#but that’s bc i’ve been on here for over a decade and got into a lot of online drama as a teenager

[bonafideyapper]

THE TRADER'S DAUGHTER - cooper "the ghoul" howard x female!oc (part 4)

*THIS IS A DIRECT CONTINUATION OF PART 3** (guess what? I LIED when I said it would be past/present/past/present, enjoy whatever this is.)

Warnings: language, badly written smut, mentions of body hair (has to be a normal occurence in fallout bc theres no razors out there????), dbf!cooper, P in V sex, unprotected sex, ghoul fucking, unprotected irradiated creampie, Rad Away as birth control, as always not proofread

a/n: Alright! I’m not fully happy with this, but I DID promise a part 4 tonight so here she is in all her glory. Still bad at writing smut, deal with it. (Even tho I’m bad at writing it this is basically just smut with like, small plot points strewn about.)

Word count: 2.1k

previous part - masterlist

Previously, on The Trader's Daughter...

“Ohh, ya want me to touch ya, huh?” Cooper spoke in a hushed tone so as to not alert to her father in the next room what was about to happen. “What happened to you’re too young for me?” He squeezed her thigh with a strong grip, a wide grin coming to his face as he coaxed her thighs open. 

“Coop, I-” Daisy breathlessly whispered, overwhelmed by the man and his voice and his hands. Lord have mercy, his hands, those hands that she had dreamed about touching her in ways that would make angels cry. The hands that had strangled a man to death for threatening her. 

“I want you to touch me.”

“Well now darlin’, I can touch you however you want me to. But this ain’t gonna be no casual fuck. If I touch you now, you’re a marked woman.” Cooper whispered against the shell of Daisy’s ear, his scarred hand scooting closer to where she craved him most. He could tell she was flustered, and he loved that even after years of being hardened by the wasteland, he still had that panty-dropping effect on members of the fairer sex. 

“You sure you want an old man like me to irradiate that pretty little body of yours, flower?” Cooper kept his voice low, fully aware of his friend snoring less than ten feet away. 

Daisy’s mouth was dry and she would kill for some water. Somehow she managed to whisper back, “I’ve been on the surface a long time too, Cooper. I can handle a little rad poisoning. Got a good supply of Rad Away stashed away.” 

Cooper ran his tongue over his cracked lips, intrigued by the spice coming from the sweet little lady falling apart and he hadn’t even started to touch her yet. “Yeah? Sounds like you’ve been waitin’ a while for a moment like this, sugar. Hell, if I’d’ve known you’d been waitin’ for me this long I would’ve made my way back to you sooner. Could’a gave you another pretty little gift.” His hand reached for her necklace, letting his large calloused digits linger around the little white pearl. He could feel the breath trapped in her chest and swore he could hear the thumping of her heart trapped behind her ribs.

A decade of yearning had led her here, and Daisy was latching on. “Can I um, can I tell you something, Coop?” She felt like a teenage girl again as she looked up at the ghoul inching closer and closer to her, until his knee was slotted between the two of hers. If her father were to walk out now, they could probably play off the position as platonic, as an old friend leaning closer to get a good look at someone they hadn’t seen in years. A wave of nerves rushed over her as she watched him nod, calming herself as she thought about how he was much less of an intimidating figure without that old cowboy hat perched on top of his head. 

“You’re like, the guy I modeled my dream man after-” Daisy froze when she heard a shift to her father’s snoring pattern, bringing her awareness back to her surroundings. Cooper swiftly grabbed her chin to force her attention on him. “Uh uh, attention back on me, sweetheart. It’s just us. Now, you were sayin’ about how I was your perfect man?” As he spoke, his hand crept closer to the belt still fastened around her waist, taking his time and being disrespectful in his slow movements to pop her pants open. With each point the woman listed about how he was the model, he dipped one more finger down the front of her pants. 

“W-Well yeah, you’ve always been a very honorable man. Always take care of the people close to you.” Daisy tried to keep the conversation as casual as she could but still put up no fight as his fingers dipped below her waistband. She cautiously scooted herself down in the chair to widen her legs for him, blushing when he clicked his teeth, “That’s a good girl. You gonna keep bein’ a good girl for me, flower? Keep tellin’ me ‘bout myself.” Cooper smirked at her, his fingers ghosting over the skin of her stomach.

Daisy swiped her tongue over her lips, desperate for some kind of moisture in her mouth. She’d gladly accept it if he spit in her mouth, and actually, she wanted it. She’d do anything for him, especially if it would keep his hand sinking further down. “I think that you’re a good protector, a great shot back in the day. I’d totally outshoot you now.” She had to throw in a little jab of attitude towards him, wanting to see where it’d get her. “Like the way you talk, always callin’ me some kind o’ pretty-” 

Cooper could’ve lost it right then and there when his fingers slipped through the soft curly bush coating her puffy lips, “Look at that, sweet girl, you’re soaked and I ain’t even really touched you yet.”  He bragged, letting his finger tap against her clit a few times to watch her twitch, “And princess, as much as I wanna hear that sweet voice of yours scream my name, gonna need you to be quiet for me. Think you can do that?” He whispered to her as he sunk two thick digits into her dripping hole, shoving the same fingers on his other hand into her mouth to silence her when her jaw went slack. “Bite down if you need to; I won’t mind.” 

Daisy was on cloud nine, needing to grip the table to hold herself together. She couldn’t tell if this was really happening, not until she felt his weathered fingers brushing against that little spot inside her, building up a tight knot that he was eager to coax from her. She wrapped her pretty little lips around his fingers and then Coop thought he was on cloud nine— he’d get those pretty little lips wrapped around something else soon enough, but right now he was committed to teasing her and making her cum with his fingers. Y’know, had to see if he still got it (he did, he was shocked to find that it took less than five minutes of manipulation for her to gush in his hand with a muffled moan as he clasped his hand over her mouth.) 

Daisy closed her thighs around his hands and tried to let her head tip back, half-lidded eyes staring up at his as he dug his fingers in her mouth and pulled her head up to look at him. She whimpered at the loss of his fingers and watched as he licked them clean, a bright red tinge on her cheeks. 

“Sweeter than any peach I’ve ever tasted, flower.” Cooper ran his finger over her lips gently, letting her taste herself on the digit. She damn near couldn’t see straight and here he was, still egging her on. “Now, princess, think you can stay quiet for me?” 

Any kind of strong-woman act that Daisy had created for herself in her lifetime had dissolved in an instant, turning to putty in his hands and feeling like she was a virgin all over again as she begged him to fuck her. “Please, Cooper, please- I’ll be quiet, I promise. Please, please-” She whispered, keeping her eyes locked on his to show she was being serious. “We can go downstairs, won’t have to worry about dad.” 

Cooper pushed himself back from her and stood up, holding his hand out for her to take. “Come on then, pretty girl.” Daisy was quick to stand on her shaky legs, not seeming to care about the wet spot that had formed between her legs. She grabbed onto his hand and essentially dragged him down the stairs, pretty eager for a grown woman. Hey, again, Cooper reawoken her teenage dream, Daisy is in no way to blame for her actions. Without having to think about his actions, Cooper easily tossed the girl around like a ragdoll. Their bodies combined in a mixture of clashing teeth and lips and limbs blindly grabbing for each other. Daisy slung an arm around his neck to pull his head closer to her, channeling a lifetime of desire behind her kiss. She’d never been kissed like this before, none of the boys she had messed around with during her girlhood had ever touched her the way Cooper had been 

She didn’t have to be told twice, Cooper had barely muttered a “get these off” while pulling at her pants and she had dropped them down around her ankles. She kicked them off and smiled wide when he put his hands on her again, this time to easily lift her up onto the countertop. Daisy locked her legs around his waist and whimpered softly when he broke away from her, already begging for him again, “Coop, please don’t stop yet-” “Aw, darlin’, I’m not stoppin’ shit.” Cooper cracked a sideways smirk, “Not gonna keep you beggin’, either, even though you sound sooo pretty.” he let her dig her hands between them, watching her eagerly take his belt off in the dark backroom of the storefront. He made short work of pushing his pants down, reaching down to grab her thighs and pull her closer to his front.

Daisy helped him out a little by scooting her hips forward, just barely hanging off the side of the counter. She couldn’t help but notice how large his hands were against the flesh of her plump thighs as he grabbed on her, wishing she could see more of him in the dark. She wondered how the years of radiation exposure had affected his dick, but didn’t have to spend long on that thought before he had lined himself up and thrust into her. “Oh fuck-” As soon as the words slipped out of her mouth in a moan, Cooper had that hand slapped over her mouth again.

“Nuh-uh, none of that now, flower. Gonna- fuck- gonna wake up your old man. Don’t want that now, do we?” Cooper whispered against the shell of her ear, barely able to hold himself together now that he was inside her and damn-near feral. He smirked as she nodded against him, her eyes still trained on his. “Good girl.” he whispered as he painstakingly pulled out of her to just the tip, only to slide right back in and bottom out with his hips flush against hers.

Daisy whimpered against his hand and reached up to hold it firmly against her mouth, not wanting to risk not being his good girl. (Also not wanting to risk her dad walking in, but to be honest, she wasn’t thinking much about him when Cooper was between her thighs.) She couldn’t think straight, her mind was completely occupied with himhimhimhimhim. Part of her still felt like this was a dream as she mumbled something against his hand, something along the lines of “don’t hold back.” She figured he could understand her because instead of that painfully slowwww process of teasing her, he started fucking her. And this wasn’t like any of the meaningless fucks she had before, this was with a grown man, a man who had been changed by the immense suffering he had been through before he fell into her life. He was fucking her like his life depended on it and she was drunk on every second. 

Cooper didn’t know how long he’d be able to last with her walls gripping him the way she was, with her pretty brown eyes locked on his the entire time. It was much more intimate than he had intended for this to go, he had wanted it to be a good fuck but not one that would leave her wanting more. He had things he needed to do once he left her in the morning, and he hoped that this would be enough to tide her over until he could come back to his Daisy. 

Unbeknownst to him, she’d be joining him in his next adventure, whether he wanted her to or not. 

“Fuck, darlin’, where do you wan’ me to fin’sh?” Cooper groaned out softly, digging his scarred fingers into the soft skin of her hips, hard enough to leave bruises to remember him by. His words had started to slur together more than usual with that accent of his. Daisy whimpered as she leaned up to press her lips to his, gripping onto the back of his head to keep him close to her, “Told you I got enough Rad Away to stock a Super Duper Mart, where d’ya think I wanted it?” She still had that snippy little attitude to her even after Coop did his best to fuck it out of her (although that hadn’t been the primary goal, it’ll continue to be his goal as long as he continues to fuck her.) 

