#so much of parts 2 and 3 of this fic

[altschmerzes]

🌹any bit of angsty comfort from the torture fic?

oh you know it!! thank you i'm excited to share some of this :)

got uh. got A LOT of that coming up, so here's a section from shortly after they've been allowed to take mac home from medical. it's a long fic so this is gonna be a bit of a long clip sldfkj, enjoy!! gonna put it under a cut bc of, well, It Is From The Torture Fic, though he's home and nothing further bad is like. actively happening to him.

specific content warnings: a Lot of references to murdoc pulling mac's hair and the whole Pliers Situation from part 1. (also a generalized like... sense of shame and having been somehow Ruined by what happened to him.)

--

Jack is sitting there on the couch with him and has been since they got home, paying only nominally more attention to whatever is happening on the screen than Mac is. Most of his attention is on Mac himself, even though his eyes are on the movie. He’s got a hand on Mac’s head moving his fingers through Mac’s hair in slow strokes. The callouses on his fingertips brush Mac’s temple when he reaches the ends and starts over again.

It’s gentle and affectionate, the sort of thing that, on a good day, might make Mac blush and look away while he privately stowed the memory somewhere he’d always be able to retrieve it whenever he got to wondering if anyone had ever really loved him at all. That’s how it makes him feel when Jack touches him like this - loved. Safe, and important, and loved. Like he’s someone’s family. Someone’s son, he might even dare to allow himself to imagine sometimes.

Right now, though, it doesn’t feel like it usually does. Right now, Mac is fighting against a simmering panic that’s threatening to grow too large to tolerate the longer it continues. He knows that it’s Jack sitting beside him, knows who the hand on his head belongs to and even further knows that person is someone who would quite literally die before intentionally harming him.

Even so, the fear is strong and thick, taking over everything else until it’s all that’s left. Nausea stirs in his gut and dread hammers at the inside of his skull until Mac is certain that any moment the gentle stroking is going to turn into a vicious grip, yanking on his hair to twist his head back and around, wherever his captor wants him, because his body doesn’t belong to him and there’s nothing he can do to stop-

“Please don’t pull it,” he manages in a faint, nearly inaudible whisper when the vortex of anxious anticipation grew too strong to fight any longer and the only other option was lashing out in a desperate bid to get the man touching him to stop. The hand on his head goes very still, and Mac’s chest feels like it’s cracking into pieces. He closes his eyes and feels the hot trickle of a few tears coursing down the side of his face.

“What?” The question comes after a long beat of silence, and then Jack pulls away entirely. His hand leaves Mac’s head and Mac grieves acutely for its loss. A few more tears make it out through his squeezed-shut eyelids despite his efforts to stifle them. “Do you- Should I stop? If this is uncomfortable for you- if anything I ever do is uncomfortable for you, if it’s freaking you out, then I don’t have to-”

“No!” Mac doesn’t know where he gets the strength to say it, except that he feels like the alternative would be so much worse. “I mean, no, you don’t… You don’t have to stop, just- Don’t pull on it. Please.” The tone on please is practically begging, so close to the way he’d begged Murdoc to stop hurting him when he’d cracked and been unable to help himself, and Mac feels so ashamed of himself he might drown in it. Murdoc had laughed when he’d broken and started to plead, and it hadn’t even brought him any relief. If anything, the pliers had clamped down tighter, a thought that makes his side pulse in remembered agony.

You're not there, he tells himself, and tries to believe it. You're not there. You're with Jack and you're safe. He wouldn't do that to you.

“Okay,” is the response when it finally comes, delivered in a thick voice after a few moments of heavy silence. “I promise. I swear on my daddy’s grave, kid, I will not- I will never pull your hair.” The last part of the oath wavers, like maybe Jack was somewhere near being about to cry himself, and Mac’s throat throbs in a way that’s unrelated to the deep bruises ringing it.

So long passes with only the sound of the movie for Mac to pick up on, eyes still closed and face still turned nearly into the back of the couch, that he begins to feel strangely alone. He wishes he hadn’t said anything at all because the fear of his hair being suddenly and cruelly yanked is better than this. He would take that over the detached cold of feeling like he’s been split open and ruined so thoroughly that nobody could bear to let their skin come into contact with his when reminded of it. And then, just when he was halfway convinced that it never would, the touch returns. It’s even gentler than before and Mac’s chest hitches with something that might have been a sob of relief if it had the energy to be anything more than a slightly jagged breath. The hand brushes through his hair a few times, then Jack flattens it to the top of Mac’s head, his thumb stroking Mac’s temple.

[bacchuschucklefuck]

gukgak specifically from my typing (man w/ three jobs & a creeping sense of dread)

[howlonomy]

Monster Clover, like this is so awesomecool.

