's exactly why I write.

OhAine:  Is that how you measure the success of a piece? Or do you have something else you measure it by?

satin_doll: Success to me is simply getting it done! Feedback is lovely, it's wonderful, and I adore it, but if I had to go by that I'd never write another word. In terms of feedback, the stories I would have thought would be well received generally aren't and the ones I think no one will like do fairly well, all things considered. Writing is hard, and I'm a very slow writer. I'm also probably more serious about it than most in the fan fiction realms. Not that I think my stories warrant "serious" consideration, but that the writing of them is a serious act for me. If I'm able to sit down and finish a piece, that's a success as far as I'm concerned. That they get any notice at all is icing on the cake.

OhAine: So I wanted to drill down a bit into some of your stories. Choosing which ones to ask you about was difficult because I have so many questions about your process, but I’ve settled in the end on two that I think are representative of the things you do best; OCs and character examination. Words (part of the Dark Company series) stands out for me as one of your most memorable stories not only because it has an outstanding OC (as all of the Dark series stories do) in the form of Mr P., but because of the very Sherlock way that Sherlock approaches the problem of his feelings for Molly Hooper. Can you tell me a bit about the inspiration for that story?

satin_doll: Sherlock and "feelings" is a notorious problem for writers, I think. Moftiss didn't do us any favors with their approach to the subject. Most tend to depict Sherlock as being clueless about feelings in general, which I understand. But in my universes, he isn't clueless so much as he is averse. Feelings can cause problems, both professionally and personally, so he buries them. But (in my version) he does this consciously. It isn't because he's unaware, it's a choice. Along with that choice come consequences. When he decides that he WANTS to deal with the feelings, he doesn't quite know how because he's never practiced expressing them or communicating on that level. It's like having a muscle that you've barely used; it's weak and it doesn't function properly yet. So, when he decides that he wants to start dealing with the emotional side of his relationship with Molly, what would he do?

My idea was that he would go to an expert in emotional expression for help, at least in the initial approach. Who better to come up with the right words than a poet? In the Dark Universe, Sherlock knows experts in everything. They are his friends, people he has interacted with, who know him and whom he knows and trusts completely. That was the beginning idea. Sherlock goes to one of his friends for help in finding the exact right words to open up the way to moving forward with Molly. Mr. P gives him a little poem that sort of wraps up the problem with the relationship as it is, and gives them both a push in the right direction. Sherlock does this because he is AWARE that he has a weak emotional muscle, not because he doesn't have one. It was like his first excursion to the emotional gym. He had to have help to get started. 

OhAine: And the poem at the end – “How is it that we say so much in our first glance of greeting, Yet our words sit on our tongues like tiny, frozen birds?” – it absolutely kills me.

satin_doll: You can blame my own Mr. P for that. I spent years writing mostly poetry, and though I don't get that "poetic" in most of my fics, I was taught to cut and condense (also a result of writing movie reviews and doing interviews for work), to focus on the exact word or image that would get the point across or get the right response (thank you Semantics 101.) I also love haiku, which I consider the ultimate form of poetry, and distilling the essence of what you want to say into a single image is really good practice for writing of any kind. There is a place for long, flowery descriptives in writing fiction, I suppose, but in the end you have to remember that you're telling a story and you don't want the words to get in the way of that. Simple is always best, in poetry as well as fiction. 

OhAine:  I thought it was interesting that in this story he reached out to her in such a romantic way, yet you managed to still have it happen in a way that’s very much true to their characters. How do you walk that line between showing something that we only ever get the barest of hints of on screen, expanding the characters into places and emotions that we’re not familiar with, yet still keep them true to themselves?

satin_doll: Ah, this is a touchy one. We all have our own versions of Sherlock, of what we think is "in character" for him. Mine is such a mishmash of nearly every incarnation of Sherlock Holmes, going all the way back to the ACD beginnings. There are inconsistencies in those first stories as far as Sherlock's character is concerned, but there are strong consistencies also. What I object to is the reliance on physical habits or traits in place of actual character. Using certain physical attributes portrayed in the series for example (the popping of P in certain words, certain phrases borrowed from the show used over and over, etc.) does nothing to show character. I don't actually rely on the BBC series for my version of Sherlock; mine is a combination of all the Sherlock's I've known over many years. I always start from that. Likewise, you can't confuse the actor with the character, and I see that so very often in fics. 

Molly, on the other hand, is much more difficult because we only have what we see in the BBC series and there's very little of that. So I sort of have to ask some questions that involve my version of Sherlock: What would he be drawn to? What character traits would he find appealing, be able to trust, and why? What would it be about Molly Hooper that Sherlock would want/love? We get little hints in the BBC show, and oddly enough, she does change and grow throughout. I never saw Molly as mousey. I mean, look at what she's doing in the very first minutes we meet her! Look at what her job is! I adored her from those first few brief minutes and I knew that of all the women in Sherlock's life, she would be the one that would appeal to him. So that's the way I write her (mostly; there are a few times I've been a little untrue to Molly, but not many.)

OhAine: It’s obvious that although they’re superficially very different you see them as very much the same beneath the surface. 

satin_doll: Sherlock has always known that he is not like other people; he's not "normal". Molly, on the other hand, was taught that "normal" was something she should aspire to, to be like other people. So she fights her nature - which, to me, would have to be a little dark, otherwise she wouldn't be drawn to Sherlock, she wouldn't have pursued the career she did. In the Dark series, Sherlock is trying to teach her that she doesn't have to deny those inner aspects of herself that are decidedly NOT normal, in order to be happy. No matter how much she tries, "normal" doesn't work out for her. Little by little, they are both learning to accept things they've denied in themselves and they're finding it in their "dark" natures, in the dark around them, which can contain so much knowledge and wisdom if we're willing to explore it - and relief from trying to be something other than who you really are. 

OhAine: And you’ve chosen to do that with OCs that are worthy of canon; Doyle couldn’t have done better in creating a world for modern day Sherlock. They have a vibrancy that’s worthy of a main character, yet you manage to do that without distracting from Sherlock and Molly’s story. How do you find these characters’ and their voices?

satin_doll: I know a lot of weird people. :D 

Seriously, I don't think we have to make up original characters whole cloth. We all know people in our real lives who would make great fictional characters. I take a person I've known (for example: Sean, Sherlock's twin in Mango. I did know a person whose father shot her mother in front of her. I borrowed the incident, added a few traits from other people I know and voila, instant character) and insert them into the story. It's part of what's called "writing about what you know." The more from real life you can insert into your stories, the more realistic and satisfying they are. This goes for plot and description as well as characters. As for making them not take over the story completely, you do that by giving them an emotional tie to the main character but not letting that original character take over the main plot. The inner/outer struggle and emotional growth have to be about your protagonist, your main characters.  

OhAine: That neatly brings me to Down and Shaking When I Think I Lose which is a masterpiece, and something that’s rare these days: an old school character study. You’ve written Season One Sherlock in a way that I haven’t seen done very often and not in a number of years. It’s outstanding because your Sherlock is atypical in a way that Mofftiss sadly abandoned after S2. There’s a line in your story that says, ‘Sometimes he wanted to be worn to nothing,’ that hones in on the cost of being Sherlock. Can you talk a bit about how this story came to be, and what about the canon character formed this version of him in your mind?

satin_doll: You have to understand, I love Sherlock Holmes deeply and have for a very, very long time. To me, he's not just a quirky, interesting character. He's my hero. And I have a thing about heroes.

I see a lot written about Sherlock that portrays him as broken in some way, or as deficient. There's always this underlying assumption that there's something "wrong" with him. Maybe there is, according to the scale by which normal people are judged. But there's another aspect to him that I've never really seen written about: what does he have to give up in order to do what he does? See I don't think he's unaware of how he is. I think he chooses to be that way. Part of that choice is to give up - to literally sacrifice - all those things that other people have as a matter of course: homes, families, relationships, emotional connections. This is part of the Heroic Saga. All heroes must sacrifice in order to be what/who they are. All of them, no exceptions. If they have the capacity to be the Hero, if they choose to go that way, they must sacrifice what the rest of us take for granted. There's a line from a book that I have constantly playing in the back of my head: "Who will do the hard things? Those who can." Sherlock is one of "those who can"; he CAN do the hard things. But always, implied in that, is sacrifice. If you choose to do the hard things, because you can, you must give up everything else. 

There is an episode of Zorro where Diego de la Vega makes the decision to give up being Zorro. He decides he is tired of not having what everyone else has. He wants a home and a family and a relationship with a woman he's fallen in love with. He tells his father what his plans are, and his father, bless him, even though he's an old man, decides that he must take up the mask and become Zorro - because someone has to. Someone HAS to do the hard things. When Diego realizes what his father is doing, and what his father is giving up, and that his father will most likely die as Zorro, they have a long discussion about what being a hero and doing the hard things actually means, how important it is that someone fill that role. Diego makes the decision to continue wearing the mask, to sacrifice everything he thinks he wants, in order to do something he realizes is more important - because he CAN. He will do the hard things, because he can. In my mind (and heart), this is Sherlock. He does what no one else does, what no one else CAN do, because he can. The sad part of all this is that usually, no one else realizes how hard those things are or what sacrifices have to be made in order to do them. The hero gets criticized for not being like other people, they get ostracized, shunned, ridiculed, misunderstood. But they still keep doing it. No matter how frustrating, lonely, terrifying the role is, they keep doing it because they know they can. No matter what they have to give up, they do it. 

I wanted to show that Sherlock has suffered all his life simply because of how he is and what he can do. And he chooses to embrace it, to stay true to himself in spite of everything, because he knows what he can do. It wears on him. It's lonely. It's exhausting. Frustrating. But he knows what he can do, and he does it, despite it all. Because someone has to.

OhAine: It’s funny, but I often think Sherlock’s sacrifice is less of a willing one than he’d have us believe. He says, ‘not my area,’ ‘while fulfilling for others,’… less ‘my mind is a temple’ than ‘I don’t think I can have both, despite the fact that I want both.’ 

satin_doll: Sherlock as hero is my own interpretation, based more on a combination of all the Sherlock's I've been exposed to over many years than on the BBC Sherlock alone. I don't really see all that many stories depicting him as a hero, which I totally understand given that so many discovered him from that series. I don't think Sherlock ever sees himself as a hero or tries to present himself as one to anyone else, but I think he's aware of the sacrifices he's had to make in order to do what he does, even in the BBC version. Otherwise I don't think he'd let anyone into his life at all, let alone work closely with people or consider anyone a "friend" - and yet that's exactly what he does, because he needs some sort of human connection even when he keeps them at a distance. There are a lot of interpretations out there of Sherlock and many many legitimate reasons people see for the way he behaves and what he does. Far be it from me to say that any of them are wrong. But for me, I don't think any hero's sacrifice is all that willing, no matter how aware he/she might be of it. In all of them, when that awareness is depicted, it takes the form of wistfulness when they realize what they've had to give up, to downright misery and attempts not to give up what they see other people having - which always fail. Sherlock is no exception in my universe.

This is where my frustration with Mofftiss comes in. Despite showing Sherlock as the supposed hero, they belittle everything else about him. They never address the facts that Sherlock literally gave up his life to save his friends, that what he does is absolutely extraordinary, in favor of depicting him as simply a social misfit with slightly nefarious motives, who needs to be changed into something resembling their idea of what "human" is. As a result, they have a schizophrenic John Watson, who never quite appreciates Sherlock or what he does despite more than ample evidence, and other characters that rather quickly become caricatures rather than actual characters. 

OhAine: I agree with you that Mofftiss belittle him, mostly through the disrespect of other characters, which really doesn’t happen in the ACD stories, certainly not by those closest to him…Watson, Mycroft... They sort of excused that away by saying ‘this turned out to be an origin story’ when we know that they were trying to convey isolation, but because they were unsuccessful it kinda sorta turned into bullying.

satin_doll: I think it's Benedict's performance more than the writing that makes BBC's version so appealing. He does capture, as much as possible given what he has to work with, Sherlock's dilemma - how to keep those connections with people in his life without letting them get too close. By episode two in series one, I was already starting to really resent the way John careened back and forth between admiration and caring and literally sneering at Sherlock for the way he was. Within minutes in episode two, series one, we have John treating Sherlock like a naughty child, then asking him for money, substituting the word "colleague" for the word friend and then jumping in to join Sherlock on an adventure. It just got worse from there. The BBC version became less about Sherlock and more and more about John's mental struggles, all the while trying to make Sherlock seem to be the one who was unstable and twisted. I know this is an unpopular viewpoint nowadays, so I don't generally say much about it. But it's been a major sticking point with me throughout all four series.

Having said all that about Mofftiss, I still watch all the episodes regularly because a) it's Sherlock Holmes, and b) I adore Cumberbatch's performance. :D

OhAine: Controversial take: I never really believed that Sherlock sacrificed himself for his friends. I think that was a consideration, one that could have been dealt with by Mycroft if he was motivated to, but I think the main reason he left London for two years was for the sheer adventure of it all… (Not true, I don’t think, of his sacrifice for Mary though…)

satin_doll: I can easily see this viewpoint. It could even be said that he left just because the people around him were simply getting too close and he needed a way to sever or lessen those ties before they got out of hand. Personally I don't think it was that simple. In the ACD version, Sherlock is gone for three years, and he's not dismantling anything - he just stays away for that long and travels around the world until he hears that the last remaining Moriarty Minion who wants to kill him is back in London. There's a bit of remorse for leaving John to grieve, but it's quickly resolved. In the Mofftiss version, it feels like a contrived set up; they use the excuse that he's doing it all to protect his friends, but really, I've never bought that between Mycroft and Sherlock they couldn't have come up with a better, easier way to deal with the situation. If they could calculate seventeen outcomes of the meeting on the roof? I mean really? 

