#i’m usually more of a lurker | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

caelum-in-the-avatarverse · 25 days

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Fandom can do a little gatekeeping. As a treat.

So I finally decided to archive-lock my fics on AO3 last night. I’ve been considering it since the AI scrape last year, but the tipping point was this whole lore.fm debacle, coupled with some thoughts I’ve been thinking regarding Fandom These Days in general and Fandom As A Community in particular. So I wanna explain why I waited so long, why I locked my stuff up now, and why I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m a-okay with making it harder for people to see my stories.

Lurkers really are great, tho

I’m a chronic lurker, and have been since I started hanging out on the internet as a teen in the 00s. These days it’s just cuz I don’t feel a need to socialize very often, but back then it was because I was shy and knew I was socially awkward. Even if I made an account, I’d spend months lurking on message boards or forums or Livejournals, watching other people interact and getting a feel for that particular community’s culture and etiquette before I finally started interacting myself. And y’know, that approach saved me a lot of embarrassment. Over the course of my lurking on any site, there was always some other person who’d clearly joined up five minutes after learning the place existed, barged in without a care for their behavior, and committed so many social faux pas that all the other users were immediately annoyed with them at best. I learned a lot observing those incidents. Lurk More is Rule 33 of the internet for very good reason.

Lurking isn’t bad or weird or creepy. It’s perfectly normal. I love lurking. It’s hard for me to not lurk - socializing takes a lot of energy out of me, even via text. (Heck it took 12 hours for me to write this post, I wish I was kidding--) Occasionally I’ll manage longer bouts of interaction - a few weeks posting here, almost a year chatting in a discord there - but I’m always gonna end up going radio silent for months at some point. I used to feel bad about it, but I’ve long since made peace with the fact that it’s just the way my brain works. I’m a chronic lurker, and in the long term nothing is going to change that.

The thing with being a chronic lurker is that you have to accept that you are not actually seen as part of the community you are lurking in. That’s not to say that lurkers are unimportant - lurkers actually are important, and they make up a large proportion of any online community - but it’s simple cause and effect. You may think of it as “your community”, but if you’ve never said a word, how is the community supposed to know you exist? If I lurked on someone’s LJ, and then that person suddenly friendslocked their blog, I knew that I had two choices: Either accept that I would never be able to read their posts again, or reach out to them and ask if I could be added to their friends list with the full understanding that I was a rando they might not decide to trust. I usually went with the first option, because my invisibility as a lurker was more important to me than talking to strangers on the internet.

Lurking is like sitting on a park bench, quietly people-watching and eavesdropping on the conversations other people are having around you. You’re in the park, but you’re not actively participating in anything happening there. You can see and hear things that you become very interested in! But if you don’t introduce yourself and become part of the conversation, you won’t be able to keep listening to it when those people walk away. When fandom migrated away from Livejournal, people moved to new platforms alongside their friends, but lurkers were often left behind. No one knew they existed, so they weren’t told where everyone else was going. To be seen as part of a fandom community, you need to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known, etc. etc.

There’s nothing wrong with lurking. There can actually be benefits to lurking, both for the lurkers and the communities they lurk in. It’s just another way to be in a fandom. But if that is how you exist in fandom--and remember, I say this as someone who often does exist that way in fandom--you need to remember that you’re on the outside looking in, and the curtains can always close.

I’ve always been super sympathetic to lurkers, because I am one. I know there’s a lot of people like me who just don’t socialize often. I know there’s plenty of reasons why someone might not make an account on the internet - maybe they’re nervous, maybe they’re young and their parents don’t allow them to, maybe they’re in a bad situation where someone is monitoring their activity, maybe they can only access the internet from public computer terminals. Heck, I’ve never even logged into AO3 on my phone--if I’m away from my computer I just read what’s publicly available.

I know I have people lurking on my fics. I know my fics probably mean a lot to someone I don’t even know exists. I know this because there are plenty of fics I love whose writers don’t know I exist.

I love my commenters personally; I love my lurkers as an abstract concept. I know they’re there and I wish them well, and if they ever de-lurk I love them all the more.

So up until last year I never considered archive-locking my fic, because I get it. The AI scraping was upsetting, but I still hesitated because I was thinking of lurkers and guests and remembering what it felt like to be 15 and wondering if it’d be worth letting a stranger on the internet know I existed and asking to be added to their friends list just so I could reread a funny post they made once.

But the internet has changed a lot since the 00s, and fandom has changed with it. I’ve read some things and been doing some thinking about fandom-as-community over the last few years, and reading through the lore.fm drama made me decide that it’s time for me to set some boundaries.

I still love my lurkers, and I feel bad about leaving any guest commenters behind, especially if they’re in a situation where they can’t make an account for some reason. But from here on out, even my lurkers are going to have to do the bare minimum to read my fics--make an AO3 account.

Should we gatekeep fandom?

I’ve seen a few people ask this question, usually rhetorically, sometimes as a joke, always with a bit of seriousness. And I think…yeah, maybe we should. Except wait, no, not like that--

A decade ago, when people talked about fandom gatekeeping and why it was bad to do, it intersected with a lot of other things, mainly feminism and classism. The prevalent image of fandom gatekeeping was, like, a man learning that a woman likes Star Wars and haughtily demanding, “Oh, yeah? Well if you’re REALLY a fan, name ten EU novels” to belittle and dismiss her, expecting that a “real fan” would have the money and time to be familiar with the EU, and ignoring the fact that male movie-only fans were still considered fans. The thing being gatekept was the very definition of “being a fan” and people’s right to describe themselves as one.

That’s not what I mean when I say maybe fandom should gatekeep more. Anyone can call themselves a fan if they like something, that’s fine. But when it comes to the ability to enjoy the fanworks produced by the fandom community…that might be something worth gatekeeping.

See, back in the 00s, it was perfectly common for people to just…not go on the internet. Surfing the web was a thing, but it was just, like, a fun pastime. Not everyone did it. It wasn’t until the rise of social media that going online became a thing everyone and their grandmother did every day. Back then, going on the internet was just…a hobby.

So one of the first gates online fandom ever had was the simple fact that the entire world wasn’t here yet.

The entire world is here now. That gate has been demolished.

And it’s a lot easier to find us now. Even scattered across platforms, fandom is so centralized these days. It isn’t a network of dedicated webshrines and forums that you can only find via webrings anymore, it’s right there on all the big social media sites. AO3 didn’t set out to be the main fanfic website, but that’s definitely what it’s become. It’s easy for people to find us--and that includes people who don’t care about the community, and just want “content.”

Transformative fandom doesn’t like it when people see our fanworks as “content”. “Content” is a pretty broad term, but when fandom uses it we’re usually referring to creative works that are churned out by content creators to be consumed by an audience as quickly as possible as often as possible so that the content creator can generate revenue. This not-so-new normal has caused a massive shift in how people who are new to fandom view fanworks--instead of seeing fic or art as something a fellow fan made and shared with you, they see fanworks as products to be consumed.

Transformative fandom has, in general, always been a gift economy. We put time and effort into creating fanworks that we share with our fellow fans for free. We do this so we don’t get sued, but fandom as a whole actually gets a lot out of the gift economy. Offer your community a story, and in return you can get comments, build friendships, or inspire other people to write things that you might want to read. Readers are given the gift of free stories to read and enjoy, and while lurking is fine, they have the choice to engage with the writer and other readers by leaving comments or making reclists to help build the community.

And look, don’t get me wrong. People have never engaged with fanfic as much as fan writers wish they would. There has always been “no one comments anymore” wank. There have always been people who only comment to say “MORE!” or otherwise demand or guilt trip writers into posting the next chapter. But fandom has always agreed that those commenters are rude and annoying, and as those commenters navigate fandom they have the chance to learn proper community etiquette.

However, now it seems that a lot of the people who are consuming fanworks aren’t actually in the community.

I won’t say “they aren’t real fans” because that’s silly; there’s lots of ways to be a fan. But there seem to be a lot of fans now who have no interest in fandom as a community, or in adhering to community etiquette, or in respecting the gift economy. They consume our fics, but they don’t appreciate fan labor. They want our “content”, but they don’t respect our control over our creations.

And even worse--they see us as a resource. We share our work for free, as a gift, but all they see is an open-source content farm waiting to be tapped into. We shared it for free, so clearly they can do whatever they want with it. Why should we care if they feed our work into AI training datasets, or copy/paste our unfinished stories into ChatGPT to get an ending, or charge people for an unnecessary third-party AO3 app, or sell fanbindings on etsy for a profit without the author’s permission, or turn our stories into poor imitations of podfics to be posted on other platforms without giving us credit or asking our consent, while also using it to lure in people they can datascrape for their Forbes 30 Under 30 company?

And sure, people have been doing shady things with other people’s fanworks since forever. Art theft and reposting has always been a big problem. Fanfic is harder to flat-out repost, but I’ve heard of unauthorized fic translations getting posted without crediting the original author. Once in…I think the 2010s? I read a post by a woman who had gone to some sort of local bookselling event, only to find that the man selling “his” novel had actually self-published her fanfic. (Wish I could find that one again, I don’t even remember where I read it.)

But aside from that third example, the thing is…as awful as fanart/writing theft is, back in the day, the main thing a thief would gain from it was clout. Clout that should rightfully go to the creators who gifted their work in the first place, yeah, but still. Just clout. People will do a lot of hurtful things for clout, but fandom clout means nothing outside of fandom. Fandom clout is not enough to incentivize the sort of wide-scale pillaging we’re seeing from community outsiders today.

Money, on the other hand… Well, fandom’s just a giant, untapped content farm, isn’t it? Think of how much revenue all that content could generate.

Lurkers are a normal and even beneficial part of any online community. Maybe one day they’ll de-lurk and easily slide into place beside their fellow fans because they already know the etiquette. Maybe they’re active in another community, and they can spread information from the community they lurk in to the community they’re active in. At the very least, they silently observe, and even if they’re not active community members, they understand the community.

Fans who see fanworks as “content” don’t belong in the same category as lurkers. They’re tourists.

While reading through the initial Reddit thread on the lore.fm situation, I found this comment:

[ID: Reddit User Cabbitowo says: ... So in anime fandoms we have a word called tourist and essentially it means a fan of a few anime and doesn't care about anime tropes and actively criticizes them. This is kind of how fandoms on tiktok feel. They're touring fanfics and fanart and actively criticizes tropes that have been in the fandom since the 60s. They want to be in a fandom but they don't want to engage in fandom

OP totallymandy responds: Just entered back into Reddit after a long day to see this most recent reply. And as a fellow anime fan this making me laugh so much since it’s true! But it sorta hurts too when the reality sets in. Modern fandom is so entitled and bratty and you’d think it’s the minors only but that’s not even true, my age-mates and older seem to be like that. They want to eat their cake and complain all whilst bringing nothing to the potluck… :/ END ID]

“Tourist” is an apt name for this sort of fan. They don’t want to be part of our community, and they don’t have to be in order to come into our spaces and consume our work. Even if they don’t steal our work themselves, they feel so entitled to it that they’re fine with ignoring our wishes and letting other people take it to make AI “podfics” for them to listen to (there are a lot of comments on lore.fm’s shutdown announcement video from people telling them to just ignore the writers and do it anyway). They’ll use AI to generate an ending to an unfinished fic because they don’t care about seeing “the ending this writer would have given to the story they were telling”, they just want “an ending”. For these tourist fans, the ends justify the means, and their end goal is content for them to consume, with no care for the community that created it for them in the first place.

I don’t think this is confined to a specific age group. This isn’t “13-year-olds on Wattpad” or “Zoomers on TikTok” or whatever pointless generation war we’re in now. This is coming from people who are new to fandom, whose main experience with creative works on the internet is this new content culture and who don’t understand fandom as a community. That description can be true of someone from any age group.

It’s so easy to find fandom these days. It is, in fact, too easy. Newcomers face no hurdles or challenges that would encourage them to lurk and observe a bit before engaging, and it’s easy for people who would otherwise move on and leave us alone to start making trouble. From tourist fans to content entrepreneurs to random people who just want to gawk, it’s so easy for people who don’t care about the fandom community to reap all of its fruits.

So when I say maybe fandom should start gatekeeping a bit, I’m referring to the fact that we barely even have a gate anymore. Everyone is on the internet now; the entire world can find us, and they don’t need to bother learning community etiquette when they do. Before, we were protected by the fact that fandom was considered weird and most people didn’t look at it twice. Now, fandom is pretty mainstream. People who never would’ve bothered with it before are now comfortable strolling in like they own the place. They have no regard for the fandom community, they don’t understand it, and they don’t want to. They want to treat it just like the rest of the content they consume online.

And then they’re surprised when those of us who understand fandom culture get upset. Fanworks have existed far longer than the algorithmic internet’s content. Fanworks existed long before the internet. We’ve lived like this for ages and we like it.

So if someone can’t be bothered to respect fandom as a community, I don’t see why I should give them easy access to my fics.

Think of it like a garden gate

When I interact with commenters on my fic, I have this sense of hospitality.

The comment section is my front porch. The fic is my garden. I created my garden because I really wanted to, and I’m proud of it, and I’m happy to share it with other people.

Lots of people enjoy looking at my garden. Many walk through without saying anything. Some stop to leave kudos. Some recommend my garden to their friends. And some people take the time to stop by my front porch and let me know what a beautiful garden it is and how much they’ve enjoyed it.

Any fic writer can tell you that getting comments is an incredible feeling. I always try to answer all my comments. I don’t always manage it, but my fics’ comment sections are the one place that I manage to consistently socialize in fandom. When I respond to a comment, it feels like I’m pouring out a glass of lemonade to share with this lovely commenter on my front porch, a thank you for their thank you. We take a moment to admire my garden together, and then I see them out. The next time they drop by, I recognize them and am happy to pour another glass of lemonade.

My garden has always been open and easy to access. No fences, no walls. You just have to know where to find it. Fandom in general was once protected by its own obscurity, an out-of-the-way town that showed up on maps but was usually ignored.

But now there’s a highway that makes it easy to get to, and we have all these out-of-towner tourists coming in to gawk and steal our lawn ornaments and wonder if they can use the place to make themselves some money.

I don’t care to have those types trampling over my garden and eating all my vegetables and digging up my flowers to repot and sell, so I’ve put up a wall. It has a gate that visitors can get through if they just take the time to open it.

Admittedly, it’s a small obstacle. But when I share my fics, I share them as a gift with my fellow fans, the ones who understand that fandom is a community, even if they’re lurkers. As for tourist fans and entrepreneurs who see fic as content, who have no qualms ignoring the writer’s wishes, who refuse to respect or understand the fandom community…well, they’re not the people I mean to share my fic with, so I have no issues locking them out. If they want access to my stories, they’ll have to do the bare minimum to become a community member and join the AO3 invite queue.

