#for the sake of my sanity I half-assed this one

[iwrite-sinsandtragedies]

Day 4 — AU ₊˚✧ ﾟ

Submission for @minthe-drawings #BaxterMCWeek!

MC: Ai/Sky

[mlm-writer]

Tears of Lust pt. 2 (Dick Grayson x M!Reader)

Pairing:  Dick Grayson (YJ ver.) x Demon!Cis Male!Reader Rating: Explicit Words: 1113 POV: Second Summary: The Big Tober Day 16 - Dacryphilia Note: The writer juices really ain't flowing lately. Part one here. Tags: reader is in a rut, established relationships, nipple play, monsterfucker territory, cereal, spanking and so much consent we love it

You figured out what the cereal was for. It was your human lover who wolfed half a box down. Something about ‘fibres’. When your knot had deflated enough to pull out, you had made him a bowl and when he finished that, he just started eating out of the box like they were crisps. You tried to be patient, but Dick was naked on your bed and your eyes fixated on the crumbs on his chest. With each breath, you watched those crumbs go up and down. “Are you finished?” You eventually snapped. Your body was thrumming and there was only so much self-restrained in your demon blood. Dick nodded and put the box aside. As soon as his mouth was empty, you had your tongue on him, licking the crumbs away and very intentionally swiping over his nipples. Dick gasped and squeezed your arm. 

“I need more,” you growled, voice laced with a hellish overtone, “but if you can’t, I need you to leave now.” You looked up into your man’s eyes. He was clearly a little fearful if he could handle another round so soon. You understood, but for the sake of your sanity, you needed him to leave you alone if he needed rest. 

“Hurt me instead,” he suggested out of the blue, voice hoarse and breathy. You cocked up a brow, unsure of what he was implying exactly. “Bite me, spank me, get a whip from the closet. I need a break, but there are other ways to make me cry and enjoy it.” Your concerned expression morphed into a smirk at his filthy words. You went back to licking his chest, digging the tips of your claws into his soft pecs as your sharp teeth played with a nipple. When Dick started squirming too much, you took his arms and pinned him down onto the bed with one hand. With your free one you started pulling and pinching the nipple that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. 

Dick mewled in pain and pleasure. You could smell precum dripping from his soft cock. It didn’t take long for his nipples to turn a bright red, every touch to them aching in the most exquisite of ways. The scent of his salty tears was like gasoline on a fire. You only momentarily stopped to lick them off his face, your hand and teeth switching places every time you stopped to feed on his tears. When the flavour changed, you knew he couldn’t handle much more, the pain in his nipples too much. The sore buds had gone through enough. 

You let go of Dick’s hands. They immediately flew up to grab you by the back of your neck. Dick kissed you feverishly, needing your lips on his to retain his sanity. His skin was hot against yours, the heat radiating off him reminding you of home. He whispered pleas against your lips. “Hurt me more, please. I need you to spank my ass red and feed on my tears,” he urged you in hushed words. How could you deny him, when he begged so intimately? 

Your bulging arms lifted him up and manhandled him across your lap as you sat on the side of the bed. “Comfortable?” You inquired as you groped his round rear. When you pulled a cheek aside, you could see his hole was still red and puffy from your previous romp. The sight made you salivate. 

“Very,” Dick sighed as he put his hands behind his back, relaxing with deep breaths. His voice drew your attention away from his glistening hole. The first smack barely got a reaction out of him, except for a small hitch in his breath, followed by a small sigh of content. It was not unexpected that Dick had a high pain tolerance, but after a few smacks, you got impatient, your force increasing, the intervals decreasing. 

Dick got louder when your methods changed. “Take it for me, baby, you’re my human toy. You’re being so good for me. I can’t wait until I can fuck you again.” The praise made Dick only louder. One of his hands left his back to reach out to one of yours. “What is it? Too much already?” He shook his hands and led your hand down. He wrapped your claw around his neck and then returned his own hand to his back. “Oh,” you mused in surprise. You were gonna go insane. He was nonverbal on pleasure and still asking you to choke him. 

Your digits dug in right where he loved it as you continued to spank his bottom. Dick sang a symphony of pleasure from every contact between you. When you tilted his head up and bent sideways to look at his face, you saw he had his eyes rolled back, red-bitten lips fallen open. It was like he was possessed by pleasure, the forceful slaps pulling the tears right out of his eyes. The angle was no longer in your favour. You needed a better view of his face. You lifted Dick up and scooted back a little. You put him on his knees, his thighs straddling yours. One hand found its way back to his throat, keeping a tight grip as you forced his face to stay right in front of yours. 

Your textured tongue ran over his face as your free hand spanked the tears out of him. His cock was oozing precum over your thighs, but you ignored it. You knew Dick’s hips would signal when he was ready to be touched there again. You were impressed by Dick’s constitution. In spite of trembling the moment he was on his knees, he took his like a good boy. He endured your exquisite torture for longer than you had thought he would, but eventually he whispered a soft ‘please stop’ as he wrapped his arms around you. His whole body was aflame, scorching to the touch and twitching in the aftershocks of pleasure. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him down as you lowered your upper body onto the bed. When your back hit the mattress, Dick collapsed on top of you, wincing when his cock got trapped between your heated bodies. 

Your hand rubbed over his sweaty back, avoiding the reddening skin lower on his body. “You’re doing so well,” you cooed with your eyes trained on the ceiling. If you avoided looking at your special human, maybe you could keep yourself a little longer from spreading his ass and fucking the tears and cum out of him. 

Dick only replied with a long, exhausted moan and some mumbled words against your hellish flesh. “I need more cereal.”

—————

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[the-quackity-competition]

We all know Quackity, fattest ass in the cabinet, quadruple engagey, and “Are we in character? I’m in love with Wilbur” HQ

So, how about we hold a little friendly competition between the different ships in the dsmp fandom?

Aim of the game is to get your ship the most points, through creating content for that ship. Here’s the spreadsheet to track points.

Rules:

Creations may come in the form of art or writing, each of which is worth 1 point

People are allowed to submit more than one piece, actually it’s encouraged :3

The ship must be tagged

You must @ this blog

If you’re being genuinely mean you are getting blocked and anything you make will not count, Ls to all assholes

There is no sign up, just @ this blog and have fun!

Q&A

How long will this event last?

All of September

What if I want to do multiple ships in the same piece?

Be sure to tag all the ships and they’ll count as a point to each ship! (So the Karlnapity shippers don’t lose only bc of half points)

Does the ship have to be canon? Only dsmp?

Nahhhhh have fun do whatever you want. If you do Foolish x Quackity or Roier x Quackity, for example, they’d get their own rows and get a point

What about comics? Poems?

For the sake of my sanity, a comic only counts as 1 piece, even if it has 100 panels. Same for a collection of poems.

How will we know points?

I’ll have a little spreadsheet you’ll be able to see here in the pinned post

What about nsfw stuff?

it’s allowed as long as it’s tagged with community labels or #nsft, if you don’t tag it you are getting blocked

My friend really likes this Quackity ship. Can I give them this as a gift and also have it counted for a point?

Yes! But do not mix giving events together with this competition, to make it easier on me. I do not know if the event organizer of whatever your event you’re doing is comfortable with that, so best not to do it at all. You can still participate in other events, obviously, but please do not tag me to get it counted when it’s for a different event

Are sketches half points?

nope, every drawing is one full point! No matter how detailed or how simple. This keeps the competition a little more silly goofy, like I’d like it to stay. This is very much intended for fun, not a serious competition

You’re welcome to send asks to ask more questions!

[seokmattchuus]

Na Kamden as a dom

Prefacing this by saying I am very delusional.

This is in no way accurate by any means bc all I've seen from other content is the opposite of this.

I wrote this for the sake of my sanity.

But moving on.

Somewhere in the middle of hard dom and soft dom but if you push enough, you get a brat tamer.

No, I will not elaborate because I don't even know what that means.

It just makes sense, y'know?

Like,

He's nice until he's not?

But when he's not nice anymore, he will fuck you up?

Definitely might take him some time to get there, but you can't tell me he wouldn't make the best brat tamer.

Like,

On the regular, he's not too strict but he's also not the most lenient.

Mostly because he uses his height to his advantage.

He doesn't need to you the voice because all he has to do is take a little step towards you and look down at you and boom, a natural brat-be-gone.

Can't blame you, though.

If he stepped towards me after being a brat, my five-foot-one-and-a-half ass (the half counts, okay) would cower like the chihuahua that I am (got that dog in me, y'know).

Like.

My hypothetical timbers shiver at the thought (in a good way).

But brat tamer Kamden?

:3

He likes to use pet play as a funishment.

Because he's still trying to give you a chance to make it up to him.

And he's also not trying to ruin you completely.

Just a little bit.

The degradation of having the full kitty get up is enough to humble you so you're not pushing it.

Ears, collar, tail, no clothes.

Because kitties don't wear clothes.

He uses the leash to keep you in place.

Or keep you from looking away.

He'll pull you up to be right in front of his face and hold you there.

He's a lover of forced eye contact so he can watch you struggle not to close your eyes.

Which leads to my next point:

If he is trying to ruin you completely, the tail might be a plug.

That vibrates.

Ororor

Maybe cuffs you to a cage and refuses to touch you.

Maybe uses a fuck machine instead. Because you obviously aren't going to listen. Why would he even try?

And he'll be mean about it.

"Awe, does someone want me to let them out?"

"If I let you out, don't think I'm going to make you cum."

"You get the machine, or nothing at all."

Or you're only allowed out if you're going to get yourself off.