OhAine: I’d say moving swiftly along, but neither of us do things swiftly LOL. Anyway. *Moving* along, Bring me my Queen is a stunning piece of storytelling that focuses on Molly this time, and for me it brings together your storytelling strengths in one piece. You’ve obviously drawn on real life experiences with this one, and I wonder how important that is for you? Is it a device, catharsis, processing of the emotions…?

satin_doll: It's probably all of those things. I use the stories and the characters to act out stories from my life, because it's what I know. It helps me to vent and process emotional aspects, but it also gives the characters something real to deal with; it makes them more like real people. At least in my head. It helps express beliefs, process both pain and joy, let people know what I've learned, hopefully touch them in some real way. Stories are to help us deal with real life situations, to communicate and to learn from, as well as give enjoyment and entertain us. Years ago, during a spiritual study, I read something that really struck a chord with me (I even ended up writing an article about it, which I'm sure still exists online somewhere but hell if I can find it now!): Messages from the Universe most often come to us via our favorite form of entertainment. What better way to get through to us or catch our attention than in the form of something we really enjoy? So I look at fanfic, both writing and reading, as a way to be in touch with the Universal Intelligence, a way to learn what life is trying to show me, and a way for the Universe to use me to reach others. 

And after all that, writing stories is the best way to vent that I've ever found. :D

OhAine: I think you’re right. I think the message finds us in a way that we’ll be willing to receive.

satin_doll: Back in the 1990s, I saw a movie in the theater and near the beginning was a line from one of the characters that hit me so hard, on so many levels, that I didn't even remember anything about the rest of the film. I had to see it again in order to see how it all turned out. That one line quite literally changed my life. Since then there have been many other occasions where the things I enjoy the most have contained deep words, phrases, concepts that have had incredible impact and resulted in life changes. I know most people believe that change in our lives  more often comes from pain and tragedy, but  honestly, I don't think that's true. If we pay attention, we more often learn life lessons from joy and pleasure and entertainment - and creativity. It's only when we don't pay attention that the universe has to hit us upside the head with a bat and we have to learn from pain.

OhAine: Change, and messages from the universe, is something that’s a theme in  Mango  which is also a bit of a feminist story because (and correct me if I’m off base) it’s about empowerment and independence: Molly discovering things about herself, by herself, which I thought when reading was almost a parallel for women in writing (particularly fanfiction). How important has writing been for you in developing your understanding of yourself and your own identity as a woman?

satin_doll: I'm not sure I have an answer for this one. Writing has always simply been a part of my life. I write because I can't not write. I think more of my understanding of myself and being a woman came from music, which is a notoriously misogynistic art. I actually had a male musician tell me to my face that I couldn't know that much about music because I'm female. Those were his exact words. I've played in bands with both women and men and the women have always been easiest to work with. I think part of this has to do with men viewing sex as "their area". Sex, to men, is always about them. Women in music, especially rock music, are a lot like women in fanfic, where our own sexuality is seemingly always under attack. It's as if we don't exist unless we're defined by males. I  find this absolutely absurd and hateful. Mango, the song itself, was written expressly to celebrate female sexuality. Molly dancing around the room to that song when she sees Sherlock again after  a year away, is a sort of celebration of her own self-discovery. The dance is her way of honoring herself and her sex. That Sherlock discovers her that way was very fitting, because she leads him into a discovery of his own sexuality as well. I wish more men would wake up to the fact that we can do this.

OhAine: It’s an incredible story, but then so many of yours are, so I wonder is there one of your stories that you're very proud of, or one that you're particularly happy with how the finished piece turned out?

satin_doll: Oddly enough, I don't have a lot of pride connected with my stories once they're finished. I write them and put them out there and then I'm pretty much done with them. There are some I like a little more than others, I guess - Dark I like because it broke something loose in me that apparently I'd been ignoring. I think, if I have any pride about them, it's just that I write them at all. I'm proud of myself for actually sitting down and doing them. If there is one that I would have to say I'm "proud" of, it would be An Avenue Once Bent in Shadow - one that isn't even finished and that is totally unlike any others I've written. I like it because of its intent, which is to highlight and illustrate differences and how those differences are both perceived and dealt with in the world. It sort of takes both Molly and Sherlock to the extreme, and I like that also. It's a challenge. 

OhAine: I think you should be overflowing with pride in your work. You’re gifted. Your stories are beautiful.

satin_doll: Thank you. I suppose a lot of this comes from my childhood and maybe a little bit of misunderstanding on my part about the word "pride". I think I'm more attached and proud of just having the guts to dive into the creative process at all rather than the results of it. But that's just me.

OhAine: Well then getting back to your creative process, tell me about finding a particular character’s voice. Are there things that you do to get you into their heads?

satin_doll: When I was about ten, I wanted to be an actor. This lasted for about three years. I went around trying on characters from movies and television, practicing their expressions and movements and voices. These days I tend to act out the characters in my own stories. If I can feel them physically, feel them in my body and face, I feel like I can write them. Feeling Sherlock turn his head a certain way or have an expression on his face, feeling the way Molly would look up at him or move around the lab - I tend to rely on that to get them in character, or at least how I feel they're in character. I also have to hear their voices in my head. I read all the dialogue out loud and if it doesn't fit - it don't sit. 

OhAine: I read it out loud too, something I learned in Uni. It truly helps, doesn’t it?

satin_doll: I guess there are writers who don't do this, but I don't know how they can get dialogue to work any other way. It's been said about Stephen King's work, by people who have adapted his books into film, that one of the reasons it's so hard to translate his books successfully to scripts is that he doesn't write dialogue the way people normally speak. Supposedly when you read successful dialogue, our brain translates it differently from the way we would hear it if it was spoken aloud. I've never tested this and part of me doesn't believe it. But then, I'm not an expert about any of it. I just know that being able to hear the words out loud makes a difference for me as far as character is concerned. 

OhAine:  What’s the beginning point of a story for you? Are you a methodical planner, or is it purely instinct?

satin_doll: It's purely instinct. I have tried and tried to do it the "professional", by-the-book way, and it's always a disaster. The beginning is usually a mood and it can be inspired by just about anything. Most of the time a story just comes out full blown, beginning to end; it's just there and I write it. I had one story pop into my head while I was doing dishes. I stopped, wiped off my hands, and sat down and wrote the story all at once. Then I went back to doing dishes. I don't have any idea where it came from or what inspired it, it just happened. Most of them are like that. Maybe if I was a planner and methodical about it I'd write better stories! :D But this seems to be the only way I can do it and actually get anything written. 

OhAine:  We can’t talk about fanfiction right now without talking about what’s happening on tumblr / the purge. You’ve been writing online for a good number of years and I’m sure you have a take on it…

satin_doll: Sadly, I've seen this happen over and over since 1993. A space becomes a haven for expression and then suddenly comes under attack for one reason or another by one group or another. Luckily, there will always be somewhere new to go. It's painful and sometimes a long and trying process, but in the words of Mr. Universe: "You can't stop the signal." Someplace new will open up and, for a while at least, free expression will be allowed again. William Gibson, among others, wrote about this very thing, long before the internet was established in our lives. There are always going to be those who try to squash creativity. Unfortunately, being creative doesn't fit into neat little non-offensive boxes the way some want it to. But it will survive. It always has. It's the nature of the beast.

OhAine:  It can’t help but survive given the volume of fan created content that’s out there now, there’s obviously a huge appetite to create it as well as consume. And having that said, do you think fanfiction has become mainstream?

satin_doll: Depends on your definition of mainstream. Everything eventually trickles down into the mainstream. Unfortunately this isn't always a good thing. What passes for fanfiction these days is far different from what it used to be. I won't go into "Back in the Good Ol' Days". But by definition, the mainstream waters everything down, dilutes it. It loses some of its substance. Fan fiction has gotten a lot of attention lately, partly because so much of it has dealt with issues that are in the forefront of our lives, namely sex and identity. The fact that the majority of fanfic writers are women only adds to that. The danger is that the issues could also become watered down, so to speak - diluted - because of becoming "mainstream". Hopefully fanfic will survive the process.

OhAine:  Which is why it’s so important for spaces like AO3 to exist.

satin_doll: I think it's vital to life on this planet. Censorship is one of the great evils of life. AO3 and the OTW are champions of freedom, of every human being's right to expression. I don't care how offensive that expression is, we have to protect the right to it. "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." There's a reason those words were written and it's not just about fair play. 

OhAine: "I may not agree with what you say, but I will defend to the death your right to say it." Should be AO3’s banner, tbh…

satin_doll: The older I get, the more important this has become. Censorship is subtle and insidious and infects societies on so many levels. It's not just some huge noisy machine created by the government; it can be found in very small social groups and cliques as well and results in making people invisible, which is one of the worst punishments humans have ever invented. We see the consequences of this every day in every walk of life. There's a lot to be said about all the different types of censorship that impact our lives. And I agree, that line would make a great banner for AO3. :)

OhAine: I think that’s as good a place as any to wrap thing up! Kat, it’s been an absolute joy, thanks so much for taking the time to answer my questions!

Next Friday, 8th of March, @writingwife-83 talks to @thisisartbylexie

[hanalwayssolo]

In The Line of Duty

A/N: Timely for Iggy’s name day! So. Slightly departing from the usual structure in which I write my stories, so this may seem a bit... weird? Fragmented? So I kind of not recommend reading this via Tumblr mobile bc that app murders the formatting lmao

Tagging them pals! @blindedstarlight @valkyrieofardyn @bleucommelhiver @gowithme @noboomoon @emmydots @lazarustrashpit @raspberryandechinacea @hanatsuki89 @mp938368 @boo-dangy @animakupo

(Links in AO3) Alternate Universes in Which You and I Belong Together: Noctis | Gladio | Prompto | Ignis | Nyx | Cor | Ravus | Ardyn

Ignis breezes through the freeway, his Aston Martin almost flying through the rainy night. He is never one to drive like a madman, but this is a desperate time that certainly calls for this very desperate measure. He spares a glance at the rearview mirror. A shabby white Mitsubishi and a gaudy yellow Volvo still remain in close pursuit. Looks like the flock of paparazzi back from Maagho’s really is a persistent lot. In the passenger seat, you sit in an unsettling silence.

Fuck these bastards, he mutters under his breath.

Speed limits be damned. His fingers tighten around the steering wheel. Ignis revs the engine and zips past the steady traffic.

“Let’s get you back to your flat, alright?” he offers kindly.

You say nothing.

Suddenly, Ignis finds himself missing your chatty, teasing antics. That silly smile of yours. By this time, you should have been pleading him to let you go someplace else—anywhere but your place—while annoying him to death with your usual smartass quips. You never do.

Months before, Ignis had been perfectly convinced you were the most insufferable human he has ever come across. Funny how he now thinks otherwise. Even funnier that he now cares. Because it’s not his business to care. His job was never to look nor to listen.

But at this point, you have made him break every single rule in his book.

The first thing Ignis notices when he meets you is your eyes.

Something about your strong and striking gaze makes him wonder why someone like him is even employed at your service. One look from you, he is pretty certain you are completely capable on your own in terms of sending anyone who dares cross your path—may it be troublesome paparazzi, or overzealous fans and haters alike—to run with their tails between their legs. Your composure and confidence says just as much. Seems to him that you’re the type of person who does not need anyone’s protection, let alone a bodyguard.

Which is a sentiment you made very clear that morning in the luxurious luster of Hotel St. Regis’s lobby.

“I’m afraid Aranea here has wasted your time—” you tell Ignis as you set your cup of coffee back on the table, sharply turning your attention to the silver-haired woman who is sitting across from you— “but like I said, I can take care of myself just fine—”

“Really?” Aranea scoffs, casting you a challenging glare. “And by taking care of yourself, do you mean going around punching paparazzi square in the face and breaking their camera as you please?”

You shrug. “Well, that fella fucking deserved it—”

“Whether they deserved it or not isn’t the fucking point, you idiot. Do you have any idea how Cor had to shell out his own money to keep that incident from going out to the press?” Aranea sighs in resignation. “Look, this is more than just taking care of yourself. This is about—”

“—my career, my image, and my reputation, blah blah blah. Yes, you don’t need to do all of Cor’s spiel—I get it.”

Aranea raises an eyebrow. “Do you really? ‘Cause if you really did, we wouldn’t be having this conversation and Ignis wouldn’t be the fourth replacement in the span of six fucking months.”

You fall silent. Though Ignis is compelled to say something, he knows very well not to provide his thoughts, unsolicited or otherwise. That’s never in his job description. He had been trained to keep his mouth shut, and he is going to do just that. Besides, what would he know? Such is the world of glitz and glamour that is show business, and Ignis has never been tasked with handling celebrity clientele before. If anything, among his peers, it was either Gladio or Nyx who gets paired with the high profile A-listers. Clarus’s directive for him came as a strange surprise, the initial briefing of his task even stranger. All throughout his fifteen years of service in the Lucian Security Bureau, people frequently assigned to Ignis were government big shots, business moguls, and upper echelons of society who have been targets of terror and violence.