And y’know, I’ve said a lot about fandom and community here, and I just want to say, I hope it’s not intimidating. When I was younger, talk about The Fandom Community made me feel insecure, and I didn’t think I’d ever manage to be active enough in fandom spaces to be counted as A Member Of The Community. But you don’t have to be a social butterfly to participate in fandom. I’ll always and forever be a chronic lurker, I reblog more than I post, I rarely manage to comment on fic, and I go radio silent for months at a time--but I write and post fanfiction. That’s my contribution.

Do you write, draw, vid, gif, or otherwise create? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you leave comments? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you curate reclists? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you maintain a fandom blog or fuckyeah blog? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you provide a space for other fans to convene in? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you regularly send asks (off anon so people know who you are)? Congrats, you're a community member.

Do you have fandom friends who you interact with? Congrats, you're a community member.

There’s lots of ways to be a fan. Just make sure to respect and appreciate your fellow fans and the work they put in for you to enjoy and the gift economy fandom culture that keeps this community going.

#ao3 #lore.fm #fanfiction #fandom history #gift economy #caelum rambles

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kpop · 2 months

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K-Pop Spotlight: DAY6

Come one, come all to a K-Pop Spotlight that is sure to dazzle and delight ’til the final curtain. This week, all eyes are on DAY6 following the release of their eighth mini-album, Fourever, and brand new title track, "Welcome to the Show." We caught up with the band to discuss their goals as they approach their 10th anniversary and their ever-growing connection to their fans through their music. Check out our full interview below!

Tracks like “Welcome to the Show,” “The Power of Love,” and “Get The Hell Out” seem to have very different themes. Can you tell us a little about how these songs relate to each other and what aspects make this album cohesive?

SUNGJIN: As we pursue the idea of being a 'band that sings every moment,' it seems like our albums, including the recent one, prioritize diversity in songs and situations rather than unity. Consequently, our albums contain various genres and narratives. However, there seems to be a commonality in most songs, depicting situations that everyone has either gone through or might experience.

Young K: First and foremost, I would say this album is a compilation of the best songs we could create. There's definitely a theme of love running through it. "Welcome to the Show," "The Power of Love," and "Get The Hell Out" all talk about the concept of love.

What goes into creating titles for DAY6 songs and albums, especially those that don’t come directly from your lyrics? Do you find it hard to condense the intentions and themes of a song into a title?

Young K: While there have been cases like that, all the songs on this album came from the lyrics. Sometimes, when choosing a title, we select the one that best describes the song—other times, we choose to give it a twist or make it more intriguing.

WONPIL: Naming songs involves a lot of deliberation. We often contemplate which title will catch the eye and capture the song's essence. Usually, we try to take it from a verse in the chorus. This can be a challenging part of the songwriting process.

Is there a creative project you’ve always wanted to work on but haven’t gotten the chance/found the time?

SUNGJIN: I'm very curious, and have a principle of "trying to experience as much as possible." There are so many things I want to try musically and personally, especially among the things I know but haven't tried yet.

DOWOON: I hope we can have a song that we can collaborate on with My Day, like a choir.

What does your work/studio setup look like? Where do you feel the most creatively inspired?

DOWOON: We try to keep the studio as tidy as possible and make it comfortable for practice sessions.

WONPIL: When working on songs, we talk a lot. We get inspiration from little conversations, joking around, sharing stories, and listening to music from various eras regardless of genre while giving opinions. We also try to build emotional connections with the songs. There’s a lot of communication going on. The songwriting process takes place in the studio of our long-time collaborator, composer Hong Jisang, with whom we've been working together since our debut.

How do you want to evolve as a musician/producer?

Young K: I want to be eagerly anticipated and awaited as an artist. Without those who wait for us, we wouldn't release or even step onto the stage. So I’m always thankful for My Day.

WONPIL: My biggest goal is to make good music for My Day and the public, so I think I'll continue to ponder. When working on songs, I pour my sincerity into them. I constantly strive to express this sincerity musically, fully capturing the emotions I want to convey. I hope to create songs that can still be listened to even after 10 or 20 years.

Design your own Tumblr blog: choose an aesthetic, a blog name, and would you be a frequent poster or lurker?

SUNGJIN: I think I’ll use it to catch up on friends' updates. For the blog name, THUMB BLUR sounds good to me. I might end up being a lurker who never posts.

DOWOON: Maybe a blog for plants? I think I'll post it like a diary.

Want more DAY6? Check out their new mini album Fourever and the music video for the title track “Welcome to the Show,” both out now!

#day6 #day6 kpop spotlight #kpop spotlight

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letoasai · 1 year

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dp x dc

I’m usually more of a lurker in this fandom, you know? But this happened and it just needed to be written down. If someone wants to take the idea or continue it, go for it! Prompt - Consort

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Danny is told that while he is officially the Ghost King, there are a few last minute things to check off the list to keep the Observants from being able to mess with Danny's business. Clockwork even subtly confirms that this is something Danny should consider carefully. Being able to keep them in check is important.

While not keen on a to-do list, Danny sighs and trusts that Clockwork is ultimately giving him less work.

He spends a few years doing odds and ends. Whatever task Clockwork mentions and it honestly suits Danny fine. It’s giving him time to grow into his position. It’s going well, that is until he learns that in his last task he has to consummate his newly acquired position in a very traditional way. With someone else...

That's bad enough, but it's thrown out to him that he must do this with one of his own kind. It's never been an issue before since The Ghost King is usually... a ghost and can pick whoever they want in the Zone.

Danny however is a halfa and because he's only one of three halfa's he's forced to pick between Vlad and Dani. A fruit loop and his clone/sister. The first is horrifying on many levels and the second is just plain unappealing. It's not happening, nope.

It's practically a miracle that before Danny can completely fall into panic, Clockwork mentions the existence of a forth halfa.

It doesn't matter who they are, it HAS to be better then his current options. That's how Danny ends up in Gotham.

"I can't believe you went without us." Sam complained. "We could have gone with you. What if you need help?"

"I don't think Gotham is ready for ghost powers, Sam." Tucker commented. "Any trouble he runs into won't know what hit them."

"Could you both stop wishing trouble on me?" Danny asked, he should have known he'd get ganged up on when he had them both on the phone at once. He was looking around and had noticed how he wasn't headed to the...best of neighborhoods. Had he not had ghost powers he might have turned right around.

He'd gotten a fairly nice hotel room for the long weekend in a somewhat nice area. All of Gotham looked pretty damn bleak to him but at least he could easily survive in a place like this. There was so much ambient ectoplasm in the air that he was, frankly, surprised he hadn't spotted more ghosts. It was all to his benefit though.

"Wishing?" Tucker chuckled, the sound of his keyboard clicking on the other side of the call. "It'll find you whether we wish it or not."

"And then you'll be able to say you got to fight in Gotham." Sam lamented.

"So this isn't about me not bringing you along to help me find this halfa, but because you just wanted to see this city in particular?"

"Little bit."

Tucker started laughing. "Damn, Sam. Nothing's stopping you from visiting."

"There absolutely is." Sam grumbled. "Their names are Jeremy and Pam." "We're graduating soon, Sam." Danny commented. "After both your eighteen birthday and graduation you'll find your freedom."

"And possibly your way out of their living will." Tucker commented, but Sam only snickered at the thought.

"That doesn't help me today. Danny's out in one of the coolest cities ever on a quest to get laid, and we’re stuck having a boring weekend." "Sam." Danny hissed as if someone else could have possibly over heard their conversation. This entire situation was beyond awkward. He didn't even know how to start. Hi, you're a halfa too? Wild? Wanna sleep with me so i can make sure my position isn't puppeteered? "What? That's literally why you're there." Sam was back to being amused, conveniently forgetting for a second that she wasn't with him in Gotham. "You're not gonna seduce anyone with that attitude." "I'm not trying-!" "Aren't you supposed to be though?" She hummed. "Gotta put that charm to work, Phantom." "Oh shut up..." Danny grumbled. If this halfa immediately pegged him as king, would they feel obligated to sleep with him? Ugh, this was the worst. If the ghost he was tracking lived in this neighborhood then it was no wonder he was half dead... "I mean, the wording of this could mean anything." Tucker commented right as the clicking stopped. He'd shown his to-do list to Sam and Tucker ages ago, and this hurdle had always seemed so daunting. "Go forth and find what's just. A night of bliss and trust. A match for your soul in desire. A second coming to conspire." Tucker repeated the lines. "Man, someone did not take a poetry class." Danny just made a face, so sick of the instructions that even making fun of it didn't help anymore. "And you think that can mean anything?" Sam hummed quietly. "I guess you were told it was a basic innuendo so that's what you hear. It’s what we all heard." "Yeah, it doesn't say go fuck." Tucker said. "Could just mean you could hang out for a night and vibe. Video games. Take out." Danny made a face. "I can't see me doing that with Vlad either." "I should fucking hope not." He could practically see Sam's disgusted face. "Okay but that still doesn't make sense. I gotta hang out with another halfa? Why? Why would that block the Observants and their never ending input?" Danny wondered. "No idea." Tucker relented, "But it's worth a shot. right? You can always hang out first and see if it works. If it doesn't... well then you know what you gotta do." "Flirt. Bend over and show your butt. It's eye catching." "Sam..." Danny sighed, this was exhausting. She clucked her tongue. "It's good advice. Even Paulina did a double take last week." Danny just made an irritated sound in his throat, nearly tripping over a destroyed section of the side walk. All the businesses nearby had bars across their windows as extra security and more and more people seemed to loiter. "So glad that ship has sailed." Young crushes were painful. "It could also mean cuddling?" Tucker offered. "How'd you make that leap?" Sam asked. "Guys." Danny interrupted suddenly, his ghost sense chilling him. "I'll call you guys back. I might have tracked them down." "Don't forget!" Tucker said, tone only slightly accusatory. Sam just made a noise of agreement. "We'll want the whole play by play." "Well... maybe not the whole play by play." Tucker added, but Danny just hung up on them. His support system was filled with bullies. See if they got their Gotham tee-shirts now! Danny turned down an alleyway, not sure just yet what he was following but it felt fairly powerful. So far he'd seen mostly shades and remnants of what was. He was left to try to find this halfa the same way he had to track down Dani when looking for her, and that usually meant looking for a big source. When he took a turn and nearly walked right into an obvious drug deal, he inhaled sharply and turned invisible. The dealer had looked up at the sound but brushed it off a moment later when he didn't see anyone rounding the corner. Gotham was nuts but at least they weren't clowns. Deciding it really was within his best interest, Danny transformed completely, staying invisible for the time being as he followed his ghost sense through the scary part of town. Minutes felt like hours but he spotted a dude coming closer on a motorcycle and Danny's skin felt like it was vibrating. The halfa was a guy, okay. Danny could work with that, he really could. Even sitting on the bike, the guy looked a head taller than Danny. All the ghost powers in the world couldn't take away him inheriting his mothers build. For fucks sake, did he have to become evil to bulk up?! Danny flew closer, wanting to get a good look, only to have his vision impeded by a red helmet. When the bike swerved and the rider looked around around, likely sensing him, Danny backed off. His jaw was already hanging open in disbelief. Red Hood. That was Red Hood. Red Hood was a halfa?! Okay, he was the freaking Ghost King. When was that memo gonna land on his desk. Holy crap. Was he actually going to ask Red Hood to have sex ...er... platonically hang out with him? Danny's face was going to explode with heat. He flew away, watching him from the sky. Red Hood slowly brushed off whatever he had felt from Danny and rode on, making only a few more turns before stopping at an apartment building that Danny wouldn't have thought was still in use. This had secret lair written all over it. Danny followed, waited, watched. Of course he knew all about the vigilantes of Gotham but he hadn't really expected to run into any of them. Honestly, what were the odds? What did he do? Red Hood was technically a killer but he'd met more then one ghost who'd been avenged. It caused mixed feelings really. After two hours of nothing, a guy walked out of the same apartment. This time in street clothes. Same build, same height, same half energy. Crap. There goes that secret identity. Danny didn't know his name but he knew what he looked like. Dark hair, that curl of white in the front. Light eyes. Permanent looking frown and... Well now, Danny was frowning too. Something about his energy was off putting. Twisted. Wrong. Well... that would need to be looked into. From afar, Danny watched him go about his evening which involved stopping into those little stores and checking on people. Those people seemed to greet him with a friendly smile and know him somewhat well. Danny also got the impression that none of these people knew he was Red Hood, though he wasn't sure it would have mattered if they had. Red Hood was a crime lord but this was his territory... his haunt. Danny wasn't quite sure how this was both incredibly confusing while making all the sense in the world. He'd have an attitude too if his ectoplasm was all jacked up. What was he supposed to do? Suddenly if felt so presumptuous to show up at this guys doorstep to ask for such a favor from a stranger. He could leave and figure something else out, but the guy clearly needed help too. Maybe they could work out a trade or something. Danny felt torn about the whole damn thing and only decided to suck it up and act like an adult when his alternative was to call Jazz and ask for advice and he was not asking his sister about this. He flew ahead of the guy, making it back to his apartment first. He turned human again and sat on the stoop to wait for him. Internally he went over his lines in his head, what he would say, what parts he could leave out but all of that stopped when a shadow towered over him. The guy somehow seemed so much bigger in person. "You alright, kid?" he asked, there was the strange mix of concern and suspicion on his face. "There's housing up the street if you need someplace to go. They take anyone." "Oh uh..." His haunt had a place like that? Cool. So much for all those lines he’d been rehearsing. "I wanted to talk to you, actually. If you have a second?" He raised a brow but gestured to Danny with a nod to continue. Guess they were doing this out here then. "Okay, this is going to sound strange as hell but i've been looking for another halfa to help me with something. It's like.. a stupid huge favor and, fuck i hate even calling it a favor because that sounds weird. I also wanted to say up front that you can totally turn me down too, this isn't like, a demand or anything." Danny started talking, and couldn't seem to stop. His nerves were getting the better of him along side this guys emotions which were confused and itching with something aggravating. "It's not like i wrote this particular law either. I'm not even sure why i agreed to this shit but i've seen bad alternatives before a-" "What the fuck are you talking about, kid?" he interrupted. "Rude. I am actually eighteen." Danny grumbled. His eyes narrowed. Did he think he was lying about his age? "You sure about that?" "Yeah, my birthday is the same day every year." Danny deadpanned, almost getting a smile. "Let me start over, um, my name is Danny." he stood but didn't offer his hand because this guy didn't look like he'd take it. "And i've been looking for you." "Right i sorta got that, but why?" Danny could already feel his ears turning red. "Okay, hear me out because this sound fucking awful. I need to sleep with a halfa." Just rip that baid-aid off right?