They're such a little beast and it is amazing and please i need more, like written text even i just need the juicy lore and emotional moments that are circling in ur brain.

HAT: RETRIEVED!!

[stevebabey]

no one asked but this is the post that inspired this! thank u immensely for the luv <3 number 1 comment was wondering what steve’s bids were & from his pov, so without further ado...enjoy — part one here!

—

Begrudgingly, Eddie has to admit that Robin might be right.

It’s impossible not to be looking for the bids since he brought them up to her. Even though Eddie was fully expecting to tell Robin to suck it, maybe even wager what little money he had against this working out, Eddie can’t help but watch for them in every interaction. And fuck, she’s right.

They’re little, but they’re there.

The first one Eddie would’ve missed if he wasn’t looking for it. Actually, that’s a lie; Eddie does miss it, until Robin points it out, the nosy bitch. It’s minuscule and honestly, it just seems like Steve asking his opinion — which friends do all the time! It’s why Eddie brushes right over it.

“Okay, be honest,“ Steve had said, walking and talking as he entered the living room where Robin and Eddie were sprawled across the couches. They were both waiting on him, the three of them set on heading out to the drive-in to catch a film.

Eddie can’t fathom why Steve felt the need to change his outfit for it, but when he returns, he gets it. It’s not quite the usual polo Eddie had grown to like on Steve, this one hanging a little looser, the colour a bit darker than Steve’s usual choice, the sleeves a little shorter — almost midway to a muscle tee.

Steve’s fingers fiddle with the distressed collar of the shirt, smoothing invisible wrinkles and fussing over nothing. He swishes back his floppy hair with a flick of his head. “It’s a new shirt, I know it’s a little different - but what do we think?”

He says we but he’s looking at Eddie.

Eddie, who has taken to trying to reel in his gawp because what the fuck Steve? It’s like he’s well aware of what drives Eddie insane and has specifically leaned into it. Some evil goblin in Eddie’s brain whispers think how good he’d look in your shirt and he squashes it, giving a visible twitch to shut down that train of thought.

From the other couch, Robin clears her throat loudly and smiles sweetly at her best friend. “It looks great, Steve.”

It’s sincere and Steve’s mouth tugs up, nearly a smile but his gaze fast-tracks back to Eddie. Eddie nods in agreement, a bit sluggish from his distracting thoughts and god dammit, the extra exposed skin of Steve’s arms are so not helping. “Yeah, looks... looks good, man.”

Steve smiles, lips pressed together but his shoulders curl in just a bit, deflating just a tad. From where Steve can’t see her, Robin waves her hands wildly and catches Eddie’s attention. He watches as she gestures wildly and it takes a moment to realise what’s she mouthing — ‘A bid! That’s a bid, you idiot!’

Oh fuck, Eddie thinks. Cos it totally was; the question, the focus on Eddie. He doesn’t even think about the logistics of it, of the fact Robin was right, just jumps right into picking up the bid.

“You trying a new style?” Eddie asks and then thanks whatever god invented the whole fake-it-to-you-make-it schtick because he’s feeling so far from casual or confident. “Going metal on me, big boy?”

Eddie just manages to catch the grin that breaks across Steve’s face as he turns away, giving a scoff — it comes out too soft though, giving away his complete lack of annoyance. He pulls that usual Steve Harrington pose, hands sliding onto his hips, and screws his face into some melted smiley-grimace. “Shut up, Munson.”

Eddie grins and goads on the blush that’s beginning on Steve’s neck, a glorious tinged pink colour. “If this shirt is any indication, you’d pull it off just fine.”

Eddie watches the blush climb higher as Steve ignores the comment, his smile still giving him away. He grabs his coat and pats down his jeans — ridiculous tight acid wash jeans that Eddie hates he’s somehow become attracted to — ensuring he has his keys and wallet. Once assured, he looks up at his two friends again, brows raised, and says, “Ready to rock and roll?”

That comment alone has Eddie seriously reconsidering his type in men.

There’s only a brief moment to talk about it when Eddie and Robin cajole Steve into going and getting them both popcorn to get a moment alone. Steve had scoffed, face twitching in the way it did whenever he tried to hold back a bitchy comment, but he still stomped off in the direction of the snack stand.

The moment he’s out of earshot, both voices explode in the back of Eddie’s van.

“What did I say—”

“Jesus H Christ, you were right—”

“Literally how many times do I have—”

“Oh my god, you were right—”

“ —before you realise I’m always—”

“Robin.” He cuts her off, hands landing on her shoulders. Robin eyes them warily, lips still parted from how her rant had been cut off. “Robin, I’m gonna kill you.”