Bc he's not about to reward you.

"You didn't want to listen, so you obviously don't need me."

"Show me how much you need it, and I might touch you."

I will not expand on this for my own sanity because I'm not trying to give myself thots. It's almost 4am.

Moving back to regular dom Kamden.

He loves reminding you how small you are compared to him.

All the time.

Holding hands and talking about how small yours are in his.

When you're sitting on his lap and he just towers over you.

Or his hands on your thighs.

Or when he has both your wrists in one hand.

Or when he's holding your wrist and his hand is just. So big.

He loves to verbally remind you, too.

Usually cooing at you.

Gives caregiver vibe lowkey, but he also just seems like the type to baby you anyways.

"My little baby."

"Look at how cute you are." (usually while pinching your cheek)

When he's feeling generous and wants to see you correct your own behavior, he likes keeping track of how much you're misbehaving.

I'm talking using a clicker all day.

And the final number could be anything, really.

How many times he's going to deny/keep you cumming.

How many spanks you'll get.

How many minutes he'll go without touching you (he might multiply it by two just for funsies)

Or how long he'll go on teasing you.

If he's feeling not-so-generous.

He's using the three-strike method and announcing them very loudly.

Does not care if you're around others.

Nope.

Counting down from three while walking towards you.

Or giving you silent signals to check you.

Bc he knows you're looking at him after messing up.

But he loves the attention.

And loves that you're doing it for his attention.

Wouldn't have it any other way, truly.

He also likes to threaten you with what he's going to do to you once you're both alone.

Just to rile you up some more.

But his aftercare game?

Unmatched.

He's gonna let you both nap before he washes you up.

Let's you relax in the bath after cleaning you so he can work on some food or snacks. Whichever you're in the mood for.

But you do get a big glass of ice cold water.

With a bendy straw :)

He gives you his softest hoodie to wrap yourself in while you both cuddle and watch tv.

Wraps his big ol' arms around you and holds you close while feeding you and maybe the occasional forehead kiss.

And asking if you're okay.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

"Nothing hurts, right?"

"My baby eats so well."

"Let me know if you need anything."

He's completely different from before. Total 180.

Big ol' softie.

[breyito]

Fear your sins, not your monsters: Part Three: Paths Converging

Continuation of Day 1 and 2 of @painlandweek

Part 1 Part 2 Chapters: 3/5 Fandom: Dead Boy Detectives (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence Relationships: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne/Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Charles Rowland, Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne & Crystal Palace Characters: Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Charles Rowland (DCU) Additional Tags: Protective Edwin Paine | Edwin PayneUnhinged Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Violence, Torture, Hurt Charles Rowland (DCU), Sickfic, love language: acts of service, painlandweek, BAMF Edwin Paine | Edwin Payne, Angst with a Happy Ending

Here on AO3

A/N: Hello! I'm so, so sorry about the delay! My ADHD has been kicking my ass for the last couple of weeks and istg i feel like i can't do anything. Anyways. I had to split this chapter in half, cause it was getting ridiculously long again, and I wasnt going to finish the rest of it today. (I have this new app on my phone that is voice-to-text and it changed my life! All the dialogues i keep forgetting bc of lack of energy to write i can just *dictate* and it feels so good lol. It also lenghtened this quite a bit, tho.) No moodboard for this one either, not yet. I'll try to make one tomorrow (or in a few hours, as it is, once again, 5am). No beta and English is not my native language, so any mistakes please point them out. I hope you enjoy this one! I'm very curious about what you'll think of this one ;P Oh, WARNING:This contains violence, threats of rape towards Charles and other children's souls, etc.

Part Three: Paths Converging

They headed back to the office. On the way, Crystal with her phone in her ear, Edwin had explained the general gist of things to her. Mainly that the other ghost hadn’t known the location of the lair of the witch, but had visited a few times. To allow him to travel there via mirror, she had given him a token attuned to him and his energy. They could use the token, but not to travel with it more than once; and definitely not to escape the place. (Not to mention that Crystal would have never let Edwin go on his own alone, without even the possibility of helping him. She was glad, still, that the ghost boy had not even suggested that.)

“So how can we use it?” she asked, looking right at him, as she plopped down on the couch. They were inside the office now and nosy taxi drivers couldn’t watch her suspiciously anymore. Also, she was exhausted and couldn’t bother with more acting for a couple of hours.

Edwin had gone straight to the massive pile of books on top of every single flat surface, including boxes full of files. He had looked at the books covering the desk for a full thirty seconds and then sent a wave of the black smoke at them, and they actually began moving on their own towards the floor. Crystal was…ignoring that for now, for the sake of her sanity. (How many things was she already ignoring?)

“I think I can combine a couple of rituals to create a sort of…tether, between Charles and myself.” he replied to her, as he removed his outer layers. “This would, basically, allow us to communicate with him and follow his energy to the place where the witch has absconded him.”

“Don’t tethers usually need something more physical to work?” she questioned, curious. At least that’s what the book she had been reading before their last case went wildly off course had said. Maybe the black smoke allowed him to tweak the limits?

“I have something more physical of his.” Edwin said, touching Charles’ necklace still around his neck. ”And for me, well, some blood or the ghost equivalent should work.”  His eyes showed his mind went far, far away for a couple of moments. She said nothing, remembering the sudden rush of cold, dark, wet she had felt the last time she touched it. Edwin eventually shook off the melancholy and straightened his posture.

“I will need to compile the different arrays and rites I need to build this ritual. It will take me at least a few hours, so I suggest you rest up.” 

“Are you sure I can’t help you…?” she asked, despite knowing he probably wouldn’t let her. Building rituals from scratch was a whole new area and she had exactly zero experience with that.

“Crystal.” He sighed, already spreading an alarming amount of books on the now clean desk. “I don’t mean to be rude, but unless you have a working knowledge of any of the Celtic languages, Aramaic, Latin or Fuþorc Runes I’ll ask you to keep out of it.”

“Okay, okay.” she rolled her eyes. Kicking her shoes off, she got comfortable on the couch and covered herself with the blanket.  “But wake me up if you need to leave, alright?” she mumbled, half asleep already. “I don’t wanna panic if you’re not there when I wake up…”

Several hours later, Edwin shook her awake. Still woozy from sleep, she understood he needed a specific kind of knife he didn’t have but knew where to get. And that he had to travel by mirror to the place. She mumbled her understanding to him, and he left. 

It was only when she was about to drop back into a deep sleep that her brain actually zoned in to the important part. She sat up on the couch so suddenly she felt dizzy.

“ Esther Finch’s fucking house!?” she yelled at the flat mirror, frustrated beyond belief. “Are you shitting me , Edwin!?” she cursed at the empty office. She creamed into the pillow a bit more, then got up. At least this should give her time to shower.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Edwin really doesn’t want to go back to Port Townsend. The place was bleak, damp and filled with memories of suffering. Whether it is mental, emotional or physical; he’d experienced more pain in that little town in a single month than in the rest of the world in the last fifteen years. 

But Charles was missing. Taken by another witch with a penchant for sick, twisted games and children’s pain. The ritual he came up with was novel and needed every single element to work. The dagger was fundamental. Edwin could not risk wasting more time looking for another knife with the same qualities when he already knew the location of one.

So he travelled to Port Townsend via mirror. He landed in Crystal’s old room above Jenny’s shop, and walked up to the house in a disguise. It was better than trying to travel directly inside Finch’s house, which surely had enchantments against ghosts using her mirrors that way.

As soon as his feet landed inside a ten metre radius, he could feel the repellent wards telling him to go away. This magic felt different than Finch’s. Probably the Cat King, then. Or maybe Tragic Mick? He ignored the compulsion, and kept walking up the path into the porch. 

He took off his glasses before reaching the stairs, and became his true self again. A loud caw immediately greeted him. He paused and looked back,  and saw Monty in his true form on a tree branch. The pause allowed the crow to land in the handrail of the porch, exuding an air of disapproval. Edwin sighed. 

“I need to get something from inside this house.” he said, focusing on one of the crows’ eyes. “I’m not going to-” he paused before he promised something he couldn’t keep. Because he couldn’t promise not to hurt someone with what he took from inside. “I’m going to get something from inside this house.” He said instead. “And you are not going to stop me.”

Monty lifted into the air, agitated, cowing. His wings produced so much wind that Edwin took a step back, but then straightened up and pulled his notebook and held it open with one hand.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Monty.” he stated. “But I will if you try to stop me.” His other hand opened and a bright orange flame erupted, tinged with wisps of black. An alarmed cry made Edwin feel like garbage, but he held the flame on his palm. In control, but ready to attack.

The crow flew off then, shrill caws on his way. Edwin took a deep breath and extinguished the fire, wiping his hand on his coat. He pocketed his notebook and climbed the stairs. Fortunately, he went in as easily as he had done for Becky.

By the time Edwin had found the dagger, and snatched a book that looked like it had been involved in the creation of the ghastly machine that so much pain it had caused him; it was already too late. He felt a pulse of energy from outside, and cursed under his breath. He could try to undo the spells on the mirrors of the house, but that would take too long. So he sighed and marched outside. 

“Edwin, Edwin, Edwin. You don't write, you don't call…” the Cat King said with a fake moue. Edwin looked up and saw Monty flying in circles above their heads. Little snitch , he thought, resentful.

“Cat King.” he said, nodding in respect, trying to walk around him. “I'm just leaving.” But diplomacy never worked on him. 

“Tsk, tsk, tsk.” The other man clicked his tongue, stepping in Edwin’s path. The ghost boy stopped where he was, not willing to get closer.