Red Hood's frown was back full force. Guess he was still Red Hood since he didn't offer a name. "What the fuck is a halfa?" Danny short circuited. Was it possible this guy didn't know? "Okay." Danny said slowly. "Backing up and starting over again. Did you... You... You know you died once, right?" He scowled. "Yeah, i was there. How the fuck do you know that?" "Oh good, we don't gotta go back that far. Okay. Okay, so a halfa is someone that died. Like me." He gestured to himself. "Who came back. Someone who is half dead and half alive. There's only four of us. I have to sleep with one because of some political bullshit and i know how desperate that has to sound to you but i absolutely can not sleep with my sister or a fruit loop that wants to marry my mom." Red Hood stepped closer, a large hand wrapping around Danny’s bicep and pulling him along with him towards his door. It was opened long enough for the two of them to slip through and then shut and locked again. "Alright, lets unpack everything that just left your mouth and start to pick out the sane verses insane pieces." He said, somewhat exasperated. He was unhappy. Very unhappy. Danny had to hide a wince, guess Hood wasn’t ready to talk about his death. Jazz would be pissed, he needed to learn to be more sensitive about these things. "You're half dead?" "And so are you." Danny said. "Haven't you noticed any ghost abilities?" "Any what...?" Distress. That was an odd reaction. Danny looked around, there wasn't much furniture but there was a couch and Danny made a show of going intangible and walking right through it. "Anything like that?" Red Hood was frowning. "No. Look. Half dead and half alive sounds more like a zombie to me. Where are you getting this ghost shit? How did you find me at all?" "Ghost sense." He scowled. "Of course." Danny sighed a little, biting his lip and brushing a piece of hair from his face. "Okay, this is my fault. I'm bad at explaining and i'm sorta having too many conversations at once. Lets start with you. You ever seen like.. glowy green sludge?" His scowl deepened, for a second there was true hatred etched into his face but it wasn't directed at Danny. The suspicion and distrust however were. "What do you have to do with the Lazarus Pit?" Danny blinked, it was evidently his turned to be confused. "The what?" "The green shit, kid. The Lazarus Pit. It's what did this shit to me. What drives me insane." Danny frowned. "The green sludge is ectoplasm, which we need. It shouldn't hurt you, but if it did...could explain why you feel so twisted up inside." He scoffed. "Twisted up, that's the kindest way anyone has ever put it. I don’t need someone elses insane ramblings on top of what i already got in my head. So if you're looking for a fuck, go somewhere else." "Okay." Danny muttered, he'd known that could be an option. "But would you let me see if i could straighten out to ectoplasm anyway? I think i can help at least a little and uh, i think your's is trying to eat away at your soul which is...bad?" Hood actually dropped onto the couch, looking beyond done with this day. "Do you think you there's anything i haven't tried?" "I bet you have." Danny said, stepping closer. "But my ectoplasm is healthy and isn't trying to eat me. You don't really have anything to lose, do you?" Trustme. Trustme. His expression was nearly murderous and Danny could taste the rage. It seemed like he was having a hard time controlling it, and the more Danny looked, the more he was blaming the tainted ectoplasm. It even seemed to block some of the calm Danny was pushing towards him. "Kid, you have no idea what you're -" Danny stepped closer, hands on Red Hood's chest. He could feel the faint humming of a drowning core, trying to breath through the toxicity that had been forced into his body. Danny added his own ectoplasm to the mix, a sort of ghost transfusion. Ghost King privileges came with a wide aura and a lot of energy. There was a shudder, and the difference was almost instantaneous. The tainted ectoplasm had tried to rear up, tried to roll into rage and snowball but Danny just had more to work with. Danny didn't remember kneeling in front of his new acquaintance, or shutting his eyes, or shifting into his ghost form. He was however, aware of his core tuning into Red Hood's, trying to coax it to life...so to speak. He didn't know what it would have been like, a half ghost but confined only to his human side. Maybe if he'd never known any better it wouldn't have mattered to him but the thought of it now was suffocating,

There was a moment when Danny suddenly felt Hood’s confusion. It seems like he was finally picking up on Danny’s silent messages.

"What did you do?" Red Hood asked, sounding tired, but far less hostile. "You made it quiet. You're also..glowing." Danny looked up at him with a nervous laugh. "Well, i did say i could fix it. This fix is kinda temporary but I know Frostbite can fix it for you permanently. I'll talk to him." He reached up and rubbed at his eyes, "...Thanks...." "No problem Hood." His eyes jerked up and Danny just smiled. "I won't tell anyone..." He hissed in soft irritation but it didn’t match his emotions. He was still riding the high of being in control of that rage. "So i did feel you following me earlier? I swear there was something around." Danny nodded once. "Had to be sure you were who i thought you were... and all..." Excuse. Excuse... Red Hood shook his head. "My name's Jason. I have a hundred questions minimum about this half ghost thing." "I could probably answer most of them?" Danny offered, realizing he was still on his knees in front of Jason and quickly getting up, a cold blush coloring his face as he shifted back into his human form. Jason watched him, brow quirking again but he seemed so much more relaxed now that the tension was drained out of him and the taint to his ectoplasm was quiet. It almost made him seem a little younger too, not that Danny would have pegged him any older than early twenties, if that. Maybe he was still a teenager too. "Halfa's... You said there were four of us?" Jason asked cautiously. "Yeah." Danny sat on the other end of the couch. "My sister who is also my clone, and Vlad. Billionaire asshole who's a major creep." "Clone. You have an interesting life." "That's a lot coming from Red Hood." Jason snorted. "Fair." he paused, proving he'd been listening to all the jumbled up words Danny had been spurting. "Why do you have to sleep with a halfa?" "Aah..." Danny's face went hot again. "So...i..." he paused. "Okay this all sounds bad. I defeated the Ghost King in combat, making me the new Ghost King." Jason brow arched again, "Kudos." "Thank you? Anyway... there's a lot of stupid... add on rules. I didn't make them. Hell i don't even know them all. Some ancient jerk just tells me one at a time. Usually with bad timing which is stupid because he basically is time." "And one of them is fucking?" "Ugh." Danny actually groaned, head falling into his hands. "Someone of my own kind and there's only us four..." he spoke into his hands. "Sucks." "Little bit, yeah." Danny looked up at him, hoping Jason wasn’t actually feeling any of Danny’s nerves or embarrassment. "My friend has a theory that it might not mean sex exactly and might be more of a proximity thing." Jason didn't look overly convinced. "And you decided to try that with some guy you don't know over your clone?" Danny blinked, brain crashing. If he could have just had a sleep over with Dani and avoided all of this... certain ghosts were going to get banished from the Infinite Realm. "Didn't think of that did you?" Jason snickered suddenly and Danny just groaned again. "No.... She's like my sister, i just completely wrote it off." He was going to die... again. This time of embarrassment. Jason laughed softly, the sound not used very often these days. "I mean, i guess i get that. Some times things are easier when you're family isn't involved." "You can say that again..." Danny muttered. Jason leaned back on his spot on the couch, watching Danny with something like amusement in his eyes. He was...so different without the tainted ectoplasm gnawing on his soul. He was finally relaxing. "Well, your Majesty. Would this get me a favor with the king?" Danny's blush stretched down his neck. "Don't call me that. It's too weird." "Nope." Jason was grinning now. "Too much fun. You are way too easy to fluster for a guy that just popped up to ask for sex." "That's not-...!..." Danny winced. "I mean you said no, so that's that." "Changing my mind." Jason said instead, attuned to Danny's look of surprise. Ah, fuck he was definitely able to read Danny now. "Besides. "I have a hundred questions, remember? I'm sure we can mange between rounds." "Rounds?" Danny mouthed the word but no sound came out. Okay, it wasn't a big deal if his heart stopped beating but he was pretty sure it just did. Yeah, it stopped. "O..okay." He attempted, but it just seemed to endear him more as Jason moved again, his time leaning closer. Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could handle this. It was why he was here. Jason tugged on Danny’s hair. “It changes. Black to white. That’s cool. Kinda wanna see it more.”

Okay, hot guy in his personal space, he could not handle this. “It uh..yeah. Does that. Alive verses dead i guess. I’ll show you once your ectoplasm is worked out. I don’t see why you wouldn’t gain abilities too once your core is sorted out.” “You really love to say words without context, don’t you?” Jason said and his amusement was loud. “I guess... i get ahead of myself.” Danny muttered, unable to make eye contact as Jason slid closer. This was not his first kiss. What was going on with him? "It’s alright, i’m a quick learner. Besides, i really want to say thank you for you clearing my mind, even if it is temporary." Jason muttered. He’d been screaming for help but no one had ever heard him before. "We will get that fixed." Danny promised, voice just as quiet. "First thing tomorrow, if you want." "Second thing." Jason said, reaching out to cup Danny's cheek this time before drawing him closer to kiss. Danny didn't think you could see stars in Gotham but he was sure seeing them now. ~~~~ ~~~~

I kinda wonder who’s going to tell Danny he just found a consort. My money’s on Frostbite.... ...As for who tell’s Jason?....That’s Dani barging in to meet her new brother in law Hope you enjoyed this, feel free to add whatever you want.

Master List

#dc x dp crossover #danny phantom #danny phantom x jason todd #Jason Todd #Red Hood #Clockwork spent years setting Danny up for this #consort #my writing #dc comics #Sam and Tucker think this is hilarious #They'll never let Danny live this down #how Danny met his boyfriend #politely asking for sex #crossover #danny phantom/jason todd #Don't tell Jazz

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yourpenpaldee · 9 days

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·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION.

I don't usually put myself out there as it makes me nervous. But I've been a lurker for way too long, and it's about time I step out of my comfort zone. So, hello! I'm Dee (she/her), twenty-two, and have found my voice with storytelling.

Writing has always been a passion of mine, and continues to be the tool I turn to when I need an outlet to freely express myself. I have, unfortunately, hit a rough patch with consistency, and I'm here to bring all of that motivation and inspiration back. Especially since there are one too many WIPs sitting on the backburner, and they're all calling my name.

As someone who loves to dip their toes into every genre of fiction, I will read anything that peaks my interest. However, when it comes to creating, my works usually fall under romance and mystery. With practice, I intend on branching out into other genres I don't write often. There's a lot to explore in the world of writing, and I don't want to limit myself to only two categories.

Creating this blog provides me the space I need to accomplish the many goals I often dream of achieving. I acknowledge that it all starts with the ability to hold myself accountable. To show up for myself. To become comfortable with the uncomfortable. Putting myself and my projects out into the world is only the first of many steps, and it feels quite liberating.

I aim to use the voice I've found to not only contribute to the progression of POC representation, but to touch on several topics that remain heavily stigmatized in today's media. There’s a joy that runs through my veins every time I see someone like me on my screen or in a book. I feel seen, heard, and proud. I feel important. But as a creator, there’s that itch that can only be scratched when I create. When I make something that lets the next person know that they’re not invisible. That they're valued, loved, and appreciated. That's what I hope for when someone reads a project of mine. For them to feel the same rush of joy flowing through them as it does me.

Wow, I’m a yapper. I'd like to close this intro off with some fun facts, so here are some of my top five favorites with sidenotes because I still want to yap a bit more about the things I adore.

SOLO ARTISTS:

ARI LENNOX ✧ ˚ · . CHOCOLATE POMEGRANATE — GET CLOSE — GOAT — POF — UP LATE

HALSEY ✧ ˚ · . 100 LETTERS — I HATE EVERYBODY — NIGHTMARE — ROMAN HOLIDAY — THE LIGHTHOUSE

HOPE TALA ✧ ˚ · . CHERRIES — EDEN — I CAN'T EVEN CRY — LEAVE IT ON THE DANCEFLOOR — SUNBURN

MELANIE MARTINEZ ✧ ˚ · . ALPHABET BOY — DEAD TO ME — EVIL — NOTEBOOK — STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

HALIMA ✧ ˚ · . DOWNTOWN — FORD CARDINAL — IF LOVE WAS GREEN — SAMANTHA — TALK

BANDS:

5 SECONDS OF SUMMER ✧ ˚ · . AIRPLANES — BETTER MAN — KILL MY TIME — LONG WAY HOME — TEARS!

FALL OUT BOY ✧ ˚ · . BANG THE DOLDRUMS — CHICAGO IS SO TWO YEARS AGO — HEADFIRST SLIDE INTO COOPERSTOWN ON A BAD BET — NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER — WHERE DID THE PARTY GO

FLO ✧ ˚ · . CARDBOARD BOX — FLY GIRL — IMMATURE — SUITE LIFE (FAMILIAR) — WALK LIKE THIS

PARAMORE ✧ ˚ · . BIG MAN, LITTLE DIGNITY — CAUGHT IN THE MIDDLE — FRANKLIN — MISGUIDED GHOST — PART II

THE INTERNET ✧ ˚ · . DONTCHA — HOLD ON — LOOK WHAT U STARTED — SOMTHING'S MISSING — SPECIAL AFFAIR

GAMES:

CORAL ISLAND ✧ ˚ · . IF I START LISTING NAMES, I'M GOING TO MENTION EVERYONE. BUT I'M A LOYAL MARK GIRL. AND NOAH... AND MILLIE, EVA, BEN, Y—

DISNEY DREAMLIGHT VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . THIS IS SUCH A COMFORT GAME THAT SOOTHES MY INNER CHILD.

DON'T STARVE [TOGETHER] ✧ ˚ · . I MAY OR MAY NOT STILL SUCK AT THIS GAME AFTER A SOLID THREE YEARS, BUT I'M A WIGFRID MAIN.

STARDEW VALLEY ✧ ˚ · . I LOVE SEBASTIAN AND LEAH, AND I WILL DIE ON THIS HILL IF I HAVE TO.

THE SIMS 4 ✧ ˚ · . WHERE I SPEND A LOT MORE TIME IN CREATE-A-SIM AND BUILD MODE COMPARED TO PLAYING THE ACTUAL GAME.

TROPES:

FAKE RELATIONSHIP ✧ ˚ · . MHM... JUST SAY YOU LIKE EACH OTHER ALREADY.

FATED MATE ✧ ˚ · . I'M A BIT PICKY ABOUT THIS TROPE THOUGH. THINGS TEND TO MOVE VERY QUICKLY BUT I ENJOY IT NONETHELESS.

FRIENDS TO LOVERS ✧ ˚ · . A CLASSIC THAT DOESN'T NEED AN EXPLANATION.