“What?” Robin’s nose scrunches up. “What the hell are you—”

“Oh Christ, I can’t believe- how long have you noticed those bids?” Eddie’s aware he sounds a bit estranged, eyes probably wide and it doesn’t help when he softly shakes Robin back and forth. She lets herself be shaken, hair flying back in forth. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! You are such a bad gay friend!”

Robin smacks his hands off her shoulders with a frown, her freckly face perturbed at Eddie’s outburst. “Dude, it’s not my fault! May I remind you that until very very recently you were seeing someone else? What difference would it have made?”

Eddie waves his hand, disregarding the point with a shake of his head. His unkempt curls cover his face and Eddie sweeps them back in one motion, “What difference would it have made? Oh my, Jesus—“

Whatever long-winded sentence Eddie was about to spit out is lost by the sound of Steve’s approaching footsteps, effectively shutting both of them up.

Eddie flings himself to the other side of the van, putting an unusual amount of distance between Robin and him like they were being caught doing something they shouldn’t.

Robin frowns at him and gestures wildly with her hands in a way that means what the fuck man? Eddie gestures back, though he’s not entirely sure what his fast hand motions are supposed to mean when Steve rounds the door.

He’s got two buckets of popcorn tucked under each arm and Eddie quickly crosses his arms, tucking his hands into his armpits like his stupid hand motions will somehow give him away. 

Steve looks up, stopping just a way from the edge of the van, and looks at the pair of them. His eyes track from Robin still sitting on one of the old cushions and looking two seconds from burying her face in her hands, across to Eddie. He huffs a laugh and kneels on the edge of the van.

“I know he’s gross Robin,” He begins, tone light, as he holds out one of the buckets for Robin to take. “But c’mon, is the distance really necessary?”

Robin snickers as Eddie makes an appalled noise, both of which make Steve smirk. He holds out the other for Eddie to take and Eddie snatches it, glaring at him over the buttery rim for his comment. Then takes a handful and shovels it in because he can’t think of a witty comment to retaliate. Steve crawls into the van and plops himself between them with a content sigh.

“See? Gross.” He teases, shoving his hand into Eddie’s popcorn bucket to grab a handful. Eddie scowls and chews a little faster when the flavour on his tongue seems to register in his brain.

His eyes stare at the popcorn bucket as he chews, then swallows — up the front of the van, the radio that’s tuned into the correct frequency begins playing the opening credits song as the screen changes. Silence sweeps across the drive-in but despite the sudden hush, Eddie has no qualms about breaking it.

“Sweet n’ salty flavour?” He asks Steve, only half attempting a whisper. Robin shushes him instantly, her focus already on the movie that’s beginning. Steve smiles, looking a bit sheepish beneath the glow of the drive-in screen, but he nods.

“I know you like it.” He whispers with a small shrug of his shoulders. Like it wasn’t a big deal. Fuck, Eddie thinks again and hastily feeds himself another handful of popcorn before he says anything majorly stupid in response to that, like: Oh, amazing- have you noticed the big fat crush I have on you as well?

He doesn’t even need to look at Robin to know she’s smiling, smug as ever.

—

Steve, God bless his oblivious little heart, doesn’t even realise he’s doing it.

Steve likes Eddie. Eddie is— god, Eddie is different but he’s good.

He’s this strange amalgamation of traits that Steve can’t comprehend how they fit together in one body or how Eddie manages to pull it all off completely charmingly.

He’s loud, he says rude things, he’s fucking dorky, and far too sweet on the kids — he likes to tease Steve, and yet somehow, when Eddie calls him ‘pretty boy’, Steve knows he’s not actually making fun of him.

Steve likes Eddie, likes his boyishly endearing charm, likes his touchiness towards Steve that no other boy his age is like, likes his messy curls and his ‘holier than thou’ attitude about metal music even though Steve doesn’t get it, like at all. And fuck, Steve really wants Eddie to like him.

It reminds him faintly of when he first started working alongside Robin at Scoops. That thought tickles in the back of his mind, something along the lines of how he had wanted Robin to like him for other reasons, but he doesn’t delve into it.

To Steve, it’s simple: he just wants Eddie to like him.

After the night at the drive-in, between Eddie acting strangely skittish and Robin giving more amused snorts than usual, Steve knows something is up.

He knows they must have discussed something when they sent him on popcorn duty, the bastards. He tries his best to not feel left out; god knows Robin and he have more than a dozen secrets they’ve sworn not to tell anyone but each other.

Besides, Steve trusts Robin to come and tell him if he really needs to know, even if it does worry him a bit. He bites down his anxious thoughts, even trying for a moment to see if there’s a pattern he’s been missing.