However, in your case… Ignis could see that you fit in neither the former nor the latter. At least for now, that’s what he thinks.

You spread your elbows over the table, eyeing Aranea with a wicked smile all over your face. “You know what would be better, Ari?”

“Don’t call me that—”

“You could pass as both my handler and bodyguard, don’t you think?

Aranea looks at Ignis, then back at you. “Does that come with a raise?”

You lean back against your seat. “Nope.”

“Didn’t think so.” Aranea exhales a derisive laugh. “Then I suppose we leave Ignis to do that job for all our sakes. Anyway, we better get going—” from her satchel, she pulls out a sleek-looking tablet— “you have to be ready for your four p.m. table read and a seven p.m. interview Dino of Meteor Publishing.” To Ignis, she says, “I assume you’ve already been briefed by your superior about all your responsibilities?”

Ignis sits up straighter and nods. “Yes.”

“Good. It’s pretty simple actually, but the past bodyguards can’t seem to do it.” Aranea smiles, clapping Ignis by the shoulder as she narrows her eyes on you. “Just don’t let this moron out of your sight, and we’ll all be fine.”

The first thing you notice about Ignis is his eyes.

Never mind the scar that cruised the left side of his face, that tiny slash over his right eyebrow, or even the one on the bridge of his nose. He didn’t even need to look at you directly for you to marvel at how fiercely green his eyes are, like the colour of a bright summer’s day. However, back in the lobby with Aranea, there is no warmth in his silences nor in his clinical concentration; there is only a crippling coldness. One look at him and you could already surmise that he’s had his fair share of danger in his profession. Though he is lean and lithe unlike your past bodyguards who all seem to be built out of heavier materials, you cannot shake the feeling that Ignis might have killed a man with his bare hands.

Still, you don’t really need someone like Ignis. You never needed someone like him. A bodyguard should have been the least of your concerns. Besides, you have enough people monitoring your every move that getting a fucking bodyguard is as insane as it’s going to get. Cor often reminds you that this is all for your safety, and that as your manager, he only wants to keep you safe. Aranea chastises you that you’re overreacting, and that you’re still free as a bird. Except you’re as free as any bird locked in a cage that they might as well just lock you up in prison.

And in the first few hours that Ignis has started following you around, the fact that he hardly spares you a moment for a decent conversation—except for his courteously clipped responses like “Let me know if you need anything else,” or “I’ll be right outside your door”—prison seems like a more amiable place to be.

By his second week, Ignis finally understands how unpredictable you can be.

Okay, maybe he does not understand it quite fully. He has to admit, though: he admires the elaborate effort you put into your juvenile pranks. It comes in the strangest of ways and in the oddest of days: from your attempts to lock him up inside your trailer, down to that crafty disguise to sneak out of the film set, all of which he had seen you fail miserably time and again. Out of all your many crimes, petty they may be, hopping in the backseat of someone else’s car to escape him from an after party still takes the cake. He had to forcefully “borrow” a stranger’s motorcycle just to chase you down, which he managed to do in less than an hour. Not an impressive feat for someone his calibre, but at least he got you home in one piece—and without Cor or Aranea even knowing.

What fuels your sheer determination to drive him off his wits, Ignis does not know. The only thing he knows for sure is that you’re one bloody piece of work.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn ya, Specs,” Gladio reminds Ignis one sordid afternoon back in the Lucian Security Bureau HQ. In the saintly cleanliness that is his cubicle, he finds Gladio lounging on his seat together with Nyx, as if they had been expecting his unlikely visit. The air-conditioned hustle remains the same, the glass panels and all the white walls still as stark bright as Ignis remembers it to be. He really has been away for far too long that he finds himself missing that familiar scent of ink and paper, and even the faces of these two troublemakers.

“So how’s your new post treatin’ you?” Nyx breezily asks. His tone is not of concern, but a knowing amusement that Ignis can easily recognize. “The look on your face says you’re either in need of a stiff drink or to get laid.”

“Or could be both,” Gladio adds.

Actively ignoring the smug looks on his friends’ faces, Ignis does not answer them, but instead, he asks: “Aren’t the both of you supposed to be somewhere else?”

“Could ask you the same thing,” Gladio snaps back. He picks up Ignis’s tin of mints on his table and pops one on his mouth.

Nyx loops an arm around Ignis. “Y’know, celebrities can be a pain, so if you’re here to request Clarus for a reassignment, we promise not to judge.”

Ignis looks at Nyx for a brief moment. A reassignment. How come he never thought of that? Sure, you can be annoying and a menace to his daily routine, but Ignis suddenly finds it strange that he has never considered the prospect of requesting for a change in client. Maybe he has his brand of patience to thank for, or his unworldly forbearance in the years that he has spent in this profession.

But then—as if by seeing Nyx and Gladio after such a long time of being away—he realizes that maybe, you’re not that bad. Even in your reckless and determined attempts of making his life a living hell, you also make an effort to make conversation. Not that it’s anything special. He has been wired to being strictly on someone’s beck and call that most of his past clients do not even bother to look at him in the eye. Most of them see him as a weapon, a blade to be wielded against their enemies. Small wonder Ignis himself often forgets that he is a living and breathing person. He can barely remember having a life outside this job. He can barely remember the last time someone apart from Gladio and Nyx asking him anything about his hobbies or other interests or even about his family.

But you do. You try. Even on the first few days when Ignis didn’t know how to respond. It’s just that he doesn’t know how to. He fears that you might have interpreted that as indifference, and he regrets to have responded to you as such. He thought you would have given up by now, seeing how he had acted so callously, but you have the persistence of a honey badger that you use on him to get him to talk, or to even to smile a little.

Nyx looks at Ignis, this time with a genuine hint of concern. Ignis has not realized that he had been quiet for some time.

But he has realized that you have grown so much on him, which is such an disturbing thought to entertain.

“I think a reassignment is highly unnecessary,” Ignis says finally—almost to himself and not to Nyx and Gladio—as he takes his leave. 

By his second week, you finally understand how Ignis can be so predictable.

There’s the matter of his morning routine. He follows it too religiously that you start to notice the little things. He wakes up as early as six a.m.—on the dot, not even a minute late—to work out at the back of your trailer. Three sets of push ups, squats, crunches, all in that order. Seven-thirty a.m., he wraps up, takes a shower, grabs a nice cup of coffee with some of the film crew. He likes his coffee strong and black, no sugar. How you know all of this like the same way you know all of your lines is beyond you.

But maybe he’s not too predictable. Not entirely.

You still have not seen him smile, despite the significant progress in the conversation department. And by significant, you mean that his answers have finally upgraded from one-word responses to lengthy sentences. Considering all the stupid shit you pulled on him, it’s almost a wonder that he even indulges you from time to time by answering any of your random questions.

Though in the process, you have learned a handful of tidbits about his life. For one, you find out that he happens to be an excellent cook. Once, he has shared with you how he wanted to build a restaurant of his own, and that it is only a matter of time before he could pursue that dream. Hearing him confide something that personal throws you off guard, but somehow, you feel quite relieved. You also learn that he has never seen any of your films, nor is he even aware of your awards and accolades—which, frankly, is the most gratifying thing you have ever heard in your life. You have also learned that he has not forgiven you for making him chase you all throughout the city. Which is fair. If that had happened with any of your previous bodyguards, they would not even bother sparing you another word even if you are the last person on this planet, and they would most certainly quit their job the next day.

But Ignis is different. A good kind of different.

Nevertheless, what you now find unfair is that you have never seen him smile. Unfair because he has seen yours a countless times at this point—fake ones on set included. He even gets a bonus because he has also seen you laugh at the most ridiculous things. Ignis, however, seems to be programmed with a limited range of emotions. You have not seen his face look anything but blank or bored, too surly or too serious.

It is only when you suddenly fall sick in the middle of filming that you find a new expression on his face.

Right after the director screams “Cut!” you wobble outside the set, past the cameramen, past the make up artists, past Aranea who’s probably busy handling your next schedule. When Ignis hurries by your side, you could barely focus your eyes. Your mouth tastes like acid. The world is spinning out of control.

Ignis presses the back of his hand to your forehead. “You’re burning up. I’m calling a doctor—”

“No, don’t.” You weakly wave a hand. “I’ll be fine by morning. Don’t tell Aranea. I just need to sleep, that’s all.”

Ignis walks you back to your trailer, looping your arm around his neck, and his around your waist. Your cheek momentarily rests against his chest, and you can feel his warm breath fanning over your head. You try your best not to retch on his shirt. Perhaps it’s the fever talking, but all you could think about is how this shirt looks perfect on him and you do not want to ruin it with your vomit.

Which is why out of your delirious haze, you say out of the blue: “Have I ever told you that you look so good in black?”

Ignis tilts his head. He hesitates for a moment, and then says, “I’m afraid not.”

“Well, now you know. I like your black dress shirt. You look so dapper in it.” And there goes your filter straight out the window.

“Thank you. It’s… nothing special.” He sounds unsure. Or is that embarrassment? Either way, you’re too sick to even look at his face to see his reaction.

Ignis guides you straight to your bed. You toss yourself so gracelessly against the mattress, and you gather the sheets to bundle up for warmth. A wave of nausea threatens to lurch out of your mouth. As far as you’re concerned, the inside of your trailer should not be this freezing cold.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” Ignis says, and as he prepares to drift to the kitchen, you grab for his hand.

“Please stay for a minute. Tell me a story.” You sound like a five-year-old.

He sits on the edge of the bed. “What kind of story?” His voice is gentler than usual. It is jarring, to say the least.

You pull yourself up, your arm brushing against his. “Like, is it possible that you’re a gremlin? ‘Cause how come it’s so hard to—” you thumb the corners of his mouth to make him smile— “see you do this?”

You can feel his face tremble a little in your touch. He looks at you strangely. You know he’s about to say something, but you are ill-prepared to what happens next.

Ignis starts to laugh.

You can’t believe this is what you have been missing for the last couple of days. What you have been missing your entire life. You have only known him for two weeks, but now, it’s like looking at a completely different person. He’s all lit up, his laughter radiating like the sun, bright and warm and blinding. His eyes disappear behind his smile lines, and his mouth curves to exhibit his perfect teeth and that illegally gorgeous smile. Your heart is pounding and you are certain that this is not your fever doing the talking anymore.

“I can assure you, I’m not a gremlin,” he says, wiping his eye with his hand.

“Good to know,” you say, sinking back to your pillows. “But I swear—I will make you laugh like that again when I get better,” you say confidently. And as you drift to deep sleep, the sound of his laughter is the last thing you hear.

The third month arrives and Ignis sees you a little differently.

Different in a way that your smile is now a bullet to his heart. Your laughter, a drug. Your kiss, a secret he would forever keep. Not only have you grown on him, but you have made a home inside his body. His mind, your temple. You have seduced his empty heart, and now it is beating only for you.

But if there’s anything Ignis knows by now, it’s that good things always come to an end. They always do. And he knows better. He knows you aren’t for him, and he isn’t for you.

The third month sweeps you off your feet as Aranea enters your trailer with a new man in tow. At first, you think he is one of the new actors with the way he carries himself with an air of confidence, but you immediately recognize the logo on his jacket.

The first thing that leaves your mouth is: “Where’s Ignis?”

Aranea’s mouth twists. She hesitates, then says, “Ignis quit. Told me he found a new job. Nyx here would be his replacement.”

Your heart plummets. The expression on your face might have been so fucking obvious because Aranea casts you a worried glance, and so does this Nyx. He looks slightly uncomfortable with the way you skate your narrowed eyes at him, as if he has no right to be in your breathing space. As if he has no right at all to ever replace Ignis.

“I can see that you’re upset with this change,” Nyx begins to say, quickly regaining his charming composure, “but by 'quit,' it means he has left to pursue a different career path. Doesn’t mean he left you—I mean, for another client, that is.”

A simmering silence. Aranea and Nyx are watching you with growing alarm. You don’t know why, but something in you breaks.

You force yourself to smile, but it’s not very convincing. Some actor you are. And in the most modulated voice you could muster, you say, “Good for him then.” To Nyx, you say, “Do send him my regards when you see him around.”

As soon as Ignis pulls over your apartment building, you climb out of his car, weaving past another throng of paparazzi. Someone yells “Congrats on another blockbuster! Is this your new boyfriend?” and a couple of other things that only grates your ears. Ignis is quick to follow, and he shields you with his body as he leads you inside the lobby. Probably his force of habit, but it only unearths a memory of a good time that has already hollowed you out.

When the two of you reach the front door of your apartment, he finally breaks the silence. “I’m assuming you have Nyx trapped in some dark alley?”

“No, not really,” you say flatly. “He actually let me go on my own. Cooler than my previous bodyguard, if you ask me.”

“How convenient.”

“So, sous chef to the illustrious Weskham Armaugh, huh.”

“Indeed.”

“Now, care to explain to me why you really left without even saying a word? Especially to me?” There is a tremor that breaks your voice, and his smile slowly creases to a frown. “Is that it? Was that your grand plan? Make me fall in love with you and then just go up and leave—”

“I beg your pardon?” Ignis looks mystified, as if you have said something completely ludicrous. He stares at you for a long, scalding moment. “What did you just say?”