REUNION ✧ ˚ · . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WERE CHILDHOOD FRIENDS AND THEY REMINISCE OLD MEMORIES, OH MY GOODNESS. I EAT THIS TROPE UP EVERY TIME.

SLOWBURN ✧ ˚ · . NO DOUBT THIS IS MY MOST FAVORITE TROPE. THE BUILDUP TO EVEN THE TINIEST PIVOTAL MOMENT ALWAYS MAKES MY HEART THUMP.

TV SHOWS:

CRIMINAL MINDS ✧ ˚ · . YES, I’LL WATCH ALL 16 SEASONS FOR THE MILLIONTH TIME AND FALL IN LOVE WITH PRENTISS EACH TIME. WE WERE ALSO ROBBED OF BEARDED HOTCH CONTENT.

BRIDGERTON ✧ ˚ · . DO I CRY EVERY TIME I WATCH GEORGE AND CHARLOTTE'S STORY? YES. WILL I CONTINUE TO REWATCH IT AND RECITE THE LINES EVERY TIME SOMETHING REMINDS ME OF IT? ASOLUTELY.

THE BEAR ✧ ˚ · . I WISH I KNEW OF AYO EDEBIRI BEFORE THIS SHOW BECAUSE THAT WOMAN IS AMAZING??? LIKE, HELLO???

THE EQUALIZER ✧ ˚ · . *mini spoiler* STILL CAN'T STOP THINKING OF DANTE'S GRIN WHEN HE GOT TO SEE MEL, ROB, AND HARRY'S LITTLE WORK SPOT FOUR SEASONS LATER.

SWEET MAGNOLIAS ✧ ˚ · . HELEN, MADDIE, AND DANA SUE IS HOW I PICTURE MY FRIENDS AND I IN THE FUTURE. MARGARITA NIGHTS, BEING AUNTIES TO EACH OTHER'S CHILDREN, UGH. I LOVE THEM WHOLEHEARTEDLY.

And that concludes this introduction on me and this blog. I would love to connect and befriend other authors, so please don't hesitate to reach out as my DMs will always be open! I'd love to support and read your works, so don't be hesitant to share them with me if you'd like.

I hope you all will enjoy reading my works as much as I enjoy the process of bringing my ideas to life.

divider creds to strangergraphics ♡

#writeblr #blog intro #writeblr intro #writeblr community #writing community #writing on tumblr #writers on tumblr #writing #authors #writers #i did not expect for this to get as long as it did my oh my

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littleraskle · 22 days

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The Discussion

I need help/ advice on how to do this.

Situation: currently I am in a traditional relationship (M 27 & F 28). We have been dating for 2 years and living together for 1. I have been successfully repressing the urge to wear diapers or purchase any more by being more of a lurker in the community living vicariously through other peoples stories and interactions. Recently that urge has been stronger than usual. I foolishly thought that over time these feelings would go away but they have not. When it comes to diapers I am more of a DL than an AB. I like to wear casually, have a onesie or two, wear to the movies or out to eat, but I’m not really into playing with baby toys, bottles, or being treated like an infant. I am terrified that if I tell her about this she will run for the hills and we will lose everything we’ve worked hard to build over the past years.

Question: is there anyone out there that has had a similar experience ( super secret DL life) and had to tell a partner about it? Any inquires are welcome,

#ab/dl community #ab/dl #ab/dl couple #md/lb #diaperboy #ab/dl boy #ab/dl babyboy #ab/dl lifestyle

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artemish · 8 months

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Sous chef | opla!Sanji x fem!Reader

word count: 2.1k

genre/tags: Sanji x reader; first-person pov; fluff; pining (but is it mutual??); angst; hurt/comfort; friends to lovers

warnings: mild ptsd; mild trauma

summary: A restless night at sea turns into one of revelations, as the reader finds that the depths of the ocean are much like a certain chef’s heart…

a/n: Hello opla girlies! First time fanfic writer here!!

I am ever the lurker on this website, but something inside me changed when I started watching One Piece, and now I’m down bad for this crew (specifically for the hot cook)

So I thought I’d give it a shot, write a bit of fanfic and see where it goes! I’ve finished the live action and currently watching the anime, so my interpretation of Sanji is quite mixed, however I tried to stay closer to opla!Sanji. I’ve also left this open ended cos I might write more (who knows hehehe)

Shoutout to @honnelander for inspiring me to write again ☺️ (please read her go fish! series if you haven’t!! It’s great!!)

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰!

(。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Sanji often stayed up late during those long nights at sea, prepping for the next day's meals, making notes of what had been used and taking stock of the ingredients that were left.

It was almost obsessive at times, desperate even.

He ignored everyone’s concern for him to just take it easy and go to sleep, even Nami’s, and refused to give us an explanation.

He would count every last bean, every last grain of rice or drop of water that he could, and he had tried many times but failed to make an accurate record (mostly because Luffy would lessen the supplies significantly).

I hadn’t really understood his habit, until one night, when the waves were particularly rough and I was disturbed from my sleep.

Usually, rough waters didn’t bother me too much, but I was already quite restless that night and had only truly been half asleep.

My mind was a blazing mess from all the thoughts that had been looping endlessly through it.

Thoughts of him.

I sat up on the futon. My hair draped in a tangled mess around my face and over my shoulders.

I looked across at Nami, her back facing towards me, breathing deeply as she slept.

I envied her ease.

I hauled myself out of the bed and straightened the silk nightgown I was wearing. I slipped on the woven shawl I had laid out over my blanket and made my way down the corridor, towards the kitchen.

The waves had picked up their brutality and began to batter the ship quite hard, so that it swayed violently from side to side.

Gripping the sides of the walls and trying to match the sway, I wondered how everyone could sleep so peacefully.

The ship moaned and croaked as it continued to sway.

I stumbled into the kitchen just as it crashed against the starboard side hard, pushing the ship port.

The force took me by surprise, causing me to lose my grip of the wall and my footing.

I tumbled through the doorway, and slammed hard against the stack of barrels in the corner.

The momentum of the ship turned once more. Lurching towards the right again, I slid off the barrel and slammed face first onto the ground.

“Ah shit!” I yelped. All traces of sleep had officially left me.

“Luffy, that better not be you,” came a brash voice from the darkness, “and if it is, you best be walking out that door right now.”

“Ack, Sanji?”

In the dull light, I saw the concerned face of the cook instantly pop around the counter.

“Y/n! Gods, are you alright?”

He moved swiftly to where I was laying and gently lifted me up.

“You're alright now, love. C’mon up. That’s it, easy”

He swung my arm around his neck and held my waist tightly as he led me to the bench seating on the other side of the kitchen counter.

Despite the daze I was in, I still felt my heart quicken, at his firm grip on my waist and at the ease with which he picked me up.

“Sanji, what are you doing up?” I whispered, not because I was trying to be quiet, but because the knock had left me completely winded.

He sat me down and wrapped my shawl around me tightly, rubbing my shoulders as he did, and kneeled down in front of me.

“Are you okay? Look at my fingers, how many do you see? Are you cut anywhere, y/n? Do you have a concussion? Do you want some water, tea? What do you need, I’ll get it for you, anything you nee-”

“Sanji,” I said, holding my hand firmly on his mouth to keep him quiet, “I’m alright.”

I squeezed his shoulder, as I saw a sigh of relief wash over his face. “You really got to stop treating me like some princess you know.”

“Madam, you are the loveliest person to ever grace this ship. I would hate it if I couldn’t bask in your beauty everyday.”

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” But I could feel my stomach fluttering at his words.

He grinned, “madam, someone as lovely as you deserves to hear it said often.”

I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up!”

He laughed. He looked so soft in the light of the lantern.

“You didn’t answer my question by the way.”

“What question?” he asked, as he got up to sit next to me.

“Why are you awake?”

He turned his face away from me and shifted uneasily on the bench. “Why does it matter?”

“Sanji, why are you awake, really? What is it that you’re not telling us? You know I’ve lost track of how many times Luffy’s found you asleep in here because you’ve been up doing… well, whatever you do. What’s going on?”

He let out a deep sigh as he turned back around to face me, looking at me through the flop of blonde hair that covered half his face. He bit his lip hard and dropped his head, defeated it would seem.

The ship continued to sway and croak and groan, as the silence between us grew.

He looked small, afraid. I reached out to hold his hands and he took them eagerly, squeezing them tightly as he did.

“You all know about what happened to me and Zeff,” he said finally, “and I appreciate the kind words and empathy you’ve all given me, but you could never really understand what that was like, being out there. Waiting to die. The scorching, unrelenting sun in the day that made my skin flake off. The icy air of night that felt like daggers, prodding at my burnt flesh. Being hollowed out from the inside, from the hunger, until the numbness set in and I thought I’d melt into that shitty rock. Even being as careful as I was, as precise, I still didn’t have nearly enough food to survive, and it really was only by fate or luck, a real miracle actually, that we were rescued.

I guess I haven’t shook that feeling yet, that fear. It was easier to distract myself in the restaurant, you know, being surrounded by food and all, but here it’s different here. I-I just want be sure, I want to know that we’re good, at all times, because I don’t want any of you to go through what I did. It’s shit, yeah I know, but I’d rather not sleep then let any of you go through that.”

Again, the silence between us was palpable.

I felt like I’d been punched.

He breathed heavily, as if trying to catch his breath and I knew then that this was something he had kept buried deep within himself because the true nature of his fear was so horrific, so raw, who could ever understand it?

None of us had been out there with him, even though we would all do the same for each other.

But our sentiments were just words.

He had lived it.

The silence grew stifling.

I knew he would do anything to protect us from that fate.

“Sanji”

“You-you can’t tell the others. They don’t need to know, yeah? I’m happy as long as they’re fed with no complaints.”

“But Sanji-”

“Y/n, please don’t tell them.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

The mess of thoughts in my mind was growing.

He held my hands tighter and used them to pull himself towards me. His thumbs made circular motions on my palms.

I heard my heart pounding in my ears and I stupidly hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Darling, I am a ball of dough in your hands. You can knead me and form me any way you’d like, and I’ll give you no resistance.”

“Pfft” I giggled and so did he.

At this, I felt like we were both at ease again.

I always admired his way of keeping things light.

“No, but, if you’d allow me, madam, to be serious,” he straightened up a bit then, “I suppose I was hoping that you’d find me in here. I was hoping that I could tell just you. You’ve got a way about you that everyone just finds trustworthy. I don’t know but there’s, there’s something about you...” He trailed off and laughed before he could finish, and I could see a faint blush of pink on his cheeks. “Sorry I-I ugh, I’m a bit sleep deprived. I’m just glad you’re here.”

I had never seen this side of him (or any side of him for that matter) though I knew it existed. Somewhere under the flirtatious, playboy persona he put out, I knew there was a genuine sweetness. I just wished I was more awake to really enjoy it.

Once the pain I was in wore off, my whole body felt heavy, like it was being pulled down with the full force of gravity, and the sway of the ship was less violent and more like the gentle rock of a cradle.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.” I swept his bangs out of his eyes and kept my hand cupped around the side of his face. I hadn’t realised how blue his eyes were until now.

Even in the dull light, I could see every shade of blue there was swirling in them, like the ocean’s raging swell on a moonlit night. I saw the sleep in his eyes weighing him down too.

“You know this is the most words I’ve heard out of your mouth since I got here.”

He grinned sleepily, “well I’ve just been trying to find the right time to talk to you, my swan.”

I could feel my cheeks burn and I hoped he didn’t see the blush come over them.

“I didn’t think the right time would be 3am, me face planted and bruised in the kitchen, but here we are.”

“You are alright now, yeah?”

“Of course,” I scoffed, “I’m just sleepy. You look sleepy too.”

As if on cue, he yawned and leaned back on the bench.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s super late. And Luffy wanted everyone to have a big breakfast tomorrow, you know with eggs, bacon, croissants, etc. Breakfast service is always the most important. But I just…” his voice trailed off again, but there was a hint of frustration this time.

“You just can’t sleep, like you cannot.”

“Yeah.”

“I get it,” I said, and I did, “the memories, they come back; more vividly, more real at night. It’s like it’s better to be awake than asleep. Like sleep causes you to relive the pain. Every moment, everything.”

“Y/n,” he said with concern in his voice, “what caused you pain, my love?”

My love.

Those words rang in my ears for some time, even now. Did he mean it?, I thought, maybe he feels the same?

Was all that flirting genuine or was he just being nice?

Was he just being Sanji?

It had been such a long, revealing night, but that stuck out to me and I couldn’t shake it.

He had been so open about his fears, not even the captain knew what he was telling me, I was sure of it.

So then, I kept thinking, why me?

If I didn’t mean something more, then why me?

While I was mulling all this over, I hadn’t noticed that I was leaning on his shoulder until he pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly, so that my face rested on his chest.

The slit in his poet shirt revealed his tanned skin underneath.

I boldly moved my hand up his chest and traced his freckles with my fingers.

He played with my hair.

Friends definitely didn’t do this.

“Let’s not talk about that now,” I whispered, “just close your eyes, okay? And Sanji?”

“Yes?”

“If you need a sous chef tomorrow morning, I’ll be there.”

I felt his soft laugh hum in his chest.

“Thank you, y/n. I’ll take you up on that.”

He buried his face in my hair as he continued to hug me and I felt his whole body relax.

In one night, the chef had shown me that there were more layers to this cake of a personality he had than I had fully anticipated, and all of them were deliciously sweet.

Delectable even.

And confusing.

As we slipped further into sleep, we had also unknowingly laid ourselves out on the bench, still tangled in each other's embrace, and sharing my shawl for warmth.

An embrace that was a little too close for friends.

— — — — —

“We’re just friends, Nami,” I hissed, trying to restrain myself from yelling in her ear, “there’s nothing there! He-we- we’re just friends! There are no feelings, we are JUST friends.”

She found us in the morning and woke me up, leaving Sanji still asleep.

I flapped around our room, growling out my protests as I did, but it was no use.

She just sat there.

Just sat there.

Arms folded and tapping her toes.

With a huge smirk plastered across her face.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

#opla sanji #opla sanji x fem!reader #opla sanji x reader #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #opla x reader #first person pov #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #opla #one piece sanji #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #actually down on my knees for this man 🙈🙇🏽‍♀️

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eldritch-spouse · 11 months

Note

hi pinnie! longtime lurker here coming out of the woodworks to admit that I am a whore for Sybastian ☹️☹️ that post you wrote abt running from him on his floor… I was foaming at the mouth. I literally have such horrible Syb brain rot, so I’m so sorry if this doesn’t make any sense or wouldn’t work 🫶

but GOD thinking abt Sybastian stalking us by literally pretending to be different items in our home. Imagine climbing into the bathtub and all of a sudden you just get fuckin slobbered on 😟

[Honestly mimics are soooo fun, they don't get nearly enough love in monsterfucker spaces. Shut the fuck up about your werewolves, you basic bitches. /j]

It was probably horrendous for you during the beginning, wasn't it? Never knowing when something in your home might spring into a gangly pussy-hungry monster ready to grope and hump and lick at you like a horny pest.