That train of thought gets derailed when Steve recalls instead Eddie’s delightful reaction to his new shirt — that Steve definitely hadn’t bought for that specific reason.

Even though Robin had given him that look when he’d first shown it to her — her bright eyes had narrowed, her smile turning a little more coy, and Steve had felt his ears get a little hotter. She hadn’t said anything though, just suggested that he should wear it tomorrow night when they were going out with Eddie.

God, he was glad she suggested it.

Rewinding over Eddie’s parted lips, the way his brown eyes had drank in the details as they trailed up his body and lingered on his arms— Steve had the sudden thought to flex the muscle, just to elicit some reaction, but it had gone out the window at Eddie’s original dismal reaction.

‘Yeah, looks... looks good, man’. Said all aloof, like he hadn’t really thought it. It was like bursting a balloon hidden behind Steve’s ribs, one he wasn’t even aware was there until it was deflating pathetically, making his shoulders sag.

Then— ‘You trying a new style? Going metal on me, big boy?’ And dammit, it’s like Eddie had clocked exactly what calling him ‘big boy’ had done the first time in the Winnebago.

Eddie had then grinned, done another once over of the new shirt, even as Steve pretended to search for his keys and wallet while saying something snarky to try to cover up the heat crawling up his neck. Yet, Steve found himself smiling too because, fuck yes, Eddie liked it too.

But, apparently, whatever Eddie and Robin had discussed wasn’t considered important enough because Robin never brought it up.

The thought and worry about it melt away in Steve’s mind until the memory of that night is about Eddie’s compliment, about his cat-like grin over the popcorn bucket, and how he had leaned over to whisper every bad joke into Steve’s ear all through the movie.

Some of them had been down-right filthy jokes which Eddie only seemed to enjoy more when Steve screwed his face up and nudged Eddie in the ribs, yet unable to hide his smile.

After the third vulgar joke and subsequent nudge, Steve had chided ‘dude’ with a poorly hidden grin. Eddie, smile all cheeky, had nudged him back with a ‘dude’ of his own.

Which, of course, ensued a nudge competition til Robin had given a shush that librarians all over the world would be jealous of. But Steve didn’t even care because he and Eddie were arm to arm, pressed close together and Eddie…didn’t move. Stayed close, like he wanted the closeness the same way Steve did.

Steve only remembers the strange drive-in moment when Robin brings it up finally, on one interesting Saturday night.

It’s not the usual routine; it’s not very often that the whole group gets together to share drinks and get rowdy.

But it was for Robin’s birthday and she’d been persuasive enough to get even the introverts, like Jonathan, to come along. Though, she was aware he’d probably spend the night on a pool lounger, stoned to high heaven. Whatever floats your boat, she’d said, happy for the company in any form.

There’s enough of them there that it almost resembles some sort of party— and makes Steve try not to think about the last small party he threw here. He can tell Nancy notices it too, eyeing the pool a bit too long in a way he’s very familiar with, then taking a swig of beer.

So, Steve heckles them inside — doing a fantastic mothering impression as he waves the group indoors with a promise of pizza, and that has both Jonathan and Argyle perking up and beginning a fast discussion on the best pizza toppings.

Eddie makes a fuss, because of course he does, and moans terribly when Steve tries to roll him off the pool lounger he’s on. He’s had a bit of a joint and some beer, and Steve’s learned that he gets adorably stubborn after some substances.

“Stevie, this is mean,” he had pouted, gripping the edges of the lounger and staring up at Steve with those big brown eyes. “You telling me I did all that bonding with you for nothing? Can’t even lounge by the pool! I’ve got a couch at homeeeee.”

Steve had sent him an amused look of disbelief, hands on his hips after his first round of flicks against Eddie’s arm were apparently fruitless to get him to move. “Really? Didn’t peg you for a gold-digger, Eds.”

Eddie had snorted at that, one hand coming to slap over his mouth. Steve couldn’t quite hear what he had said but the words pegging and anytime slipped through and Steve thinks he could get the gist of that.

“Oh for Christ’s sake,” Steve muttered, feeling the tips of his ears turn warm. He didn’t know how Eddie could be such a menace— or why he enjoyed it so much when he was. Steve waved a hand in the direction of the doors, ignoring Eddie’s delighted snickering. “If you go inside now, you can be on music, alright?”

And that had finally got them all indoors, Eddie whooping and skedaddling through the doors in an instant, with a call of ‘no take backsies!’ echoing behind him.

Inside was much cozier, the whole group a little more connected when squished up on the couches together. Eddie had taken Steve’s word and was jamming a cassette into one of the speakers when Steve made it back inside after scouting around the pool for leftover cans and butts to throw out.