His smirk lit up his face as he bottomed out in her one last time, his hips faltering a bit as he happily pumped her full of his unfruitful seed. He kept his eyes on her face as he watched her- what, third? orgasm take over her. He had lost count after he made her cum the first time with just his fingers. Gentle in his movements this time around, he pulled out of her slowly, taking a second to lean back and watch the cum leak from between her thighs. A satisfied smirk never leaving his face, “Where do you keep the Rad Away?”

gif credit @thesoldiersminute

divider credit @cafekitsune

taglist: @savanahc @one-of-thewalkingdead @silverose365 @neverendingdumptser @fallout-girl219 @imtherain @looneylooomis

(I'm trying to compile my taglist from both accounts, so I hope I didn't forget anyone!)

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

taking a bit further in the decades,(bc playboy bunny girls were officially a thing in the 50s) lets say Hashira! reader got a job as a casino bunny girl, mainly to spy to see if there are demons is in there. She doesn't know the demon king dropped by (It draws a LOT of humans in.), and was called in to... entertain him. (Lap dance, some intimacy as well, jdkndmfndmkd) both can't ignore that they think the other is very attractive and make out, too? tysm!!

(Hello, I’m glad to see another request from you again. I’ve never been in a casino before so hopefully I didn’t mess anything up and if I did then I apologize. I hope you enjoy this!)

May I Touch?

Muzan Kibutsuji x FEM! Hashira! Reader

(Warning: Swearing, Sanemi is your best friend, lap dancing, making out)

About the casino the reader applied to: This casino allows you to play games, gamble, etc. Also there is a private room for people that pay extra to get one-on-one time with a bunny girl, for example lap dances and some intimacy.

..

As a Demon Slayer you had to do a lot of things to slay demons. You had to bear through tough and excruciating training, lose people you deeply care about, and sometimes even spy on places to try and locate the demon.

This current mission you have is one of those spying ones. The problem is..

“Oh my god can you believe this shit, look at what they’re making me wear!” You say holding up the outfit to show your best friend Sanemi.

“Stop being a pussy and just change into the damn thing and go to that casino place before you’re late.” Sanemi said as he turned his attention away from you to continue his training.

“Fine fine I was leaving anyways.” You said with a huff before making your way to the casino you got hired at. You decided that you were going to change into the outfit when you got there so that you didn’t have to travel wearing that outfit.

You arrived there with your outfit balled up in your hand, looking up at the night sky you breathe in and out, silently telling yourself that it is going to be okay before going inside.

You go to the managers office and knock on the door and waited until you heard the muffled words of “Come on in.”

“Ah you’re here, unfortunately the person that was gonna show you what to do called out last minute and the others are busy entertaining the customers so I guess I’ll have to show you around.” He takes a drag of his cigar before speaking once more, “Go ahead and change in the changing rooms I’ll wait for you nearby.”

You nodded your head, walking out of the office and go to the changing rooms. Putting on the revealing outfit, you smooth out all the wrinkles and came out. You looked around and found the manager, he began to show you everything and told you about the rules and regulations. One thing that was strange to you was a private room that was designed for people that want one-on-one time with the bunny girl.

Since you came here on a mission you hope that you’re not the one getting called in the room.

Oh boy did you just jinxed yourself.

A little while went by and the manager went back to his office. You were doing your job until you heard one of your coworkers say “Hey new girl, come here we have a customer in the private room waiting for you!”

“Ugh why me.” You thought to yourself while walking over to the room.

As you got closer and closer your heart pounded as you sensed a extremely powerful demon, you thought to yourself that it had to be a Upper Moon. To your surprise when you opened the door and walked in you saw a pale man with red eyes, you could still tell that it was a powerful demon but there’s no use in fighting sense you didn’t have your blade on you.

The man seemed to be very relaxed so that relieved some of your nerves a little, you were hoping that the demon didn’t notice that you were a Hashira.

Leaning on the back of the red chair with his hands in his lap, he lifted his hands to signal you to come over. You closed the door behind you and walked over to him. As you got closer you noticed a red tint to his cheeks something you didn’t notice before.

“Oh my I got lucky today, I got ahold of a gorgeous one. How about you come closer and give me a dance.” He said patting his lap, you knew exactly what he wanted. A lap dance.

You came closer to him a visibly nervous expression was shown on your face. Muzan took a mental note of that, noting that he was gonna take his time with you tonight.

Muzan could sense that you were a Hashira but he didn’t care at the moment. All he wanted to do was have some fun with his new plaything.

As you begin to give him a lap dance you hear him hum in enjoyment, making your cheeks heat up. You honestly didn’t know what you were doing you’ve never given someone a lap dance before.

Your thoughts stop and you stop dancing, blushing harder, as you heard the man raspy voice say “May I touch?”

Unable to control your body you turned to him, before mumbling a quiet “Sure.” He smirked at that as he grabbed your hips and straddled you on his lap.

“Don’t worry we’ll take this slow.” He said against your lips before making contact with them.

As he was passionately kissing you, you could tell that this man had some experience and that turned you on, maybe because since he has some experience he could make you scream with pleasure without any difficulty.

He licked your lower lip, seemly asking for permission to explore your mouth. You allowed access and moaned when you felt his strong hands grabbing your ass and making you slowly grind on his lap.

You felt something hard under you, and that’s when you thought to yourself that tonight was gonna be a long one.

Masterlist

[sednonamoris]

call off the dogs (and come home to me)

Pairing: John Price x gn!reader

Summary: You've quietly yearned after Captain John Price for a long time now, and known him even longer. With each stolen glance and interrupted moment the tension between you grows, but everything comes to a head when a mission gone wrong forces you to confront feelings that have gone unspoken for the better part of a decade.

Warnings: Canon-typical violence, strong language, alcohol mention, drunk hookup, a little bit of torture + murder, fingering, porn with plot (smut should read gender neutral but let me know if any changes will make it more inclusive!!), mild angst, mutual pining with a happy ending

Word count: 3,940

A/N: My first foray into smut inspired by the incredibly talented @yeyinde!! Expect more Hound/Price content in the future bc I’m obsessed lol

--

 “Hound,” a familiar voice startles you from the mountain of paperwork on your desk, “what are you still doing here?”

 You raise a challenging brow at your captain. “Couldn’t I ask you the same thing?”

 This exchange has become familiar in the months you’ve spent grounded. Anyone else would take a bullet to the knee as a chance to slow down - switch careers entirely if they were smart - but you’re stubborn. A dog with a bone. Two surgeries and months of rehab that still aren’t finished, frankly you’re lucky to be walking. Luckier still that they let you stay on with the 141; There was a minute there that Laswell threatened you with an honourable discharge. A timely intervention with the physical therapist got you out of it, the only stipulation being that you remain firmly planted behind a desk until the doctors clear you. Having spent the better part of a lifetime hands-on in the field, it’s been hard not to overextend to prove your worth off of it.

 So after-hours paperwork it is. At least the company is good.

 “Touché,” Price huffs a laugh through his whiskers. “Fancy a cuppa? Sounds like we’ll both be here a while yet.”

 “Have I told you lately you’re my favourite? Two sugars and--”

 “--a splash of cream,” he finishes for you. The twinkle in his eye warms you right through, and you smile after him a little bit like an idiot.

 It’s been like this ever since the domestic terrorism scare your team was called in on in Belfast what feels like a lifetime ago. He was only a lieutenant then, and you a sergeant. You were assigned to civilian extraction, but took off when you saw one of the primary suspects make a dash for it through side streets. Price saw you go for him and followed, the two of you giving chase on foot for three blocks before you managed to dive-tackle him in a back alley. It was a major success to take him alive, but your captain at the time wanted blood for the abandoned civilians. Price stood up for you in front of the entire regiment.

Took after ‘im like a bloody hellhound! he’d said. That deserves a medal, not disciplinary action.  

 Just over ten years later you’re still called Hound, and he’s still the subject of your silly, unattainable daydreams. Captain John Price is a name that means something, but to you he will always be the sergeant with fire in his eyes who stood up for you when no one else would. When he asked if you were interested in joining the 141 at its inception you didn’t even hesitate. You’d follow him anywhere.

 “One tea, two sugars, splash of cream,” Price announces when he returns from the kitchenette with two steaming mugs to distract you from your thoughts. Yours is placed ceremoniously on an ARW coaster you ‘borrowed’ from your last commanding officer. “Now I believe you owe me something…?”

 You grin and pull out your secret stash. The false bottom of the drawer is probably meant for sensitive intel, but you’ve found it’s perfect for biscuits. Three are placed in his outstretched hand, and three next to your mug.

 “You’re lucky I’ve got a man on the inside who sends me these,” you scold as he scoffs one down almost immediately.

 “Yeah, tell your granddad I said ‘thanks’.”

 “I can’t. He’d disown me if he knew I was feeding a Brit.”

 That earns you a laugh - a true belly laugh - and you can’t help but feel entirely smug about it.

 “Fuckin’ Paddies.”

 “Ah, go fuck yourself.”

 A companionable silence blankets the room after that, broken only by the sound of shuffled papers and laptop keys. Soft lamplight illuminates your reports so unlike the harsh fluorescents everywhere else on base. You’ve done your best to make the regulation desk homey; bright sticky notes and colored pens and a picture of you and the lads after a successful mission. Occasional hums and huffs and heavy sighs from your captain’s desk across the room breathe life into the space as well. You like to think your incoherent, foul-mouthed muttering does the same for him.

 The clock reads 0100 hours when you look up again. The caffeine from the tea wore off over an hour ago and you can feel yourself starting to fade. A quick peek over at Price reveals much the same.

 You open your mouth to ask if he’s ready to tuck in when he looks up and steals the breath from your lungs. His short hair is mussed where he’s been running his hands through it, that hint of premature grey turned silver at his temples in the low light. Tired eyes crinkle fondly behind the lenses of reading glasses you haven’t stopped teasing him over but can’t get enough of. It’s achingly domestic. A glimpse into a future you’ll never have - not with anyone, and certainly not with him.

 “What are you thinking about over there?” he asks softly.

 “Nothing,” you flash a tired and unconvincing smile. “I’m knackered. Shall I close up shop or will you, Cap?”

 “I’ve got it, you get some shut-eye.”

 Your eyes linger just a bit too long as you bid him goodnight, knowing very well you won’t sleep a wink.

--

 This pub is definitely one of the shittier ones, but its location is convenient enough to pretend that the wallpaper isn’t peeling and the live band of part-time musicians and full-time retirees is any good. The handful of covers they play are indistinguishable from originals sprinkled in, all with that same, washed-out sound of empty bottles and stale dreams.

 The group of hooligans crowded up at the bar sit in stark contrast of the otherwise dour patrons. Even Ghost, who’s taken the corner seat and keeps a lazy watch over the room, is loose enough to be making those terrible jokes of his. Soap and Gaz lean over one another with goofy grins and half-empty glasses before them. Price, true to form, has taken the end seat to nurse a ‘proper pint’ alongside a lit cigar the bartender can’t dispute after lighting up what looks like at least his tenth cigarette of the night behind the bar.  

 “If it isn’t the Bionic Hound!” Gaz calls when he spots you across the poorly-lit room, waving you over with a grin.

 You shake your head, wondering why you agreed to come out tonight. But the second Gaz had started with the puppy-dog eyes there was no denying him. Drinks before leave are a 141 tradition, he’d insisted.