Sybastian was a plague that made you unable to trust anything except the smallest objects you remember having. Even those would sometimes reveal themselves to be mini mimics he hoarded. Your home didn't really feel yours.

Time passed. The mimic never ate you, never killed you, harmed you only in the throes of its lust for your supple little body.

It became a friend. Maybe something more... Because when loneliness clawed at you and you reminded yourself that you couldn't bring anyone else home to abate it (lest they get murdered by your intruder), it didn't seem like a big loss. Because, realistically, could they be as enthusiastic towards you as he is? Sybastian's like a golden retriever of a monster, sometimes unable to keep his disguise up for too long before jolting to greet you with that toothy grin that's become so familiar.

You figure there's no point trying to run from something that has actually started making you happy... Right?

That's why, when you undress in your bathroom, hearing an interested rumble from somewhere, you don't even pretend to be mad anymore.

Not even when the bathtub faucet doesn't offer any water, or when a sloppy wet muscle coils around your leg, to steal kitten licks at your pretty pussy. The mimic almost hesitates, as if unsure as to why you haven't booted him outside yet, demanded to know where he put your real bathtub...

Fortunately, Sybastian can sometimes read between the lines pretty well, and he realizes you've accepted him. He drops his disguise immediately.

Where once he'd usually nip and hump and groan to at least get to rub his cock between your thighs, he now tries to plant kisses anywhere he can on your body, purring hard enough to rock you, and holding your poor body up in the air so he can eat your cunt as rough as possible, volumes of gratitude and relief poured into his every motion.

That encounter changed everything.

These days, if your morning doesn't start with your bed petting your hair and rumbling, then it's not right.

#Sybastian oc #GOD I LOVE MIMICS #monsterfucker #terato #monster boyfriend

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enchxanting · 1 year

Text

our love is god [ethan landry]

read part 2 here || all parts

pairing: ethan landry x fem!reader

warnings: nothing yet but this fic is heathers-inspired, so be warned for the future.

author's note: hi guys, long time lurker first time poster. this is my first time WRITING fic so feel free to leave any critique. also i don't know if i did the cut right lol i have a lot planned and hope you like!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dear Diary,

I should’ve never let Mindy convince me to start this operation.

Sure, it’s nice to have a steady cash flow, but nothing is more aggravating than everyone and their mother asking for doctor’s notes, report cards, prescriptions, and absence notes when I’m just trying to make it to fourth-period math. When I was ten, I expected to use my Nancy-Drew-inspired skills to unearth hidden staircases or find whistling statues, not help someone’s checked-out mom get a Xanax.

Yet I forged three (3) permission slips today. Why? Because, next to mysteries, I love the sweet smell of cash in the morning. Yesterday, I added $150 to the rainy day fund. Hopefully, when the weather’s right, I'll be inspired to buy a car and ditch Woodsboro. This town is fucked, alright. Just ask Chad, Mindy, Sam, or–

“Tara! Jesus Christ!” I rub my leg where her sneaker connected. “What’s your damage?”

“Are you done, Shakespeare? You said you’d get lunch with me like, fifteen minutes ago.”

Tara isn’t so great with patience. But, again, I am not so great at keeping track of time. “Yeah, whatever,” I say. “Let’s go see what they’ve cooked up for us today.”

I follow her through the winding path of tables, chairs, and teenage bodies. As we go, I collect bills from outstretched hands and replace them with papers of varying sizes. Tara turns to smirk at me. “What was the event this time?”

“Oh, you know. It’s report card season, and this school is not known for its stellar GPAs.”

“We just have you to thank for keeping it floating below a 3.0,” she teases. “Tell me, Y/N. Does all that extra brainpower of yours get used up matching the way people dot their i’s and cross their t’s?”

I roll my eyes at her. “Sure, Tara. Let’s just get some lunch. I’m seriously starving.”

We grab trays and join the line, aimlessly chattering about the day. Tara’s been my friend since the beginning of the year when I was the only new kid in a town struck by tragedy. We were the only new buyers in Woodsboro over the summer. The rest are still empty, the memory of last year’s Ghostface attacks having driven out long-time residents.

What’s surprising, though, is that the so-called “Woodsboro Four” are still here. Sure, Sam, Tara, Mindy, and Chad mostly stick together, but despite the terrible tragedy that they witnessed, they let me and Annika, Mindy’s current girlfriend, into their lives. I could never measure up to that. I’m just glad they want to be my friend.

I’m taken out of my musings on friendship when I feel someone’s eyes on my back. Without turning around, I recite my usual speech. “$5 for report cards, $10 for prescriptions and absence notes, and an extra $5 for rush fees.”

“Woah, um, tempting, but I’m not looking for any forgery.”

Confused, I turn around to put a face to an unfamiliar voice. The guy’s tall, almost as tall as Chad, with curly brown hair and brown eyes that widen when I meet them. “Sorry, I was just going to get my lunch, but you dropped some cash back here.”

For some reason, my voice is not working. All I can do is look up at him, suddenly captivated by how shy he seems to be. When I pause for a few moments too long, Tara reaches around and takes the money from his hand. “Uh, thanks. I’m sure my friend here appreciates it. Usually she’s more talkative.”

“Oh, god, yeah, sorry,” I finally get out, stumbling over my words. “Thanks.”

“No problem.” Suddenly, I think he remembers to be bashful and walks away without another word.

When he’s gone, Tara laughs. “God, Y/N, drool much? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

I flush red. “Whatever, Tara, you’re the worst.” I give her a playful shove and walk off to buy my lunch. I hand the money to the cashier, but all I can think about are those big, brown eyes, and I know I’m fucked.

#ethan landry #ethan landry x y/n #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #scream 2023 #jack champion #heathers #heathers au #high school au #ethan landry fanfiction

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hugs4neth-official · 10 hours

Text

new intro post because the old one was a mess. Putting the entire thing below the cut for convenience. you should read all of it because it’s still a mess, just less of one.

Sup folks, I’m Alexi. I also go by Neth, Hugs, and any nicknames of Alexi. (The nickname list is currently Lexi, Lexus, and Lex, but feel free to come up with more!) My name is not Alex because that’s another alter’s name.

He/Xe/Bun/Fir/Other neo/They pronouns. I haven’t found a neo pronoun I don’t like yet, and y’all should us random ones so I can find more I do :] No it/she unless you’re an alter in my system (Which you aren’t)

I am the host/core of The System X. You can find our alter list/system intro/collective pronouns here. In general we use both plural and singular pronouns interchangeably, we’d like you to do the same. (Unless of course you are referring to a specific alter)

If there is no sign off or my name signing off, it’s me. If another alter is fronting they’ll sign off with -[name]. In dm’s/comments they’ll sign off the first message and then talk as normal.

We have a tendency to use the different alter blogs to talk to ourselves. As of now the blogs are @curlyhaired-nico (Nico) and @vix-the-shift (Vixen) and myself.

Interacting with me: (✅=yes!!!, ❌=no, ⚠️=if i’ve talked to you or followed you for more than a week) (thing THEN whether im chill with it. ex: being mean ❌) Nicknames ✅ Pet names ✅ Terms of endearment ✅ Asks ✅ Dms ⚠️ Spam interactions ✅ Comments ✅ Vents ⚠️ Asking about DID/other alters ✅ Directly interacting with other alters/Addressing asks to other alters✅ Compliments✅ Physical affection✅ Fake claiming ❌ Being rude ❌ Bigotry❌ Syscourse (we have our own problems - syscourse neutral)❌ Tags ✅ Tag games✅ Chain asks⚠️ Post requests ✅ Ask games✅ mutual aid requests❌ untagged vents❌ asking for advice ✅ asking for comfort/compliments/affection✅

I live on reblogs. Please reblog.

TALK TO ME GOD DAMMIT

I love asks and comments.

Tone tags greatly appreciated! Also please tag pictures of food, flashing lights, and gifs/moving images.

My likes: cooking, baking, crafts, activism, fashion, natural history, animals, theology, fandom, friends, cows, psychology, stuffies, agere, stimboards,

My interests: PJO, Nimona, French Horn, Art,

I am very active in the PJO fandom and can recite along to most of the nimona movie. I also have wonderful meta you should ask me about my meta. I’ll also occasionally post recipes — if I mention I cooked something and don’t attach the recipe but you want it, lmk and I’ll post it for you! I’m an artist (I don’t post for AI reasons but I’m happy to DM you stuff) and I play classical french horn. I also take stimboard requests :]

Problems: Bpd, depression, autism, DID, adhd, anxiety, severe sensory issues, ARFID, chronic pain/severe generalized hyper mobility disorder, etc. Suicidal and will vent on main. I try to tag appropriately. Will also occasionally regress and send bizarre asks if we’re close. Sorry bout that little me is a bit special. Usually there will be another alter trailing behind apologizing lmao.

Frens!!! (In no particular order) I probably won’t update this list so don’t feel bad if you aren’t on it you’re still my friend. Also I feel bad about tagging people 😅 If I wasn’t sure how you felt about me I didn’t tag you but I love all of my moots. @weewooooweew @o-kye @antigerrymanderingspiderman @hunner806 @daggerhobbit @theautumnaldemon @gummy-axolotl @daonedaonlyskh @inkling0121 @raeprise @touch-starved-lurker @lizzzzzzzzzzzzzz---lol @three-eyed-skullbunny @xx-midnight-candy-goblin-x @bassguitarinablackt-shirt @dumblond-ie @normal-nyoom @copper-ichor @melemele-island-official @ford-mustang-1969 @lesbiansiffrin (So sorry for all the tags y’all)

Honorable mention to @catinasink who is not my friend.

Daily clicks (The link is for Palestine but you should do the other causes too!)

Queer stuff: Genderfluid, queer, berrisexual/romantic, patheccentrean, arospec, bellusromantic, aegosexual, queer platonic, polyamorous (currently single), gnc, transmasc,

Tags:

#hugs talks - me talking/original posts

#asks - i answer asks

#ask game - ask games so you can send me asks (you can send me asks not on ask games ofc, anytime)

#hugs goes mom mode - me giving advice on how to not die and how to do shit.

#life updates - important stuff about my life. the important tag.

#the system x - talking about system stuff or other alters

#Am small boi OR am in little spece - Little me making a fool of themselves while I'm regressed. Please be patient lol. Inconsistent because small boi is really fucking bad at tumblr. If you get really bizarre asks it's probably because I'm regressed lol.

#moots - my moots <3 i am inconsistent with this one

Userboxes!!!

#tw caps #intro post #<- my old intro is here #hugs talks #asks #ask game #hugs goes mom mode #life updates #the system x #moots #<- all my tags for convenience

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perfectlovevn · 2 months

Note

what's milo's degree of Online (that is to say, to what extent is the internet part of his life)? i figure that with his complete lack of support system throughout his life, it would've been very easy for him to fall into the terminally online trap somewhere along the line, but it's hard for me to tell for certain.

in particular, how familiar is he with 2010s tumblr discourse and tumblr culture overall, and what's his preferred social media? is he a part of any online communities dedicated to his interests, or is he more of a lurker?

what's his texting style like? how's his capitalization, punctuation, and emoji/emoticon usage?

Good question. My guess is that PreMilo does spend a good amount of time online, but he mostly lurks. I think perhaps he did try to join some of the communities for things like knitting, crocheting and sewing, he generally is kind of shy. I imagine one bad interaction with him attempting to connect with people probably made him go back to lurking again.

I think he might be more on the video side of things? YouTube, blogs that sort of thing. I’m not really sure what kind of social media stuff he would be on, honestly.

I think texting wise it would be something like:

M: hey, do you wanna go out and eat…?

M: sorry for disturbing you…

M: if you don’t want to, that’s okay!!! we can do it another time…

M: whenever you’re free

M: (=^x^=)

I think he’d probably have the emoji of a rabbit but usually delete it so it never sends. Sometimes it sends by accident and he freaks out a bit.

Violence Milo probably isn’t online that much, but Manipulation sure is. He probably is on a bunch of social media and knows a lot about it as well. He’s in tons of chats and loves causing discourse amongst people. He’s that one guy with like 100 different accounts to start problems. I like to think he talks with a bunch more emotes, though much more cat emotes instead.

#perfectlovevn #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #yandere vn #milo asks #about milopre #about manipulation milo #about violence milo

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kattythingz · 2 months

Note

I absolutely, 100% want you babbling to me about this AU, yes, PLEASE

So I accidentally wrote an entire ass scene kvjnrekjbe

I got way into it, and this is only one of the scenes I have in mind!! Now that I've written one I kinda wanna do more, fuuuuu--

ANYWAY, ask and ye shall receive! :D. First, the overarching context:

So my main Vision starts with Ling being tossed into YJ, around... three years post-canon of Solaris when edling are engaged and Ed's still traveling around. Some idiot was tryna off the emperor and Ling fucked around with a transmutation circle or sth blah blah crossover logic he's yeeted into YJ.

He lands himself in some kinda facility (I'm thinking cadmus), at the same time that the YJ are conducting a recon operation. He aids in their mission and winds up going back to the cave with them until he can get home. He serves as a good confidant for leadership advice when Kaldur needs it, and Wally calls bullshit on him being an emperor; M'gann is delighted at the new friend, Conner doesn't care, and Robin thrives on Ling's sheer chaos.

Despite that, the team somehow knows even more about this guy's fiance back home than Ling himself. Ed's all he talks about.

This scene happens about a month into Ling's unfortunate stay.

Ling insisted on joining the team—his new friends in this world, if he dared call them such—on their most recent recon mission to cadmus again. Batman reported that there’d been hearsay of strange emissions around cadmus. Mystical emissions, though not any kind the JL had encountered before sans once: when Ling had crash-landed into this world a month ago.

If it’d get him closer to finding a way home, this was completely his business, and nobody could stop him. The YJ, born of such rebellion, backed Ling on his stance.

They split up to cover different corners of the lab, and Robin and Ling, the resident lurkers, got the catwalk in the main lab where Ling originally landed. The giant transmutation circle was still there, littered with random knick-knacks that very likely could’ve been pulled from Amestris, and the reason for those emissions the JL were concerned about. Perhaps the sheer number of the “summonings” had made it seem worse than it was, or—

Robin halted in his intense scrutiny of the circle at the heavy sound of the double doors opening. Ling halted for another reason entirely, as a familiar energy flared in the back of his mind.