He’s just been thinking about what playful jab he could make at Eddie’s music, like Eddie always did to him when Robin hollered at him from the kitchen.

“Steve!” She’d yelled excitedly and he come to find her quick, brows raised as he entered the kitchen. She was grinning, already a bit jumpy as she got when she had a bit of liquor — but apparently not enough because when Steve saw what she’d called him in for, she’d announced, “Tequila shots!”

Which lead to now. A hazy combination of beer, tequila, and a bit of weed, and Steve is feeling good. Robin had managed to hijack the music not too long ago, with a hiccup of ‘it’s my birthday’ that had Eddie surrendering with a pout.

She’d since put on a bit of everything: some Blondie for Nance, Talking Heads for Jonathan, and some Bowie, just so she and Steve could dance along to ‘Magic Dance’ and she could do all the silly little goblin voices that made them both cackle.

Steve realised at some point that Robin was playing their mixtape, the one she’d made for driving in the morning, and nearly tripped stumbling over to her in his excitement. He grabbed her shoulders, not too hard, and squeezed.

“Is it- is this our mixtape?” Steve asked, words slurring only a bit. Robin gleamed, hair bouncing with her excited nod.

“Yes!” She was already dancing, even though the tape was between songs — because she knew what song was coming. “It’s Springsteen time, Steve!”

Right as the drums to Born to Run filtered out the speaker.

And oh, Steve loves Robin so much. He loves having a best friend that knows his favourite song and gets jittery and excited because she knows it’s about to play— that she put it on this mix for him.

“You’re my best friend!” Steve says, the words bursting out like he can’t control them. He doesn’t even feel embarrassed, just happy, just drunk, and overwhelming happy to be able to have this.

And even though Robin knows this, she still beams, feet dancing along and just begins to sing along with the song, “In the days, we sweat it out on the streets of a runaway American dream…”

It’s a brazen drunken performance from the both of them. Steve’s chest is heaving after just one chorus that he’s pretty sure he put his whole soul into and he’s so fucking happy —and it feels like pure instinct to seek out Eddie, his eyes scouring the room for him.

Eddie’s leaned up against the wall, hiding his smile behind a can and Steve doesn’t think twice about it— doesn’t think about why he’s so drawn to Eddie, why he wants to include him in this happiness — just extends his hand out and grins.

Eddie sees the bid coming this time.

Part Three.

— 

yes i saw all ur lovely tags and MAYBE cried about it. but thats none of ur business.

@orangeandthefairroadkill @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @phantypurple @omg-elledubs-things @henderdads @farfaras @mixsethaddams @prismandblue @kerlypride @bushbees @legitcookie @temporalcoffin @callmesirkay @beautifully-useless @millyditty @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @ninjapirateunicorns @darkwitchoferie @vi-the-best-you-can @psychosnowfox @desert-fern @scarletzgo @cr0w-culture @softpink-candlelight @livingforfictionalcharacters @makewavesandwar @kozuuji @rhapsodyinalto @eddiethesexy @cassaloopa @lightwoodbanethings @qu33rcommunist @moonlitkilljoy @starkdusk @theysherobinbuckley @sanguineterrain @loganwright @sillysparrow @hotcocoaharrington @eddie-munson-is-my-wife @she-is-tim @steddiehearts @sideblogofthcentury @sidebarre @corrodedcoughin @stevieclaus

[cosmicvaca]

Star Platinum’s arms closed around her, tight without being crushing, and the stand rested her cheek against the top of Jotaro’s hat. Her initial instinct was to squirm away. Pressed that close, she could feel Star Platinum’s breasts against her back. Why did her stand have the proper body when Jotaro didn’t? It was bullshit. When squishing the disappointment out of her didn’t work, Star Platinum flitted over to the other side of the room, one huge hand digging through Jotaro’s luggage, unzipping its inner pockets until she found something and darted back. When she uncurled her fingers, Jotaro’s dark blue lipstick lay in her broad palm. It hadn’t burned up with her original coat, since she had started keeping it in her luggage after the close call of Polnareff trying to jam his hand into her coat pocket looking to bum a cigarette, the other week. She still hadn’t gotten the opportunity to try it on, and it was still pristine. Her hands were shaking, as she raised the tube to her mouth. After a lifetime of watching her mother do this, Jotaro knew how—hell, if she was putting it on someone else (Kakyoin, her brain insisted, Kakyoin with his wide mouth pursed for her to paint soft pink...) it would have been easy. At this rate, she’d probably smear it down her chin. Star Platinum gently took it from her, her fingers dwarfing the lipstick as she held it between her thumb and index finger. Her other hand came up, very lightly holding Jotaro’s chin still. Her first stroke was tentative and barely left any pigment, like she was afraid to break it in half, but at Jotaro’s direction, soon she had lined her lips in dark blue. It looked good. It didn’t give her a chest, or round out her hips, or fix the trainwreck between her legs, but... Despite the harsh color, her face looked a little softer, more feminine. She could be the kind of girl to leave little lipstick marks on the ends of a cigarette, or on a coffee cup, like her Nonna Lisa Lisa. Strong but elegant. If there were vampires and stands in the world, then there could be girls with boyish bodies, right?