 So here you are.

 “You’re lucky it’s a metal knee and not laser eyes or you’d be in yesterday’s papers,” you wag a finger at him as you take your seat amongst them all.

 Ghost snorts a laugh at the empty threat.

 “Oh, come off it, Hound,” Soap says. “You love us too much.”

 Price chuckles. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

 You glare and wrinkle your nose at the comment, but he just smiles back at you with that damned twinkle in his eye. Prick. Then he wordlessly slides over your usual and you have to be grateful on top of it all. Double prick. One swift gulp and half of it is gone; you’re too sober for this.

 The lads cackle over another awful joke - Soap’s, this time. Price holds his temples.

 The drinks go down easy after that.

 “Any exciting plans for your leave, Cap?” you ask. It’s almost closing time now. This place is never full, anyway, but there’s enough alcohol in your system that you almost buy into the pretense of hearing him better as you edge further and further into his space.

 You’re not sure what you want him to say, exactly. Maybe if he reveals that there’s a cute little family or some stunning girlfriend waiting back home you’ll finally be able to move past the strangled feeling in your throat every time you look at him.  

 “Hardly,” he says around the cigar. The soft glow of it lights his face, makes him look like some sharp-eyed noir detective shrouded in smoke and mystery. “Might get a bit of fishing in, head into Liverpool and catch a game or two. What about you?”

 You wave a dismissive hand. “I make a terrible civilian. After I visit my grandfather and annoy him half to death I’m not sure what I’ll do. Maybe finally get some use out of those Egyptian cotton sheets I spent a bleedin’ fortune on.”

 “Are they nice?” he laughs, leans closer.

 You hum an affirmative, dizzy at the little space between you. He smells like tobacco and wood, whiskey and gunpowder.

“Too nice.” You should stop talking now. “End up on the floor half the time, anyway.”

He doesn’t need to know that.  

 “Sleeping alone, then?”

 His breath fans your face. Yours gets quicker, and you swear you’re more drunk off this shared air than any liquor you’ve had tonight.  

 “Sometimes.” You wet your lips. “Usually.”

 Your lashes leave tender butterfly kisses on your cheekbones as you meet his blue-eyed stare that’s gone impossibly dark, dipping down to see where your lips have parted - breathless, waiting. Wanting. His hand reaches out--

 “Last call!” the bartender’s shout snaps everything back to reality.

 You jump away from one another as though you’ve been burned. It feels a lot like you have.

 Price clears his throat, mutters something about getting back. His voice is rougher than usual. Raw. You look everywhere but him as he proceeds to round up the rest of the lads before you all stumble back to base.

 Your head pounds the whole way back to Ireland the next morning, marching drums in your mind and sandpaper beneath your eyelids. The flight has never felt lonelier.

--

 The man you bring home has blue eyes and brown hair. He’s not tall enough, certainly not broad enough, but he happened to be in the right place at the right time as you drank your sorrows away in some tiny pub up the road from your flat, and you happen to be desperate enough not to care.

 At least that’s what you tell yourself as you back him against your bed.

 When you kiss him it’s relentless and controlling. Mean. You suck a dark bruise on his neck and climb in his lap before he can think to return the favor.

 “Fuck, sweetness,” he groans at the sweet feeling of friction between your bodies. The accent is wrong. So is the endearment.

 You clamp a hand over his mouth. “Shut up and fuck me.”

 It’s a quick and sloppy affair, chasing a half-drunk high like a pair of horny teenagers. When all is said and done, you stare up at the ceiling on too-soft sheets and tell him he can go. He leans over to catch your eye briefly, maybe checking to see if you’re serious. You are. There’s hurt written across his expression - a bit of shock, too - but all you can think about is how his eyes are the wrong shade of blue.

--

 The second the doctors clear you for active duty you all but sprint to Price’s desk, demanding he get you back in the field as soon as possible. He smiles up at you in that sharp way that always makes your heart stutter and promises he’s got something small in the works - perfect to shake the rust off.

 Of course he’d think of an unsanctioned, off-the-books capture of a Russian mobster as small. You’re the only two who make the trip; your Russian is miles better than anyone else’s, and more bodies will only attract attention.

 It’s easy to forget how beautiful Moscow is. You don’t come here often, but the sprawling cityscape and romantic spires speak to your soul, set something singing inside you. You try to hold on to that feeling as you and Price make your way into the chipped paint and piss-stained sector of the city. These winding side streets and twisted back alleys are far more fitting for your line of work.

 Your mark, one Mikhail Yanovich, is a low-level enforcer for a high-interest gang that has connections to Makarov. Allegedly. That’s why you’re planning this friendly little chat. Not so much catch-and-release as catch-and-stage-a-believable-accident; if he really is involved, you can’t afford for Makarov to know you’re onto him.

 It feels strange to walk around in civvies with only a thin kevlar vest underneath to protect you. Thank goodness for the cold that makes layering less conspicuous. You look every inch the lost, frozen tourist. Price does too. You don’t think the miserable face he’s pulling beneath the beanie is acting, cheeks and nose flushed raw as they are.

 “Bloody cold out,” he mutters.

 “The fuck did you expect, tropical holidays?”

 He glowers, and you shake your head to hide a smile.

 Thankfully, kidnapping Yanovich is quick work; two bickering tourists hardly seem like the type who will stick you with a needle on your way to work and drag your unconscious body to a stashed van, driving through bad, then worse neighborhoods to reach a secure location to interrogate you.

 He wakes tied to a chair in the basement of an abandoned parking garage you and Price have taken up a temporary residence in. The captain circles him like a vulture, taking in all the details a broad frame and blockish features have to offer. You sit perched on the edge of a shitty folding table set just in the shadows. Patient. Waiting. There’s a case of freshly sharpened knives beside you - the Hound’s fangs, as Ghost likes to call them. So often the glinting threat of harsh light on metal is all it takes to break a man.

 “What can you tell us about Makarov?” Price opens.

 “Go fuck yourself.”

 The blow lands harsh on Yanovich’s cheekbone. Instantly a bruise begins to form, splotchy and plum on pale skin.

 “I asked you a bloody question. I promise you’d rather answer me than Hound over there,” Price looms over him, growls in his ear. “Makarov. Tell me everything you know.”

 There’s a stubborn set to his jaw when he says, “I know nothing.”

 If he really knew nothing he either would have laughed in your face or led with open ignorance. The way he clings to resistance can only mean there’s something to resist telling. As to how much he knows? There’s another echoing crack as Price backhands him.

 You’ll soon find out.

 “Hound,” your name on your captain’s tongue is as much a command as an invitation.

 You lean forward, step into the light. Twirl one of your knives expertly between scarred fingers. Watch it flash in the whites of his eyes.

 “I’ll ask you again: Where is Makarov?” Price demands.

 “I. Don’t. Know.”

 You step between Yanovich’s legs, lean over him and gently trace your blade over his groin with a smile sharper than the knife. He lets out a harsh breath.

 “I said I don’t know. Boss tells me nothing - I’m just a guard.”

 The knife presses, insistent. Not quite hard enough to draw blood yet. A bead of sweat rolls down Yanovich’s forehead. He’s pressed himself as far back into the chair as his bonds will allow.

 “Fine! He comes to club once a month. Speaks to the boss.”

 “What about?”

 “I don’t know-- I swear!” his accent is thick with unfamiliar syllables and fear.

 “When’s he due next?”

 “You just missed him. He always comes last day of month.”

 “Location?”

 “Changes every time,” he says, licks his lips. “I told you all I know - call off your fucking dog!”

 You dig your knife in for good measure just to watch the hate and fear in his eyes before backing off at Price’s nod.

 Turning to step away and table your knife, you don’t miss the way Yanovich mutters darkly after you, “My zdes strelaem vie brodyachikh sobak, suki. Esli ya uviju tebya snova, the mertview.”

 Then a gunshot fires.

 You pull your weapon out of its holster and whip around to cover Price, only to find the smoking gun in his hand and Yanovich’s head splattered on the wall behind him. Captain John Price stands over the body, eyes blazing, chest heaving, gun still aimed. Blood and brain matter speckles his face and clothes.  

 “What the fuck was that?” you demand. “He could have told us more! And what about the cover-up? Blowing his brains six ways to fucking Sunday isn’t exactly a bleedin’ accident!”

 You expect some kind of remorse when he turns to face you, but there’s only a grim, deadly acceptance. “He said--"

 “I heard what he said, I can speak bloody Russian!” you stalk towards him and jab a finger into his chest. “We were gonna kill the cunt anyway. You should have waited.”

 Price snarls, lip curling to bare his teeth. “You didn’t see the way he looked at you.”

 Suddenly you’re hyperaware of how close the two of you are standing. “How did he look at me?”

“He wanted to kill you the slowest way he knew how,” he says, like he’s confessing a sin, “and I’d shoot his fucking face a thousand times over to make sure he never looks at you again.”

 And just like that anything you were going to say dies in your throat, comes out a pathetic whimper. He grabs a fistful of your shirt and hauls you the rest of the short distance to him.

 “Tell me you wouldn’t do the same,” he demands. “Tell me to stop.”

 His hand burns on your chest, an iron-hot brand of possession.

 “John,” you breathe, because you don’t know what else to say. The look in his eyes is magnetic, drawing you in further still with pupils blown wide with want. “Don’t stop.”

 He kisses you rough, teeth and tongue and a certain kind of desperation brought on by the still-warm corpse lying just a few feet away. When you break for air he wastes no time kissing down your neck, every inch of exposed skin branded by his lips and the rough scrape of his beard. Yanovich’s blood smears down the column of your throat.

 “Fuck, John,” you say, “just like that.”

 “Sound so fucking perfect when you say my name,” he growls and bites down on your pulse point, leaving you gasping.

 It’s enough to distract you from his true purpose, large hands cupping beneath your ass and scooping you up into his arms. You hold on tight as three purposeful strides take you across the room to the table. One sweep of his arm has everything tumbling off it before he sets you down to stare up at him with wide eyes and a kiss-swollen mouth.

 When he captures your lips again it’s searing, molten heat rushing through your veins. It pools in your stomach, that too-hot wanting, and it suddenly hits you how much you do want this. Him. Each kiss tastes like so many years of silent longing, of standing too close and staring too long and wanting too much. All suddenly real and within reach.

 You let your hands snake up his shirt, explore the broad plane of his chest and the wiry hair that curls over it. Your fingers run over scars like braille that tell stories of violence and valor. Some of these stories you helped write. There, beneath his ribs, where you had to stitch him up in the field to keep his guts from spilling into the streets of Vienna. The lump where his collarbone never healed right after taking the brunt of a nasty blow meant for you. He shivers under your touch. Then his large, calloused hands cover yours and stop them in their tracks.

 “I’m going to fuck you now,” he says, “because I don’t think I can wait any longer than I already have to feel you.” His voice is even lower and rougher than usual, accent thick with arousal. “Do you want that?”

 You nod, afraid to speak and break the spell.

