#we do all kinds of activities in groups of 8 or less

[luceafarul-de-dimineata]

Rating Paradise Lost healers based on how safe you are going to them

Lucifer - 10/10 bro has cheats activated. The only one that I can see having a medical degree. I would trust this man with a brain surgery, he's a good doctor.

Gamigin - 10/10 again, he has a magic pearl that can bring back the dead. He can heal you instantly and he's a good boy so he'll do it from the kindness of his heart. He probably only knows home remadies for less deadly illness or pains (puterea calului and gălbenele 💀) , but he's trying his best.

Marbas - 8/10 he has a fifty-fifty change of him either killing or healing you. He's agressive and horny, so much so that he needs to be tied up on the job. But I can still see him killing someone for giving of wrong vibes (like in Chapter 4). Also, he can't move that much when he's tied up, so his healing is also limited.

Morax - 6/10 this man cured someone's lobotomy. He is so airheaded that he can't realise the danger he puts himself through. He has no medical degree, he probably never went to school past 5th grade. The moment he realised his ability he finally had purpose in life. You'd feel bad even if he heals a paper cut for you.

Buer - 4/10 Lucifer probably poached him from Tartaros with the help of the dog god so he could be the accountent in Paradise Lost. All he knows is essantial oils and yoga. He doesn't do it for profit, he's simply grossed out by surgeries. His the recovery and phisiotherapy guy, he gives nice messages. Just... don't ask him about anything related to your insides.

Jjok - 1000/10 he's the therapy dog of the group and he's the only one keeping the hospital from gettint sued. We pay our respects to Jjok, the MVP of this whole opperation.

[rileyglas]

The List ~Pt. 5 - Confrontation~

Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) x Reader

Summary: While out for a walk, you run into everyone’s ‘favorite’ Overlord, resulting in a brutal altercation. Recognizing the danger you put yourself in, Alastor is all too willing to offer another deal. 

Themes: The usual angst, mystery, sassiness, cursing, fluff, Valentino so yeah, mentions of blood and bodily harm, eventual smut (it will return), actual plot, slow burn, and of course 18+ MDNI

3.7k Words

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (You're on it!) Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.A Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12

**sentences in italics are internal thoughts of the reader

When you asked Alastor to prove himself to you, you half expected him to just continue ignoring you around the hotel. He seemed like the type to keep any personal interaction behind closed doors. Keeping some privacy isn’t a bad thing. Before the deal, he stuck to doing his job around the hotel, helping Charlie with whatever new idea or ask she had, and broadcasting his evening radio show. Every so often he might have a drink at the bar, making small talk with Husk and Nifty, otherwise he kept to himself in the shadows.

These last few weeks were slightly different. If he grabbed a coffee, he also poured one for you (always using one of his mugs). He made a point of being at every group activity, standing practically on top of you with a hand on the small of your back. He often offered to accompany you into town if you were going for a walk. “I just enjoy your company dear” he would reason. You’re far from complaining, however, the other residents were starting to notice.

“Alright what’s the deal?” Husk thumps your drink on the bar, his aggressive tone catching you off guard.

“What do you mean?”

“You and Al – what the fuck is going on there? I thought you had more common sense than associating yourself with his sorts.”

Fuckin ouch.

“I have plenty of sense Husker,” you hissed with irritation at what he was insinuating. Vaggie and Angel silently take their seats next to you, feeling the tension of the conversation. “– and if you must know we discovered we have more in common than we thought. You of all people should know keeping someone of his sorts on good terms is wise. Thank you for your concern though.” You throw back your drink, slamming the empty glass into the bar as you stand up.  

Husk tries to smooth over your venom, “Listen kid, you’re still pretty new to Hell…I’m just –“

“Thank you again Husk! Talking with you is always a pleasure.” You cut him off, putting on your jacket and walking towards the hotel doors.

Footsteps trail behind you - followed by a hand on your shoulder, “Hey doll, don’t be too upset with him. We all just….we worry is all. Smiles is still Mr. Mystery pants. Charlie seems to be the only one not worried about his intentions.” Angel offers you a cautious grin. His smile always seems to brighten your mood.