You scoff. “Are you kidding me right now? I said…”

The realization dawns on you in a slow unravel. Before you can even formulate an explanation, Ignis steals your breath away with a kiss. You have done this before in the confines of your trailer, but this time is different. This time, the feeling is no longer secret.

“You have absolutely no idea how I’ve wanted to do that this time around,” he says with a smile. And when he tells you I love you, he does not mean I love you regardless of or I love you despite, but rather I love you just because I do.

[oracleofimladris]

An Apology

To everyone who’s been around to day and who’s had the misfortune of wondering what in the hell has been going on.

Below the cut as this is going to be lengthy af, just for the record.

Simply put: I was not aware, that on a website where the main medium by which people communicate is reblogs, that there were people who assumed that their followers would not reblog their posts.

Sometime last night or this morning, I reblogged a post from elerondo in the form of a family tree - which I mistakenly assumed was a canon depiction, but was in fact, a personal headcanon (a headcanon they did not which to see reblogged at all).

After doing this, as it was still quite early, I continued with my morning roll-call of social media (tumblr, facebook, instagram, snapchat, discord, etc), and proceeded to the bathroom, and then to shower. Upon exiting the shower, as I sat my ass down, wrapped in a towel and drying, I checked my phone again, and noticed at some point in the last hour, I had received a tumblr message - or three to be exact. You see, I couldn’t have noticed this earlier, as I don’t have notifications enabled on any form of social media. I don’t like to be tied to my phone, and I found that when I did previously, I spent more time on my phone than I would have liked.

The messages are as follows:

Now, these could of course be interpreted as polite, however, I personally felt more like this took the tone of a 3rd and final warning, as opposed to a first interaction. 

Note: I have never before today spoken to the owner of this blog, as you can tell from the lack of messages prior to this morning.

Now, despite the very stiff tone of those messages, my initial reaction was to immediately delete the post, and to then go back to the message to reply and say that I had done so, only to find that I could send a message back.

I thought several things:

- Maybe they don’t have messages enabled (unlikely as they had sent me a message).

- Maybe they enabled it to send the message and disabled it immediately after (again, unlikely, I told myself, as tumbler would probably has deleted the message or something).

- Maybe I have universal messages enabled, whereas they only have “followers” enabled (which, again, is strange, because I was following them, but still, I thought maybe I didn’t remember the options clearly, and opted to send an ask instead).

The ask would have read something as follows:

The post was deleted. Could you at least tell me why, since I’m not a fan of one-sided conversations that benefit no one, and I can’t seem to send you a message back?

Note: I can’t confirm the exact wording as I didn’t copy the message before sending it.

Note: I thought it funny that the blog wasn’t loading as I went to send the ask from mobile, but let’s all be honest here, who hasn’t experienced technical difficulties with tumblr - especially tumblr mobile?

I thought it was weird, but I was in the bathroom, in the innermost part of our appartment, in a giant building made on concrete. I could be sitting by the window sometimes and not get cell reception, much less expect the wifi to travel all the way down the hall is still function at maximum capacity. So yeah, I let it go.

I got up. I dried my hair. I got dressed. I made my bed and sat down at my computer... But a thought was still nagging at me. The blog was still not loading properly on my phone an hour later, so I loaded the message on my computer. Fine. I checked the blog. Fine. I clicked-through on the pm. Bingo!

Nothing. Or whatever the tumblr message is for “you’re not seeing anything here because you’ve been blocked.”

At this point, I won’t lie, I was pretty insulted. In under an hour, I’d been sassed and blocked by someone I’ve literally never spoken to in my life, for doing nothing more than what’s expected of all of us on this god-forsaken hellsite - reblogging a post.

I was upset - angry, even - but I was nearly content to leave it be. However, going back to my first point that the messages struck me as though they were saying “you should know this.”

So I went back to the post and read it over again... No warning. I checked the tags... No warning. I checked the blog description... No warning. I checked their about page... No warning. I checked their rules page... No warning. Something similar about “interactions” - threads? - but nothing about headcanons. No warning whatsoever that this person didn’t want their headcanons reblogged.

Hence the posts you saw from me here, and on my other blog, regarding the reblog function being the cornerstone of tumblr (and elerondo, more like elerond-no). 

I decided to take the matter up with a few friends. I thought, yknow, maybe I’m over-reacting? Maybe I imagined this entire slight? Maybe the message I sent is what made them block me? I don’t even know...

I recounted what happened - to a handful of people now - and each of them weighed in, each of them claiming that they hade never before heard of people not wanting their headcanons reblogged - despite this clearly being what OP was upset about.

Note also that while I made these posts on my own blogs, blogs that were blocked by the OP, I was greeted with notes from a certain thisblogisgettingdeleted.

Now listen, I wouldn’t normally have made a fuss of it, but as this person insta-blocked me (effectively making sure I wouldn’t have a means to reply to them with), but made the very clear effort to make sure I knew they’d seen my messages, I felt rightly insulted.

At this point, I decided that since the only way to communicate with them would be through a blog that wasn’t blocked, I’d need to create a new one, and in order for the message to be posted if they ever replied to it the message would need to be anonymous.

That said, it certainly didn’t come out as nicely as my first message would have:

I made this side-blog for the express purpose to reiterrating my original message, and informing them that they were mistaken in assuming that it was “common knowledge” that people shouldn’t reblog headcanons. And that I thought their manner of going about things was childish at best, though obviously left that part out.

To this, they responded as follows:

Now, I don’t know if everyone is reading this the same way as me, but my first and foremost impression of this, upon reading it was that “first of all, I wasn’t passive-aggressive. I was full-on aggressive,” struck me as an odd choice of words. 

Surely, being full-on aggressive shouldn’t be something to brag about?

Note the following “you can’t accept that I blocked you,” preceeded by their creating of a side-blog to not only revisit my blog, but to interact there as well.

Followed closely by myself not being civil for not sending them a simple message... Note the steps I had to go through for them to even get this one.

Here they mention messaging me with their request, and their request not being met... An hour, guys. A single fucking hour - in which I shit you not, I was in the shower. That’s what I was given to respond to this. And yo, that’s the amount of time between when I checked my tumblr. That’s not even guaranteeing they sent me that message right after I switched apps. For all I know it could have been 30 minutes, or less.

Note: “do not reblog my ooc posts if it doesn’t include you,” still does not refer to headcanons, and I foresee them having this exact problem again in the future.

Now I was presumed to be online because I was still reblogging things... A mistake on our dear OPs part. Dears and dolls, if you’ve been following me for any significant period of time, then you know my queue is always full. Ergo, my blog is always running, even when I’m not around.

For this person whom I have never spoken to to assume anything about my life, much less to assume that I’m around to cater to their every whim, frankly astounds me. Even if I was online, which I wasn’t, I wouldn’t necessarily have seen the message right away eg. if I was on my computer and had a dozen or more tabs open, if I was in the process of looking at another blog, which cuts off the tool bar, or whatever other scenario.

Following this post, several comments were added by both OP and a follower of theirs:

After comments like these, I’m supposed to believe that “a message saying [I] have deleted of sth would have sufficed for [them] to unblock?”

Highly. Doubtful.

That said, I took it upon myself to also message the person in these comments, as they clearly weren’t going to waste any more time than OP did in finding out what happened.

As you can see from the following, they fare no better:

Blocked. Again.

Deserved? At this point, I don’t even care.

For those who were around to see it, my response to elerondo’s post was made on my personal dump as it was the only place associated with my main blog that would be able to post it.

For those who didn’t, you can find it HERE, or below:

In the end, I’m not writing this because I want this shit to keep going. I’m writing it because I got a lot of advice from various different people and the truth is this...

TL;DR:

The apology is for those of you who’ve been wondering what’s going on all day, not for the persons involved.

I did not send the message anonymously because I wanted to be anonymous. I really don’t care either way, because what I did was was not wrong. In no way is reblogging a god damn post on tumblr, of all places, wrong. However, the initial response I got, and the confirmation that it was indeed meant to be aggressive, have shown me that elerondo - and likely the company they keep as well - have no interest in being polite, or even in remaining civil, but instead are quick to insult and play the victim.

In essence...

Talk shit.

Get hit.

And if you can’t handle it, you probably shouldn’t be on the internet.

Sincerely,

Me.

[parchmints]

JuLance Day 31 - Magic

Check out my thread on twitter to see all the prompts at once (the tumblr app messes with formatting so I recommend twitter if you’re using mobile)! All prompts connect together to form one overarching story!

First | Previous

day 31/31 - Magic

Set the evening Lance left Cuba for Sam Holt’s bunker, or an epilogue or sorts. 

(It’s still July 31st here im valid! Wow here’s the last one and it tipped me over 50k so I basically NaNoWriMo’d this bih. Big thanks to @lancearchive for the beta!)

Day 31: Magic

Turns out, Sam’s weird, dark tech bunker is actually a lot more than a weird, dark tech bunker. It’s an abandoned underground Garrison training simulator meant to teach cadets proper quarantine procedures in case of a nuclear attack or, heaven forbid, an alien one. The front part (and the only part Lance has seen) is the tech lab, but beyond that is an emptied armory, working kitchens, and a fully furnished dorm hall that Allura, Coran, and Shiro graciously cleaned and prepared for them all while the others were visiting family.

Lance has just gotten settled into his new digs when he starts wandering down the hall, whistling and walking like he’s on the pier. It’s late evening now and everyone else seems to have gone to their room after a long first day of castleship-building. Lance should also probably be in bed since he was up at the crack of dawn and has to be up just as early tomorrow, but he can’t. He’s on a mission.

With his hands tucked into his jacket pockets, Lance continues down the hallway, looking bored until he comes to a door at the end. Casually, Lance knocks on the door, face flat and free of emotion.

The door whirs open and behind it is Keith, looking just as passive as Lance.

“Oh, Lance. Do you need something?” Keith asks, looking down both ways of the hall.

Lance also lets his eyes do a precursory scan of the area and once he’s satisfied, he answers, “yeah, actually. I wanted to go over these new evasive maneuvers you wanted us to get familiar with. I’m a little confused by some of them.”

“Sure, come inside and we can go over it,” Keith says, stepping to the side and opening his arm out in invitation for Lance to enter.

Lance shrugs and steps through the door, looking around as he does and turning back to face Keith. The harsh, fluorescent light on the ceiling is off while a small lamp on the corner desk is illuminated, casting the whole room in a dim light that blankets the space in soft shadows, making it feel intimate and moody.

“So, we’re sticking with the emo aesthetic, huh? Maybe we can get you some punk posters and--”

The door whirs closed.

“--maybe some black curtains to really--”

Lance’s sentence is lost as Keith comes hurtling towards him, grabbing at his wrists. Keith forces them backward with heated haste to the nearest wall and once Lance’s back finds it, Keith pins Lance’s wrists to either side of his head.

Lance gasps upon impact--not because Keith was too forceful, but because his entire body is already on fire from anticipation at Keith’s next move. Not to mention the downright dangerous look Keith is giving him would shock a gasp from anyone, much less his completely and utterly smitten boyfriend.

Impatient, Keith presses a hot kiss to Lance’s lips and angles his head to slot their lips together better, then sighs into it. Keith’s hands on Lance’s wrists are firm--nowhere near enough to be uncomfortable or painful, but definitely enough to have Lance’s pulse skyrocketing.

He knew when they texted each other to meet in the evening that something like this would happen--Keith being impatient as he is--but Lance wasn’t prepared for such a bold “hello”. In fact, the last time they kissed was in Cuba where Keith was the meek one.

But that was three days ago. And Lance has a feeling Keith missed him.

When Keith’s attention wanders from Lance’s mouth to the outline of his jaw to his throat, Lance decides he should find out for sure. “Miss me?” Lance asks, meaning to sound teasing, but only coming across as breathless and weak instead. Keith continues to pepper kisses down Lance’s neck and he wonders if he’s trying the same technique Lance used on him in Cuba. There’s something endearing in that--very sweet seeing as he’s likely just attempting things he thinks Lance will like based on what he’s done--but Lance is way too distracted to think deeply on it.

Lance hums at the sensation of Keith’s warm breath and mouth at his collarbone and shivers when he lingers there. That finally gets Keith to leave Lance’s neck and face him, his face a sight to behold--eyes lidded, irises blown black, and the evilest smirk Lance has ever seen on his face. Lance’s breath hitches again, his insides bubbling at how devastatingly good Keith looks right now.

“Three days was a long time,” Keith says so low and husky that it punches square Lance in the gut. “So, yeah, I missed you.”

With a small huff, all of the air inside Lance’s lungs is gone and he pushes his wrists against Keith’s hands. Keith removes his grip from Lance’s wrists immediately and Lance wastes no time using his newly freed hands to cradle Keith’s face.

He kisses him then, Keith’s hands firmly placed on Lance’s hips and Lance’s thumbs tracing along the line of Keith’s jaw. Wanting to be even closer, Lance slips his arms around Keith’s neck and Keith responds by wrapping his arms around Lance’s torso, bringing them flush together.

And suddenly, it’s a completely different kiss. Where it was once needy and passionate and heated, now it’s patient and comforting and loving. They aren’t moving as much, instead letting each slide of lips linger in contrast to the kinetic energy they had before. It’s impossibly tender. Lance feels like they’re pouring some unknown emotion into each other, like they’re both collapsing and falling apart, but they can’t completely because they’re holding each other up.

And it’s...sad. They’re both sad. And they know it--they both know it and they’re comforting each other through a kiss, finding solace in the slow, easy release and warm reassurance of touch.