 “Come on, soldier, use your words.”

 “Yes, Captain. Please.”

 His grip on your hips tightens and he lets out a growl. “That’s my perfect soldier.”

 It’s all the warning you get before he tucks his fingers under the waistband of your trousers and underwear and tugs them down to your thighs, leaving you exposed before him.

 “Fuck, just look at you,” he says under his breath, almost like you aren’t meant to hear.

 You squirm under the scrutiny. A hot flush creeps up your neck as he stares, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it. He looks at you like you’re some kind of revelation, like he’s been denied salvation all his life only to find it at the apex of your thighs.

 One, two, then three fingers stretch you open for him quick and dirty. It’s too much too fast but you want it so bad, and the pleasure far outweighs any pain. When he finally unzips his trousers to free his already hard, leaking cock you think you drool a little bit. You knew he’d be big, the way he carries himself, but seeing it is something else. Your insides flutter at the thought of the tight fit. He lines up to your entrance with that same military precision you’ve always admired before pushing in slowly, slowly, slower still. When he bottoms out he does it with a deep groan, your fingernails raking down his back as you keen at the sensation. This small mercy, just a few moments to adjust with his forehead pressed to yours, is all you’re granted before he sets a brutal pace. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes off cracked concrete. With each thrust he hits someplace deep inside you no one else has managed to find.

 Heat coils in your belly, closer and closer to fever pitch with each expert snap of his hips.

 “John,” you pant, “m’gonna… gonna cum. Feels so good.”

 He says your name like a prayer. “Cum for me, then. Want to see you make a mess of yourself on my cock.”

 Like a tidal wave breaking against a dam you cum fast and hard at his words with a broken sob. He fucks you through the high, brushing a tear from the corner of your eye with a rough thumb.

 “There you are, so good for me,” he says. “Gonna cum all over your pretty little self, make you mine.”

 “I’m yours, John,” you gasp, “all yours.”

 His thrusts turn sloppy chasing his own high, and it doesn’t take long before he pulls out and makes good on his words, covering your stomach in spend as he grinds out your name. Bent over your body, he presses a chaste kiss to the juncture of your neck before pulling back to admire his handiwork. In the afterglow you lay spread out on the table with a sheen of sweat, smeared with his cum and another man’s blood. The way his eyes darken rubbing it into your skin, and the way you shiver at the sensation, you think that you both might like it a little too much.

 “Laswell’s gonna kill us for this,” he murmurs.

 You hum your agreement. “So where shall we hide the body?”

 His eyes shine down on you with adoration and crinkle with wicked humor. “I’m sure we’ll think of something, but let’s be quick about it. The sooner we get home the better.”

 “Yes,” you hear yourself agreeing, “home.”  

 For you, it will always be at his side.

[evelili]

I know it’s been ages since I sent one of these, I’ve been busy and I’m still busy so I don’t have time to read the full chapter BUT!! Here’s some of my thoughts and favorite lines from the beginning of this chapter. The Final Trial.

I really love how you write the memory sequences in this story. They all flow really well and don’t feel redundant!! The reveal of these memories twilight has hidden of Luna are so good!! God!! Her devastation when she realized she had forgotten someone as important as Celestia’s SISTER her AUNT is AMAZING!!

-

her hair pulled back into a ponytail, her legs bare below the knees of a ridiculous pink-and-purple skort that she’d have been mortified to wear past puberty—eight or nine, then, she decided. It’s probably summertime, too.

-

God this mental image is so cute!! I had to google what skorts are but yeah they definitely fit Twilight and her character, especially as a kid!!

-

Twilight waited for her younger self to voice the familiar retort she thought she’d known her entire life—magic isn’t real; magic doesn’t exist; magic is fictional and fantastical and lies. But instead of a rational dismissal she heard her voice ask something completely wrong instead:

“You’re really going to show me how?”

And Twilight didn’t hear anything else after that.

-

DAMNNN this sequence is so good!! The way twilights world is just DESTROYED by this is fantastic!!

-

“Well, I wanted to check in on the two of you.” The door swung further open, and suddenly Twilight was face-to-face with the Celestia of her childhood—younger by nearly a decade and yet still recognizable in almost every way. She hadn’t ever thought time had changed her mentor much, but the contrast between present and past was far more blatant when not viewed as a gradual shift. No laugh lines. No grey hairs. No ice in her eyes.

Just a Celestia whose very presence made Someone bristle in response.

-

This description of her is DEVASTATING. She’s both somehow unhappier and so much happier with Luna in her life. The way you write her is stunning and I’m loving the conflict between her wanting Luna to focus on the future and Luna who is focused on enjoying the present. It’s a very cool conflict and I love how you’re handling it!! Them both caring more about twilights emotions than each other’s is heartbreaking

-

It did—to both the Twilight of the present and the past. “Yeah,” she said quietly. “I get it.”

-

Fuck this line is FANTASTIC. The understanding twilight finds in her memories of Luna are fantastic and I’m very curious on how this will impact how she handles Nightmare going forward. Unfortunately I can’t read anymore tonight, but I love it so far!!

STOP THE CLOCK. I FORGOT THIS BANGER LINE: “You believe in magic, Twilight,” she said gently. “And so long as you do, that’s belief enough for me.” The way you write Luna and how much she and celestia both love twilight is DEVASTATING

(combined ur two asks together) WAHHHH thank u so much for the asks!!! and no worries abt taking ur time w the story, u only get to read once for the first time after all!

this chapter is definitely Up There in terms of how happy i am with how it turned out, im rlly glad u liking it so far! i dont know how much i can say without spoiling things, but a reminder to read on fimfic to get the Full Experience (epub missing images my nemesis), a rather important section will b missing otherwise!!

i think to me a big aspect of luna and celestia's relationship in the show that kinda got glossed over was that celestia may not have realized how her actions affected luna until too late. and, it's kind of the "road to hell with good intentions" thing, bc i dont think celestia is the bad guy (at least in tte) for believing that the best way to help someone is plan, prepare, try to think ahead and look forward, etc. but, this kind of mindset can clash with someone who, at that moment, finds the prospect of thinking about the future so impossible. writing from life helped a lot in this regard :)

also, completely unrelated but also related, have a meme :D and thanks again for reading!

[misrepresentedmorallygrey]

PROPAGANDA

Six

Once again (just like with every morally grey character I think) there's a war between "she's a monster" and "she's an angel". Six, as a character, is very cool because there's no dialogue or anything in the Little Nightmares games, and a lot of things that are just not showed. The whole point is everyone can have their own interpretations and theories. But Six is just so disrespected by the fandom ! On one side, it's "she's a monster, we hate her, she's selfish and uses people to get what she wants !" On the other side it's "she's a kid and my favorite character so by default she can't be a bad person, she's actually a sweet and pure angel !" None of them are right. For the first ones... Six isn't that much of a monster. And I'm gonna say it : yes, she is a literal kid. That doesn't mean she can't be bad, but she thinks like a kid. She probably cared for Mono before she betrayed him – we can see her trying to help him when he was in the TVs. She probably has a reason why she betrayed him. There's a lot of different theories on that and none of them is more valid than the others because again you're meant to have your own interpretation, so I won't tell any of the popular theories here. You can think she did it for selfish reasons. That doesn't mean she's a literal monster, and that doesn't mean the people who don't think it was selfish are mischaracterizing her. For the second ones... I don't even know what to tell you. If there's one CLEAR thing in these games, it's that Six is morally grey and could do something scary at any moment. As the player you're literally MEANT to be scared of her and what she could do. In the first game you are meant to slowly realize her hunger isn't human. You can also see how she doesn't try to help any of the kids trapped here, she's just helping herself. In the second one she does scary thing all along the game to keep you scared that she could kill and eat Mono at any time, only for her to betray him in the worst way possible at the end. We don't know her reasons but she still did it. Six is a morally grey character. She's just a kid trying to survive in a world full of monsters. She's also full of darkness, acts like a creep and eats literal people. You can't say she's "just a monster", the same way you can't say she's "a little angel who did nothing wrong".

The whole thing with Little Nightmares is that the world is terrifying and horrible. It is eat or be eaten in the most literal sense. Six does what she has to to survive. Has she done some bad things? Yes. Was it her fault? …Debatable. But the fandom treats this CHILD like she’s the worst person to ever exist. Like, she’s not even ten years old. She’s a survivor. Mono did plenty of questionable things too, but I’ve never seen anyone hate on him.

Daisy Tonner

A lot of people just. Write her character off, especially in the earlier seasons, as acab. She did bad things as a cop while she was being taken over by an evil eldritch entity, but everyone just kinda focuses more on the do part than yk. Evil eldritch entity. Now I ain’t gonna justify her actions, she was indeed kinda a bitch, but she was also under the influence of the Hunt, and been for I think decades at the point where we first meet her. Afterwards she ofc got her redemption arc, but everyone (both in canon, but also fandom) treated her like shit even after that, when she was trying to be better. Idk, maybe I’m a daisy simp, maybe IM the one viewing the character wrong, idk. I’m just mad at everyone writing everything off as her being a cop when it was also A PRIMORDIAL GOD OF FEAR THAT WAS PRACTICALLY POSSESSING HER

Girl is a brutal cop who murders people. She is also someone who resisted the absolute pull of the Fears in TMA and didn’t hunt anyone for multiple weeks, something the main character couldn’t even do. She’s incredible bc she is literally like. Grey grey. She’s a fascinating character and cannot be good nor bad depending on how you interpret end actions vs intent.

She did try to slit the main character's throat, and she did do a ton of police brutality- BUT she got a redemtion arc. She tried to better herself. She gave herself over to a evil fear god in order to protect her friends. Her arc is about how it's never too late to try to be better, and about how you can accidently drag others down with you and about how sometimes we become monsters when we want to be better. And I swear- everyone either thinks she's evil or she's good. No inbetween.

[toytle]

Hi! I love your art style it's like. Breathtaking. And your hcs on barry are some of my favourites of all time?