“What do you think you are doing, entering the house of the Wicked Witch of the West?” The shapeshifter asked, sauntering around him. He was wearing heeled boots, and it added a little height difference that irked Edwin.  

“I already have what I came here looking for. Now, if you please, I'm in a hurry.” Edwin tried to give another step, but the Cat King walked closer again, forcing him to step back. He was not putting himself in reach again. Monty cowed, flying faster, agitated.

“No. I don't think I please.” he tilted his head. “Knowledge like Esther's is dangerous. And I just can't let you leave with something dangerous.” The trickster’s tone was still playful, and it was grating on Edwin’s nerves.

“Knowledge is just knowledge.” the detective said, exasperated. “And I'm not asking you for permission.” he countered, snappish, head held high. “You're wasting my time .” The Cat King’s eyes shone.

“You should always have time for me, dear.” he said, smile cutting. “I can always just trap you here again, Edwin.” He offered, the smile still on.

“...And I can always start killing your subjects until you let me leave. But we are not doing that, are we, Thomas? ” he smirked back, biting. There was something cold in those green eyes that made the shifter want to shiver. The faint wisps of black coming up from the ground were certainly unnerving. Monty screeched in alarm and abruptly landed on a branch several metres down. 

“You know my name.” the Cat King realised, stepping back. 

“I do. I know a lot of things about you now.” the ghost added, taking a step forward. “You like to play games . But I already knew that, from last time.” Edwin took another step closer. “The difference is, Charles is not with me right now. And I don't have a lot of patience for games when he is in danger.” he snarled. 

“So that is why you're doing this? For him? You came all the way to America, to the house where you were tortured in, just for him ?” Thomas asked, indignant.

“I would do many more things for him.” Edwin stated, staring right into those yellow eyes, daring. The shifter scoffed, leaning closer, looking down at the ghost.

“Like threatening me?” The man asked, incredulous.

“I'm not threatening you. I'm warning you.” Edwin said, looking up, teeth bared. It looked more like a show of aggression from a cornered animal than a smile. “You're either on my side, or standing in my fucking way. And I'll get through anything standing in my way to get to him.” Their faces were only a few centimetres apart now, noses almost touching.

Thomas knew, in that moment, that Edwin was being completely honest. He seemed not to care a single bit what could happen to him as long as he could leave to go help his little friend. Nor what enemies he could leave behind. The Cat King felt a bit peeved about it, quite hot under the collar, and a lot jealous. That kind of loyalty to another person, to the point of detriment to yourself? He’d never felt it nor had he had it. It was alluring , damn it.   

“Deathly little thing, aren’t you?” he whispered to this mysterious boy, unwillingly feeling more attracted to him still. The tension between them finally broke when Edwin’s lips formed a teasing smile and his eyes softened a little.

“Only when I have to.” he whispered back, before breaking his gaze and pressing the faintest of kisses on Thomas’ jaw, surprising him. He then sidestepped him and walked out of the yard. 

By the time the Cat King turned around, Edwin was already jumping into a puddle, travelling to where he needed to be. Monty cowed twice and Thomas felt the hidden amusement.

“Oh, shut it, bird-boy. Like you didn’t defy your witch for him, even after he rejected you.” he snapped. 

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

Charles woke up all at once, gasping. He was sopping wet and chained to the ceiling. The metal of the chains was iron, and they were burning every part of his body that touched them. He was still only wearing his trousers, felt his extremities numb with cold and some of his curls had crusted over with ice.

When his eyes got used to the dim room, he could see it was the same basement he had been trapped in since the beginning. The only real difference was that he wasn’t alone this time. There was a woman on the corner, deep in the shadows. For what he could see, she was pretty fit. Charles might have looked twice if he had seen her on the street.  But with her wild blonde hair, tight red dress and tall boots; she looked like she was wearing a halloween costume that couldn’t decide if it was vampire or witch. A large white spider, with its eyes closed, peacefully placed inside her hair didn’t help matters. He had almost missed it.

“You’re finally awake!” she cheered, getting closer. “Now we can finally get started .” her grin was dangerous and the boy felt a shiver go down his spine.

Taking advantage of the fact that his feet barely touch the ground, she spun him around, making him lose balance. His knee buckled under him and his whole weight was left suspended from his shoulders until he managed to find his footing again. He was trembling even worse  after that, and tears of frustration began leaking from his eyes.

“Are you crying? How cute .” she cooed, grabbing his face and licking the trail the drop had left on his cheek. ”I’d give you a comfort kiss, but I don’t snog anyone that’s not my man.”

“You. Are. Crazy.” Charles said, leaning away from her. The spider opened its eyes and winked with half of them, waving two of its legs. The shivers got worse.

“Don’t be like that, poppet. Everything I’m doing is for love.”

“ Love ?” he repeated, sceptical. 

“Yes! I’m gonna get the love of my life back, and you’re gonna help me.”

“I don’t know anything about love potions or spells; we don’t mess with that shite.” Charles explained, weary. The witch snorted, the spider wiggled, like it was laughing too. (Was this her familiar? Did it share the same amount of sentience as Monty? Somehow, that thought was terrifying).

“Pffff, I don’t mean like that . My boo and I were tragically separated when he was killed by the police and then he got dragged to Hell! ” she huffed. “Like, what even? I just want him back .” 

Usually, Charles was willing to give everyone a chance to explain themselves. It’s not like the system was flawless. Good souls could be sent to Hell, like it had happened with Edwin. 

However, since he was still shivering from the literal torture this woman had put him through (torture she implied her ‘boo’ would enjoy); he would go out on a limb an bet the bloke completely deserved his tenure in Hell.

“And why was he killed by the police?” he asked anyway, already tired of dealing with this. The chat was a step up from the freezing water, but the talk itself so far was three steps down from the earlier solitude.

“Because his stupid best friend and he decided to rob a bank!” she exclaimed, clearly miffed. This time, when she grabbed him to spin him around, her nails left deep scratches, burning and bleeding. This bitch had iron in her nail polish, apparently. “They were caught doing that. I mean, you have to give it to the pigs. They really messed up on that one.”she laughed. “They were caught and got done in as fucking robbers. They didn't even search their flat! They just killed them and left them at the morgue.  They never found out that we were the ones dropping the mangled bodies everywhere.”

“You're sick.” Charles said, swallowing, as he found his rooting again. 

“Oh, baby, of course I am. Didn't I tell you already? I love making people break, playing with them.” She licked her lips, seductive. The ghost boy just felt nauseous. “What I love even more is watching my man do it for me. And that's why you're going to help me bring him back.”

“From Hell ?” He asked, incredulous. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn't help you. Edwin is the one with the knowledge of Hell and its paths, not me. You chose the wrong one of us to kidnap.”

“I don’t think I did. Word is, you are the one that I saved him from hell this time.” she smiled.  She put her extended arm on his shoulder and placed her weight on the claw-like nails sinking in the muscle there. He felt blood dripping down his back. The spider began walking down her shoulder and onto her arm. Leaning in until their faces almost touched, she looked him dead in the eyes, despite his efforts to keep the blasted thing in his line of sight. 

“I did, yeah.” He admitted. “But I had help. I had someone else, much more powerful than I or you ever could be. They opened a portal down to Hell and they kept it open until we got back. You can't do that.” He swallowed. “Can you?” he couldn’t stop himself from asking, now looking at the spider.

Cursing, she pushed him back and started roaming the room, hands wildly gesturing. The spider had quickly climbed up to her head again. Charles had lost his balance and was spinning again, but at least that beast was not near him. He took her cursing as a negative to his question. Charles wanted to believe this was good news (he dreaded the thought of that man anywhere but Hell), but you never knew how others were going to react when you didn’t give them the information they wanted. This woman? Completely bonkers. Hopefully she would just let him in here, until Edwin rescued him. Suddenly, she stopped in the middle of the basement.

“Hmm, maybe I can't open up a portal. But I can make a deal with a demon so that I can get into hell.” She was smiling again. “And you will help me find my way out.”

“A deal with a demon is a terrible idea. Besides, lady, even if I tell you all I know about hell, which I won’t do. The level Edwin was at? It was terrible, but it wasn't that deep. The level your boo must be in… it has to be one of the deepest and darkest ones, just based on what you describe me you two did, to people.”

“I can think of a few things I can offer the demon so that he helps me.” she countered, now pensive instead of agitated.

“Like what?”

“Like you, your soul. Essence, whatever. Or one of the others’.” Charles was almost afraid to ask.

“Others?”

“Oh, yeah. I've been collecting little souls as gifts for my boyfriend when he comes back. Since, you know, he won't be able to interact with the living now he is dead and will become a ghost.”

“... Little souls?” he asked again, disgusted. He tried leaning away, but she plunged her nails into his face to keep his eyes on her. 

“Yeah, the souls of little ones!” she smiled, and it was a terrible smile. A wild hunger seemed to seep from her feverish eyes. “He's not that much into kids. He prefers young people, teenagers, you know.” she winked at him, suggestive.

“So he's a paedophile, but not that much of a paedophile?” Charles mocked, deciding to ignore the implications. 

She let go of his face only to slap him hard, hard enough to leave deep gouges from the iron on the nails she wore.