Finally, they separate, but not really as they gently press their foreheads together, their arms still just as tightly wound around each other. Lance examines Keith’s face--his cheeks are flush, but his eyes are downcast and clearly lost in thought.

“Hey,” Lance says in a gentle whisper. “You okay?”

Keith doesn’t raise his eyes to meet Lance’s, but instead, his brow furrows at the question.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know. I think...I think I’m not.”

Hearing that, Keith leans back to properly look at Lance and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“Here, let’s sit down,” Lance says, eyeing the wall-adjacent bed, his knees suddenly feeling weak. Keith, unraveling himself from Lance, takes his hand and leads him to the bed. They both kick off their shoes and sit down, their backs pressed against the wall and their legs folded beneath them.

They’re silent for a long while, both of them deep in thought, but Lance places his hand on Keith’s knee and rubs his thumb against it to let him know he’s still there and supporting him. Then, Lance starts thinking, tries to figure out what made him suddenly so tired and heartsick when he should have been happy and distracted.

The answer honestly isn’t as complicated or mysterious as he might have thought since it comes to him in a startling rush.

Of course, that’s what’s wrong, Lance thinks, laying his head against Keith’s shoulder and the crook of his neck with a sigh. Keith gently presses his cheek to the top of Lance’s head and stacks his hand over Lance’s at his knee.

“So?” Keith asks, voice careful.

Lance’s lids softly fall over his eyes as he takes another breath, steadying himself while he focuses on the warmth of Keith’s shoulder and hand.

“Today was...hard.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought I was okay, y’know? Like, I knew I was gonna have to leave to help work on the castle, but it still just...sucked. Saying goodbye sucks.”

Keith adjusts his cheek a little against Lance’s hair and hums. “It really does.”

“Yeah, and I kept telling myself ‘hey, you can visit almost every day! This is way easier than when you were fourteen and had to leave for Garrison for months at a time! If you were okay then, why are you upset now?’ y’know? This isn’t even really goodbye.”

“Because it’s the start of goodbye,” Keith muses, voice low and comforting. “It’s the start of us working away from them. You’re not irrational or whatever it is you’re trying to imply, so like...it’s understandable why you’re sad and why today was hard.”

Slowly, Lance lifts his head to look at him, Keith taking his head back to let him, and Lance stares at him. His chest is filling and swelling with affection and just like that, Lance feels lighter than he has all day.

“When did you get like this?” he asks, voice sweet as he eyes Keith’s lips.

“Like what?”

“Like how did you get to know exactly what I need to hear?”

“Oh...think it’s ‘cause I’ve been spending so much time with you. Learned from the best.”

Lance grins at the praise and his stomach does the flip that he’s starting to associate with Keith.

“Hoo boy, I like boyfriend Keith. He’s sweet,” Lance says and presses a lingering kiss to Keith’s mouth. When they separate, Lance’s smirk is devious. “Tastes sweet too.”

Keith groans and playfully shoves Lance’s shoulder, clearly embarrassed and Lance laughs. “God--well, so far, boyfriend Lance is gross and says gross things.”

“Hmm,” Lance hums, kissing his cheek. “I think you like boyfriend Lance just fine.”

“Maybe.”

“Taking that as a ‘yes’,” Lance says with another cheek kiss. “Thanks, babe. I feel better.”

Keith smiles at him, sincere and fond. “I’m glad.”

“Alright, my turn to be good boyfriend. What’s up?”

“What do you mean?”

Lance cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “Something’s bothering you too right?”

“Oh,” Keith says, rubbing the base of his neck. “Uh, I mean--I don’t know--I’m not bothered it’s just…”

“What?”

“Well, the day before your surprise party, Krolia and I went to visit my dad’s grave.”

“Wait, you what?”

“I--yeah.”

“Keith, that’s huge. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“Yeah, I know, but if I knew I could have, I dunno, been there for you,” Lance says, squeezing Keith’s hand.

“You were with your family, Lance. I was going to tell you, just after. It was only a couple days.”

Lance studies Keith’s face as new insecurities bubble up in his mind--does he not trust me? Should I have known something was up? He’s done so much to take care of me and I haven’t helped him at all. Oh my god, I’m a terrible boyfriend.

Stop, a voice in his head interrupts. This isn’t about you right now.

Lance sighs and gives Keith’s hand another squeeze. “Sorry, you’re right. That was really thoughtful, so thank you. I just--I just want you to know you can just always come to me with this stuff. Okay?”

“Yeah, I know,” Keith says with a small smile.

“Good,” Lance says, smiling back. “So, how did it go? Was it weird being there with your mom?”

Keith’s smile fades as he lets out an exhale.

“I mean, yeah, it was, but it wasn’t bad weird. It was just…” he says, eyes looking straight out into the room as if he’s searching the walls for the right words. “It was like...like he died all over again--or no, not died, but I guess it was like going through it again because Krolia was going through it for the first time. I mean, obviously she’s known for years, but I don’t think it really hit her until she saw it and...I don’t know.

“It just made me think of what would have happened if she stayed. I know she had her reasons and they were good reasons, but I, um--I, uh, I don’t know--” he says, a clear lump in his throat forming as his eyes gloss over, but he powers through it. “You can’t change the past, but it just...it got me thinking.”

Lance doesn’t know what to say; he’s not sure there’s anything to say, but he knows he has to do something, so he does the first thing he can think of--moving forward, he wraps his arms around Keith and holds him close. Keith stills for just a moment before he melts into it, pouring his weight onto Lance, his forehead pressed into the crook of Lance’s neck. Lance’s grip gets tighter and Keith gently hooks his arms around Lance’s back.

For a moment, they just breathe together, Lance rubbing circles on Keith’s back as he feels a barely-there wetness on his shoulder. Lance feels his heartbreak for Keith, knowing he can’t truly understand, but understanding enough to know it’s a pain that never goes away.

Still, Lance promises in that moment that he’ll be whatever Keith needs and that every time he feels like this, that Lance will be able to hold him like this and swear to him that he’s not alone. Lance is never going to let him be alone again.

With the promise fresh in his mind and fresh in his heart, Lance puts the entire sentiment into one sentence--he places it delicately next to Keith’s ear, quiet and gentle, but firm enough to land--

“I love you.”

Keith tightens his grip on Lance and lets out a shaky breath onto his shoulder.

“I love you too,” Keith says, muffled and so quiet Lance wouldn’t have heard it if they were any further apart.

Lance hums as he pulls away--grabbing Keith’s arms as he does--and slowly lies down on the bed, beckoning Keith to come with him. “C’mere.”

Keith complies without question and drapes himself over Lance’s chest, their legs twisting and knocking together. Again, they end up silent, the only sound between them being their rhythmic breathing as Lance cards his fingers through Keith’s hair.

Eventually, Lance finds himself humming--it’s that old love song Luís taught him on the guitar and it falls out of Lance like it’s nothing. Keith is a heavy, warm weight on him and he has one hand placed underneath Lance’s shirt at the small of his back, thumb moving back-and-forth over the skin there.

“Hey,” Lance says, breaking the fragile quiet as gently as he can. “Do you think, one day, you’d let me come and visit your dad with you?”

Keith cranes his head to look at Lance, eyes softly rounded. “Would you want to?”

“I mean, only if you’d want me to. If you don’t, it’s totally okay! I just--”

“Yeah, no, I--I’d want you to. It would mean a lot to me…”

Lance smiles and presses a kiss into his hair. “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.”

They fade back into a comfortable silence, something a little changed in the air, like they just got closer somehow, got stronger.

Still, it’s a little somber and Lance isn’t a big fan of that.

“So,” he says, smirking. “When do we tell the others that we’re madly in love?”

Keith scoffs. “The worst.”

“Oh, wait you already told Shiro, so that’s one person we don’t have to tell.”

“I did not tell Shiro. Shiro...found out.”

“How did he find out if you didn’t tell him?”

Keith shifts on top of him, looking embarrassed. “The day we, uh, got together, I came back here and I guess I looked...a certain way.”

“A certain way?” Lance asks, skeptical.

“Um, yeah.”

“And what way was that?”

“Nothing! I just...might have been smiling like an idiot the whole night, that’s all.”

“Awww! Babe, that’s cute!”

Keith grumbles something incoherent before Lance clearly hears, “shut up.”

“Oh, man, never,” Lance says, still affectionately playing with Keith’s hair. “Alright, so what do you think? Do we just let ‘em all know tomorrow? Or let them painfully find out one-by-one when they accidentally catch us making out somewhere.”

Keith hums. “I dunno, sneakin’ around has been kinda fun. Wouldn’t hurt to leave ‘em in the dark for a couple weeks.”

“If we make it a few days, I’ll be impressed,” Lance says, laughing.

“Hmm, yeah. Good point. Oh! You know what we should do?” Keith asks, peeking his head up to clearly look at Lance.

“Tell everyone except for Pidge and see how long it takes her to figure it out.”

Lance lets out a bark of laughter, delighted. “Oh my god, Keith. That’s almost poetic of you.”

“It’s good, right?”

“So good.”

As they quiet down again, Lance lets out a big yawn and brings a hand to cover his mouth. “Ugh, it’s gettin’ late. We should go to bed.”

“We are in bed,” Keith says, yawning too.

“Oh. You don’t mind me staying?”

“Mm, why would I mind?”

Lance’s stomach flutters again and he’s suddenly struck by how ridiculously lucky he is, how precious this moment is. He’s never felt this way before--so content, so sure, so in love.

It seems impossible that he could be this happy despite having so many worries and troubles in his everyday life and that someone wants him as much as he wants them.

So impossible, that it’s nothing short of magic Lance is where he is.  

With a sigh, Keith pushes himself off the bed, shucks off his jacket and puts it on the desk chair, then flicks off the desk lamp. While he does, Lance takes off his own jacket and throws it unceremoniously on the floor, before bringing the blanket up and over him. Keith shuffles back over to the bed in the dark and Lance opens his arms and blanket wide to greet him. Keith slides into the space made for him and fits himself perfectly against Lance.

Lance searches in the dark for Keith’s lips one last time and kisses him with a small smek, giddy that it’s something Keith is happy to do any time.

With a contented sigh, Lance lets his eyelids fall shut.

“‘Night, Keith,” Lance says, sweet and low into Keith’s ear.

“‘Night, Lance.”

And in the dark, it’s still and quiet, but warm and comforting--two words Lance now heavily associates with being in Keith’s arms.

And he knows tomorrow is going to be hard, and so will the next day, and the next--because they’re defenders of the universe and there’s no way it won’t be, but he’s okay with that.

He’s okay with that as long as he has Keith by his side.

And so far? That looks like where Keith will stay.

[marshmallowgoop]

Sooo I’ve had this Twitter account for a bit and have some Thoughts.

✄ I think Twitter might be good for me because it forces me to be brief.

✄ Buuut at the same time, Twitter is probably kind of awful for the kind of content I make. I keep trying to share my essays there, and I have no idea how best to do so. Do I just share a link? Do people actually click on links on Twitter?

✄ The other option I’ve been trying is stitching together screenshots of my posts to attach to Tweets so that folks don’t have to click a link to engage with my stuff, but I dunno if this is worth all the effort. I mean, is it maybe better to click a link than click through four different images of one post?

✄ Which brings up another thing: how to picture on Twitter??? The fact that things look totally different on desktop and mobile (and probably the app, but I don’t have the app) is kind of really frustrating to me. I have no clue how the site’s gonna crop and display my images until I post them.

✄ So, needless to say, I really miss Tumblr’s option to save drafts on Twitter. Yeah, I know Twitter is a micro-blogging platform and there’s probably the thought that it’s not even worth it to have “drafts” of stuff that’s only 280 characters long, but I overthink every darn character I post and would like to preview them before I send them out into the ether!

✄��Similarly, I miss a queue function. I like having stuff posting even if I’m not around. Keeps things looking alive.

✄ But I think I probably miss tags most of all. Tags are such a good way to express stuff without clogging up a post. Like, how am I supposed to add fluffy extra commentary now?

✄ Kind of related—I don’t know a thing about Twitter etiquette. I’ve heard various stuff about retweeting, for example. Like, I’ve heard from some folks that retweeting with a comment is Bad Form because it directs attention away from the original Tweet, but I’ve heard from others that it’s totally fine? I’ve been hesitant to retweet because I’m not sure what to do....

✄ I’ve also read literal articles explaining Curious Cat, but I still don’t get it at all. I guess I’ll have to try it to figure it out?? Do people actually use it, though???

✄ So, it’s probably obvious that I don’t know how normal people use Twitter. Like, when I use the site to search for content, I generally don’t include hashtags. (The only time I really include hashtags is if there’s a big hashtag movement going on that I’m interested in.) Normally, I just search for the thing without hashtags. Sure, this can cause lots of unrelated content to come up if folks have that thing in their username, but I think it’s a much better way to find stuff than just relying on hashtags. I mean, how often do people really use hashtags??? I’ve only used them sparingly, but should I use them more??? How do people find content on this site???

✄ All that said, I’m glad that my stuff actually shows up in searches on Twitter. Tumblr constantly erases me because I include links or “seem spammy” or whatever, making like 90% of my content literally unavailable to folks using the mobile app unless they follow me or encounter a reblog of my work. Tumblr does me such a dirty that I’m ridiculously pleased that Twitter actually does what a social media site’s supposed to do.