What do you think of "The Ballad of Barry Allen by Jim's Big Ego as an analysis of Barry's character?

are you asking or are you telling me 🤨 lol THANK YOU i put all my headcanon power into him <3

for the ballad, i love their song stress, and this isn’t bad at all as far as fansongs go. but there’s a reason i don’t include it in my barry playlist, and it’s ultimately bc it doesn’t fit my narrative haha

the song was made in 2003 and i haven’t read many comics before then, so idk how well it aligns w barry’s characterization prior to flashpoint, but i’m basing my playlist off post-flashpoint, so that’s where a lot of the differences will lie

for starters, the song only includes one half of barry’s relationship to his superspeed, and it’s important to me that a barry interpretation includes both sides of that coin. instead, it’s playing on the idea of the dark side of the hero fantasy, an inherently optimistic genre. which, fair, being a superhero sounds like a nightmare, but that angle is less novel to me when that’s the extent of the analysis (and i’m a little over the whole “i hate being a superhero” storyline in general, personally). the song is basically abt how much it would suck to have superspeed bc the world slows to a crawl and you’re left behind bc no one else can keep up w you. and it’s true, that is a very real setback! especially for someone like barry who’s already prone to self-isolation and time management issues! but what does the song actually have to say abt him as a character?

the thing is, barry isn’t a “i wish i wasn’t a hero” kind of guy. he’s a “could i be so strong [to give up the flash]? or do i love the thrill of these powers too much?” kind of guy. he’s a “knowing what i know now… if i could go back in time… maybe i would’ve been somewhere else the day lightning struck my lab and electrified those chemicals, ready and willing to forfeit a life of dodging deathtraps and battling villains… who am i kidding? there’s no going back. no do-overs. like everyone else, superheroes can only follow the path destiny has laid out for them, whatever lies ahead.” kind of guy. yes, barry is caged by his superspeed, but it would be misleading to not present it first and foremost as the very thing that frees him. it’s a double-edged sword that gives him purpose, and that freedom in obligation is what motivates him to keep going. as a wise man once said, “all you can do is go forward.” (“thanks.” “superman is pretty smart isn’t he.” “hm.”)

i think the real kicker for me was this lyric: “i’ve got time to think about the past… how my life was so exciting before i got this way.” my sincerest apologies to mr. allen, but he does not feel complete to me without his mother’s death or his father’s false imprisonment. this backstory contextualizes everything for me. his life was NOT exciting before his superspeed, it was lonely and full of escapism, either in his sci-fi/comics or his dedication to finding justice. i am of the belief that barry didn’t truly start living until he got his superspeed, over 2 decades of waiting around before he rly understood freedom and what it meant to live for himself. i get what they’re trying to do here, but this is what i mean when i say it feels like the song characterizes barry around the concept of his speed rather than how barry’s speed defines him as a person

ik i can’t expect a 4min song to include every aspect of a character’s timeline/development/nuance (esp before some of that even existed lol), but my issue isn’t that it doesn’t cover enough ground—it’s not bad that they had a theme and stuck by it, i actually love the lyrics from a speedster perspective. my issue is that i don’t think this is a good framing for barry’s character as a whole. for all his regrets and suffering, barry is optimistic to the point of denial. choosing this to be The theme to represent barry just. doesn’t feel like barry to me. it’s more like barry is the placeholder subject as an excuse to sing abt superspeed

if this was somehow less overtly a “BARRY ALLEN FANSONG” and maybe more metaphorical or even non-fandom, then it would be a dif situation and i might have dif opinions. at the end of the day, this has more to do w my pickiness than the quality of the song, and the fact that it even exists is so exciting for me as a barry allen enjoyer first, human second. but if you’re going to call smth a character study, i Will be getting my hopes up

[mutable-manifestation]

The Ghost King (of Miscommunication) Ch. 20

Part 1-12,Part 13,Part 14,Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19

Part 20!

Info:

DC timeline is fucked, I’m going with the “Batman know most ids but hasn’t revealed himself yet” and a use of the ol’ canon “Brucie Wayne is That Famous(™)" and known as being a serial adopter.

As for how Deadman knows things: Rama pulled a favor with clockwork to let Deadman mature as a ghost/learn about important zone information & culture before yeeting him back to the living world with no time lost bc balance reasons.

He doesn’t know everything about the zone - he’d be garbage at finding his way around and he doesn’t really know anybody - but he knows customs and he knows about halfas bc all info about the Ghost King was High Priority Know This Or Don’t At Your Own Risk (the risk is that will turn u into a . He basically spent a subjective decade practicing his powers or reading books on ‘how to ghost’ next to Rama. He never has to go back to the realm to ‘recharge’ because Rama just kinda beams him what he needs to keep going.

***

“Well,” Constantine starts as he - ‘Finally,’ Bruce thinks - steps up to the table, evidently finished examining the scene, “I can tell you why we couldn’t find shit wrong in Gotham.”

“Elaborate,” Bru- Batman - he has to be Batman, now, has to be calm and think if he wants to get Jason back - demands.

“Don’t get your cape in a twist, Dadman, I’m getting there.” Constantine rolls his eyes, taking a seat.

“There’s a reason I don’t visit Gotham if I can help it - other than its stellar reputation and your renowned hospitality to outsiders.”

His amused snort very quickly transitions to a grimace.

“Gotham’s got the magical equivalent of background radiation. Real uncomfortable stuff. Feels like walking in the world’s biggest graveyard. And that-” he jabs a thumb over his shoulder “-feels just like it.”

“You’re saying he’s being kept somewhere in Gotham?” Red Robin perks up, voice hopeful and doubtful at once.

“No,” Constantine shoots down. “I’m saying whatever little fairy theory the kid had going was wrong, the fae haven’t lived in hell for centuries now. Even if it were them, pocket dimensions don’t actually work like that.”

“Wherever that portal led to reeks of death-” the Gotham heroes all tense at this, the others shooting them tentative looks of concern as Constantine steamrolls on “-and Gotham is exactly enough of a cesspit to have covered up the stink of it before. If it weren't for him being treated relatively well there, I woulda guessed he’d been dragged to hell. Dunno much about heaven - obviously - but I’ve never heard of them having escapees.”

“Obviously not,” Robin snaps, standing. “Red Hood is not dead, he was just here. We were able to see and interact with him, without any need for your tricks. Now can you tell us what it is, or do you just intend to sit there and list off all of the things that it is not?”

Beside him, a brace of batarangs appears in Black Bat’s hand, fanned out threateningly.

“Black Bat, Robin, that’s enough.” Batman commands, voice leaving no room for argument.

“He didn’t have a pulse.”

All eyes snap to Oracle, whose voice is only barely heard thanks to the silence following Batman’s words.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Red Robin insists. “Superman and Martian Manhunter don’t always have a detectable pulse! We already know Hood is…different now. But that doesn’t mean he’s dead! Some kind of magic or advanced tech could’ve-”

“You think I don’t know that?” Oracle demands softly. “I don’t want him to be dead either, but lying to ourselves will just make things harder. We need to know the truth if we’re going to get him back, whether we like that truth or not.”

Constantine allows a few seconds of somber silence before opening his mouth to break it, but is cut off by the door slamming open.

“I’m here,” Shazam says, rushing to his seat, “What’s going on?”

“One second,” Constantine interjects, “Deadman is here too. Let me just….”

Deadman pops into visibility over the table.

In lieu of re-explaining, they play back the relevant recordings - Batman had started them the moment he sat down, just in case.

There were only perhaps 15 minutes of relevant video, including the explanation, the re-kidnapping, and what little Constantine had told them - they’d spent much of the time Jason had been present getting details, brainstorming potential counter-strategies, and just generally killing time in the hopes that the clock would run out and everything would be fine.

“And that’s everything we have so far,” Batman says as he pauses the video - no need to replay the argument. “Thoughts?”

“Well, Conny’s right that they ain’t fairies. You’re not gonna like the answer, though.” Deadman starts, ignoring Constantine’s glare.

“If you have answers we want to hear them, whether we like them or not.” Batman insists, trying to reign in the fragile hope trying to bloom in his chest in favor of bracing himself.

“That portal led to the Infinite Realms - more commonly called ‘The Ghost Zone.’ As the name implies, it’s infinite and - whaddaya know - full of the dead.”

“Then Red Hood is…what? In heaven? Limbo?” Batman’s mind races; was it even possible to steal him back? Had they just…been allowed a final goodbye?

“Nah,” Deadman says, breaking him out of his thoughts.

“Heaven, Hell, Purgatory - those places might be all Constantine has interacted with, but you gotta remember that I talk to Rama. Avatar of Vishnu? Yeah. The afterlife is a lot more complicated than most people think; fact of the matter is, all the afterlives people have believed in over the ages exist, and they all sit neatly in their own little slices of the Realms.”

Deadman floats to sit cross-legged at the head of the table.

“The only reason portals to hell and other locations in the Realms look different is because the local deity and/or devil makes them so, but much of the Zone is ungoverned by any specific deities or devils, so if you just open a portal to a random location, odds are it’s gonna be the green swirly.”

“So he is dead,” Signal concludes mournfully.

“Not necessarily. Kid said he got pulled through a portal to some kind of medical center, right? And his body was completely normal until one day he woke up looking different. And you lot didn’t find a body anywhere?”

“No,” Batman answered, “All we could find was the residue from the portal.”

“Well, if he’d up and died he shoulda left a body behind; it woulda been dumped back out by now - somewhere obvious, too, ghosts are big on proper burials. So unless someone managed to vaporize him, odds are he’s not fully dead, but he’s definitely at least a little dead.”

Robin scoffs, “‘A little dead.’ Do you hear yourself? Either he is dead or he is alive, there is no in between for that kind of thing.”

Deadman merely snorts.

“Says the liminal.”

Robin frowns.

“Liminal?” Robin, Batman, and Constantine all chorus.

“I thought that was just Gotham being possessive,” Constantine continues with a raised brow, turning an appraising eye on the batfamily.

“No,” Deadman answers, “All of you bats and birds are liminal - some more than others. Just a little changed, just a little touched by death. With any luck, the missing kid’s case is just a bit more severe. But we can talk more about that later. Back to the kid.”

And they will get to it later. Jason is their priority now, but if something is going on with his kids Bruce intends to know about it.

Deadman pauses to take an unneeded breath.

“I’m gonna be real with you - and Batman, don’t freak out - but it sounds to me like he’s been ghost adopted.”

A beat.

“Excuse me?”

Deadman waits for the litany of ‘what the hell’s and ‘ghost adopted???’s and ‘he already has a family!’s to die down.

The non-Gotham members of the League remain quietly confused - hoping this means things can be resolved peacefully while privately wondering if the bats and birds really would turn out to be some kind of self-unaware cryptids.

“Okay. Ghosts form when enough ectoplasm and ectoenergy - which you can think of as basically the carbon and electricity of the Zone, I guess, at least in this context - are present at the death of a being experiencing strong emotions. In the absence of that perfect mixture, a shade - just a soul with no real power - is formed, only able to become a proper ghost and form a core if brought to the Infinite Realms-”

“A core?” Batman asks.

“Ghost brains, basically. Anyway, ghosts can also form if there’s enough ectoplasm and energy in one place, either from the zone itself - known as neverborns - or from strong enough ghosts intentionally forming them - known as naturalborns. Now, ghost families don’t work the same as living families do. Ghost families form from a sort of ‘dibs’ system-”

“Dibs?” comes Flash’s incredulous voice.

“I’m gettin’ there,” Deadman sighed at the second interruption. “As I was sayin’. Regardless’a how, once a core is formed the new ghost is considered a baby ghost. It isn’t really a one-and-done process. Sure, once you’ve got a core you’ve got a ghost now, but not a mature one. Cores have to grow until they reach a stable size and energy level - usually marked by natural power acquisition settling down and ectoplasm fluctuations stabilizing. How long it takes depends on the quality and quantity of ectoplasm and ectoenergy available - the shortest known time was just under 5 years, longest was a few hundred, I think? Average is a decade or two.

This is relevant,” Deadman emphasizes for those who are visibly growing impatient, “For two reasons.”