Have not been able to get this from chapter 3 of "Watching for the Tide" by glasscamellias on Ao3.

Save me trans girl Jotaro save me

Commissions and alts under the cut

[utilitycaster]

I think something a lot of people could stand to meditate on, especially in fandom spaces, is that it's possible to enjoy wildly different outcomes and even contradicting outcomes in different works (or different installations of a longer story); and it's possible to have conflicting takeaways from different works; and indeed if you're coming away with the same exact takeaway from every single fictional work then that's a sign you're not fucking listening and are so deep into confirmation bias they're going to have to send in a search party to pull you out.

[hella1975]

a post about fic updates! so the fics im currently juggling are dog teeth, tams, and of course, taob. my original plan was to start posting the second installment of the dog teeth series by sometime in april, bc it's the fic im most into atm and i already have the first chapter done, i just want to bank another one or two because once i start posting it i want to KEEP posting it with regular updates, hopefully every 2 weeks like with kaiein. HOWEVER this will put my atla fics on a back burner. april is a good writing time for me (PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE) bc i have the entire month off from uni to prep for may exam season, and i always want to write when im procrastinating my degree. which is. it's own thing im sure i'll graduate it's fine i'm fine. so if i focus on dog teeth, neither tams nor taob will get focus until like. june. which is par for the course with taob but im NOT happy about doing with tams.

SO my thought process was i can either be normal about this and just accept it's literally my final year at uni and im trying to graduate and it doesn't matter if updates are slow on ANY fics, or i can do my usual and implement an insane deadline that i somehow always make by the skin of my teeth. can you guess what i went with?

and thus i present unto the crowd my tentative plan: have the next taob chapter done by middle of april (im aware this is quite hand-wavey but it gives me a month to work with, so in my head this means anything between april 10th-20th), have the next tams chapter done by the end of april, and dog teeth can follow.

[anotherferalrat]

YOU COWARDSSSS

YOU FOOOLSSSSSS

Inazuma Archon quest thought to give us Vision angst where you become a completely different person once you're apart from it for too long...

AND NONE OF YOU KAELUC/LUCKAE/WHATEVER MFS(/AFF) HAVE TAKEN ADVANTAGE OF THAT??? Once again, notice the /aff tag, i am one of the aforementioned kaeluc/whatever mfs

THE INAZUMANS IN THE QUEST SEEMED TO ONLY BE APART FROM IT AFTER A FEW DAYS, MAYBE MONTHS AT MOST. DILUC WAS WITHOUT A VISION FOR 3 YEARSSSSS. 3 YEARSSSSSSSSS. NOT ONLY THAT, HE WAS USING A DELUSION FOR THOSE 3 YEARS WHICH FURTHER MESSES UP HIS CRUMBLING MENTAL STATE/EXISTENCE/ETC

I want an au where Diluc doesn't take back his vision after he comes back, whether out of a still lingering grudge and stubborness or- in the opposite direction- he feels guilty, like he doesn't deserve his Vision, especially since it didn't allow him to save his father and was used to hurt the only person he has left.

And he starts changing. Kaeya at first thinks Diluc genuinely hates him bc he's still acting cold and it goes on for awhile. Then, Kaeya realizes he's just like that now... with everyone. His usual at least semi-courteous tone he used to use with patrons and business partners is now flat. He ran into (followed) Diluc and Jean and noticed the former was distant, if not borderline callous to his once childhood friend.

Kaeya makes another observation when the traveller finally comes around. Diluc is weirdly self-destructive in a way he wasn't before. Where he used to be cool and mindful of the battlefield, he throws himself into the fray with reckless abandon. His flames which used to be so controlled, run along the edges of his clothes, uncaring for the damage they may cause. And of course, there's the vigilantism that he doesn't want to address with a 10 ft pole (unless it's to tease Diluc about the name).

It all comes to a head when- for one reason or another- Kaeya has to come to the Winery and... he's at a loss for words. Diluc isn't unkind to Adelinde but- if Kaeya hadn't known any better, hadn't also been raised by her- he would thought the two were any other pair of master and servant. At the resigned look from the closest thing he had to a mother, he decides enough is enough.