✄ On the other hand, the fact that Tumblr doesn’t do some standard social media stuff leaves me feeling a bit odd on Twitter. The rules are totally different. Follower counts, likes, etc. are all right out in the open. Everything seems so public. I thought someone had to be hate-following me once, but then I wondered, “Do people even hate-follow on Twitter? Because anyone can see that they follow me, and that might hurt their reputation?”

✄ More positively, I really like Twitter’s ability to add image descriptions. Sure, it kinda stinks that you have to turn this ability on and the site doesn’t just automatically let you do so, and I wish you could add image descriptions of GIFs, but it’s certainly leagues better than Tumblr. Like, hey, Tumblr, if you really care about accessibility, maybe implement something like that instead of making your blue absolutely eye burning?

✄ Oh, and it’s really weird to see my dad trending on Twitter.

✄ (No, not really my dad, but someone with the same name.)

[pixie-mage]

#SamLives - Pt.3

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[This story has been edited and reposted on the official #SamLives Tumblr. The new post of Chapter 3 can be found here.]

(The main difference between this version and the updated version is the scene in the kitchen. Instead of Signe being there, PJ is still hanging out instead.)

“Jack, you need sleep.”

Day Nine of the #SamLives debacle.

Jack would be lying if he said he’d been sleeping fine, that he hadn’t been worried. The stress of the situation was beginning to take its toll, and it hadn’t been made any better by the GameTheory video that had come out the day before. Matt had good intentions, Jack knew, but...it hadn’t exactly worked the way he assumed the other YouTuber had been hoping.

“Game Theory: Does #SamLive? THE SCIENTIFIC PROOF!”

MatPat was one of the few YouTubers who had, accidentally, learned of Sam’s existence. It was at that Rachel Ray event, the one where he and Matt had been on the same Taco-Making Team™. Sam hadn’t been feeling well so Jack had brought him along for the day, keeping the little eyeball in his hoodie and out of sight, close to him in case Sam needed him. But in the midst of the chaos of the competition, Jack had been jostled by Matt, had tripped and landed on his arse. Matt had immediately apologized and laughed it off...but when he’d reached down to help Jack stand up, Sam had peaked out from where he’d been hiding in Jack’s hood. Matt had frozen, a stunned look on his face, and in an instant Jack knew that he had seen. That he knew. For a moment the pair had been frozen in a stare-off, neither sure what to do. Then Jack had shaken his head quickly and put a finger to his lips. No. Please. Quiet. Don’t say anything...

...and Matt had nodded. He’d helped Jack to his feet and not commented on it at all. Tom (their third teammate) had missed the entire exchange, cracking some joke about “Laying down on the job”. Later, in a bathroom down a back hallway, Jack had explained everything to Matt...and Matt had sworn he wouldn’t tell a soul.

So when #SamLived had taken the YouTube scene by storm faster than Scott Cawthon turned out FNaF games, and when Jack saw that GameTheory had made a video about it....he knew what Matt was trying to do. The video wasn’t proving that Sam was real. The video was to try and counter-prove the theories saying he was and to point out all the reasons why Sam couldn’t possibly exist. Which would have been fine, except that it meant all of the fans over on the GameTheory channel who hadn’t heard about the #SamLives chaos would now be in the know.

“...ack? Jack!”

“Hm...?” Jack dragged himself from his thoughts and blinked, shaking himself mentally. “Sorry Peej, I missed that.”

PJ was watching him from the office chair next to his with a frown on his face. He nudged the Irishman’s leg with his foot.

“Man, you were totally out of it for a bit there. I was just saying you should get some sleep.”

“I’m tryin’, PJ, I swear I am,” Jack smiled weakly. “I’ve just been stressed. I’ll be fine in a few days.”

"Are you still up for recording a game today? We can wait until next week if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“Nah, I’ll be fine,” Jack pulled on a brighter smile. Good ol’ PJ. He was a decent guy and an even better friend. But Jack shook his head, running a hand through his hair to fix it. “Don’t worry about me. One video isn’t gonna be the death of me! I’ll take a nap when we’re done, alright?”

PJ held up both hands in surrender, returning the Irishman’s infectious grin.

“Whatever you say! But you had better be serious about that nap. You look like you need it.”

Jack scoffed and laughed, his next words dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, thaaaanks, thanks for the compliment. I reeaaally needed that self-esteem boost. You’re too kind.”

“No problem!” PJ grinned cheekily back at him.

The two fell into laughter, and once they had started into the Nintendo Switch game they’d planned on recording, most of Jack’s worries fell away for the time being.

That’s not to say they didn’t come back. Jack kept his promise to PJ. He took a nap, crashing onto his couch with all the grace of a baby giraffe. Signe - knowing he needed the rest - only pressed a kiss to his cheek before leaving him to his devices. But his sleep was a restless one, leaving him feeling only a fraction better when he woke up later to his phone ringing on the coffee table beside him.

With his face still buried in the stiff couch pillows, Jack reached out out blindly, his hand skittering across the table’s surface like a drunk spider, landing on the remote, a game controller, and yesterday’s mail before finally coming into contact with his phone. He answered it without looking, face still half-mushed in the pillow.

“Mph?”

“...Jack?”

“Wassup?”

“Did I wake you up?”

The humorous tone on the other end of the phone was vaguely familiar, and it took him a moment to make the connection in his barely-woken-up state.

“...you’ve reached Jacksepticeye’s mouth. His brain isn’t here right now, but if ye call back again in a few minutes it might’ve come back around by then. Either that, or his mouth will have left too.”

“The infamous screaming Irishman of YouTube, missing his mouth? The horror!”

“Oh, shuddup Mark,” Jack chuckled. He dragged himself into a semi-upright position, slouching on the couch. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing asleep at six in the evening?”

“I took a nap.” Jack yawned and scratched at the scruff along his jaw. “Is there a reason fer this call or didja just miss hearin’ my voice?”

“Can ‘both’ be an answer?” Jack could hear Mark’s grin from the other end of the line.

“Heh, I s’ppose,” he chuckled a little. “But really, what’s up?”

“I...eh. Saw the video that GameTheory posted. He really jumped on the bandwagon quickly, didn’t he?”

“Is this about Sam again?” Jack didn’t mean for it to come out as annoyed as it did, honestly. He really didn’t. But it sounded that way anyway and he winced at his own words. Signe stuck her head out from the doorway to the kitchen, an eyebrow raised in question. Jack waved her off with a soft smile.

“I...” Mark faltered. Seemed like he’d hit the nail right on the head. “...well, yeah, but I’ve got a reason for bringing it up, I swear.” The American was quick to defend himself, and Jack couldn’t help but wonder if Mark thought he’d hang up because of the subject matter. He sighed and sat up a little straighter.

“Oh yeah?” Jack asked, trying to sound more friendly. “And what reason might that be?”

“Well see...the thing is...” Mark trailed off. Jack could hear sounds in the background, movement. Like Mark was moving around the house. Was he pacing? “...I mean...w-well, it’s kinda...weird. I mean not bad weird, or freaky weird - okay it might be a little freaky to some people but–”

“If this is about your third nipple I already know,” Jack snickered, trying to lessen the tension with a joke. But it didn’t seem to help because Mark let out a frustrated groan on the other end of the line.

“No! No, it’s...” More silence. “Okay, it’s kind of about Sam, but kinda not.”

“Okay...?” Jack stood up from the couch, shuffling to the kitchen as Mark struggled to find the words he wanted to say. Coffee. He needed coffee for this.

“OH!” Mark shouted suddenly, as if he’d had an epiphany. “OH! Oh oh oh! Okay! So! In Bendy and the Ink Machine, Joey Drew has that...that one tape recording, where he’s talking about belief. About how it can do amazing, impossible things, and how you could even cheat death or something–”

“Mark, what in th’ blue blazes does this have ta do with my imaginary friend?”

“I’m getting there, I promise.”

Jack rolled his eyes and started the coffee machine, leaning back against the counter with one hand tucked in his pocket. Signe was seated at the kitchen table with a book, and she was still giving him puzzled looks that made her curiosity about his phone call clear. Jack covered the mouthpiece and lowered his voice.

"It's Mark," he murmured. "Keeps asking about Sam."

"You gonna tell him the truth?" Signe asked.

Her hands were cupped around a warm mug of tea, and she held it up near her face to let the steam warm her while she waited for a response. Jack didn't respond right away...but before he could even figure out an answer, his phone buzzed against his ear, a notification pinging in the background. So he pulled the mobile away from his face and put the call on speaker, minimizing the app so he could check whatever had just gone off. All he offered Signe was a half-shrug as his response to her question.

“Belief. I’m talking about belief,” Mark continued. Jack opened Twitter, still listening. “I never really thought about it before I played Bendy, but afterwards...it just made sense! And then you posted that video with Sam and I remembered that quote from the game...”

Jack swiped over to his messages, and saw one from somebody he was fairly certain he wasn’t friends with. Weird...he tapped it. It took a long time for the message to load, and once it did, the app closed itself out. Jack scrunched up his nose. Well then. It was gonna be one of those days then, huh? The rustle of static came over the speaker for a moment and Jack frowned, struggling to understand Mark’s words.

“If y...ave...nough of it you ca...”

“Mark? Mark, you’re cuttin’ out, man–”

Jack tugged his other hand free from his pocket and tapped the screen - and he gasped sharply when a static shock jolted through his finger. He shook his hand roughly through the air and winced, cursing under his breath. What the hell...? Then whatever weak connection he’d had with Mark’s call was gone, the call dropping and ending abruptly. Jack...blinked. And stared at his phone.

"You alright?" Signe looked up from her book again to frown at her boyfriend, who tugged on a soft smile. He shrugged and tucked his phone in his pocket. Ah, well...Mark must’ve had bad reception.

"I'm fine, Wiish," he crossed the kitchen to plant a kiss on the top of her head, squeezing one of her shoulders gently. "Just a little static shock. Surprised me more 'n anything. But don't worry about me! I'm a big, strong boy! I can handle anything!"

Jack's tone turned humorous and his antics drew a giggle from Signe, her eyes brightening and her lips curling up at the corners in a brilliant smile.

"Sure you can," she teased, poking at his side and making him scamper away. "A big, strong boy who's scared of being tickled."

"Hey! I'm not scared of it!" Jack protested as he continued making his coffee. He pretended to look highly affronted by the accusation. "I jus' don't like it! Can ye blame me?!"

Signe just stuck her tongue out in response then returned to her book, a soft smile still gracing her features.

Jack finished his coffee and moved on with his day, his focus turning to recording and uploading the day's videos…though somehow Mark’s little ramblings about “belief” lingered with him, hovering in the back of his mind.

What had he meant by that…?

[A/N] This part/chapter ended up being longer than the previous two...oops lol. Got a little carried away. I don’t have a real plan for this, but I have a feeew ideas about where it might go. This could get interesting... :3c

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[Chapter List]

[izzy-b-hands]

Write a preklok fic!