“Firstly,” he holds up a finger, “The ecto a ghost takes in while maturing has an impact on how it develops, the powers it ends up with naturally. Everything in the zone is made of ectoplasm, and ghosts both take it in and echo out the excess - like plants, kinda. Maybe.

So if a baby ghost is around, say, a fire ghost a lot of the time it’ll probably end up with fire powers of its own. Assuming it was early enough and their core wasn’t already leaning towards ice or something. A stronger ghost parent also means faster growth.

Now, the Infinite Realms are infinite. People can’t always find each other, some people die at different times, some people return to the cycle before their loved ones die, some are neverborns, etc. Most sapient beings want friends and family, it’s just how it goes. So ghosts sometimes just kinda. Dibs each other.

Multiple dibs’ are pretty abnormal; baby ghosts aren’t actual babies in the human sense of the word. They don’t just pick a parent and stay there all the time while they’re waiting to mature. There’s generally that first few week-to-month period where they’ll stay put with whoever dibses them first for safety until the basics settle in, but after that? Ghosts explore, and dibs occur, and lots of newbies end up with something like a dozen parents and however many siblings-in-dibs.

Secondly,” another finger joins the first in a peace sign, “And what I suspect - and hope - is that while souls can fail to form cores and become shades, the opposite is also possible; a living being can become liminal enough to form a core. Making dibsing pretty much inevitable - no decent ghost is going to leave a baby seemingly stranded in the living world to starve into nonexistence. Gotham might have enough polluting the place, but it’s pretty much all rancid so that would’ve made them even more eager to get the kid outta there.”

“So what you’re saying,” Red Robin drawls, “Is that he’s dead-but-not-really and is only missing because a dead-for-sure person took one look at him, went ‘that’s baby,’ and pulled a Bruce Wayne?”

“Pretty much.”

“Even if it wasn’t intended to be malicious it’s still a kidnapping,” Batman says.

“Well, Wulf did offer to let the kid bring guests back with him-”

“What!?” Everyone choruses.

“Yeah, though given the whole fae-kidnapping assumption I think the kid took it as a threat, but he asked the kid how many of you he wanted to bring as guests. He said none, so Wulf said do not pass go, do not collect two-hundred dollars." Deadman said casually, as if that wasn't a heartbreaking bombshell to drop.

"Anyway, point is, if this really is just one big misunderstanding then you can go talk it out. Ghostspeak isn’t really living-friendly and the living language he did know clearly didn’t help. Lucky you, I can translate. And the Realms are a human-safe environment. Well, the air is breathable at least.”

"Human-safe my ass," Constantine spits. "If the demons I deal with dwell in one little slice I don't even wanna think about the kind of nightmares strolling around the rest of the place."

"We're not leaving Red Hood in there."

The Gotham heroes' words leave no room for argument.

They get down to planning.

***

Fun Fact:

Ghosts do change their names because of the whole ‘holds power’ thing - not in a mind control way, but in an emotional way. If someone can dig up how you died they’re probably gonna say something insensitive. Case in point: people on ghost shows being like “hey *ghost name* we heard *insert horrible thing here* happened to you. Is that true?” Rude. You’re a complete stranger.

Anyway here’re the ghost names.

The trio had been dating for over a year when Sam & Tucker died and it was a very stable relationship. They’d been planning out their future together by that point, down to details like where to live so all of their work would overlap, how to manage Danny’s lack of aging (aka moving frequency), etc. When they brought up thinking of ghost names Danny - distracted - immediately just said, “Well you could just go by Phantom now since you will be in another year or two anyway.” He’s incredibly embarrassed when he realizes what he’s just said, but they’re all happy and engaged by the end of the day. (They tease him mercilessly about that being the world's smoothest yet most clueless proposal ever for the next 10 years)

Jazz & Spike Spook were already mentioned in canon with their sense of humor being explained (you’d think the joke would get old after 40 years, it hasn’t. Not when Danny still pouts when he hears Spike’s full name)

Jack was really excited to help fight ghosts as a ghost to protect Danny (he’s really proud of his baby boy growing up and becoming a king via fighting ghosts). He dies before Maddie and calls himself Jack Specter “after the specter deflector, because I be deflecting [your enemies implied here]” (Danny had to go lie down after hearing this sentence [Jazz’s sense of humor came from somewhere and that somewhere is Jack Fenton. Jack Fenton’s knowledge of ‘hip phrases’ comes from Jazz and Jazz’s sense of humor, also known as brother-torture or simply ‘betrayal’ as Danny claims]). Maddie likes that it fits the family name theme and calls back to one of their inventions (& wants to match her husband).

Dani stay a Phantom, ofc, and is formally ghost-adopted by Danny after he tells his parents everything (his parents formally human-adopt her so she has a stable human-world home if she want it, but she calls them Gran and Gramps as a joke that becomes sincere over time)

Wes goes by Wes Wraith because it’s close to wrath and he is fully and consistently angry about fenton=phantom and also a slight edgelord.

Ida Mason is also a ghost. She simply goes by ‘Wilda’ now (pronounced like wild-uh) and looks shockingly like Ember if she was an adult. And her hair wasn’t made of fire. And also went more pink than blue. So barely like Ember at all lol. She died in the middle of trying to finish knitting a scarf and now her obsession is knitting. She knitted a moped. She knitted a house. Home girl knitted herself an entire island and has not stopped.

The Manson parents have a little door-realm connected to their house in the living realm (like Poindexter with the school) and spend their time pretending everything is normal (like how Poindexter was stuck in the bullying loop but just. Reading the same newspaper/remaking the same dress, watching the same shows/etc).

The Foley parents were perhaps the most normal people on the show. 

When Sam and Tucker died, the only ones who knew what happened were them and Danny - even Jazz didn’t get an explanation until she & the Fenton parents followed them into the ghost zone to find out what was going on - so the police were left to draw their own conclusions.

The GIW had already proven themselves to be reprehensible and overly willing to step on anyone who got in their way. The tech the police found was a collab between Dalv Co & the GIW and with Vlad’s disappearance and the GIW’s emotionless denial no one ever gets prosecuted for Sam & Tucker’s deaths (Vlad has a warrant out for him & the Mansons try to drag the GIW to court but it never goes anywhere). 

The Foleys switch job tracks to take down the GIW/the Anti-Ecto Acts/any other asshole ghost hunters they can find. The Fentons are only exempt because they tell them what happened, explain how their stance on ghosts changed when they found out about Danny, and help the Foleys on their journey.

As ghosts Angela is obsessed with Justice & takes the name Justitia and Maurice is obsessed with ethics (bc if the GIW had any they wouldn’t have made weapons like that in the first place. Literal animals had more rights than ghosts at the point despite them being provably sapient) & takes the name Ethos. (They keep Foley as their last names tho). Yes, Danny does royal-decree them into being Walker’s oversight. Pretty much everyone is a fan of that. Except for the observants, who complain about everything but especially about how much Ethos & Justitia argue with them (what is the ‘greater good’ does not often match up with what is right. Especially when their idea of greater good is ‘eliminate problem via murder or core-crushing before it can become one’ instead of literally anything else).

@mayoota-blog1 @kyrianclawraith, @do3y, @someonebored0100 @omegasmileyface

[beefrobeefcal]

Beefro...

Dieter gaining weight for a role has my head spinning. Pls give us a taste. 🤤

To Nonnie, love Beefro

Nonnie, your Beefro is deadass drunk. And I’m here for Dieter and his cute self getting chunk.

Imma writing one all about him getting chubby for a role, baby. Don’t you worry. Bc the red wine got me feeeling fine.

This is just me feeling out Dieter getting a belly full of pizza. hell yeah.

Dieter sat back, hand on his swollen belly, and stifled a burp. It has been a month of non-stop decadence and his waistline was showing ever last inch of his laborious eating. He was not one for going in half-assed. Once he set a course, come hell or high water, he was going to get to the finish line.

“Can I get you anything else, Mr Bravo?”, you asked, keeping your tone steady as you watched his bloated middle rise and fall with his breathing.

“M’full.”, he mumbled, licking the remnants of the pizza off his fingers. He then placed his hands on his full belly, giving it a shake.

“Fuck, I’m getting big. You think I’m where I need to be yet?”

You looked him over, pretending to keenly survey him, knowing full well he’d already overshot the target with his eating.

“I’m not sure, Mr Bravo. Maybe a bit more?”

He smiles back at you knowingly and winked. “I’m sure I’ve got a ways to go.”

I’ve made this all up. Who knows if it’ll end up in the fic. Beefro loves you all.

I-think-I-need-the-devil-to-help-me-get-things-right regards,

Beefro 👌🥩💜

[boy-with-the-demon-blood]

everyone shut the fuck up and talk to me about episode 2.24. it’s my new favorite episode of tmnt. ever. including rise.

i did math to see the time differential between dimension x and earth, and i assumed that 30 days equals 10 years, so one minute on earth is 2.03 hours in dimension x. and that’s probably lowballing it. we don’t know the precise length of time that leatherhead was in dimension x, or his aging rate bc he is both an alligator and a mutant. i assumed that he was probably in dimension x for about 30 years though because he said “i’ve been here decades” and he looks. pretty old. he was probably in his 30s ish? when the turtles met him? and now he is old and greying, but still able to move around and fight very well. so i’m assuming his lifespan is about a humans, but the aging process is a mix of human and alligator. he visually ages like a human, but keeps the agility and body condition of alligators. i also don’t know jack or shit about both aging processes so i am probably just completely wrong. also um i estimated that mikey entered the portal about a minute before his brothers, but in reality it was probably closer to 30 seconds. if we squish the timeline to match my estimate that mikey was probably in dimension x for just over two hours longer than his brothers, then it could be possible 1 min of earth time = 4.05 hours in dimension x. but no matter what, donnie was still right that their delay of the kraangs invasion by months in the kraang dimension would last no longer than a day back on earth.

okay enough about math what about MIKEY IN THAT EPISODE :D i was so happy for him man!! i have personal beef with you if you don’t like this episode. we finally got acknowledgment that mikey is fucking smart!!!! and he got a chance to shine and lead the team and feel needed and aaouggh. ph also mikey can speak kraang is my new headcanon. not like. in a way that he could translate individual words, but in a way that he’d ba able to hold a conversation and communicate what he needs. it’s my personal headcanon that kraang is a vibes based language. the chittering all sounds super similar to the point where there would be no point to distinguish “this screech means this but this means that”, so it’s more like. idk it’s late i just love my boy mikey and i’m so fucking happy that the guys called him smart and recognized that he is actually capable of doing things.

oh also this image made me cry. mikey and leatherhead are BEST FRIENDS 🥺

[drdemonprince]

I'm on part 5 of your IUD series, but saw you post how you don't have periods for two years now. And forget about them. I feel the same, and I haven't had one in a decade because of birth control.

You know people who got hysterectomy. Only person I know with one was due to cancer. I think it would be something I do but I'm afraid of long healing, bleeding, infection, etc. Same with the IUD stuff. Honestly I'm afraid to get one because your stories, I haven't bled in a decade and I realize now how dysphoric periods were for me.