He whirled without thinking, stumbling to his knees in his haste to get a closer look down below.

Robin barely reacted, crouching beside him to peer at the head scientist striding in, the two guards following behind, and—

“—get your fucking hands off me!”

And gold.

Ed, spitting and snarling at the guards.

He was still dressed in a similar manner to when they’d last seen each other a year ago, when Ed had dropped by Xing for a brief, surprise visit after two years apart already. The state of his clothes, however... His maroon cargo pants were torn at the bottom, like they’d been caught on something, and he was only in a black high-neck short-sleeve—not a jacket in sight like usual, showing off the flamel tattoo on his right bicep. His face was scratched and bruised and stray hairs fell from his bangs and clung to his sweat-laden brow.

Ed had been here a while. It was obvious to anyone who could see.

Ling couldn’t breathe.

“You’ll have to forgive my men for their… rougher precautions with you,” the head scientist spoke over the fire. “Our last guest wasn’t nearly so testy as you, you understand. And I rather prefer these parts of my lab intact as solid.”

We’ve got a prisoner in the vicinity, Robin’s voice startled Ling when it echoed through the team’s mind link. Motion?

Strictly observe, for now, came Aqualad’s prompt answer. Who is it?

Looks like a teenager—

“I understand what I’m going to melt next, if that’s what you’re saying,” Ed’s snarl interrupted Robin, and, oh—Ling hadn’t noticed at all, but his heart squeezed at the tone. He’d missed Ed like a limb, and that ferocious baring of teeth, that no-doubt flare of his eyes like—

“Yang’er,” Ling breathed.

Robin spun on him that time. “What?”

He’d forgotten Xingese translated cleanly as “Mandarin” in this world. Robin understood the nickname instantly, and epiphany didn’t lag after.

“Hold on. You mean—?”

“That’s Ed,” Ling choked out, eyes frozen on the scene below with his heart. “That’s—”

“Your fiance?” Robin asked sharply. When Ling didn’t, couldn’t, answer, he cursed and said into their link, Guys, that’s Ling’s Ed down there.

The fiance?! M’gann yelped. Wait, so that means—

So that’s why, Kaldur intoned somberly. Those emissions Batman warned us about, they must’ve been caused by summoning of another person.

Wait, then, shouldn’t we intervene now? Superboy said.

Not yet, Superboy. We must observe—

They were talking about Ed. Like he was just anyone, a mere prisoner. Ling knew none of it was personal, but with the scientist looming so close to Ed, his mind was blurring into tunnel vision on the scientist’s smug voice continuing, “You can certainly try. Though I doubt you’ll be able to with that necklace on now. It might be amusing to watch you test its limits.”

“I’ll show you fucking amusing, you son of a—!”

It didn’t occur to Ling immediately. But his eyes dropped to take in Ed’s snarling expression again, reassure himself of his safety for now, and he froze on Ed’s neck.

His neck, that was collared.

They’d collared Ed—

White noise erupted in Ling’s ears, barely catching Robin’s hissed noise at him to—do something. He wasn’t sure. It bled into darkness when Ed was held back by the guards from lunging at the scientist.

“And what does that say about you, huh?” Ed continued growling. “So scared of one me, you need shackles and a collar on me? You can’t even face me on my level.”

“You spit a lot of poison,” the scientist remarked, dismissing the words, to Ed’s visible incensation. “The other one was much keener on keeping his fangs to himself. Smarter, too, for that. It’s a shame about not having been able to figure him out before he fled.”

Ed’s head snapped up, then. Daggers locking on the scientist’s words.

The scientist caught the look, and smirked. “Oh, yes. You aren’t my first honored guest from your world. My only mistake with that one was underestimating him under all his blathering. But—”

“Dude!” It was Robin’s hiss that snapped through Ling’s nerves, and his hand that abruptly shot to keep him from leaping with a searing rage when the scientist grabbed Ed’s chin to make eye contact.

“That is all redundant,” the scientist drawled, amused at Ed’s resistance, “considering you already seem familiar with each other.”

“That’s world-cist.” Ed breathed heavily to hold steady in the scientist’s grip and avoid giving him further satisfaction. “You assuming everyone in my world knows each other now?”

The scientist’s gaze wandered, and without warning, he released Ed’s chin, leaving him to stumble—just in time to take advantage and yank Ed’s restrained arms up by the wrist.

“Hey!” Ed barked at the painful angle, refusing to give but clearly wincing, and Ling’s breathing was requiring its own heavy steadying now to keep from shrugging off Robin’s hand and lunging anyway. The man was touching Ed’s battered arm, squeezing especially the bruises and turning them white from the force—

Ling inhaled shakily. And again.

“Not everyone,” the scientist hummed, observing Ed’s ring, “but most certainly you two. The other one was wearing a ring too. Now, I don’t gamble much with coincidence, but… it’s a rather funny timing, two in a row, don’t you think?”

“I think,” Ed growled, “you should let go of me, right. Now—”

“This is gold too, isn’t it? I was pondering testing the precious metals of your world against ours. If I melt this dow—”

He cut off on a yelling grunt when Ed slammed his shackled wrists upward into his jaw. The scientist spat blood with the motion, and Ed recoiled as far as he could before a guard was on him again.

Ling could just taste the fire in Ed’s glare when he snarled, “Try that, and I’m melting your face next. I know… exactly where to break down your structure.”

Holy shit, Wally’s thought echoed in the deafening silence that followed.

You could say that again, Artemis agreed.

Ling ignored them both, his heart reaching in favor of Ed’s direction. That was right. Ed wasn’t just any prisoner. He wouldn’t let himself be. He’d sooner bite every hand that tried to feed him here than give them satisfaction.

Ling’s next breath carried through his lungs, that time, and Robin let out his own exhale next to him.

The scientist knows Ed and Ling are connected, Robin reported, at ease now. It’s not insane to guess that—

He’ll try and use one as bait for the other, Kaldur finished.

Ling clenched his jaw. That’s not happening.

Obviously! Wally said. So, what’s our plan now—?

I’m getting Ed before that passes.

Wait, what—?

The others voiced their concerns, but Ling had already blocked them out, his sole focus in sight. And he wasn’t planning on digressing from it.

“You don’t have to help me,” he said as he stood, aware of Robin’s silent gaze on him. The two of them were… similar, in their practiced masks, however much younger Robin was. They had a mutual understanding, and so he continued, “I will carry this out on my own if I must. You can—”

“Dude, are you kidding?” Robin’s laugh thawed Ling’s solemnity, and he glanced, surprised, at him. “I am so in for a rescue mission. I’ve gotta meet your fiance now!”

Ling’s grin snuck up on him, perhaps a little too wide with the heat in his blood.

“Ed’ll be delighted,” he said, and even as the guards escorted Ed out of room again, his knees didn’t crumple that time. He took a deep breath, and gripped his sword.

“Let’s move, then.”

#edling are like 20-21 here btw #I daydream about this crossover so often. in case this hasn't made it obvious.#sorry if this wasn't what you had in mind btw ksjjwwgjrwjg I ran on autopilot #fullmetal alchemist #fma #young justice #edling #edward elric #ling yao #dick grayson #fanfiction #crossover #yj x fma #katmail

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suthnmeh · 4 months

Note

I just wanted to let you know that I have enjoyed your tmnt fanart (especially Apriltello) over the years. Do you have any new tmnt art projects, or has that fandom ship sailed? If it has, then thank you for sharing your creativity over the years. I’ll always come back to your page for Apriltello eye-candy!

Aw that’s awesome, thank you^^ Alas, I have been reduced to a lowly lurker for the past few years. Can’t say I’ll never post anything TMNT related again, but I definitely have moved on to other things. I’m animating fulltime now, so that leaves me with less energy to draw MORE after work. And what little I do in my freetime is usually related to my own original story.

I do have a couple of TMNT drabbles lying around unfinished, and might post them soon... So I guess keep an eye out still!

And as a tip, here’s a couple of badly photographed tiny sketchies that I drew recently just to check I still remembered how to draw them XD.

#tmnt #replies #donnie #april #apriltello #sketches #suthnmeh

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retrodreamgirl · 2 years

Text

fix this | steve harrington x fem!reader

part one | part two | part three

summary: steve does a little soul searching OR a night of many doors [3.3k]

warnings: angst, established relationship, break up, stancy residue, fem!reader, steve's pov, cliff hanger/ambiguous ending, language, not proofed, lmk if i missed anything

that's all folks! anything else i write for this will either be something that comes to me randomly or that someone requests pre or post breakup bc i kinda want you guys to decide whether she/you take(s) him back or not and how he gains her trust

⤜♡→

Routine has a bitter enemy called the unknown. It's the darkness at a distance, inching and inching before it huddles you into a corner, forced to face the purposely avoided. It pokes and prods at the crevices of your brain, basking in the glow of attention unhindered by the attempts to shove it back into its box. It’s a subtlety, sneaking like a many legged creature awaiting the crush of a foot or a heavy hand.

Heavy handed is the deliverance of the final blow it bestows before slinking off to the shadows once more, biding time for its next significance.

The unknown is the bitter enemy of routine. A lurker at heart. It waits for the buildup, allowing itself to be the straw, the last word before the inevitable snap. It’s a concept that watches in fascination and lends its expertise at a moment's notice.

Notice the end result isn’t always crystal, but dependent. It relies on the body of the thing. Housed on stilts with the decision to break or mend. You are the stilts, two legs heavy of burden and free of direction. The unknown is at your door, not knocking but slipping through the back and resting out of sight.

The direction is yours and the direction is now, nestled atop shoulders careening with the doubt of what’s to come.

It’s a confusion, really. One that seeps in without warning, digging claws through the thin material of skin draped over the cage containing an organ beating to its contentment. Such a horrible confusion.

Love, that is.

It’s these moments of clarity, body moving without the tandem of the perfect partner, that you wonder about the ache that crawls from your center and inches in vain to the veins wrapping pale arms with the thrum of blood run blue and red when it spills over, oxygen threatening to overwhelm with the need for more.

It’s this feeling and more eating at Steve Harrington.

At present, his failure to cope with the gaping significance in the hollow of his chest has mutated into a poor work ethic.

"Next time, if you’re not gonna help me with customers you could at least rewind all the tapes! Halfsies doesn’t apply when I’m stuck playing guess that film for forty minutes." Robin’s grip tightens around Steve’s shoulders, emphasis for words wrought with exasperation. He doesn’t mind much that she’s complaining, thankful that she doesn’t actually force him to pick up the slack these days. "I don't care how long we've been doing this, I lose my mind every fucking time."

"Yeah, pretty sure I'm still waiting for the feeling to come back to my fingers from that tape getting stuck." There’s a sudden deflation in his broad shoulders, already wondering what train of thought will do to distract his brain from the muddled ache nesting there currently.

He would usually plan to stop off at the house with the white front door, a cozy rug left just beyond the threshold to indulge his feet when he slides his shoes to the corner. He would trail upstairs to find the trace of perfume leading right to your bedroom and push forward on his toes to gauge your mood for the evening. He could always tell by the low leakage of music filtering beneath the door, heightened only when his ear pressed into the wood.

He would knock twice, wait, then rap his knuckle a third time. A secret code and a letter of love reserved for the moments before he could shower you with affection up close.

Now he can hardly remember the last time he felt the cool harshness of the door and heard the melodic tune of “come in” only to find you most times splayed on the thickness of your lilac rug. You would reach for him and he would find you with immediacy.

“So, what’ll it be?” Robin pierces the connection of his brain to the warmth of the memory, forcing him back to the frigid emptiness of the parking lot.

“What?”

“Takeout and a movie? Stopping at the diner? I’m so hungry I don’t even care what we have, your choice...but you’re also buying.”

Steve’s step is a stutter just before the handle of the car door, concrete propelling him to catch himself on the exterior, glistening in the golden glow of street lamps. Robin’s lips part to comment on his clumsy disposition, but his eyes are steadied on the placement of his feet and his mind resides anywhere but the stick of his sneakers to the night soaked blacktop.

She waits for him to proceed, but he seems unaware that there was a question meant to be answered, or is rather opposed to partaking in their usual verbal give and take.

“What?” Steve senses the build in his chest, an impending thing that answers Robin’s confusion before the jumble of Steve’s first failed attempt. It’s rapid and daunting the way it beats against his skin. He wonders if his chilled hand slid past the barrier of his coat and through his polo would he feel the rough outline of the organ turned grotesque in its confusion.

“Yeah! I just…well the thing is…” He takes his time sliding into the car, twirling his keys between his fingers.

“Oh yeah, I totally get that.” Robin attempts to lighten the mood, but the bright lights of a passing pickup zero in on their pupils focused forward to avoid the oddity occurring in the front seat. Steve’s lips have come to a repetitious open close, his mouth the net that can’t seem to catch the right words. “Listen, if you aren’t gonna spit it out could you at least start the car I’m–”

Screeching. She was in fact screeching following the dramatic shift of the vehicle when rough hands pushed against the passenger window and the douse of darkness was too much for either of their eyes to adjust to after the previous bright dilation. Steve is quick to catch on, his hands shoving the key into the ignition, rolling Robin’s window down so a head with fiery hair spilling over the shoulder peers in.

“Can I catch a ride?” Max pokes at the skin of Robin’s cheek. Steve’s sure her scowl managed to trick the muscles when Max’s hands lift to feign defense and she sends Steve a confused glance. “What’s with her?”

“What are you doing here?” Steve ignores the question, waving Max into the backseat where she happily pokes her head between the front two.

“I skated here. Was bored.”

“I’m not an entertainment service, ya know.”

“Big words from a guy wearing that vest.” She points to the deep green Family Video uniform dressing Steve down in the glaring uncertainty of his minimum wage future. “Anyway, I was actually hoping you would drop me off at Mike’s.”

“And you couldn’t just board the rest of the way there because…?” Robin drones, pawing at the dial on the radio, flipping through stations riddled with static unsure of which tune they’re actually meant to be playing.

The whole situation is surprisingly irritable, a mean streak that could never be cured entirely, making itself ever present in Steve with the increasing progression of The Breakup. A title bestowed by everyone not involved, certainly one that sets Steve even further to a reason where he remains stood on the cliffside of eternal nothingness.

“Because it’s getting dark and I don’t know about you guys, but I’m not an idiot.”

“Dude, I don’t wanna take you to Mike’s house.” A stupid thing, but a guilt that clutches at his collar, wondering if its the moment you sidle by, spotting his car in the clutches of your end all. Something he still doesn't entirely understand, if only because he’s convinced himself it’s better not to. A stupid thing, but he’s nothing if not purusuasive to a fault.