He rushes Diluc to his office and confronts him straight up. Diluc denies it all, that he has no place to comment on his behaviour anymore. Then, Kaeya pulls out the pyro Vision that he's taken to carrying with him just in case. And Diluc *flinches*.

Speedrun the ending: after a very painful conversation that probably involves a lot of yelling, threats, and at least one elemental reaction, the two can come to an understanding. And after a series of timeskips (and reconciliation talks), Kaeya helps Diluc get over his sudden incompatibility with his vision and the associated guilt.

Then they kith<3

[trilliath]

Soooo...how are you liking bg3? 😁

I've had this game for twelve days

[maxphilippa]

Following the ii dark fics thing.

On some- if not most of the dark fics, disorders also tends to be used as a main thing to explain why the character is doing what they're doing. Which is, of course, not really great. Most au's that do this are about the Bright Lights as well.

Listen.

I can totally GET it. Mental health is a very important thing and having it ruined by people, or by other factors, can and WILL do some real damage to you. Yes. I can totally see a character doing questionable things because of their mental health being so so bad that it leads them to think that maybe, just maybe, these thoughts and actions aren't as bad, or that given the situation they're in, they're somewhat justified/it isn't inherently terrible of them, because of the state they're in doesn't let them think clearly, and they hold onto something because it's the last thing that makes them feel real.

One thing is doing that.

The other thing is using mental illnesses or their symptoms (per example: BPD, DID, Schizophrenia, and others) as the main reason as to why a character has done a killing spree or commited terrible actions. Meanwhile yes, having said disorders and going through heavy amounts of stress, and having no support can really make things difficult, mental illness won't make you a criminal or an awful person, a disorder isn't something you can just use for "oh well they have this so they commited murder because of this", people that have those already go through enough with others not even accepting that their condition is real or that it doesn't make them a bad person, for other people to use those disorders as a "Hey So This Is Why This Character Is Bad Now" for a story.

just sayin'

[hidey-writes]

Day After Day | 日复一日

25k | T | Weilan | Case Fic, Undercover Married, Grief

Shen Wei swallows. “And this is why you asked me to—” he makes a vague gesture that means go undercover as your husband “—pretend with you.” Zhao Yunlan comes to a stop, eyes on Shen Wei. “That’s why the cover is a married couple. The reason I’m asking you is because there are no other options for people to go undercover with.” Shen Wei scoffs to give himself an excuse to look away. “You certainly know how to flatter someone, Zhao Yunlan.” Or: Four Haixingren disappear for two months after a stay at a romantic mountain retreat. Shen Wei and Zhao Yunlan book a weekend there to find out what happened.

it's finally here!!! my beloved fic for the 520 day guardian reverse exchange! this was written for trobadora, who gave me the most delicious set of ideas to fit into a story. it was so fun.

i have no idea how to describe this fic, frankly - this is, hands down, the most complex and most heartwrenching and most incredible thing i've ever written in my entire life.

here is a list of some things in it: a kiss, a mystery, a change of heart. old chinese people, dark energy world-building, lesbians, big-time character parallels, forgery of documents, rainstorms, rowboats, lollipop symbolism, [redacted], bedsharing, grading, the stupidest undercover name ever. zhao yunlan described with so many light metaphors. shen wei being the most shen wei i could make him.

read Day After Day | 日复一日 on ao3 here!

[best-titan-7274]

in which jack continues to be a bit fucked up emotionally

“It’s okay,” Jack says. His voice shakes. His hands do too, but he can curl them into fists, try to feel like he’s not losing his grip, even as his nails, bitten short as they are, dig crescents into his palm. “It’s just a dream, I’ll be okay.” 

He says it to himself, as much as he says it to BT. Trying to convince them both. It’s not working on him, so he doubts it’s working on BT. 

“Your vitals are elevated,” BT says. 

“I know.” 

“I can call for medical assistance. I believe protocol requires it.” 

“No, don’t do that,” Jack hisses at him. 

There’s silence, besides his own panting breaths and pounding heart. Gradually, both things slow, until he feels… well, he can’t say he feels normal. But he feels empty and stretched, instead of vibrating with panic, and right now, he’s all right with that. 

“Pilot– Jack– are you all right?” 

He swears he hears Lastimosa’s voice in BT’s. 

He sits up, and lets out a breath, and slumps back down. Nobody can hear him in the cockpit, so it’s safe to talk. But no matter how much he knows that, it doesn’t feel right, he can’t just dump all this on BT without permission. It would be rude. It would… it would show how bad he really is. 

“Jack?” 

“I thought I wouldn’t be scared any more with you back, but I keep thinking of how easy it was to lose you the first time.” 