Idk a bit of thought dump and asking your thoughts. I don't want to give birth ever. I like not having a period. I use progesterone because estrogen fucked with my medication at the time, but also it meant a sugar pill week. I'm also bad with medication tracking enough to forget once in a while a bc pill.

(for the curious, here is the series being referenced):

Anon: Hysterectomies are actually really mild surgeries! My friend who just got one last week felt basically normal again after two days, and they said the recovery was far, far smoother than recovering from top surgery. It's a minimally invasive procedure with only a couple small incisions (they pull the uterus out your vagina after a few tiny snips) and a quick recovery time and it actually hurts far less than getting an IUD in from all that I've read, so it's worth looking into.

I love my IUD. I love that i'm good to go on birth control until at least 2030, perhaps even longer (the data keeps being revised over time, and it's seeming that IUDs last far longer than originally believed), and I love not having any hormones fucking with me beyond the ones i deliberately want to be fucking with lol. i love not having to keep track of pills, not needing to refill prescriptions, and so so much more.

if you want a set it and forget it approach to BC that doesn't involve hormones or having a period, id consider a hysto! but if you dont have too many issues with the pill youre on, you can stick with that. ORR you can get an IUD *and* start testosterone like i did lol

[feelbokkie]

hii , i love your works so much and i just want you to know you are the reason i started writing again after a very long hiatus !! i hope you could accept me as one of you anons because your writing means alot to me <3 . .🍮

Hey Flan, you made me cry real tears. Like I’m 100% dead ass, and I don’t cry a lot but I’m a puddle rn.

Tl;dr: I just want you to know that we’re in the same boat ans I came back from a longish hiatus and was inspired to write again after reading from several authors on here too and the fact that I dud that for you is making me sups emotional. Good luck with your writing and most importantly, have fun!

Long, mushy back story that nobody asked for below the cut:

The reason why I’m crying is bc I just started writing again after a hiatus too. I think I’ve mentioned this before but I’ve been writing for a little over a decade (11 years this November) and back in late 2020/early 2021 I quit writing after getting rejected from every creative writing graduate program I applied to (i did end up in a grad school but for professional writing, not creative). I was running @bbyboybrock--archived and sunniecoucou on wattpad at the time but just couldn’t get myself to write anymore so I closed up shop and was never going to write a single story. I did come up ans got really far into developing a cute romance novel but never actually wrote anything for it bc I was terrified (I’ll come back for you, Looking for Clovers)

Fast forward to February of this year, I’m deep into mourning my oldest brother and I rediscovered skz, who I discovered back in December of 2022 but I was too busy going back and forth to the hospital and finishing up the semester to actually pay attention to. Naturally, listening to their entire discography and watching all of their videos wasn’t enough, I needed to read fics. So I moseyed on down to tumblr, bc AO3 scared me at the time and wattpad doesn’t hit like it used to when I was 12, and I discovered @imagine-a-life-like-this @skzonthebrain @mazeinthemiroh @jinhyun @blu-joons @outro-jo @seungisms and their writing inspired me to start writing again. Sure, I took 2 months for me to actually start, but for the first time in 3ish years, I was having ideas for writing again.

So I’m glad and so happy that my writing inspired you to start writing again because I know how you feel and it’s making me super emotional that I can be that for someone!

[gnomeniche]

speaking of supporting characters: here’s Peregrine West, the guy who resurrected ambrose and also his current romantic partner. his first name is meant to be similar in sound to “pygmalion” and his surname is both a wicked witch thing and a reanimator thing. he is a Lich (and so is ambrose bc they’re the same kind of undead) and it’s his crime ambrose took the fall for. he’s also the antagonist for arc 3. ambrose calls him Peri.

i wanted to make haha funny scott pilgrim joke but that comic up top isn’t actually accurate. ambrose and peregrine never broke up and are actively still in weird toxic love. there’s no cheating going on though. the lucas/ambrose romance is really slow burn and has not become a Thing yet in the arc where peregrine appears.

more backstory thoughts under the cut. eventually i will post stuff abt the other two guys’ arc antagonists as well but i’ve been thinking abt peri the most so he’s the most fleshed out rn.

he and ambrose briefly befriended each other as normie adults in 1920something and then separated. in that time, peregrine discovered a tome of forbidden magic and became a lich. they reunited a few years later and their friendship rekindled and got way more Intense and shifted into romance. soon ambrose, who was a deeply unhappy person fascinated with peri’s magic, made a deal with him: to become a lich with all the power and immortality and Staying With You that entails in exchange for peri getting to test an experimental technique for better lichdom on him.

fortunately nothing went too wrong Except ambrose’s memory of his life went very foggy in the process. resurrection isn’t a perfect art; peregrine has chunks of memory missing too. but ambrose isn’t that sad about it bc he does remember the feeling of persistent unhappiness from life and is glad that it’s been dulled. the two of them traveled together in the magic world up until peri’s Crime happened a few decades ago.

i still don’t know what peregrine’s goal is but i think he a) became more obsessive over it as the years passed and b) has what he thinks are good intentions. he’s terrible but he mostly comes off as detached and tired and ever so slightly desperate. he does care about ambrose but he thinks his goal is more important than anything and will ultimately benefit them both so he ends up using him a lot (like the whole experiment thing and the whole taking-the-fall thing). the ends justify the means and all that. and for his part ambrose loves to be used bc he believes in peri and knows he will come back for him. what’s a few decades to an immortal anyway?

it’s a relationship of Using Someone “For Good Purposes” and Being Used “As Proof Of Care” but both of them have convinced themselves that they love the other. and hell, they do! their relationship wasn’t always awful. doesn’t change that it’s awful now. friends to strangers to reanimation to lovers to jesus christ PLEASE break up.

soundtrack for this man is Pygmalion (Scary Jokes), The Modern Prometheus (Frankenstein the Musical), and Ga1ahad and Scientific Witchery (mili). i don’t have playlists for hellmouth yet but there you go

[pandoraslxna]

Hey Luna bug!💕

I have a few questions about dating advice once again- because whenever i do ask you it helps alot!😄

Anyway- Im still head over heels for red, to the point i get dreams about him. Anyway!😅

So, I went to see him i think it was last month at a wrestling meet for our collage and i was gonna talk to him, ask him to be my Valentine and give him a courting gift (yes, I love the idea of courting and made him a necklace and bracelet)

But I froze up at the last second, because the meet was over, people were leaving and there were alot of people so I got scared and just gave up-😢

But, his first baseball game of the year is march 16th, I'm gonna go watch bc my underbrother is the batboy/manager for the team so yeah! I plan on talking with him and asking him if he's ready to date or not or if he even likes me- but i have a feeling I'm gonna chicken out again, plus- I don't really know how to talk to guys, i grew up with 3 really close boy friends but after my grandma passed i didn't get to see them much because i wasn't ever in town, so now idk how to talk to boys that aren't family members!😫

Hii pookie 🩵🩵

It makes me so happy to hear that my advice is helpful to you but I’m gonna be honest here, I don’t know how to talk to guys either lmfao 😭 I’ve not been single in almost a decade and I’m so shy and nervous around men (or people in general lol), I don’t think I can give you any good advice for this that would actually get you somewhere. I’m sorry bby 🥺

[the-bi-space-ace]

for the Bad Batch ask game: 8, 24, 31, and 49! (or just a few of those if you’d prefer :D)

I AM GOING TO ANSWER ALL OF THEM THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR THESE!!

8. What song(s) do you associate with the Bad Batch?

I love this question bc I associate a really weird array of songs with The Bad Batch and I am beyond excited to list them.

I Got You by Devon Cole (tears 🥹)

Mr. Know-It-All by Young The Giant (mainly a Tech song for me)

The Less I Know The Better by Tame Impala

Brother by Kodaline

Don’t Leave Me Alone by David Guetta & Anne-Marie (acoustic)

Human by Jon Bellion

Burn The House Down by AJR

everything i wanted by Billie Eilish (mainly bc it gives me Calling Me Home series Echo vibes tbh oof)

This Was A Home Once by Bad Suns

Older by Alec Benjamin

Bonus Tracks:

Going Home by The Aces

Don’t Freak by The Aces (This one is a bonus bc in my head when I hear this song I have always imagined baby Fives and Echo going to 79s for the first time and Echo not being totally sure how he feels about it and Fives basically going ‘hey, don’t freak out. I’m here, you’re smart and capable. A bar is the easiest mission we’ve ever been on.’ idk I get so much inspiration from music tbh.)

^ The Aces are so feel good and endearing and give good fluff inspiration

24. Do you have any hot or controversial takes?

Oh yeah plenty of them tbh lol

My hottest take? Honestly? I’m super disappointed in how cruel people were to people with Tech Lives theories on this damn site. Not just in the way that I’m sad about *gestures to everything* but I have seen some really nasty takes and have blocked people over them even though they were never directed at me. It shows me who you are when you’re cruel to a stranger over simply *checking my notes* wanting their favorite character to be alive. Some people in the Star Wars fandom are mean as hell. Maybe it’s because I’m fandom old (mid 20s) so I’ve been around for over a decade in fandom spaces but I can say that Star Wars fans can be really really mean compared to other fandoms. That’s more of a problem on reddit (never again) but it happens on tumblr and twitter (which I don’t have any longer but have heard… stories.) My little corner is GREAT. No complaints about this little corner I’ve found myself in but every time I venture out I see some shiiiiiiiiit and it takes me a minute to remember that this fandom can be really volatile. This is supposed to be fun. I say my piece, I agree or disagree with other people’s piece. Then I move on. I won’t argue. It ain’t my style. I get really upset when I see people being downright nasty to each other over fandom stuff. Stop it.

Also. Listen. I started in the Teen Wolf and Merlin fandoms in high school. There’s a lot of great stuff to use from those shows but canon was rarely awesome. I got used to letting the fandom do the work, fans shipping everything under the sun, and making up wild plotlines that wouldn’t actually make sense because who even knows what’s going on in the actual show anymore. Fandoms are wild and I like different opinions and different content and everything coming together in a way that is both weird and wonderful. Sometimes people want the entire fandom to like exactly what they like and get really aggressive with other fans over it. That is not my vibe. If I see something I don’t like then it isn’t for me and I move on! Enough said.

Instead of moving on, blocking tags, or blocking users many fans straight up call people names! Start arguments! Post cruel things! It’s stupid! I’ll say it, it’s stupid as hell! Just block shit, man! You can’t control other people. Protect your peace and block stuff you don’t like. I promise it’ll feel better <3

(that was so long I’m so sorry I needed to get that off of my chest so bad lol)

31. What other Star Wars characters (regardless of the timeline) do you think would be BFFs with each Batcher?

(This’ll be fun bc I know very little of the greater Star Wars Universe so some of these are based just on ✨vibes✨)

Omega and Leia Organa! I loved the Kenobi show and I just think these two would get along SO DAMN WELL.