“He hates that word!” she screamed, offended. “He just… really loves young people.” The sheer incredulity must have shown on his face, because she just continued. “Anyways, I was collecting these souls so he could play with them when he comes back, you know? I bet he will be in a foul mood, and I just thought 'well what better way to cheer him up than letting him blow off some steam on a couple souls he will find pleasing?’ ' I took great care in ensuring they were innocent, as well. The responses to all the pain and the bit of little pleasure here and there that we can teach them are always the best .” she sighed, dreamy. “And ghosts are so much more resilient! We can play with you and play with you and play with you until you break.” She said, eyes evaluating him up and down. “And then we can start all over again!” she laughed.

Charles puked all over the floor.

"You truly are," he said in disgusted awe " the most despicable person I've ever met. And a few months ago I was at the mercy of a witch that cannibalised little girls. "

“Oh, cannibalism.” she hummed. “That sounds fun, doesn’t it, Ari?” she cooed at her familiar, reaching for the thing. “You have to get me her number.” she said to him.

Charles spat at her. It barely touched her face before she shrieked and sent him crashing to the back of the room. The chains had fallen from the ceiling and onto his torso, burning him terribly.  

“And you need to learn some manners." She said as he screamed from the sudden agony. Then she turned her back on him and walked towards the door. "I guess I will just leave you to repeat the cycle until you have had enough."

Charles’ last coherent thought before he was dropped under the thick frozen layer of water of the lake instead of through the ice as always, was that Edwin and he would absolutely need to save those poor spirits.

—-- —-- —--

—-- —-- —--

“That took longer than you said it would.” Crystal said as soon as he stepped through the mirror into the office. “Did the house not let you in?” she asked, remembering how they had just phased through the walls last time.

“The house gave me no problem at all.” Edwin answered, placing the knife on the desk. “It was Monty, actually.” he explained, with a grimace. “I had an encounter with the Cat king,” Crystal’s eyebrow went up “but not much came out of it. He was very insistent about not letting any kind of knowledge leave that witch's house.” He took off his coat and his gloves and, uncharacteristically, threw them onto the couch. It was the only free surface, she supposed. “Which would normally be a good thing, but in these circumstances, I could not abide by it.”

“And did he give you any trouble?” she questioned, sceptical. 

“He tried to threaten me, so I just…threatened him back.” Edwin said, unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves, trying to play it off as unimpressive. Yeah, Crystal was not gonna let that one slide.

“ You threatened the Cat King?” she said, incredulous. “He left you trapped in Port Townsend for weeks!”

“Ah, but I didn't know anything about him back then.” He countered. “And I wasn't dabbling in anything more dangerous than usual. And perhaps the most important thing of all…” Edwin started, leafing through his notes.

“...It was you in danger, not Charles.” Crystal interrupted, finishing the idea.

“Exactly.” He said, pleased that she understood this about him by now.

As they began prepping the materials for this massive ritual, she managed to corroborate that it was far beyond anything they had shown her so far. The ritual seemed so complicated. Beyond the dagger that he had to pick up from the other side of the world, it required them to move every single piece of furniture against the walls, then grabbing the bathroom mirror for a later use. 

After that, they placed a bedsheet on the floor, drawing a big circle on it with black chalk, and drew a set of runes inside it, near the centre. Then Edwin grabbed Charles' backpack, and took out a bottle full of a viscous dark liquid. He then lit a dozen candles inside the marked circle, each one in its specific place. A wave of different smells assaulted Crystal’s nose. She supposed that ghosts weren’t bothered by it since they couldn't smell much. She tried very hard not to sneeze.

Edwin retrieved two different cups from a cupboard, one made from silver and one from crystal, and poured the liquid from the bottle inside the silver one. For the other, he took out Esther’s knife from his pocket and sliced his forearm with it. Blood tinted with ectoplasm began to pour inside the empty cup, and once it was three quarters full he removed the wound from it to avoid overspilling. He slid two fingers over the wound and the black smoke that was becoming familiar to Crystal ate up the blood and sealed the wound. Then, he reached for Charles' chain around his neck and took it off. Gently, he let it fall inside the cup that had his blood. He took a big piece of parchment paper, those old ones that you see only in movies, yellowed with age, thick, and coarse to the touch. 

With a grimace, he sank his fingers into the first cup. A low hum came from his throat, sounding almost like words but not really. He began writing symbols with the blood onto the parchment. With the other hand, he began tracing the same symbols again, on another blank sheet of parchment, on top of the first one. These symbols were mirrored, and written with his own blood from the second cup. Once he was done, a string of Latin came out of his lips, and the second set of symbols lifted up in the air, glowing golden light, and fused into the first set, on the first sheet of parchment. The other parchment disintegrated as soon as the last trace of blood left the paper. 

Edwin let out a breath Crystal hadn't noticed he was holding. Done, he took the parchment, and began ripping it in pieces, keeping each symbol inside its own square of paper, and placed the symbols inside the circle according to the instructions written down by his own hand. The bloody symbols then sank through the paper and sealed themselves to the linen fabric. Edwin waved his hand and all the blank pieces of paper flew from the array. Then he took the necklace from inside the second cup and put it into the first cup. 

He took the bathroom mirror, and placed it in the middle of the circle array spell, then took the necklace out of the cup and flicked it in the air where it remained still, frozen in place at about two metres high. The symbols on the bedsheet and the blood on the necklace pulsed with golden energy every couple of heartbeats.

“I need you,” he started to say, very clearly, “to not, for any reason, enter the circle.”

“All right” she said, heart beating like crazy. 

“Whatever I ask you to bring me, you will put it inside the circle without touching inside it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Edwin repeated, breathing deep. He knelt beside the foggy mirror on the floor and began writing on it with his finger. At the same time, he spoke up, to keep her in the loop. “Charles? Are you there?”

Charles

are you there?

[lesbianandstressing]

station 19 family headcanons

i’m choosing to ignore the fact that dean is dead and surrera divorced for the sake of my own sanity

all of the station are basically siblings with ben as their father

vic is the baby and everyone is very protective of her

maya is the second youngest but doesn’t let anyone coddle her

(except for carina)

robert actually has a playful side and has pulled a few pranks on some members of the team

travis is a bit of a scaredy cat and robert loves hiding behind corners and scaring him half to death

robert once found vic crying because it was lucas’ birthday, and he was feeling very similarly

they ended up comforting each other and sharing stories about lucas

vic and andy take naps on the hoses during shifts

other team members join them sometimes

during a very slow 36 hour shift, vic took of her shoes and started sliding around the station in her socks

everyone else joined her

travis couldn’t stop falling over and it would make everyone crack up every time

dean tried to slide and look really cool but ended up falling on his ass

little pruitt miller has everyone in the station wrapped around her little finger

like nobody can say no to her

one time when jack was babysitting she had ice cream for breakfast

dean was not happy but couldn’t blame him

nerf gun wars all the time

jack brought a fully automatic machine nerf gun and started shooting

everyone had to duck for cover but theo got hit in the nose

however maya declared carina as a no shoot zone

if they even dare shoot her maya will kill them

with nerf of course

theo is actually a decent shooter, and can hit anyone without trying

jack got hit the most and was forced to clean up

lots of wrestling matches and pillow fights

dean usually starts them

maya finishes them

very physically affectionate with each other, lots of hugs and cuddles

ben always scolds them for misbehaving and causing havoc

he’s just being dad

theo, robert, and andy always speak in spanish when they don’t want anyone else to know what they are saying

carina attempts to do the same with maya in italian but maya is a lost cause with that

everyone always gets so excited when carina comes to the station with food

she’s the best at cooking and everyone knows it

dean wants his daughter to be educated in all cultures, and has andy and theo teach her about latinx culture

he also asks carina to teach pru about italian culture

pru picks up bits and pieces of both italian and spanish languages

maya once again feels outnumbered

andrew deluca’s photo is right next to captain herrera’s in the display case

despite not being a firefighter, he is still just as much of a hero

carina cried when she saw it

the team threw a party for carina when she became head of the OB department at grey sloan

maya and carina both cried

jack is such a deep sleeper that everyone loves putting random things on him while he rests

jack once woke up with everyone’s helmets covering his body

needless to say he was confused

vic put an entire chair on him while he slept

anyways i miss them

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

CONGRATS ON 2130! What better way to celebrate you than asking for you to write a drabble of whatever YOU want! Something you have maybe thought about but it's not your norm? Love it. A character you love and just want more of? Love it. Little side quest in a current running fic? Love it. Just super happy for you and love everything you put out there for us to enjoy! 💕✨🎉

[a/n: omg thank you! I got so excited to see this 'free reign' request and then spent the next like 12 hours agonizing over what to write lol. I went with this absolutely not 500 word one-shot. Oops. It seemed fitting to me though b/c the first fanfic I ever wrote was one of those kind where the reader like 'magically' ends up in the media with knowledge that they're in their fav tv show/movie/game. So, writing a one-shot in that theme kind of felt perfect since we're also celebrating the number 213!]

Joel Miller x F!Reader; Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: canon violence, descriptions of creepy ass clickers, language, gun use, mentions of injury and blood

Word Count: 1.7k (again oops)

Summary: You just wanted to take a break from the job while hanging out with your favorite hunter, but you instead wind up in the last place you thought possible. Honestly, it was your own fault for thinking you could have a normal day.

As you watched Joel Miller get mauled by a cordyceps clicker on the television screen you let out a laugh. In response, Dean barked out a curse. The eldest Winchester brother had been playing this game for the last day and a half. Though the phrase attempting to play might be more accurate. You snickered again. “Dean, I’ve seen you mow down an entire coven of vampires alone with only a hunting knife, but you can’t shoot a few infected?”

“This is different.” Dean replied firmly. He pointed at the screen accusingly. “Put one of those fuckers in front of me right now and I’ll take it down.” He picked up his beer bottle to take a swig. Then he motioned to you with the bottle. “With my eyes closed.”