“Because Nancy will be there? You know that avoiding her isn’t gonna make Y/n come back, right? I don’t even know if she’s actually left her house for anything other than school and even then none of us actually see her around.”

“Yeah, didn’t you have to crawl through her window the other night just to talk to her.” Robin adds, settling on Air Supply for a reason Steve thinks is altogether removed from her own tastes. “If you want her to take you back you’re gonna have to do some serious soul searching, Harrington. Do you want her back?”

“What the hell kinda question is that?”

“It’s a fair one because it’s been weeks, Steve. You think she hasn’t noticed that you’ve seemingly moved on?” Max tilts her head, obscuring Robin and imploring Steve to focus on the candor of her ocean blue.

“She thinks I’ve moved on?” He mumbles, adjusting himself in his seat, the sash of his seatbelt suddenly suffocating. “Well I haven’t.”

“Funny way of showing it—”

“Look, Mayfield, you don’t get it! You don’t understand how frustrating this whole thing is. I thought we were fine, perfect really. Somehow I’m always the last to know when things aren’t.” The words are sharp, an edge cutting against the buds of his tongue where his teeth dig into the fleshy muscle. “...and this time I don’t even really know why. I’m tired of apologizing when I don’t have anything to apologize for.”

“Just. Take me to Mike’s, please?”

“Whatever, but you can get someone else to take you home.”

“Whatever.”

The ride to the Wheeler’s is mostly silent. Mostly, because the deafening pause is too much for Robin who cuts in every so often with commentary about the passing scenery or a tangent that no one is really listening to.

Steve pulls to the edge of the Wheeler’s drive, not daring to pass the line of the mailbox, and glances back when Max doesn’t move. She has the audacity to look at him riddled with guilt when she nods toward the house.

“You should talk to her.”

“What? Max I swear, if you don’t get out of this car right now I will—”

“You’ll what? Not much a man of action these days, Harrington.” She’s taunting, Robin looking between the two of them like she’s stuck deciding whether she should intervene. Max doesn’t make any move to get out of the car, rather she burrows herself further into her hoodie and watches Steve expectantly. She wins either way, a step toward retribution if he gets out of the car and a point proven if he doesn’t.

It’s the reason he now finds himself stationed outside of the Wheeler’s front door, hoping that anyone but Nancy answers, a last ditch to turn around and pretend he tried his best. He can feel the burning in his chest, the desire to know what good could possibly come from this, if there is a hope for something with Nancy beyond the horrible darkness.

It’s a sick feeling, one he can’t remember having prior to this moment. A realization burning through the adolescent wandering of a heart unmended.

“Steve.” Nancy falters immediately, sweater bunching up where she wraps her arms around her frame. She glances over his shoulder, noting the glaring headlights of his BMW. “What are you doing here?”

“I uh…I’m not really positive. But I think we need to talk.” She nods, stepping aside to allow him into the house. He doesn’t proceed, hand swiping at the back of his neck, an accumulation of something always seeming to nag at the exposed piece of skin. “Maybe we could do it out here?”

“Sure.” She closes the front door, shouldering the frame while Steve stares straight ahead, at the seasonal wreath hanging from it.

“I don’t think I ever got over you and everything that happened.” He finally manages, the words feeling like tar the way they worked their way up slowly and coated his mouth until he spit them out. A harsh truth buried beneath the guise of friendship, something he never saw the same way as you. “I don’t really know why, well I probably do but I’m never really able to admit it.”

“What do you want me to say, Steve? I apologized and I’ve moved on…I don’t know what to say.” It irks him, her dismissal of his admission. It’s not an expectation for her to reciprocate, but a hint of empathy would do in a situation altogether unfamiliar. It reminds him of being with her in the beginning and the way it slowly cooled off near the end. Never any intention of hateful brushoffs but it’s certainly how it felt at the time.

“I want you to say that you know, because I think you do. Maybe you don’t do it on purpose but you do use it to your advantage.” It’s like a glimmer in the underbrush, an opening for him to take and he’s pushing past the thickness with as much grace as possible but he’s bound to get stuck eventually. “We never hung out when Jonathan was here. It’s a fact, and it’s fine but why is it that I’m always the first person you come to when it gets to be too much?”

“Because I know you’ll be there—”

“Because you know I’d do anything for you. Because I’m the idiot who’s still stuck in senior year, with a girl who left me behind when—” He catches himself, that streak pushing against the back of his teeth. He doesn’t mean it all to sound so bitter, but the festering anger at his own desperation is hard to ignore. “The thing is, Nance, I can’t be that person for you anymore. There is a girl who loves me, who loves me more than anyone, probably more than I deserve and she thinks I don’t feel the same because I’ve been too caught up in something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

“I’m sorry…” She mutters, Steve catching a glimpse of wetness against her cheek before she swipes it away as quickly as it appeared. “You’re right and it’s not fair to you…or Y/n. I guess…I guess I’m just mad that he’s gone and I wanted to go back to junior year when my biggest problem was what I should wear the next time I see you.”

“Nance—”

“No, you’re right. Whatever we had, it’s not here anymore and it hasn’t been for a long time. You’re such a good friend to me Steve, but that’s it and I have to stop letting you believe it’s anything more than that.” She nods, stepping just a little closer, her hand resting against his cheek with a soft smile. “She loves you more than I ever could, and you deserve it, but she deserves it too. To be loved that way.”

“Maybe I’m not the guy for her because all I can seem to do is hurt her.”

“That’s not true. I think you just needed to see things for what they really are, to know everything else was just some stupid desire to chase the past. You should go to her, before it really is some other guy.” She half shoves him, his feet skittering against the concrete.

“Thanks, Nance.”

“Thanks Steve.”

He jogs back to the car, not a word uttered to either of his passengers before he’s setting off in the direction of your house. The two girls exchange looks, half hopeful with a hint of confusion.

“What happened?” Max taps at his shoulder, jerking when he makes an especially sharp turn. “Can you maybe drive like a normal person!?”

“Yeah, we’re still in the car, dingus! Both of us live the other way, just in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t, but thanks for the tip.” He counters, coming to a stop in front of your house. He tugs his arms out of his work vest, sliding his hands through his hair giving the strands an unkempt look. Then he just sits.

“Are you gonna go in?” Steve is too far gone to know who said it, every possible scenario of the moment he sees you again swirling in his brain, all of the worst ones popping out like a jack-in-the-box.

“I think he’s just gonna sit there.”

“Both of you shut up! I’m going.” This time he does, a foreign feeling walking the length of your driveway. Again, he can’t remember the last time he’d done it, muscle memory saving him from the uneven plate of concrete along the path to your front door.

He’d stored it in the back of his brain after your third date, he carried you to your room when you twisted your ankle, far too proud to admit how badly it hurt until he peeled your sock from your ankle to see it already angry and swelling. There’s a ghost tugging at the corner of his lips, dusting a smile in place of the lined skin when he lifts his fist to the door.

“Steve! It’s been a while, I was wondering when I’d see you again.” It’s your mom, the skin around her eyes coming off more tired than usual, but her smile is as radiant as ever when she ushers him into the house. She mentions something about dinner sometime soon and he nods absently before she leaves him to brave the trek upstairs in solitude.

It’s routine from there, the way he shuffles out of his shoes and wiggles his toes against the fluffy rug as he sets them aside. He’s slower than usual, afraid of what will or won’t happen when he ascends the stares.

He’s suddenly all too aware that he’s empty handed, not that he thinks you’d expect something but it still feels wrong to show up after so much time has passed. He’s aware it’s the longest you’ve been apart since you started seeing each other. He feels even worse.

When he steps onto the landing he can see light filtering beneath your door, but not much. He imagines you must be relying on light by wick again, can picture the array of candles systematically dancing along your dresser. He would periodically advise you against them, the time he found you asleep with them scaring him half to death, but the whole of it was a fondness he couldn’t do without. The warmth of the candles and the soft lighting creating the perfect space to exist as just the two of you.

He’s outside of your door now, his thoughts distracting him from the gait to the end of the hall. He leans forward on his toes, ear pressing against the door. The vibration is hopeful and he’s sure he catches a lyric or two from some Stevie Nicks song he doesn’t know the name of. His nerves have the better of him, unable to decipher the mood the lyrics or the instrumental are giving off.

He could turn back now and you would never know.

He almost laughs at the thought, doesn’t because you’ll hear and the last thing he needs is for you to think he’s mocking you from the other side of your bedroom door. It’s funny because it wasn’t even a thought to come here, it was just something that he knew. Something he knows, the love for you pounding in his chest. Now he’s standing out here, unsure if you wanna see him or if you’ll ignore the gentle singing of his fists.

He knocks twice, waits, then rap his knuckle a third time.

He waits a beat, wondering if you hadn’t heard or if you had and he’s making a fool of himself. His fist is half raised, his right foot turned back toward the stairs, unsure whether to stay or go when he hears it. It’s faint, low beneath the rumbling of your cassette player, but it’s there.

“Come in.”

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things x reader #steve harrington angst #steve harrington scenario

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championleonsslut · 4 months

Note

Lol I love your blog but I wanna ask soemthjng as a lurker so I can show my friend later lmfao. How about a trainer who DESPISES Leon with all her might and beats him out of spite but the hater to lover trope comes to mind?

Ooh well this is interesting! I’ll do my best as always, I hope you enjoy, anon!

“Fuck that guy in particular… Not literally.”

There he goes again. That arrogant, stupid, stuck-up champion. Winning another match like always! Someone needs to knock this guy off his throne.

He’s just so obnoxious! He’s always getting “lost”, which is probably more for publicity than anything.

Well, at least that’s what you thought.

You weren’t quite sure where your hatred for Champion Leon sprung up, but it was intense. You hated him with every fiber of your being, and would give anything to hit him with a chair.

Surprisingly… He had always been extremely friendly to you. He’s probably just like that with everyone. It’s probably all an act.

And what a bad actor he was, you could see right through it!

To clear off some steam after seeing that purple haired dumbass around again, you headed out to the Wild Area. Maybe you’ll do a Max Raid, or some fishing, or catch a wild Pokemon, or you’ll make a new batch of curry for your team.

You were just about to head into the forest, when a voice caught your attention.

“Uh… Excuse me?”

You turn around, only to find him, with a stupid smile on his face, and he gives a little wave.

“Hi there! I uh… I’m kinda lost-“

Of course you are.

“I was hoping you could maybe point me in the right direction to Motostoke?”

I’ll point you in the right direction to your death, how’s that sound?

But of course you didn’t say those things. You didn’t get a chance, not when he spoke up again.

“Oh wait! I know you! You’re one of the gym trainers at Raihan’s gym, aren’t you?”

How’s he know that?

He grinned from ear to ear, “I’ve seen you battle a few times. You’re a great trainer! Really! Would you… Be willing to battle me before I head off?”

Battling Leon? Well… If you beat him, the victory will sure feel good. Maybe you can even rub it in a little and watch his face drop.

So you agreed.

The battle was fierce, both teams fought violently but also passionately. In the end… You came out victorious!

Leon chuckled as he sent his final Pokemon away, “That was really great! Thanks!”

You nodded and sent your final Pokemon away. You were surprised when he walked closer to you.

Leon sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Hey… Would you wanna… Hang out some time? Maybe not to battle but if you want to…”

That was the last thing you wanted, but you didn’t wanna be rude to him. You may hate him, but he’s being so nice! Even if it is all an act…

So you nodded, “Sure. You know where to find me.”

And he sure did. He found you… Multiple times. He would come see you after matches, hang out with you in the Wild Area, you guys even ran into each other at the library once!

Slowly but surely, your hate for Leon diminished… and was replaced with the biggest crush of your life. He was so sweet and charming! So funny and handsome… He was perfect.

So when he asked you to battle again a few months after your first one, you rapidly agreed. Anything for Leon’s validation!

You won, again, and he came over to you with a chuckle.

“Great job as usual.” He smiled and held out his hand for a handshake.

You looked up at him, your fingers centimeters away from touching.

That was when you blurted out:

“Heydoyouwannagooutsometime?Ijustthinkyou’rereallyhotandsweet.It’sokayifyoudon’t!Iwasjustwondering…”

Leon blinked at you for a few seconds, while you slapped your hand over your mouth.

“I-I didn’t-“

Leon cut you off, “I’m glad you asked first, because I barely had the courage to!”

You could only stare at him as he gently took your hand in his.

“And that’s how I met your father.” You smiled down at the three children from your couch, as your husband sat next to you.

The three children blinked up at you, and the eldest spoke up.

“Tell it again!” He grinned.

“She just told you that one!” Leon chuckled, and kissed your cheek

#champion leon #pokemon leon #trainer leon #pokemon #anon ask #champion leon x reader #pokemon leon x reader #request #champion leon headcannons #pokemon leon headcannons

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fourraccoonsinacoat · 8 months

Text

Head Full of Ghosts

Pairing: Astarion x Dark Urge

Summary: Takes place during the events of Baldur's Gate 3 and explores the romance between Astarion and the Dark Urge, as well as the friendships and relationships she has with her companions. Plus, everyone gives shit to Gale about his cooking. Tags: Slow Burn, Angst, Pining, Humor, Violence, Friends to Lovers, Developing Friendships, Developing Romance, Spoilers for the Dark Urge and BG3 in general, Dark Urge as Original Female Character Rating: Mature (Will eventually be Explicit, just not there yet.) Current Chapter Count: 3/? Read on AO3 (Will post chapters to Tumblr, as well.) Current Word Count: 13,050

Author Notes: Hello, Tumblr! Longtime lurker, first time poster. BG3 has reignited my love for writing fanfic - I think it's legit been over seven years since I've written a fic. The dry spell has now been broken. BG3 has grabbed me by the throat and pulled me back in and damn, if I'm not enjoying the hell out of it. I've got an ongoing fic on AO3, so I figured why not officially join Tumblr and dive headfirst into the fandom? Should anyone read my silly fic, I dearly hope you enjoy it. All these characters currently live in my head rent free.

Chapter 1: Misfits

The toll house burned as Karlach whooped, exacting rage and fury on everything within the abandoned building. Her glee might have been infectious if it hadn’t been so damn dangerous.

Luckily, Eli and her merry band of misfits had gotten clear of the structure before the worst of the fires caught. They now stood in the middle of the dirt cart path that led to the toll house entryway, watching the scene unfold in front of them with the same morbid curiosity with which townsfolk might watch a public hanging.

Wyll rubbed the back of his neck, cringing slightly as the loud and unmistakable crash of something glass-made reverberated from within the inferno.