Hunter and…. I’m going to be honest I thought about this over night and I STILL can’t pick somebody. I need to watch more Star Wars

Tech and Luke Skywalker. Flying! Ships! Podracing! This is the only thing I know of Luke Skywalker! They’d bond over this and make ships go faster together so they’d be besties.

Crosshair and Merrin. In the way that I think he’d look at her like she hung the moon and the stars because she’s so cool and she’s scary and Crosshair appreciates intimidating people and would want to see all of the things she can do with her magic even though he’s kind of terrified of her. (I’m projecting, I love Merrin.)

Echo and Cal Kestis. This is an inspired choice, I feel. Cal has a really big connection to protecting people and Echo WOULD LOVE to work with him to protect people from the Empire (play Jedi: Fallen Order 👀)

Wrecker and Chewbacca. Wrecker really thrived in that episode with the wookiees and I think he’d have a great time with Chewbacca.

49. What has been your favorite part about being in the fandom?

All of my friends!!! I’ve made a lot of great friends in the past two years and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. It’s not very easy for me to make friends, if I’m being honest, so having friends that I talk to about the clones and star wars and fic ideas means a lot to me. It is the ultimate draw for me. I love talking to people about things I love, hearing everyone’s opinions, seeing everyone write and create art and do deep dive analysis. I love seeing people run role play blogs and come up with ask games. I love love love the fun parts of fandom just existing. Seeing people get excited about ideas and share them with others and create gifs and have fun. That absolutely has my heart. We’re all just here trying to express ourselves and that is something I think gets overlooked sometimes. This is something we do in our free time. We’re here because we want to be, not because we have to be. It’s a beautiful thing, to find connection over a shared love of something, and I love that. It’s kind of the same thing I love about concerts. Concerts are a unique place where it’s acceptable to have big emotional reactions with other people over the shared love of the music being played for you. For one night you aren’t just a fan of a band standing in a room listening to some people sing at you. You’re a part of the crowd, experiencing a million different emotions all in the same moment but not one of you is feeling the exact same way as the person next to you. It’s a wonderful thing to experience. This fandom, my little corner of it at least, feels about the same. We’re all experiencing life differently, different day to day things, different upbringings, different opinions, likes, and dislikes. But we’re all here, watching the same thing, and coming away with different emotions and opinions.

I think that’s beautiful.

Link To The Ask <3

[polyamorouspunk]

hi hello I hope you're day evening etc. is going alright. sending metaphysical pancakes or sth your way if you want them and if you're up to it maybe asking for. advice. in return. though I'm strongly assuming the only solution here is ✨communication✨ but unfortunately on occasion that is scary and hard to figure out

so. my partner wants to live with me. ideally for me to move in with them. which is great! I've been sorta dreaming about that for years! all good, right?

well. the thing is. we've been planning to live together in the past. repeatedly. repeatedly and not continuously because somehow the plans were always cancelled, and hate to say it but never from my side. I don't like pointing this out to them bc it sounds like I'm holding a grudge or sth, though they always had valid reason for backing out and obviously it's better anyway for both of us if they back out if they don't feel ready rather than having to deal with a difficult-to-reverse situation like sharing a living space. but nonetheless it has happened... 3? 4? times over the last... decade or so and I'm having a hard time trusting that this time it's not gonna suddenly pulled back again which would. y'know. hurt kinda.

additionally, we've both moved into our respective flats fairly recently (2 and 1 years aho respectively), and neither is really made for 2 people. theirs would work alright if needed but I'm fairly certain we'd want/need more space sooner rather than later, and I don't really want to move all the time since it's bloody exhausting. and like... we DO have pretty different idk styles of living? they're all about pretty places and a good level of tidiness, and I'm kind of a mess with stuff everywhere and mismatched furniture and decoration bc functionality trumps style and also I collect all the stuff that I like and display it regardless of whether it objectively looks "good". meaning, and in the past we'd always agreed on this, that it'd be good if we both did have separate spaces at our disposal, so the general living space can be nice and aesthetic and they can decorate their space how they like and I can contain my chaos in my own space without bothering anyone much. except now out of the blue they seem adamant to move in together asap and get really excited about it and I HAVE explained most of this but they seem insistent on making it work somehow which is. sweet, and I do love that apparently it's become so important to not be separated from me for long, but I have a hard time trusting that as well due to uhhh our relationship history idk.

it's just. it's sweet and I should be over the moon but I can't share their optimism regarding making it work (I don't want fighting to happen bc I left my stuff lying around too much) and I can't fully trust the whole thing so now it's just them being excited and me being sort of a buzzkill and I'm not really sure how to. address. all of it

sorry this got long haha please don't feel obliged to answer or anything, and take care!

I think your feeling are totally reasonable. I’ve had a partner who would always say they were going to come over and then something always came up so I just… stopped hoping. It’s soul-crushing! I think it’s a reasonable boundary to say “listen this has been an issue in the past and every time you say you wanna move in and then back out even if you have your reasons and they are valid it still hurts me, even if it doesn’t have anything to do with me”. I’m lucky that my ex and I both had similar living styles so the idea was when we moved in together like we would function well. We pretty much already lived together on weekends, so we knew we worked out well. I think having someone stay at your place/stay at someone’s place for a few days is a great test to see how you guys live together. But yeah, as someone who is poly, I’ve always been adamant about the fact I would want my own bedroom in a polycule situation. For a lot of reasons I need my own space in a shared living area. Things like that aren’t easy, and I’m not going to say “it’s just about communicating” because while it is yes it also seems like “maybe your partner needs to work on not getting your hopes up about things like that only to back track” (aka you establishing that boundary).

[possibilistfanfiction]

hi i just wanted to say thank you for writing about queerness the way that you do - it’s incredible and has been immensely helpful to me lately. like i’ve agonized over wanting a haircut and a binder and to change my pronouns and have never had the courage to do anything about it, but reading your stuff is making me want to go through with it all. i had to pause a few times as i read your most recent piece (ava’s pov of butch bea) because i was overwhelmed with relief seeing ava and bea want that stuff too. i didn’t realize wanting it could feel so freeing. like i’ve never seen queer people written like that before, and never knew i needed to see it until now. it’s helped me feel okay about wanting the aforementioned things, and also okay about not knowing what i want or how i want to be. all around your fics are so healing and enlightening as far as gender and sexuality go, and gender and sexuality aside they are also flat out masterpieces. i cannot even begin to describe how much they, as well as your other posts on the subject, mean to me. thank you so much

:) thank u!

& i will say that i have spent the better part of the last 15 or so years just vibrating around trying to figure out what makes me feel good, especially in my body & how others perceive it. which is really hard! but trying stuff rocks — i figured out i wanted top surgery but not to transition in other medical ways bc i got a binder! the peace i felt with one felt right, & then i got to explore from there. i have had … so many haircuts lol & most of them have been good! (imo everyone deserves to buzz their hair at least once & just. deal with it lmao. a rite of passage.) now i don’t give a fuck about “what side of the store” clothes are on bc i know exactly what i want clothes to fit & feel like, & i have a tailor, so i just pay more attention to fit & fabric than i do any “men’s” or “women’s” demarcations, especially when most of the places i shop are mostly just vaguely androgynous earth tones anyway lol.

(of course this is with the caveat that there’s enough safety/financial stability but) try everything! especially stuff that’s not at all permanent!

there’s no way i would know what makes me happy & peaceful now if i didn’t try stuff in the past! do i want to wear button downs & chinos & have ppl call me sir?? no i would rather pErish. but did i always know that! of course not, & i got to have the space to try how that would feel. i definitely also know that i never want people to think i’m straight (lol but ppl are stubborn); i had a weird summer bc my hair was rly long, which i loved, but then started to feel just dissonant about… occasionally a little panicked by? (in addition to some transphobic nonsense thru work, which ofc doesn’t help). but once i sat down & was like what the fuck is going on — & felt safe enough to just sit for DAYS in dysphoria to try to figure out the root of it — i was like oh ok cool, easy, i can fix this. i knew i didn’t want to cut my hair rly short again (probably never again or at least for a Long Time, i don’t like ppl thinking i’m a man), but i didn’t wanna keep it long, so i was like ok great, stupid masc bob here we come, & my hairstylist is queer & has a soft butch wife, so i was set lol. but without getting to have space for the past decade to just try things, & to learn how to sit in dysphoria thru therapy rather than just Run Away from the feeling every time, that would’ve been a lot harder to navigate. i used to be VERY adamant abt they/them pronouns but i don’t feel that way anymore, & nothing earth shattering happened or has happened, i just… don’t care. i care more abt my privacy & agency than abt disclosing identity & experience than i do a pronoun, & so i get to make that choice whenever i want, which has been rly wonderful. & getting to try things will help you learn where ur most comfortable, especially as u continue to grow & change.

& like… it’s fun! queerness is so fun! i think beas queerness is fairly ~fraught~ canonically for obvious reasons but in any universe it’s nice to just let her take a fucking breath. kiss a girl, put on a hoodie, cut your hair, take a nap by the beach. it’s not so serious, not all the time. & ava is just FUN, her queerness is so so bright. to me it’s always just seemed like she was never Not queer bc ava has so much life to live & so so much to discover abt herself & the world. she’s falling in love with everything all the time, & with Wonder! & of course that includes queerness! it’s at the center of it bc it’s who you are & who you love, but it’s also just… people, & connection. i used to write rly angsty shit abt being queer & in moments of indulgence i do still enjoy a romp ofc to flex those wow sin & hell & an orgasm being so holy muscles lol, but queerness is my everyday life, & it shows up in the soft happy places more than anywhere else.

anyway, try everything!! especially a binder (bind safely!!!!!) & pronouns, even just online or w a few of ur ppl. if there’s a word you like for your identity, try writing it somewhere or just telling a friend (i texted my best friend that i liked the word ‘dyke’ a lot after having made ‘dyke on main’ jokes abt myself for ten years … we both just laughed). & of course haircuts & clothes are so fun, & they should get to be fun!

but even beyond that (& part of why i think ppl like reading stuff i write, maybe?) is that like so much healing for me in pleasure & peace in my queerness is so tied up in those same feelings abt … everything. food! sex! moving my body! my home! small acts of service! luxury! softness! skincare! the ocean! like whew, waking up & being like this brings me quiet joy, mary oliver was RIGHT, just lets the whole world kinda shimmer. not loudly, not in any remarkable way, but eating good food & having a good beer with someone who sees you for who you are; fresh flowers in the vase; LINEN PANTS; the dog asleep at your feet — all of those things to me are both queer & holy, inextricably together in my life. my wife’s queerness is very compatible w her religion & spirituality, & that’s rly rly beautiful to get to be around. queerness is abt deep care, too, in small ways: checking up on a friend after top surgery, still masking indoors, keeping my dog on lead unless i know her recall will be perfect. it shapes every part of my life. to me the mundane is the most glorious thing, & i have figured things that i love bc, for as scary as trying stuff can be (what if people see me? what if i hate it?) — you know, the most important question: what if you love it?