“Yeah, okay, tough guy.”

“I’m serious!”

You laughed again and pulled your legs up under you. The Winchester brothers and you were stuck in the Men of Letters bunker for the last week. Sam was in the library, trying to find any kind of hunt to go on, and for the sake of Dean’s sanity you hoped he found one soon. You sunk into your seat with a grin. “Come on. Try again. I love watching you lose.”

“Maybe you should give it a try then, sweetheart.” Dean replied and offered you the controller. 

You briefly bit your lower lip at the pet name. It was no secret that you were head over the heels for Dean⏤ well, to everyone but Dean. He seemed pretty oblivious to the fact that you’ve been carrying a torch for him since the moment you met him three years ago on a hunt. 

“I would, but I’d hate to embarrass you like that, Dean.”

The man rolled his eyes before restarting the level from the top. You watched Dean play, smiling to yourself at his overly exaggerated expressions every time something went wrong or went right. Gradually, your eyes began to droop shut, heavy with exhaustion, and you fell asleep listening to Dean’s voice⏤ the sound familiar and comforting. 

The sound of clicking hadn’t necessarily woken you up, it was probably the freezing air that did that, but it was the first noise that registered in your sleep-addled brain. With a quiet moan, you forced your eyes open and the sight of a busted ceiling greeted you. The wood was aged and a gaping hole allowed you to see the blue sky as morning light and flakes of snow streamed through it. It took one second for your brain to comprehend that you were not in the bunker with the Winchesters and one additional second for the hunter in you to grasp the wheel. 

You sat up with a gasp. The space surrounding you resembled an abandoned storage room at the back of a larger structure. Broken and empty shelves lined the walls and you were lying on top of a disgusting, aged mattress. With steady motions, you rose to stand. A chill shot down your spine and you shivered. The pajamas you wore were not conducive to this new weather⏤ weather that also did not make sense. It was summer time in Kansas right now. Why the fuck was it snowing? 

There was no sign of Dean or Sam that you could see. You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat as your stomach stirred with a foreboding sense of doom. Something was very, very wrong. Knowing that standing here confused wasn’t going to help anything, you searched the room for something of use. There were no articles of clothing you could scrounge up which meant you were stuck with pajamas and bare feet. The cold was beginning to grow painful as your extremities ached.

Only one door led out of the room, but experience told you that walking out without some kind of weapon was a mistake. Again, your options were sparse. You hadn’t expected to get lucky and find a handgun on the shelf, but a knife would be nice and not asking the universe for much in your opinion. However, you had never been the lucky kind. With a grumble, you found a few broken pipes and picked out one with the sharpest end. The metal was biting cold in your hand, but it brought some semblance of control and comfort to your anxiety riddled mind.

Seriously, what the fuck was going on?

You carefully cracked the door open to peek out into a dimly lit room. It looked like some kind of convenience store, but just like the room you had woken in it was in shambles. Bits of the ceiling and wall were broken to allow in light. You pulled the door open wider and a vaguely familiar clicking noise drifted to you once more. Where was that coming from? It had been there when you woke, though quieter, and why did you kind of recognize it?

A soft hiss made you glance to your right and your eyes widened when you spotted a young girl hiding behind half the counter. She had to be no older than thirteen or fourteen and her messy light brown hair was pulled back and half hidden under a winter cap. She glared at you in alarm, clutching a knife in her gloved hands, and mouthed words to you. She had to do it twice before you recognized the words, ‘What the fuck are you doing?!’ It was followed by something that looked suspiciously like the words, ‘fucking idiot’. Had this small, angry child just called you a fucking idiot? 

More clicking.

Your gaze lifted and your eyes landed on a new sight that filled you with dread. It wasn't an unfamiliar sight, but it was certainly one that shouldn’t exist. A clicker. It stumbled in its inhuman gait. Shoulders and arms moving in twitching motions as its head snapped back and forth searching. Whatever face the body used to have was replaced with rows of growing, eerie fungus that fanned out in what looked like two rolling curves⏤ as if it were a wave that surged then splashed right out of the skull itself in frozen motion.

The small gasp that left your lips was an obvious mistake that your hunter side was kicking you for. Its head and body snapped to face you and with a screech it roared forward. Instinct took a hold of your body, and you swung the pipe out, rather than freezing in alarm, and the clicker fell back.

“Run! Go!” You screamed and motioned for the kid to get the hell out of there. She began to scramble away, but you stayed planted to handle the clicker that was already back to its feet and rushing you once more. You ducked under and sprinted in the opposite direction of the kid while making as much noise as you could. As impossible and odd as this was, you had no problem falling into your hunting pattern. It was second nature to you. There was a monster and a civilian who needed to be saved. Your choice was easy.

Your right foot stepped on something that made you hiss out in pain and stumble. That gave the clicker enough time to slam into you and send you to the floor. With gritted teeth, you rolled before it could pin you and you swung the pipe once again, knocking it back a few steps. It recovered quickly and lunged forward, but you held the pipe up firm and met it halfway so the sharpened end of the pipe drove right through the center of its face⏤ or lack thereof. You were gasping for air as its arms went limp and with a singular grunt you used the pipe to shove it off to the side so it slumped to the ground with your weapon still buried in its skull. 

Your heart was threatening to beat right out of your chest as you tried to catch your breath. The adrenaline and panic made the cold barely noticeable. Your eyes glanced down though to see blood pooling around your right foot. Wincing, you lifted it to see a large shard of glass shoved deep into the tissue there. That was disturbing evidence this was not some kind of fucked up dream.

“Fuck.” You muttered. The sentiment was interrupted by a howling screech. You spun in place to see a different clicker, just as grotesque and real as the first, lunging at you from behind. Your hands raised in defense as a gun was fired. The clicker’s head exploded in a spray of rotting tissue and clumps of fungus before collapsing a few feet in front of you. When you lifted your gaze, you spotted an older man equipped with a rifle that was now leveled at your own head as his eyebrows furrowed in an emotion that reminded you a lot of rage. At his side, one hand wrapped around his bicep was the girl from earlier. 

It took you a second to comprehend the image in front of you. The clickers. The young mouthy girl. The older angry man. This could not be possibly happening to you right now. “Hands up. Now.” The man grunted in a southern accent. He didn’t look quite like he did in the video game you watched Dean play for the last day and a half, but there was no denying who this had to be. Slowly, you lifted your hands with a grimace. “If you got any weapons, drop ‘em now.”

“Weapons?” The girl scoffed. “She’s in fucking PJs, Joel, where do you think she’s hiding a weapon?”

He hushed her in response and motioned for her to take a step behind him. Great. You had survived the apocalypse twice with the Winchesters, quite the feat considering the people who traveled with the boys had a bad habit of dying bloody, but this was how you were going to meet your end. Shot by a video game character. This was some kind of fucked up karma for laughing while watching Dean get his character mauled over and over.

“Hi there.” You blurted  with a sheepish smile and Joel stiffened. “I mean you guys no harm, so if you wanna lower the rifle⏤”

“What’re you doing here?” Joel demanded. The rifle did not lower an inch.

“Right.” You muttered then blew out a breath of hot air. “Uh, funny story.”

Joel did not look eager to hear said funny story and you had a bad feeling that once you explained what was happening to him he’d find the entire scenario even less amusing. Fuck.

[choctalksalot]

If Jake is based on archetype of Strong Female Character then I think he should get Evil Woman arc. Let him snap and go bananas. Sburb is his stage and he is gonna became a star, and break fourth wall and if needed all the walls. I just really want Jake to go batshit. And then better but first batshit. And fight with crockertier! Jane because I think it would help them both to have a proper scream match and some stabbing or two.

admission: i have let this ask stew in my drafts for months because i had exams, and also because i needed to fully process everything in this singular paragraph because it threw a wrench in my jello sack processor

so, in short:

thank you for this ask anon holy shit i love getting asks about this stuff i am full of words about it !! that being said

I AM QUESTIONING THE CLASSIFICATION OF HIM AS STRONG FEMALE CHARACTER. I AM SO VERY QUESTIONING IT

that statement triggered a fucking. sleeper agent in my brain because i disagree so hard so so hard, oh my god i'm. okay technically it's a half disagree. sliver of agreement in there but it's for a very specific scenario that I need TIME to explain (which i now have so Buckle Up)

if you want my aabsolute shortest shorty short response to this ask it's yes, i think jake deserves to go batshit insane, i would like nothing more than to see him be a petty deranged bitch. king shit honestly!! But Not In That Way Slash Manner. okay now WORDS

so, we have the idolization/I Know What You Are he has with lara croft. we have all his big talk about being an adventurer, we have fisticuffs and guns and sparring with a bot, but, as many posts before this have pointed out in much more depth than i can attempt to surmise, jake is not that. motherfucker is a coward, avoids conflict like the plague and plays up an oblivious front to dodge responsibility (god i still can't read the jane confession scene without screaming look at that fucking LIAR)!! a defining aspect of jake's character is his continuous lack of agency throughout the comic too, which is a rabbit hole i'm not going down for the sake of my sanity and your patience [:

point is, in the words of a shitton of other people: he's a hapless bimbo archetype, or at least attempts to embody it!!!!