Done and Done! Formatting is gonna be weird since I’m typing from my IPad keyboard case thing and mobile Tumblr does not like me lol, but I have it! I can’t tag either apparently (mobile app wtf for real) but I will try to remember to once I get back on my laptop!Went the pre-klok young Murderface route. Been reading some old Reddit threads about people’s worst experiences at amusement parks, and it got me thinking about why the vacation to Disney with the band might have been extra important to adult Murderface, due to shit that might have happened in his childhood. Quick note that I actually have never been to Disneyland or any of those parks, so I’m winging it on description and rides and stuff, bear with me on that lol.Your Old Pal Mickey“William, we will leave you here!” His grandmother’s voice was grating, people walking by winced and looked away from the scene. “You ungrateful little—“ “Fine, leave me here, Mickey’ll let me schtay forever!” He shouted back, feeling the grain of the cement through his thinning sneakers as he stomped off. She’d regret this; he knew she would. She’d miss him and would come back for him, but it would be too late. Mickey would tell her no, and she’d have to leave and never ever come back again. Then he’d be William ‘Murderface’ Mouse instead of boring old ‘William Murderface’, and he’d be happy forever, living in the happiest place on earth. She was still shouting as he kept on through the crowd. No one was watching now though; they’d seemingly had their fill of the train wreck in front of them. He stopped at a roller coaster for a bit, hoping he’d get to see someone get decapitated if the ride broke (and he’d seen them talk about it on the news, so he knew it could really happen, for real.) But there were no flying heads, no spurting blood, and the ride itself was boring to watch—plus, he didn’t have any way to ride it without his grandmother being with him. Wandering the streets of the park was a weird experience; it was like people could tell he probably shouldn’t be out alone, but they were so preoccupied with their own kids that they didn’t have time to stop and check on him. It was nice, and a good thing for Mickey to see—he could handle himself, so clearly he could be be entrusted with free reign over the park once Mickey had gotten him set up with a place to live. Cinderella and Snow White stopped him near a teacup ride. He knew they weren’t really princesses (the only real magic person at the park was Mickey, of course) and were just girls in costumes, but they were cute girls in costumes, and that was what mattered. “Hey, ladiesch,” he said, trying to sound as suave as he could. They giggled. Yes, perfect, it was all going to plan. They’d come see him at his house in the park and he’d get to date all of them, every single princess. Wouldn’t all the guys in his class be jealous then—a trip to Disney meant nothing nowadays, but living there and dating the princesses? That was cool. “Are you lost, little prince?” Snow White asked. “I’m not loscht,” he scoffed. “I live here now. I can go anywhere I want, and go on any rides I want, and Mickey’sch gonna give me a huge castle to live in.” The ladies were frowning and looked concerned. Shit, this was not the plan. One of them looked towards the ride, where a security guard was standing. This was bad. They would try and send him back to his grandmother, and he couldn’t have that. But there they were, gesturing towards the guard, ready to send him away like he was a dumb little lost baby. They couldn’t see that he wasn’t—he was ten, basically already a teenager, and more than able to be on his own away from his grandparents. He bolted. “You’re both too ugly for me anyway!” He shouted as he ran into the approaching crowds. There were cuter princesses than those two for him to date, and he’d never let those two girls see the castle Mickey would give him. They’d lost out, big time. He tried to get lost in the crowds, trailing after one family and then another whenever he saw a security guard wandering about. If they couldn’t find him, then they couldn’t make him leave. But it was getting tiring, all the walking, and it was getting late. Soon the crowds would thin, and he’d have no more cover. He had to hide, to wait for the park to close before he could go in search of Mickey. He hated the rides that had caves. Its a Small World, any of the haunted house type ones—even at Disney, they smelled weird to him and made him feel claustrophobic. But they’d be perfect now. He ducked into the first one he saw, just able to work past the ropes and fences to sneak in past one of the last ride cars going in to the cave/tunnel portion. The usually watchful staff and everyone left in line were too preoccupied with a little kid who’d fallen and smashed his head open (who he definitely hadn’t pushed down to use as a distraction.) It was as hot and dirty as he’d expected (he’d need to have a word with Mickey about the cleaning crew) but there was a good, spacious spot right behind some non-moving puppets. He wedged himself in, and waited. The Mickey Mouse watch on his wrist ticked away, and slowly the noise outside lessened, and the ride cars stopped coming through. Eventually it was completely quiet and that was it. Go time, make the dream real time, ready to go time—“I found him! He’s fine!” A security guard’s flashlight beam hit him in the eyes, blinding him. He fumed as the guard pulled him out. How had they found him? Had the princesses seen him and given away his hiding spot? They could all go die, for ruining his chance to live with Mickey. “Oh, William,” his grandmother was a sobbing mess, and clung to him all the way to the car. He could hardly breathe, she had him so tight in her arms. “That was a terrible idea, to go there,” she fussed as they drove home. “Wasn’t it dear?” His grandfather said nothing, just kept his eyes glued to the highway. Usual—no help, just waiting for her to be quiet. “We’ll never go there again,” she declared. “Don’t you worry William, we’ll sue them for all they’re worth for letting you get lost.” But he didn’t want her to sue Mickey. He wanted to go back and beg Mickey to let him stay, to work there or do anything, anything so long as it kept him there and not with her. He formulated his plan that night in bed. He’d go back someday, when he was grown up, and he wouldn’t take either of them with. No, it would be a trip all for him, and then he’d ask Mickey to let him stay, and Mickey would say yes, and then he’d inherit all of Disney. It was perfect.All he had to do was somehow grow up, and then get away.

[dramallamadingdang]

Buncha replies...

Because I’ve been neglectful. For @aquilasims, @littleblondesim, @celebkiriedhel, @wesleesims, @kayleigh-83, @olivesplum06, @holleyberry, @twofingerswhiskey, @penig, @taylors-simblr, and @fuzzyspork...

aquilasims replied to your photoset “Yup, subway tile…or some of the colors could also pass for brick. :)...”

darn. i would love to use this in my game but i have a mac :(

Yeah, sorry about that. :( I was going to make a Mac-friendly version, too, but when I sized down the image to accommodate the stretching that happens when a 256x512 texture is used, it kinda messed up the tiling between the 256x256 “blocks” that I initially drew ( so that I could make floors, too, eventually). The tiling between the “blocks” was skewed by like half a pixel (which was really noticeable because the “grout” between the tiles is only two pixels wide) and I didn’t feel like redrawing the whole thing. But now that I think about it, it might look OK if the 256x768 textures in the wall files were sized down to 256x512 which would “flatten” the individual tiles somewhat. Then perhaps the stretching that the game does would re-stretch them to about the right dimensions and not screw up the tiling. I’ll have to experiment a bit, see how it looks...

littleblondesim replied to your photo “And Simon became a Real Grown-up™. He let his hair down and sprouted a...”

Time to be a big boy and get a big double bed!

Well, unfortunately for him the firehouse he lives in now only has single beds, too. :) But it does have couches so, since he lives there alone at the moment, he could bring home some “company”... Or, knowing this neighborhood, company will just barge right in. :) I still don’t know what’s up with that...

celebkiriedhel replied to your photoset “Matching recolors of the cheap counters, stove, and refrigerator, in...”

I can do that - do you want a cabinet with or without doors?

With doors, I think. But then again, without might be good, too; I could see it as a good place to store “cookbooks” and those wouldn’t necessarily have to be behind doors. So, if you’re feeling ambitious, both? :) Or just with doors. Whatever you feel like, really. :) And thank you! You’re awesome. :)

wesleesims replied to your photoset “Pet stuff! Suzy grew up into a basenji. (I love basenjis. They’re one...”

very cute, but not a basenji (; i'd guess a shiba inu? they do have basenjis in the game, too. and yeah, feisty is the right word for basenjis, but despite being difficult at times, they are still one of the best dogs out there! but i may be a bit biased since we have two of them at home ;D

Yeah, you’re probably right. The head’s a bit too bulky for a basenji. I just saw small and curled tail. :) But yeah, they’re awesome dogs. I love their yodel. :) And their wrinkled foreheads. And their feistiness. And their lack of stink. I’m definitely getting at least one when some of my current pack pass away. (8 dogs is enough, when they’re all together, especially because they’re all large!)

kayleigh-83 replied to your photoset “It’s winter! Time to take care of the autumn leaves because I don’t...”

oops trigger happy on the enter key.... try that again... every time I've tried to burn the leaves my Sims have ended up setting themselves or something else on fire, so I gave up on it! LOL I do like getting witches to zap them though!

I’ve only ever had that happen once. I think the key is not to have anything around when you light up the pile. :) Kind of like how fireplaces will light stuff that’s within a tile away unless you’ve modded that out, like I have. (Maybe that prevents leaf-pile fires, too, now that I think about it; it probably uses the same coding.) But then, I think fires are kind of fun sometimes. (In the game, that is! Not in real life! *laugh* )

olivesplum06 replied to your post “I’m bummed. :(”

Have you downloaded felicity island for TS2? It's a copy of the CS island, that along with all the build, buy & CAS stuff it's pretty close to CS!

I haven’t, no. Mostly because I don’t want to play castaway scenarios in TS2. I actually prefer Castaway Stories for that. I like its “careers” and its way-more-logical routing. (Like, Sims can actually talk to each other when standing on a slope; the lack of that in TS2 drives me NUTS! And I imagine that it would be a real problem with that TS2 version of Felicity Island, since that map is ALL slopes.) And I definitely prefer the way CS handles “walkbys.” (No “greeting” needed; they just make themselves at home, gives it a genuine communal tribal feel.) And its want trees are more appropriate for castaway scenarios, of course. And I especially like its things like spearfishing and its swimmable on-lot water (without having to screw around a lot to make on-lot water swimmable, like you have to do in TS2) that also increases hygiene.  

So...Yeah, I definitely wanna play it in Castaway, not TS2. The only downside is, yeah, having to play the stupid story again. But, I can do that in one session, since I just do exactly what I have to do to get to the next “chapter,” without screwing around and with playing on higher speeds whenever I can, because I don’t care about the story at all. I just want to unlock all the stuff. :)

holleyberry replied to your post “I’m bummed. :(”

Oh No! Well, at least you'll have fun setting it all back up.

Yeah. :) And I’m thinking I might see about the possibility of making a completely empty template for the freeplay island, so that there won’t be any “townie” natives or premades. Like the empty Pleasantview template you use when you don’t want the “standard” townies. My biggest disappointment with the first stab at this scenario was that, while I could use the Visitor Controller to prevent the “natives” from waltzing onto my castaway lots, I could only set it in a way that prevented ALL non-household Sims from “walking by” because Castaway doesn’t seem to internally distinguish between townies and playables. That sort of killed the “tribal” atmosphere I wanted. So, I’m thinking that if I can make it so that there are no “townie” natives and premades from the get-go, that would be better than using the Visitor Controller. So...Yeah, it was probably for the best because I was kind of thinking about starting over to address this issue anyway...

twofingerswhiskey replied to your photo “More devastation for poor Simon. At least Sharon was still hanging...”

sleep when you're dead? ;)

Something like that. :) I still haven’t quite figured out the logic behind ghosts being pissy if their bed isn’t there. I mean, why on Earth would they care??!

kayleigh-83 replied to your post “I are sad. My brother and his husband went back home to hell Indiana...”

I sometimes attempt to catch up when I've been behind and I have to say I sure wish mobile was set up like the desktop site, where it will show you on your list of followed blogs when the last time they updated was. Then you can just only click into ones that have been updated since the last time you were on! Sometimes I just wanna lay in bed or on the couch and catch up on the ipad, but it doesn't show you that info! Fix it Tumblr, fix it!

HAH! Well, you’re better off than me. The Tumblr app for Kindle (my only mobile device) hasn’t been updated in, like, four years. The dashboard on it doesn’t work anymore, and it doesn’t even have messaging. And all looking up your followers does is bring up an alphabetical list of them. The only thing I can really do in the app for Kindle is see notes and look at my own posts/queue. And I can make posts, but I don’t often do that because I hate virtual keyboards. I’m pretty sure the apps aren’t actually made by Tumblr, though, but are made by third parties. So I’m afraid that for this, it’s not Tumblr we need to be yelling at but the folks who make the apps. 

But yeah, because of this I only “do Tumblr” when sitting at my desktop, which definitely cuts down on opportunity. Otherwise, I could do it when, like, sitting in waiting rooms at doctors’ offices....

kayleigh-83 replied to your photoset “Jupiter became a grown-up dog and…uh…well… I swear, my game habitually...”

Hahaha my dogs are the same, my game seems to give me a lot of sorry looking mutts. Lol

What I don’t get is that the small dogs in my game seem to be OK, but the big dogs are just...what? I mean, why would only one dog size be weird? Why not both?

taylors-simblr replied to your photoset “Because you can’t have awesome 50s kitchens like this…...”

I'm pretty sure our new kitchen has that gold lino ha ha

Heh. Well, it WAS a very popular color in the 60s/70s. “Harvest Gold” and “Avocado” were The Shit, at the time. :) Probably not so much in the late-40s-through-early-60s that I’m targeting, but...Well, not having a dark yellow would’ve thrown off my spectrum, man. ;)

penig replied to your post “I are sad. My brother and his husband went back home to hell Indiana...”

It's supposed to be fun, not an obligation. You can always use the archives to catch up on situations involving continuity, at your leisure, and if you miss stuff - so do we all.

I know, I know...I just feel bad because I like to give notes and especially replies and stuff. Tumblr is just so...non-validating, you know? Like, made for the short-attention-span generation. I suppose clicking the little heart shows “enough” appreciation, but it seems like very little, and not doing that at all just feels like shirking. But yeah, I know that’s all on me. I just wish there was more time in a day, is all. :)

taylors-simblr replied to your post “I are sad. My brother and his husband went back home to hell Indiana...”

Same with me except I need to catch up on over a years worth of stuff, tumblr just moved too quick. If you're not on it daily it's hopeless to try and see everything

Yeah, it does move fast. Made for short attention spans, like I said. :) I actually wouldn’t feel bad about it if I was gone for a long period of time, though, like “maternity leave.” I mean, no one could be expected to catch up with a year or more of posts. :) But I just tend to have a few days or a week here and there where I just don’t have the time (or, sometimes, the will) to really keep up like I’d generally like. And sometimes I just scroll through looking to see if the stories I keep up with have updated and don’t even leave any “likes” otherwise. That really makes me feel bad, but sometimes all I have time for is a quick scroll-through looking for certain user names. :( Bad iCad! No biscuit! :)

fuzzyspork replied to your photoset “Sandy made a lot of devastated noises, but… I’m kinda not buying it....”

The sims lack of a mourning period is sometimes annoying. :P Maybe she needs to fill that giant hole left behind in her heart when Goops passed and she thinks there's only one way to do that?

Maybe. Although it’s not like she really had time to fall in love with anyone else, anyway, given that she died like two days after Goopy did. :) Of course, she didn’t “know” that was going to happen. :)

But yeah, mourning in the game is weird. Especially because it’s limited to only the Sims who were in the same household as the deceased. When Goopy and Sandy croaked, the only kid left in the house was Simon. The other two kids didn’t do any mourning, of course. Toddlers get that fear of relatives dying, so they’ll sometimes take a mood hit, but only sometimes and if they, say, learn to walk, that’ll instantly get rid of that bad mood. And even Simon wouldn’t have been in his birth household if I played him how I usually do, kicking kids out when they reach “Inteen 18,” either to college or out on their own. He was only there because he was “destined” for the firefighter career, which only has an adult track, so it didn’t make much sense to kick him out until he was an actual adult rather than an Inteen one.

Anyway, yeah, this is one thing I’d change about the game, if I could. One should mourn one’s parent’s death (assuming that you have a good relationship with them), even if you no longer live with that parent. It’s just weird, otherwise.