“Maybe…” he started hesitantly, then cleared his throat. “Maybe someone should stop her?”

Honestly, Wyll was too pure for their group of maladjusted headcases. Between being forcibly inducted as Emerald Grove’s newest mediator, and trying to figure out just what in the nine hells was going on with the illithid tadpoles in their brains, Eli had not had much time to get to know Wyll. Like her, he was a warlock, though he was being rather cagey about who or what his patron was. She guessed it had something to do with his contract, and it wasn’t as if she had much room to judge.

Eli couldn’t even remember who the hell her patron was. That knowledge was a gaping black hole in her ruptured memory. Sometimes, late at night, in the stifling silence when the chaos of the day had finally died down, she’d try to recall…anything. Anything about her past life beyond the images of blood, death and rot that swirled in her mind. She was never successful, and her attempts usually ended in a roiling headache. The holes in her brain were deep, dark and remained unknown.

“These days I’m trying to avoid situations that end with me burnt to ash,” Astarion’s snark brought Eli back to the here and now. “But if you’re confident in your ability to be fire retardant, then by all means,” he finished the thought by motioning towards the building with a bit of a flourish.

The building was now practically engulfed in flames so bright that it was difficult to look at. She was pretty sure she could hear the roof caving in. Eli pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes, the light and sound of it all was causing her already throbbing headache to grow and fester behind her eyes.

“Stop trying to suck the joy out of things, Wyll,” Eli said, with a bit more bite than she had intended.

She couldn’t see it, but she heard the eye roll in his response. “Fine. Far be it from me to deny someone their little moments of destructive bliss.”

Eli huffed in response and felt a presence move up next to her.

“Another headache?” Shadowheart’s voice wasn’t quite concerned, but it did have a hint of guarded interest, and for Shadowheart that was just as good.

“Think I’m going on day three now,” Eli responded with a groan. She let her hand drop from her face and opened her eyes, blinking back against the influx of light.

No one spoke it out loud, but they all knew the significance of that statement. Three days ago, Eli had woke in the middle of the night to discover Alfira, a kind and gentle tiefling bard, brutalized and dead…by Eli’s own hands. The shame, guilt and confusion from that night was still a gaping and painful wound within. Alfira was a constant and haunting presence, a reminder that her mind and body were not her own. She could recall flashes of memory from that night, and she desperately wished that was not the case.

The fear in Alfira’s eyes was emblazoned upon her brain and it followed her into her dreams. She was not sleeping well, if at all. And the terror that she would once again wake up to find she’d torn open another of her companions, one of her friends…it was enough to fill her nights with nauseating dread.

“Maybe Gale can cook up a sleeping potion for you when we get back to camp,” Shadowheart suggested with more softness in her voice than Eli was used to. “I’m sure your penchant for rummaging through our wares until all hours of the morning isn’t helping things,” she chided a bit more coolly.

Eli gave her a non-committal half smile. She’d taken to perusing their camp’s growing hoard of books during her sleepless nights. Reading kept her mind busy, and off of other darker thoughts that stalked her steps.

“Given the unholy smells being extruded by Gale’s cookpot the other night, I’m not sure I’d trust him to brew a sleeping potion someone is expected to wake up from,” Astarion said cheerily, stepping up to Eli’s other side opposite Shadowheart. “Besides, there’s nothing wrong with a little extracurricular nighttime activity.”

The suggestive smirk he gave Eli caused the pit of her stomach to tighten.

“Yes, because reading is so titillating,” she deadpanned back at him. Astarion was a shameless flirt, and Eli wasn’t in a mood to deal with him while her head was splitting open from the inside out.

Astarion, however, was not dissuaded.

“Darling, it’s not my fault if you choose a boring activity.” He emphasized the word ‘boring’ and Eli knew exactly where this was going before they even got there.

He leaned in closer and she caught the faint scent of spice and rosemary that always lingered in the space where he’d been. Nine hells, why did she know that?

“You know I’m only a few tents away if you ever want to try a more stimulating activity,” he purred. A small shiver ran up her spine as she felt the breath from his words against her neck.

A derisive snort came from Eli’s other side. “Really, Astarion, were you never taught not to play with your food?” Shadowheart said with the hint of a smirk, which turned into a full grin when Eli shot her a dark glare.

Eli suddenly felt very aware of a certain spot on her neck as she looked back to Astarion, whose red eyes had been lingering there before they flicked back up to her face. She met his gaze and thought she saw something hungry flash across his expression before he looked to Shadowheart.

“Call it an appetizer,” Astarion replied in that smooth and sultry voice that danced so effortlessly from his lips. “Something to get the blood pumping before the main course.”

Eli was starting to feel something akin to what a rabbit may feel when being circled by wolves. Astarion had inched closer to her as he spoke and teased, pushing into her personal space with bravado and squaring up to her like an animal on the prowl. Eli had experienced this behavior from him before, and she hated it. Not because of any issues with personal boundaries - she didn’t even know if she had issues with personal boundaries, considering how full of holes her memory was. No, she hated it because of how her body responded. And she doubted it was the sort of response Astarion was looking for.

All of his bravado, his confidence, how sure of himself he seemed when he pressed near to her, playing his games. It triggered an anger in her she didn’t recognize. A cruel and dominating rage that wanted nothing more than to grab him by the throat and force him to his knees, demanding respect. She was no rabbit fearful of wolves, no plaything for him to tease. She’d flay him sternum to navel for his insolence.

“Stop,” Eli muttered, moreso to herself than to Astarion.

Her head was pounding as she tried to shove those unwanted and vicious thoughts back down into the unknown void of herself. She took a tentative step backwards and nearly collided with Shadowheart, who managed to step quickly out of the way. Eli felt a hand on her shoulder and reflexively flinched away, internally trying to wrest herself from the cloying vile madness that was building in her brain.

“Sorry,” Eli heard Shadowheart say.

Glancing to Shadowheart, Eli saw she had her hands raised in a conciliatory gesture. Likely, Shadowheart had reached out to try and steady Eli. The problem was, Eli didn’t trust herself when her mind went red and hazy.

She didn’t want anyone touching her in those moments. She didn’t want anyone ending up like Alfira…

“That’s enough of that,” Wyll’s strong voice held a very clear note of annoyance in it. “Leave her be and let’s get back to camp. Lest we get lost out here after the sun goes down.”

Eli appreciated the sentiment, but she almost wished Wyll had stayed silent.

“Ah, the dashing Blade of Frontiers here to save the pretty damsel from the dangerous vampire,” Astarion said, with more than a hint of contempt to his words.

Astarion and Wyll did not play nice. They reminded Eli of two dogs posturing and vying for control when they were near one another. And, unfortunately, everyone else got pissed on in the process.

Astarion continued to bait the hook, voice sickly suggestive. “Hoping she’ll offer you a place to sheath your blade tonight if you play hero?”

Eli wheeled on Astarion with a glare that only succeeded in making the elf smile wider. For all of his pompous confidence, Eli did take note of the fact that Astarion had backed off from her. At least in the physical sense. He seemed more than happy to continue his verbal assault.

“You vulgar bastard!” Wyll barked back, angrily stepping towards Astarion who was grinning like a feral cat. Wyll was taking the bait.

“Lolth’s rotten nickers!” Eli exclaimed, exasperated and over all of this. “If the two of you want to have it out, fine! Just know I’m not asking Withers to bring either of you miserable assholes back if one of you kills the other!”

The blood in her head was pounding again, pulsating painfully behind her eyes. Eli threw up her hands and turned away from the squabbling men, only to see that tiefling barbarian, Karlach, watching all of them with a grin.

“You lot seem fun as hell!” she proclaimed with a laugh as the toll house continued to blaze like an inferno behind her. “Still cool if I tag along?”

“Yeah, sure,” Eli responded. “We all seem to be in the same shithole of a boat, so if you want to grab a paddle I’m not stopping you.”

Eli smirked and Karlach’s face lit up with excitement. “That’s the spirit!”

The next few moments were a blur. Moments in which Eli felt very much like a passenger in her own body. Astarion wasn’t letting up, and from behind her Eli heard his goading voice as he continued to taunt Wyll.

“You know, Wyll, if you’re ever curious about what our dear, sweet Eli tastes like, all you have to do is ask,” Astarion’s sly words were dripping with inuendo.

Eli snapped.

She rounded on Astarion like a displacer beast loosed from hell, stepping into his personal space just as he had done to her earlier. Eli, however, was not playing games. Her head felt like it was exploding from the inside and her vision was beginning to swim. She needed to get out of here. She needed to leave before she lost control. She needed to put this flippant, disrespectful maggot in his place.

“Would you FUCK OFF with your self-aggrandizing bullshit!” she roared.

Eli was up in Astarion’s face now, all venom and rage as she tried to maintain enough control to keep herself from driving a dagger through his eye like the monster inside of her was demanding.

“I’ve let you feed on me ONE time, and that has been the extent of any nightly activities between us,” she growled, locking eyes with the vampire spawn.

Astarion was a few inches taller than her, but in this moment it didn’t matter. They had all seen Eli fight. They’d witnessed the absolute carnage and power that she was capable of, and while most of that ability came from whatever deal she’d made with her patron, they had all sensed something else beyond her skill as a warlock. Something foul and brutal and violent that she seemed desperate to keep restrained.

That thing was leaking out now. Pressing at the barricades in her mind wrestling to break free. It wanted blood and gore and anguish. It wanted out.

“So, keep your pathetic attention-whoring charade in check or I’m going to lock you in a coffin and burry you so fucking deep even the worms won’t be able to find you!” Eli snarled, eyes glittering with a mania that indicated she was far from joking.

Eli didn’t know the chord she’d struck in Astarion – she didn’t even know if he had chords to be struck. She didn’t know how her words wrenched unbidden memories to the surface of his mind, like puss oozing from an infected wound. She didn’t know the torments inflicted upon him. Didn’t know that her words caused his chest to tighten with anxiety as unwanted recollections flashed in his mind. Days, months, years trapped in lonely confinement at the whim of his abuser. Locked away and starved because he said something displeasing or because he begged to be spared the agony of having his scars cut open once again because his master was bored and wanted to play.

Astarion had gone very still in the face of Eli’s wrath. And as the haze of anger in her mind dissipated and the realization of what she’d just said crashed down upon her, her eyes went wide and she took a quick step back. Her head was a mess and she felt like she was coming up out of a dream and seizing control of herself once more.

Shadowheart, Wyll and Karlach stood by, staring with a mix of shock and morbid curiosity. They were not going to get involved, but they damn sure were going to watch this disaster play out.

“I…uh…” Eli stuttered as she pulled herself back from the brink.

Her movements felt lethargic and wrong, as if she were a step removed from the actions her body was taking. But she kept hold of her mental steering wheel and willed herself to maintain control.

“Fuck. I’m sorry, Astarion,” she lifted her gaze, wanting to meet his eyes so she could explain and apologize again.

But Astarion wasn’t looking at her. At least, not at her face. His eyes were fixated on the collar of the burgundy undershirt she wore below her chest armor. His expression fluctuated somewhere between grim detachment and smoldering hatred, crimson eyes glassy and distant.

Eli felt an unnerving sensation of being looked through.

“Astarion?” she questioned, voice softer and tinged with an edge of worry.

She took a tentative step forward and raised a hand towards him. Had he been struck with an incantation? A curse? Maybe Shadowheart or Wyll had cast something as a means of intervention?

Eli was about to turn and ask them when Astarion flinched back from her outstretched hand as if she’d struck him. His eyes snapped to hers and burned with a hostility she’d never seen from him, not even during the famously vehement rows he and Gale would get into over Gale’s cooking (the arguments usually ended with Gale shouting, “You aren’t even going to eat any of it, anyway!” and storming off in a dither).

“Don’t,” Astarion snarled through clenched teeth and a tight jaw. “Don’t fucking touch me!”

Icy loathing dripped off his every word and Eli suddenly recognized the defensive posture he’d put himself in, leaning back and away from her with hands ready to go for a weapon or even swing at her should she move closer. He reminded her of an animal trapped in a corner, baring its fangs at something…

At something dangerous. At something intent on hurting them.

Shit. Had her outburst really been that bad? Had he really thought she was going to attack him?

A pang stabbed through her stomach as she realized…of course he had. Because of what she’d done to Alfira. She’d already proven she was capable of brutalizing the people around her, no matter how innocent they were. They thought she was dangerous. Astarion, a godsdamn vampire who’d crept up on her in the middle of the night, thought she was dangerous.

She needed to get herself under control. This wasn’t a sustainable lifestyle. At least not for the people around her…

“Astarion, I’m really fucking sorry,” she backed away from him, giving him space and bringing her hands back to her sides. “I’m not even entirely sure what happened. Things got…hazy. I’m really sorry.”

It was a piss poor excuse, and an even worse apology. She knew. And it seemed he agreed.

“You can choke on your apology,” Astarion snapped as he shoved past her. “If the tadpole turns you tonight, it wouldn’t be too soon.”

The sheer venom of his words stung as painfully as if he’d stabbed her right there on the spot. She opened her mouth to reply, but could think of nothing worthwhile to say. So she snapped it closed and watched him walk off down the path that led back to camp.

Well, some fantastic leader she was turning out to be. She already didn’t understand why anyone thought she, with her magnitude of memory loss and murder happy tendencies, was the ideal candidate for a position of authority. She was awful at this shit!

Eli had spent a lot of time combing through her fractured psyche, trying to piece together any semblance of facts about who she was. In all that self-reflection, she’d concluded there were two things she was really good at. Killing people and drinking.

Fuck, what she wouldn’t give to be doing either one of those things right now instead of this.

She turned a miserable expression on her remaining companions. “Is it too late to go back to the mind flayer ship and just surrender?”

Wyll laughed and sided up to her, clapping a hand on her shoulder and trying to be reassuring.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” he said. Then, with a somewhat darker smirk, “And if he doesn’t, we’ll just stake him. Luckily for us, our benevolent illithid captors saw fit to crash us in the middle of a forest. Trees everywhere.”

Wyll grinned while Eli just gave him a deadpan stare. He wasn’t helping. Maybe he wasn’t too pure for their little group, after all. Maybe he was just as much of a dumbass as the rest of them.

Eli looked to Shadowheart, who simply rolled her eyes before glancing after Astarion as he continued to walk further and further from the party.

“I bet he just needs some time to cool down,” Shadowheart mused. “Men can be irrationally dramatic when they put their minds to it.”

The grin on Wyll’s face fell as Shadowheart started to follow Astarion down the path. Eli trailed after her, glancing to Karlach in the hopes of making some sort of conversation to distract herself from all the pain and noise in her head.

“I’m just happy to be here,” Karlach laughed.

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