he wants to be a strong female character, makes an idol out of an example of them (lara), but in the end the narrative itself bends backwards to call him pathetic. point and laugh at the moron in the piss coloured underpants. something something, yet another case of lost potential

there are specific circumstances under which jake does hit as a strong female character. that's getting old i'm gonna shorten that to sfc now. big thanks to tony crazyexdirkfriend for this perspective because the one angle where i can read jake as an sfc is from an extremely meta perspective, in reference to how he's built up to be someone with a lot of importance/skill/competence, while in reality his agency is pretty much moot. it's an empty label, all his "strength" is superficial and falls away once you look any deeper than the upper epidermis. that's neat as hell!!!! i don't think that's the take you were going for, but it is an angle i enjoy and appreciate <:

that being said, even with this and any accurate read of jake really, him having an evil woman arc will have to take place in a specific set of circumstances methinks,, like mfer is probably actively performing an insanity act for Some Reason, an angry tired jake is more likely to revert to sopping wet bawling retreat anger than anything else. letting him snap and go bananas will only work if you character arc his ass enough to change a fundamental part of him!!! and a crockertier scream match is more in jane's favour for. y'know all the years of being a vent box for him. which i don't think is accessible on a count of, y'know, Literal Mind Control

i am the no.2 supporter on the Let Jake Be Batshit train (only second because i know at least four people who'd tie for first) but i don't think he'd seek out attention from beyond the 4th wall. because he can't handle the pressure of being perceived. no walls have ever needed to be broken for jake english to be a star - he's always been performing!! for the people around him, for the narrative, to be the oblivious himbo that never meant to do any wrong. the core of jake english and what drives him to extremes has always been to be liked, and to be safe. maybe those two things are the same to him. it gets suffocating, y'know? and when something gets too much, jake does what he's always done: he runs.

so yeah, no, i don't think so. do let him be a catty bitch tho!! he deserves that [:

[esta-elavaris]

Not-Yet-Written tag game

Thank you for the tag @inkedmoth 💜💜💜 gotta talk about the fic ideas I have that I have not yet written.

Boromir/Sybil

A one-shot where Boromir meets Sybil while Bera is still living, having arrived, injured, at the cabin before the events that kick off HWFG.

CTW-verse

A Groves/Theodora AU -- but given my current workload, I'm thinking of really paring this down just to a series of snippets, especially since we're now getting our Groves fix from RTOF.

Modern!James AU -- my 4395 recent text posts explain this one 🫠 this will probably end up needing to be a behemoth.

Other

Aemond Targaryen/OC -- power imbalance, toxic dynamic, Aemond being not nice, but not to such an extent that it's just constantly painful to read and impossible to root for the relationship.

Dracula/OC -- (ft. Richard Roxburgh's Dracula from Van Helsing (2004), but it probably wouldn't follow anything to do with the plot of the actual movie). This idea has been in my head for a long time but it's all very cliche and expected...but I'm thinking of just embracing that aspect and writing it anyway, because that's what I want to write, and if others happen to find it entertaining then that's just an added bonus.

Haldir/OC -- I have a oneshot half-written for this, but that's mostly me toying with dynamics and tone for the full-scale fic, but that's a very far-off thing. Elven pining, mortal danger, the works.

Gale Dekarios/F!Tav -- listen, I can't even play the game yet, I'm living via watching others play it on YT, but I haven't been this sick over a fictional character since the likes of Norrington and Boromir so it's going to happen. No idea how or when yet, but it will. It's a foregone conclusion.

These are the ones fully on my mind, but I have a foul habit of getting carried away with whatever I'm watching/rewatching at any given time and I cannot be held responsible for what happens in my word documents when that happens, so 🫠 although rn I'm trying to save that energy for flufftober novelty one-offs, for the sake of my sanity/workload.

Tagging @bumblingbriars @ass-deep-in-demons @quillofspirit and @scyllas-revenge

[musicreveiwsbyezti]

What's up babygirls (literally no one reads my blog) here's my March topster

This month was mostly shit I thought it would be interesting to listen... so lot of metal again. Also for the sake of my sanity I have 2 records that I genuinely don't know what the fuck I should do with.

Unrated: Current 93-I have a special plan for this world (Dark Ambient/Poetry): Arguably the best scary stuff I have ever listened but I never want to hear this again as once was perfectly enough. It gives a really disturbing atmosphere and the poetry part itself was interesting too. I highly recommend checking it out at least once. Slipknot-Iowa(Nu metal): I don't get it. The instrumentation is good but the lyrics are so god damned corny that it hurts. It doesn't help that it sounds like death metal for people who don't want to listen to actual death metal. I probably give it another chance later... not now tho I still can't take The Heretic Anthem seriously.

Alright now the actual tierlist begins:

14th: Combat Wounded Veteran-Electric Youth Crew(Powerviolence): I had a small journey and sat down to listen through the entire CWV discography (it's not that long definitely recommend it to get into powerviolence) and this is arguably the "weakest" of their releases. It doesn't really stand out and can be forgotten easily.

13th: CWV-This Is Not an Erect, All-Red Neon Body (Powerviolence/Grindcore): Idk it just doesn't click as well as IKAGWDCSP.

12th: Death-The Sound of Perseverance(Death/Prog Metal):Jesus Christ this album was a major disappointment for me. As a last Death album I expected it to be a last brutal yet technically extreme blast...but they just had to listen to 30 hour acid freeform jazz or some shit to get inspiration. This album has genuine fire songs, but they just had to fuck up the in the middle with a boring ass bass "solo" or someshit... Also the Painkiller cover is the worst song I heard this year so far, how the fuck can you ruin a perfect song when you are already a talented vocalist is beyond me.

11th: CWV-Duck Down for the Torso(Powerviolence/Grindcore): A short and sweet end for CWV's discography. Having it end on a Folded Space song was a great choice which gives an interesting feeling for the end.

10th: Stabbing-Extirpated Mortal Process(Brutal Death/Slam metal): Now this is a good slam metal album.

9th: Sematary-Bloody Angel(Horrorcore/Chicago drill): After Sems last EP I thought it was over... BUT IT ISN'T! It gives vibes of RB2 with RB3 mixing with some HAW mixed in. He can cook just let him do his thing :pray:

8th: Spycada-Hiking Lung(Psychedelic rock): It's good, great vibe, good tones, overall enjoyable. Looking forward to their next stuff.

7th: Magrudergrind-Self title(Grindcore/Powerviolence): THE grindcore album. Absolutely slaps, the sample use is interesting.

6th: Igorrr-Spirituality and Distortion(Avant Guard Metal/Breakcore) This... is Schrödinger's kitchen. I don't know if the kitchen is burned down or has served a 5 star menu, until I care to write an actual criticism of it. (Also the mixing of metal, break core and classical music is insane and the sheer heaviness this album gives is phenomenal, though it falls of gradually on the second half)

5th:Sweet Trip-Velocity : Design : Comfort(IDM/Glitch Pop) At least 200 people already circle jerk around this album, yes it is good, no I don't explain why I love it because I ain't talking about why breathing air is good.

4th:Have a nice life-Deathconsciousness(Post Punk/Shoegaze): Same as last time, people already told you enough why it's good, just fucking listen through it already. (side note some of the songs on this albums mixed weirdly quite for some reason, and it's kinda wack how the drone parts are the best, but still really good)

3th: Dead in the Dirt-The Blind Hole(Grindcore/Powerviolence) Jesus I listen to a lot of powerviolence this month... Anyways this is probably my favourite pw record yet. Probably the more understandable vocals help to lift it just a little bit above the rest for me.

2th:Mastodon-Leviathan(Sludge metal/Prog metal) Fun fact in the 2000's 2 whale concept prog metal albums came out, both of which are peak. I don't know how they got The Moby Dick nailed so well in metal form but they sure did with heavy riffs and amazing vocal performances.

1th: Electric Wizard-Witchcult Today(Stoner/Doom metal): I was afraid to check out the rest of EW discography after Dopethrone cuz it is too peak... However this album is probably as good as Dopethrone. Something about this album gives more OG metal vibes with less insanity.

[badlydrawnwaywardvagabond]

hi its been two months sorry

i didnt realize how long it had been until saturday. (happy late 4/13?)

tldr i swear ill be back some time in the next... month and a half. school is hell and so is burnout. im gonna try to at least answer a couple asks but there prolly wont have art. full explanation under the cut

-mod kat

ok so basically burnout hit me like a sack of bricks to the head and ive done basically jack shit except school for the past two months. finals are at the end of may so final units are fast approaching. on top of that, i have a convention to go to immidiately after finals and my cosplay wig isnt done. i am officially in Project Crunch Time Hell.

on top of that, my adhd ass cant stick with one project so now i have an ETSY in the works, along with a FULL LENGTH MSPFA, multiple fics (one of which might become a SECOND mspfa), multiple standalone art pieces, animations/animatics, minicomics, and even a couple SONGS in varying levels of nowhere-near-doneness.

needless to say, i have maybe stretched myself just a bit too thin. just a little.

taking all of this into consideration, i kinda just. forgot about this. i havent really had access to discord for the last couple months either, which isnt helping. i have no idea whats going on with 90% of the badlydrawn blogs rn.

so. heres the plan.

i will answer asks as soon as i can. some might not have art.

i will be mostly avoiding major arcs, save for one thats been planned for a while.

posts will likely be few and far between for the sake of my sanity.

thank you for your patience.

-mod kat

(ps. to all the mods who were helping me - FUCK im so sorry i didnt mean to disappear like that i will make it up to yall somehow i swear. esp badlydrawnreader mod and kripsy i am SO sorry!!)

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Can I get a continuation of the amnesia prompt? Joel meets Lenny for the first time…Again.

The amnesia lasts longer than Mei thought it would, into the next evening, which sees the family gathered for dinner at his parents' place in Queens.