[johnmarshall]

So.....Danish currency....

I just want to preface this with two things: 1) some of this might not be accurate because I had known about this before but there isn’t really many resources to look at besides Wikipedia which is notorious for many reasons, so please forgive/correct any mistakes I’ve made (I will probably be adding on to this post whenever i find something new) and 2) I DID have this all written out in tumblr mobile and I was just about ready to post this last night, but then I clicked out of the app for a second to read over some more sources to see if I got everything right, and everything got deleted :))) so I’m sorry I posted this a day later, I just had to rewrite it from memory in google docs so it wouldn’t happen again ackkkk yikes also @oldfritz @steuby and @minty-minho you asked for this as well

Okay, so it’s 1619. You’re in Denmark, everything’s cool. You’ve got this awesome currency called the pfennig that you’ve had for round about 800 years now (there’s one that we think might be from as early as 825) and yeah, sometimes the value of the coin’s metal is worth less than its face value just to generate profit for the monarchy but really it’s not that–BAM. New currency. It’s called the Krone (in English “crown”) and WOW nice product placement, King James IV. Ok, so fast forward to 1625. Suddenly you’ve got a new king AND a new currency system! Strange how when new leaders come into a pretty healthy country things turn topsy-turvy. Anyway, the new currency system seems pretty cool. You’ve got lots of new coins to check out, there’s a new(ish since it was there in 1619) bank to check out, lots of fun stuff to check out and–oh. Oh no. What are these exchange rates??? Let’s take a look.

So you’ve got your old tried-and-true pfennig, right? Goodness, you love that thing. Oh well. It’s just lost most of its value. So this pfennig. 12 of them make this new coin called a skilling. Reading this in your local fantastisk tysk avis you’re already wary of what’s going to come next, because 12 is a pretty weird number.

Good. You should be wary.

This skilling is pretty cool, you decide, so you read a bit further in your fantastisk tysk avis to see what you can do with it. Oh boy. 16 skilling make a mark. I guess mark was already a thing in 1619 when the bank of Hamburg (literally “Hamburger bank”) was founded, and they used the mark as their universal currency. This means that 192 pfennig make a mark, if you were so inclined to carry around like 12,000 tonnes of metal in your pocket whenever you leave the house. Oh no, but we haven’t even started yet.

Your hands are shaking on the tysk avis and you feel as though you’ve been cursed by some ancient being–but no, it’s just your government. 6 mark make a rijksdaalder. (or you can say rigsdalder or rigsdaler or riksdaler or reichstahler if you aren’t from Denmark or if you speak English and can’t be bothered to learn how to pronounce other languages’ words you can use rix-dollar.) (also that might mean the Danish suffix daler might be why we use “dollar” as our currency but I haven’t done that much research there so don’t quote me on that.) So what does that mean? That means that one rijksdaalder is equal to 1,152 pfennig, 96 skilling, or 6 mark. You feel faint. The wind feels as though it might be able to knock you over.

Oh, wait, hey, hey, hey. Remember the kroner I was talking about earlier? Yeah, well, 8 mark make a krone. Mark are DOUBLY USEFUL here, which makes them your new favorite currency, though you might be on the brink of lunacy here, so maybe not. But this also means that one krone is also equal to 1,536 pfennig, 128 skilling, or 8 mark. In shock with shaking chills, you put the fantastisk tysk avis down and pledge to live your life the best you can with this crazy currency.

You’re now old and frail, because it’s the 18th century. Welcome to 1713. For some reason this system has carried the weight of time, but now it’s time for things to change. The currency system–it what? It… SPLIT IN TWO????

yeah. And actually, it’s really confusing, and I couldn’t find anything on the internet that describes this split or even each half. But I guess there’s one half called courant, and one half called species. (???) (just by the context of the next part I THINK that species means how the coins were made but that makes NO sense over all so just roll with it idk) So the rijksdaalder species has in it 4/37 of one Cologne Mark’s worth of silver.

… What

Okay, okay. So the Cologne Mark would be equal to 233.856 grams today, and it was basically used as a “base unit” for a lot of monetary systems although if you ask me 4/37ths of 233.856 grams does not seem like a base unit, but whatever. For those of you who like math, which isn’t me, the answer would be about 25.2817297 grams of silver in each rijksdaalder, which, you know, seems like a LOT. So this means that if you wanted your Full All-Inclusive 233.856 Grams Of Silver™, you would need 9.25 rijksdaalder, because 9.25*(4/37)=37. I hate math. But this also means that if you wanted one Cologne Mark of silver, you would need… *clears throat* 10,656 pfennig, 888 skilling, fifty-five and one-half mark, or 9.25 rijksdaalder.

Y’know, at this point, you think it might be easier to move to the American colonies, because there’s NO WAY that there could be ANY DISPUTE about monetary values there over the next century :) .

Now, I’m not pretending to know why the system itself was so convoluted. In fact, I really, really don’t. If anyone does, definitely add on to this post because it’s actually really interesting? But the thing that makes me really angry is that they kept this system for TWO HUNDRED YEARS. They did away with it in 1813 after a financial crisis. What with the way the system was created I’m incredibly surprised it lasted that long tbh. (Also if someone who is an expert in Danish history could tell me why it lasted so long that’d be great because it’s 2:07 in the morning atm and I’ve been working on this for three hours)

And I learned all the specifics of this because I wanted to know what currency Hamilton would’ve used growing up on St. Croix so never forget to research your fanfictions, kids, because you might find something really interesting.

[secretsofthemasquerade]

What this all means? WoD prelude issues

Abuse will be mentioned

Disclaimer: I don’t want VtM to become a nest for gamer-gaters asshats, so let it be clear that I stand for feminism, positive representation and progressiveness. And further than that, I stand for meaningful, well written media. This is both beyond offensive, and badly written (and badly coded!).

Alright, now that you may (or may not) have read my spoiler free review of the WoD: Prelude vampire game (we eat blood all our friends are dead), this is the second part of this review. The one that really stirs shit, tackles what this all means, and talks about the problems surrounding the two authors. Good brew incoming!

There are a few issues that need mentioning; Zak’s reputation of being a dick (to say the least), white wolf saying they don’t give a shit, and one trans character in the game.

First, I must say I said what I needed to about Sarah (the second author of the Vampire gale) in a few reblogged discussions I had with her about it; you can read that here. She claims the “problematic trans character” is a reference to someone else, but as the anon in that ask pointed out, the name given to the character totally references someone else (and it’s not like Avery is a common first name, so the “coincidence” excuse is weak, to say the least). It’s probably a little bit of both tbh. White wolf stands behind their choice btw.

This is my random, worthless opinion on the trans character’s subject: I don’t think the trans community deserves to be treated like this, and I’m not going to police whether trans people can talk about their dicks (or lack thereof) or not. Sarah likes her characters bold and unapologetic, which is perfectly “none of my fucking business”, I just find that it gives too much of an excuse for people to actually ask trans people about their dicks (or not) which is a definite no-no when it comes to, you know, basic manners. Why encourage that? Most trans people do not want to talk about it to random strangers they’ve just met, so why have that be the main representation of trans people in the media? Sex workers who brag about their dicks and who are serial killers? I find it tasteless at best, dangerous (again, “hey, if this is what trans people are, i totally can ask about their dicks!” kind of shits) at worst. Not that sex workers who talk about their dicks are wrong in anyway, of course. Note that I have no problem with a character being trans, being a serial killer, or being a loud unapologetic bitch. I have a problem with what it may lead to, and how respectful of/to the community the character is. And it’s simply not written with the respect and the love the trans community deserves. The fact that Sarah herself is trans doesn’t make her a good candidate to write well-made (trans or not) characters. I’m all for more diversity in authors (cuz it’s still a bunch of white old dudes out there), but they still need to be good writers (or at least more decent than the shit that’s being published nowadays). Writer is a job. And this is were Zak and Sarah failed; they just didn’t work with basic decency, respect and research of the characters, and what they are, what they represent and what they mean to the community. The fact that White Wolf Publishing used the “but we have a X friend!” excuse only makes it more profoundly wrong. And you guys can’t even blame that on Europeanism (racism takes very different forms here than in the US, certain things are more blurred, and ethnicity is overall understood differently), even in France we consider the use of a token minority person to excuse controversial stuff to be just plain wrong (and god knows France can be very weird about the treatment of minorities). 

If you’re trans and knowledgeable of trans representation, please tell me off about this. It’s just my thoughts on the matter as someone who cares deeply about characters.

The other trans character, Morgan, exchanges like, four texts with you. So, this character’s existence gave nothing to my run. I need to replay the thing and see if other choices give us more interaction with this one, and I really have no problem with this one so far.

Now, the “unique aesthetic” that was brought to the game, I could find interesting modern artists on tumblr to draw for this game, and actually have their modern art be readable, as in, “really in accord with the game’s content (a quick sketch needs to be a quick sketch)”. I can also guess that it would come out far cheaper than whatever this guy took (I hear he sells his art pieces in the thousands? people, you’ve got too much money on your hands, give it to me instead).

The writing, however, I’m pretty sure (read absolutely certain) there are very knowledgeable wod fans out there who can decently hold a pen (half of the RPers I exchange with can come up both with a decent story and can write it out in a very.. literary and interesting way, and so without having to sort through the bs ramble that brings nothing, and without the “options” branches that lead to just a game over screen...).

Zak’s reputation of being a harasser and abuser doesn’t seem too far fetched from where I stand, especially since people who complained have said that White Wolf never contacted them back, even if they said they did. I can’t say deffo what he did or didn’t, but I can certainly assure you that the choice of White Wolf knowingly hiring the guy, then defending him, all while knowing all of this shit, and having one of their writers be one of the victims of the abuse, is not an innocent move from WW/Paradox.

We wanted fresh blood, fresh views, fresh takes, and they willingly hire a veteran known for beyond “problematic” behavior. And excusing all this shit because “but he’s an artist!” doesn’t cut it. Not from White Wolf. Not from a Scandinavian company. Not in the world we live in today. Not with the very talented people who are fans of the WoD and who can come up with something so much better, so much smoother, so much more respectful, and without all this negative publicity. This isn’t just some loud mouth rough corners guy (like I can admit I am!! let’s be honest I’m a harsh bitch lol), this is seriously.. wrong. It leaves a very bitter taste in my mouth, and tbh, Werewolf already has a reputation of being a game played by fascists, and LARPs are known hunting grounds for less-than-polite predators, why fucking continue this fucking shit? This isn’t what we want our hobby to be. This isn’t the kind of people I or anyone around me want to be associated with. Art is political in nature, but that doesn’t mean I am willing to accept the company owning the IP I love most hiring fucking extremist assholes. Everyone has a “problematic opinion” on something, honestly, that’s fine, I mean I get my share of anon hate for many of those, but can you guys straightforward tell me I’m a bad person doing evil and spreading evil into the gaming industry? (If I am tell me now so I can quit!)

TBH, I believe they hired Zak because he was a known “controversial figure”. To have free publicity. To pander to the GG community (EDIT: I failed here, I wanted to say “attract extremes”, Zak is not a gamergater at all). To get everyone angry about “the gay agenda”, “modern art” and more. They’ve succeeded. But it’ll blow up in their faces, and I really want us all to show them this is not acceptable.

What to do now? Be heard. Show your displeasing of such choices. Don’t let them have it their way with an IP you care about. They may own the rights, but ultimately, as Brucato (Mage RPG author), the games belong to us, the fans. Write to white wolf, boycott. Do not harass and insult, but tell them exactly what you think.

There are free visual novels out there, and cheaper princess makers who have more interesting outcomes, badges, achievements, easter eggs, all sorts of different endings if you fail/die, and all sorts of different failure paths that still let you play, and replay, and replay, without feeling frustrated, fucked over, and just plain trying to follow some incoherent druggie’s trail of thoughts.

Here’s a few things I recommend playing, to read how good characterization, art and horror can come around, as well as player agency and choices that mean you continue playing despite failures (linking steam, but gog works too for most of them). So here’s a few games you deffo wanna try out instead of these.

Long live the Queen

Actual “Princess Maker” games :)

Cupid (I can’t recommend @cupidvn enough, it’s  great free game, it has a few flaws considering it’s purely fanmade but overall, it’s very interesting and treats the subject with a good amount of respect)

This war of mine

Choice of vampire (free on web, available as a mobile app)

Vlad the Impaler A very awesome replayable story, you pick one of three characters who has one of two specializations mid game depending on your choices. Just. Get Vlad. It’s great.

I’d also mention an Actual Lone Wolf (by Dever!) video game/visual novel/cyoa. 

Heavy Rain (PS3) So many choices, and the game goes on regardless of what happens. The illusion of choice is so well made. Beyond Two Souls also does this fairly well, but the story is more linear 

The Last of Us (the MC is still a 40 something rough guy, but there’s more to it I promise! there’s no “choice” to be had, but the characterization is great)

And finally, I highly recommend watching like, all of Extra Credits videos about game making, characterization, illusion of choice and so on. They did a playlist. And other one about genres that might come in handy.

I’m very close to angrily make the text/choice/agency/multiple paths adventure we all need and deserve, and publish it for free... But I really don’t have the time, nor the funds, nor the skills, nor the legal knowledge to make it. So if someone wants to, know that I have a hot story that’s worth telling to initiate new players to the WoD :)))