The words come out in a rush, and he scuffs his wrist across his cheek. He’s not sure if he’s crying from stress or shame or both or neither – but he’d give anything to make it stop. His body doesn’t listen to him. Guess it’s just that kind of night.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

k, m, n, t for pd and/or suck!!! >:33333

K - What character has your favorite development arc/the best development arc?

-> you know i gotta say wiwi. i have to. that character was Made For Me i swear to GOD . genuinely i cannot think about prime defenders season 2 episode 39 without feeling physically sick bc i love it so much. its the only one i havent relistened to since i heard it the first time. i KNOW its gonna make me cry again so i genuienly have not touched it even though theres things in there i need to hear again for character research. his arc is so like. narratively satisfying in a way that hits me so fucking deep to my core in an extremely personal way. and like. there were definitely some Decisions that i was REALLY ANNOYING about hating when they were brought up because im used to media with bad storytelling/creators that do not care about their characters but. looking back on it i would not change a single thing about it. i love you wiwi so much.

-> FOR SUCK.... its not over yet. so i cannot definitively say. campaign finale comes out tomorrow so my answer may change depending on that but for right now i think i gotta say arthur. i joke a lot about hating arthur for no real reason in particular but. man his story is just REALLY good. not going 2 give you suck spoilers (hehe) but i also really like how shilo has grown through the campaign. hes my little guy :]

M - Name a character that you’d like to have for a friend.

-> TIDE. TIDE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! TIDE TIDE TIDE I LOVE TIDE SO MUCH. thats my dad thats my best friend i love tide so much dude. every time he is mentioned or on screen i am just like :D HI TIDE I LOVE YOU TIDE

-> grefgore :] light of my life this is how i feel anytime i think about grefgore

N - Name three things you wish you saw more or in your main fandom (or a fandom of choice).

-> CHARACTER STUDIES. PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. I LIKE A GOOD SHIPPING FIC AS MUCH AS THE NEXT GUY BUT PLEASE GOD WRITE THEM IN CHARACTER. EXPLORE THEIR THOUGHTS AND EMOTIONS AND WHY THEY MAKE CERTAIN DECISIONS THE WAY THEY DO. this doesnt even go for just pd and suck this is like. true for every single fandom ive ever fucking been in. do you know how hard it is to find character studies in the danny phantom tag on ao3. nobody has even fucking watched the show how are they going to write character studies they just want (<< i cannot legally finish this sentence without getting in so much trouble) I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING MY FUCKING SELF AROUND HERE. ALL I EVER WRITE ARE CHARACTER STUDIES BC THATS THE WAY I THINK ABOUT CHARACTERS. I LOVE THEIR MOTIVATIONS I LOVE TO GET INSIDE THEIR BRAINS LIKE A LITTLE PARASITE AND IT IS ALWAYS SURPRISING TO ME WHEN OTHER PEOPLE DO NOT THINK LIKE THIS. (edit im just now reading through this and realized the question says three things. i did not process that. my three things are all more character studies please)

T - Do you have any hard and fast headcanons that you will die defending? 

-> oh dude i have so many hmmmmmmm how to choose just one. i have a LOT of feelings about wiwis original death and i might write something about that when i can get over my shrimp emotions about him. dakota cole audhd truther but that ones pretty much canon anyway so i dont think it counts. vyncent and his relationship with growing up in fantasy world and then being thrown into prime and how he adjusted to that. I think he really lies shitty syfy channel type horror movies that are so stupidly bad. and also plays a lot of video games but again i think thats mostly canon already. i think tide listens to dad rock but also like. ocean man by ween. you already know about my william and ashe being each others emotional support at concerts. i think william and ashe should hang out and do emo kid things more. i also have a lot of feelings about ashe and coping with the crippling loneliness of basically growing up alone and how the pd becoming like INSTANT best friends was so much for him in sooo many ways. you already know how i feel about mark i am in the middle of dissecting him like im in a high school biology class as we speak. uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh i know im gonna think of something really good after i hit the post button so stay tuned

[familyofpaladins]

Me: I have this idea for a fic! I think it will be about 9-10k words! A good amount! Not too little not too much!

*10k words later*

Me: .... I'm only half done. Haha... ha O_O

[realcowboysdrinkjuice]

i’m literally going to art school in september i should stfu and actually post my art and walk the walk like sure i’m terrified to shit about ai for some reason but at least tumblr has a option to turn it off (even if it was dubiously placed and opts you in by default which is fucked)

me when i’m scared all of the time about everything for no reason

[candyriku]

I just wrote for 8+ hours but unfortunately it was not for JTSYS... I'm SORRY I got SIDETRACKED. I will work on JTSYS tomorrow when my wrists and fingers and brain have all recovered. for now I rest!