"I just don't understand!" Joel grouses as he paces the back porch.

Moishe shrugs. "What's there not to understand, son? You lost your memories."

"No one will explain how Midge and I wound up divorced and she wound up with-with-"

"Everyone has explained it to you," Abe points out. "I've explained. Mei has explained. Your father has explained. Miriam has explained. Joel, we have done nothing but explain."

"It still makes no sense!"

Abe sighs heavily. "Fine. I'll try again. Yom Kippur eve, 1958, you and Miriam left the children with us and went out on what was supposed to be a nice date to a horrible little club in the Village so you could do some comedy routine."

Joel nods, paying rapt attention.

"You did poorly. You blamed Miriam for it. You admitted you were having an affair with your secretary, and then you left," Abe finishes.

"You slept on Archie's couch for a little while," Moishe adds. "You made a half-assed attempt to get Miriam back-"

"Without a single apology," Abe adds.

"And then moved in with the secretary," Moishe goes on. "Who was not it."

"Not it? Penny wasn't it?"

"Of course not!" Moishe cries. "She was practically a teenager and a shiksa to boot!"

Joel rolls his eyes.

"You and Miriam almost got back together, but you found out that she'd been doing stand-up comedy on her own," Moishe goes on. "And you were pissed an hurt so you rejected her, and as far as I'm aware, that was the end of it."

"And how does Lenny Bruce play into this?" Joel asks, still bewildered.

"They met through the comedy," Abe shrugs. "And they very slowly..." he pauses awkwardly. "Fell in love."

"In love," Joel scoffs. "He's not in love with her, I can tell you that."

"The very pretty engagement ring says otherwise," Moishe points out. "Joel, son, I know that all of this is a lot to take in because of the memory thing, but you have to leave Miriam and Lenny alone. You've put her through enough."

"Like she didn't put me through hell," Joel snaps. "She rejected getting back together me that first time!"

"Because you weren't sorry," Abe comments bitterly on behalf of his daughter.

"I can't believe you're on Lenny Bruce's side!" Joel cries, looking at Abe.

Abe rolls his eyes. "Lenny has been very good for Miriam. Miriam is very happy. And if Miriam is happy, that generally means that Rose is happy and if Rose is happy that means I get to be happy. So for the sake of my happiness and my sanity, you will stay away from Miriam and Lenny, and you, Joel, will be very unhappy."

Joel stares at him in surprise.

"Also, you have a new wife and an infant," Moishe reminds him. "So making some kind of play for Miriam while you're still married to someone else who has your baby looks very, very bad. Probably worse than cheating on your wife of four years who had your other two children. Well. Maybe not. It's all bad. Look. Just. Calm down. Wait for the memories to come back. Don't do anything rash. It will all be fine."

"It's not fine."

"You were already shtupping someone else!" Abe cries. "You clearly weren't as in love with Miriam as you claim to be, otherwise you wouldn't have gone looking elsewhere."

"It was a phase!"

"It clearly wasn't."

[tdcloud]

Happy New Year, everyone! 

2024 is here and I, for one, am dead set on making this a good year. After the slog of 2023, I think we can all agree that we’re overdue for even an ounce of a break—or just some levity given 2023 forced me to take a break for the sake of my sanity. A lot has happened. A lot I wanted to have happen just… didn’t. Let’s talk a bit about it while I’ve got a moment in between festivities and go over the past year and what to look forward to in the next.

2023 is going down in my ledger as the Year of Burnout. As depressing as that sounds, as reductive as it makes it all be, it really is what lives strongest in my mind when I think about the past 365 days. As we all know, I’m very hard on myself. It’s why this year became Burnout Year. Every success I accomplish fades in my mind as I consider it against this… failure, I suppose, isn’t the proper word for it. People will get mad at me if I call “having burnout” a “failure”. But in my brain, that’s what it is. I had goals and I failed to reach them because my brain refused to keep to the abusive pace I’ve kept for almost a decade. 

It’s going to take a lot of effort in 2024 to rewrite this reading of the situation. To some extent, I’m sure I’m going to be working at rewiring this mentality for quite awhile longer besides. But I have gotten things done. There have been successes, just not the sort I wrote in my schedule book at the start of 2023. I published once this year, not twice. I completed only a couple novellas, not the five I had wanted. There were multiple novel rewrites I wanted done this year. Only a few got done. Some, as it turned out, may require another rewrite entirely—my brain wasn’t working well this year, and what I managed to force out wasn’t good enough to fix what needed to be fixed.

Let’s take a minute to translate the above paragraph from its negative, downplayed bend into something most people would read it as instead: I published Ossuary, a novella so well received it saw my follower count skyrocket alongside my sales, making it one of the strongest breakaway successes of my career. I managed to write to completion three new novellas on Patreon, thus giving me enough of a editable backlog that I won’t need to write any new content for publication for at least a year or more—I’ll be able to take a very, very much needed break thanks to that, all without the pressure to create new work to publish. At long, long, long last, I finally finished the first draft of Hiraeth, the final novel in my very first series and a book I’ve been struggling to complete for about five years now. I rewrote half of Aubade, another old ass novel I’ve wanted to rework for years now. It’ll need a lot more work, but it’s now in a state that can be worked off of, not the mess I’d originally made of it back in 2016.

Even typing all of that, I’m at war with myself. It’s just… really hard to justify to myself what “success” versus “failure” is. Most people wouldn’t have been able to do even one of these things. Most writers would be lucky to have written one novella in a year, let alone the several I managed on top of the novel rewrites. I always say my resolution for each new year that passes is to feel pride in my accomplishments for once. I still haven’t figured out how to do that. Maybe this year will be the year for it. I don’t know. All I can do is try, and writing it all out helps, even if only a little.

I’m hopeful for other things for 2024, though. Things beyond my productivity and all the various things I want to produce or publish. 2023 has been… one of the hardest years of my life, to be honest. I don’t talk a ton about my personal life, but it’s been—difficult. This year, especially the last couple of months, hasn’t been easy. The political and world events aside, a lot of my friends have struggled, my family has struggled, and work has challenged me in ways that made it so difficult to come home and even think of writing that all I could do was lay down, put on a youtube video, and vegetate until the noise in my brain went silent long enough to let me sleep. 

The stress surrounding recognizing my burnout and admitting to it publicly nearly ate me alive. Stripping my Patreon of rewards related to consistent output… There were several times this year where I stared up at the dark ceiling above my bed and wondered if I really should continue writing. They say never trust anything you think about your life after nine pm. The number of times I had to remind myself of that… It was just a lot. 

But I’m hopeful. Against everything else, in spite of everything else, I’m hopeful for 2024. I’ve gone grayer than ever before, but the work I put in to reach even keel has resulted in a much more solid foundation for this new year. I no longer need to stress every month to meet my quota. The friends I worried so much about are safe, far closer than before, and thriving. My family has come together in ways we just… never did previously, and that’s something remarkable, and while work is still something I do to pay the bills, it’s coming together to actually offer me the sort of compensation that will help me achieve goals I could only dream of.

This is all very personal and lowkey sad, but it does feel good to get it out. I want to thank you all for reading these blog posts, commenting when you’re able, and just offering up kindness and attention to the efforts I’ve put in over the year. As I’ve said before, I’ve never been good at speaking to a dark auditorium and trusting that someone was listening even through the silence. The support I’ve been given means the world, and every kind word that’s been left in a comment, a review, a QRT, a reply, or just something said to me in person at a convention has gone so far in buoying my spirits when they were at their lowest. 

So, here’s to 2024. Here’s to taking it slow, taking it easy, and above all else, being kind to ourselves as we do what we can and nothing more than that. I hope you all find the space to give yourself grace in ways I’m still learning how to do, and that you’re excited for what’s yet to come—because I do have plans, just not with hard deadlines for once. 

As always, until next time.

T.D. Cloud

[frostehburr]

Finishing the Year by 100%ing Pikmin 4

Yeah, this is the last tumblr post for me in 2023.

I really didn't expect to get Pikmin 4 so soon and be able to finish it before new year. Not to say it didn't have a bit of difficulty, the dandori challenges were a pain in the ass. I'm just surprised by the amount of time I had for this game.

Recently I had to go on a business trip to California and to pass time in the hotel room, I brought a Switch with Pikmin 4. Apparently the time I spent in the hotel room over the week long trip was enough for me to 100% the game! Would love to go on trips more often but it's far too expensive.

Like previous Pikmin games, the main story involves you using pikmin to collect giant every day objects and genocide the local wildlife so the pikmin can take over and dominate the area.

Family friendly Nintendo.

Anyhow, this fourth installment... fifth?... adds the goal of rescuing tourists who came to this planet filled with lethal levels of oxygen (what do these guys breath?) for various reasons such as real estate and looking at flowers. I personally think there are better options than a planet where you're chances of death via suffocation is high but I also know a few people who actively grab venomous snakes with their bare hands so I guess preservation instincts are different between people.

Also half of these castaways turned into leaf people. The pikmin are starting to take over the tiny tiny humans!

These leaf people demand you do something called a "dandori" challenge which is just doing a specific objective in the shortest amount of time available. If you want to 100% the game, you will have to get the platinum medal for ALL dandori challenges and battles!

This is the main reason I expected to not finish the game until next year. The dandori stuff stresses me out so much! Putting a time limit on it was bad enough but grading me on how much time I use just hurts. I hate it!

One more thing, I looked it up out of curiosity and dandori is an actual Japanese word! Yeah apparently it's a word that describes the strategic organization of tasks and working efficiently to a plan...

Basically the entire concept of Pikmin as a whole. Yet I struggled with it...

So they also have a few side missions, a treasure catalogue, and a bestiary. The bestiary was filled out thanks to me running all over chucking Pikmin at anything that moved. Including a massive giant dog that shows up some time late in the game.

Side missions were mostly "find all X crew" which is easily done when completing the caves. Oh there are two that are grow 300 pikmin and make 300 pikmin bloom but those are radiant quests so I'm certain they don't count. I also had to buy all gear and Oatchi skills but I recommend getting them when you can because it makes the game go by faster.

For the treasure catalogue I needed 100 purple pikmin which you can easily do without a purple onion. Yes the purple bois got their own onion this time! However, in order to get the purple and white onion you have to go through the dandori sage trials, which were a nightmare of 10 levels on their own.

I do not think I needed to platinum the sage trials... I never did but I choose to claim that it is unnecessary. For the sake of sanity. Those trials were brutal!

After getting the purple onion I had to find a way to grow 100 purple pikmin which is rather hard to do when you wiped out everything on the maps. Leaving me with the flower pellets as my only option. Took about three days but I got to 100 purple bois and collected the gold bar, finishing the treasure catalogue!

With all that done I just have to say: Pikmin 4 is a very enjoyable game you can have loads of fun with. It's a calming type of game where you can fling plant bois to collect shiny items. However, you should never attempt to 100% complete this game. Attempting to 100% Pikmin 4 will leave you more stressed than the year 2020.

Think I fully understand why Nintendo never bothered with achievements.

[rottingmanifesto]

Some writing I did for John, just to better get a feel for his style. Can’t say I adore it but I tried! Commentary > likes. Photo credit here.

March 12

It’s humid, hot, and stinks of that fucking river in-country. New Bordeaux, Louisiana— Bourbon City, playpen of Salvatore Marcano and his family (and not just in the mob sense). If I knew Lincoln wasn’t going to burn this city to the ground, I would do it myself. The rich residents have their blood filled with Marcano’s heroin or hate and the poor ones don’t stand a damn chance at social mobility. The American Dream might as well be a nightmare to half of the residents. Southern manners my ass.

The Father’s not a big fan of me, but unfortunately for him, I’m used to it, between here and the Company. At least he’s kind enough to let me set up shop here until I can find a better place, which really isn’t saying much in a shithole of a city like this. It’s either mob-owned hotels worth ¾ of my paycheck or shitty motels in hick-controlled Hollow. But I’ve had worse. As long as it’s not another backwater hellhole, I can bear it, no matter the outcome. Until then, it’s just me and the Padre. And Lincoln, when he comes back around. (It’s not an “if”, I know that much.) And when he does, I’ll be ready.

March 27

The Padre and I agreed on a schedule to keep things running in the house. He watches Lincoln in the mornings and nights, and I take midday and late night shifts. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve fallen asleep next to Linc on those late night shifts. Need to buy more coffee. The air is always stuffy in the Padre’s house (I blame Louisianan humidity) so we open up windows sometimes. Doesn’t seem to help.

Anyway, this paperwork is a goddamn maze already. If mobsters have got one thing right, it’s their dedication to pissing off federal agents. I’d almost admire it if I wasn’t one myself.

March 30

Christ, just how many rackets does this asshole have? I’ve spent 4 days straight solely on Sal’s capos— I haven’t even had the time to look into Sal himself yet. To his credit, he sure as hell knows how to allocate resources. Then I’m here, downing the Padre’s entire fucking coffee pot pouring over tax returns from 1962. Princeton education at work.

Current findings are relatively clear at least; Lou deals with pimping and drugs, Olivia gets her highs from fucking with the Southern Union (which I’m assuming is an offshoot of the Ku Klux Klan, though I can’t say for certain), and Tommy does just about anything he can find. Public face, Southern charm, middle management. Haven’t had the opportunity to look into Enzo Conti yet, but records indicate he’s the least dickish of the Marcano family. For starters, he’s not a Marcano. That’s already a plus in my book.

All that’s left after the intel-phase is writing up dossiers on all these fuckers. Not hard by any means, but might as well keep it brief for Lincoln’s sake. And my own sanity.

I also found a place just out of reach of the Dixie Mafia (racist southern assholes, albeit the “normal” variety) on the other side of the Hollow. Considering how many times the Padre has told me to go fuck myself, it’s probably for the best that I get a room sooner rather than later. It’ll be nice to smoke without someone reciting Psalms two rooms over for once. Goal is to set up a tac-op center in one room and have the room next door to sleep. No promises that I’ll ever use that room, but it’s the thought that counts.

On that note, Lincoln’s condition appears to be stabilizing over the past 2 weeks. He’s still unconscious for the most part but he’s breathing regularly. I always knew he was thick-skulled. He’ll pull through. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here.

May 15

Just picked up information that Hoover’s fairy brigade has set up shop in New Bordeaux. Headed by some guy named Jonathan Maguire, sent here from DC to deal with the little Marcano situation. Late to the party (as always). Might pay them a visit, see what intel they’ve got already.

May 18

Finally managed to install a wire into the FBI’s tac-op center and steal their files. Really professional of them to leave it unattended, but then again, I’m the uncontrollable variable in this American experiment. So far, the files are mostly what I gathered already, but the background is sure-as-hell interesting.

1934 is the stuff of local legend. The FBI cites the “official” story as just usual mob bullshit— revenge for the murder of a family member— but there’s an issue. Sal could have gotten his father off the hook for the gambling debts if he wanted. He didn’t. What he actually wanted was to take over New Bordeaux’s increasingly divided crime underbelly. So, he used his old man’s death as a rallying cry for revenge, and then took over New Bordeaux with force and fear. Reason I bring this up; he doesn’t want his son to do the same thing he did.

June 6

Goddammit.

First it’s John Kennedy, then Martin Luther, now it’s Bobby Kennedy. How much longer will this happen? The hell is this country fighting for? The fuck do we believe in? What happened to liberty and justice for all? What happened to men being created equal?

Jesus fucking Christ, I need a smoke.

Padre was nice enough to offer me a drink. At least he believes in a better America for all. Only if more priests were like that. Then maybe things wouldn’t be like this. The Father isn’t keen on violence but at least he’s not fucking spineless.

At least Lincoln didn’t have to see this shit. That’s the one positive here. The only one.

[shamelessrabbithole]

Not the previous anon but what I feel about this label-less relationship (considering that yeah I like him and I consider him attractive, but I also have mixed opinions about how he behaves in romantic relationships) goes a bit like this. It's a dumb analogy but bear with me please. In my life (I have a legal adyacent job), I have seen many glamorous jobs with high salaries, a certain lifestyle that comes with it, many perks that come with a job, etc. But at the end of the day, it's public knowledge that people working these jobs are sitting at their desks over 60 or 70, hours a week, without being able to disconnect themselves. That's the less glamorous part of the job. Sure, you can get a fancy house and car, nice clothes and whatever with your high salary but you're also constantly exhausted. Many people straight up quit the profession after some years.

So for me, a romantic relationship with him (not that it's on my cards being able to even be acquaintances with him lol) feels a bit like seeing a fancy job offer advertised on Linkedin. I see the fancy trips, the Ludlow stays, his pool, the constant photoshoots, etc. And that's it. God knows what goes behind the scenes that isn't posted prettily on social media. He seems to have a very unique personality, maybe a bit too intense even (just from what we know about his relationship with Peyton or Sadie, maybe he doesn't know how to let go). Would I be jealous of any girl who gets the nice, fun parts of a relationship with him? Sure. But if I were in the place of the girl (Madison in this case), I'd really ask myself if the nice things are worth the possibly not so nice stuff? She has already gotten maybe one or two mean comments when she commented on the nursery post. Who knows if she got any DMs in a similar sense. Feels like even being showed off on his stories won't get her necessarily good rep. Maybe Lauren or the other girls were more used to it because they have insta profiles where tbh you see a bunch of random people either praising them over their pictures from photoshoots or just being straight up weird and creepy under a swim suit picture. Feels like Madison is used to another type of social media experience -friends and colleagues from the dancing world who are generally very kind to e/o. SO YEAH there's that. It feels like, for the sake of her mental sanity, it's best if she doesn't confirm anything. Sorry for the long ass message.

No worries about your message being long. I agree with the first half of your ask. That social media distills down the look of someone's lifestyle to only show the highlights. And the highlights of being with someone like Cam include fun travels and interesting photo shoots. But that the reality is probably more humdrum that what appears.

As for the negativity received on social media by his partners, I really don't think any of that would make a huge impact. I can imagine myself dating someone exceptional and wonderful, but a downside to that being jealous, anonymous trolls trying to make me feel bad about myself. Would I really give up an amazing relationship and life for some internet chatter? Would anyone? It's not gotten overwhelming to the point they couldn't even turn on their devices without being harrassed. And if it did ever get that bad, deactivating would've been a perfectly reasonable option.

The main issue with Cam, I think, is that he's been a performer from a very young age. He didn't have a male role model growing up, and he is very much an artist to his core. Being a boyfriend in all of the traditional ways we expect might not be in his DNA, and someone like Madison, who is also forever creating and making art and seeing the beauty in the mundane, might be perfect for him right now. It seems like an undemanding, highly encouraging relationship between two people who aren't forging a romance, so much as pushing each other to fully explore their passions.

So, that's my take on what we're seeing and why it's working for them at the moment. (I came upon this conclusion earlier today while brushing my teeth. 🦷)