You place your hand on top of his, “Thank you hun. I’m not mad and I understand everyone’s… apprehension…. But I need you guys to trust that I know what I’m doing. You all have enough to worry about around here.” R̵͚̀ŭ̴͓l̷̥̓ȩ̷͒ ̷̢́#̵̧͌3̶̫̈́ ̴̬̾N̶̬͊e̷͇͂v̵̞̚ę̴̿ŕ̵̖ ̵̟̈́ḅ̶͂r̷̤̔í̸͜n̴̳͌g̴̫͐ ̶̢͠a̸̳͝n̶͕̐y̴̓ͅo̸͎̐n̷̚͜ȩ̷̇ ̸̪̑ẗ̶͈́ő̴͜o̷̺̊ ̵̛̬c̴̘̀ľ̴̹o̶͇͗s̸̠̾e̴͇͝

Needing some time to yourself, you decide to take a stroll through Pentagram City. The streets could be dangerous when traveling alone, but Carmilla was kind enough to let you leave with some…equipment. Like a nervous tick, you palm the carmine knife sheathed on your waist. You always hope there isn’t a need to use it but can never be too careful.

Heaven’s embassy clock ticked down, showing less than 100 days until the next extermination. You sigh at the thought, taking notes as you walk. Every year you mapped out places you would be needed most, where you could hide sinners, alleys you could use to corner or escape the Exorcists. Maybe Alastor could help me this time? He did say together we would be more powerful.

Lost in your plans, you don’t realize you’ve started pacing the streets of the V’s territory. It isn’t until you hear someone yelling down an alley that you become aware of your surroundings.

“Listen here, you little fuck – you’re our lowest earner this month and I’m in a bad mood so…” a large demon pins a rabbit-like sinner to the alley wall, pulling a pink and white gun from his hip. “I figured you could help me BLOW off some steam. Now, now, baby - hold still for me and don’t make too much of a mess hmm?”

You look closer and recognize the tall moth demon.

Fucking Valentino.

You see red and make your way down the alley. Hearing your footsteps he turns but not before you blindside him, body slamming him to the ground. The sound of metal echoes as his gun slides across the pavement. The poor sinner runs off without a word. You’re welcome, I guess. You bend over the disoriented Valentino.

“Tough luck being out here today Val – Coincidentally I’m also in a bad mood so let’s have a chat.”

With a gust of his wings Val pushes himself off the ground and towers over you. “Ohhhhh aren’t you CUTE. Ya know people would pay good money to see a spicy chiquita like you fucked into her place, however that little stunt just sealed a different fate for you.” Smoke floods around you, wrapping tightly around your body. Your feet leave the ground as he pulls you close enough to run his tongue across your cheek. “Hmmm…tasty. Maybe I shouldn’t kill you. I could do quite a bit with this body of yours.”

A cynical laugh erupts from your chest. “Oh please – set me down. Save us both the embarrassment.” He cocks an eyebrow at your demand and tightens his smoke’s grip.

Feeling the crack of your ribs almost knocks all the air out of your lungs, but your rage is stronger than any pain. I’ve watched him hurt Angel one too many times. 

“Wrong answer Val.” You concentrate your power, hands aglow as they conjure tiny, razor-sharp needles. With a swift flick of your wrists, they pierce and slice through Val's wings. “Cool thing about needles, they can help pull you together or tear...you…apart.” He howls from the pain, loosening his grip on you. With a little more room to move, you pull yourself back and headbutt him with so much force his glasses shatter. The blow makes his smoke disappear and you drop back to the ground. Time for some fun.

Unable to see clearly - Val frantically feels around for his gun. Pathetic. Crushing his hand with one foot, you use the other to deliver a full force kick to his chin, sending his gold tooth down the alley. “You little BITCH! Who the fuck do you think you are!?” he growls as blood pours from his mouth. You climb on top of him, pinning him down with a knee slowly crushing his dick. Screams of pure agony echo off the surrounding walls.    

You grab his face with one hand and pull the knife from your waist, digging the point into Val’s cheek, “You lay your hands on any of your employees again, I’ll make sure this knife gets buried into your chest. Now be a good boy and let me decorate that pretty little face.” You turn his head and hastily carve “spurc” into his cheek. He cries out with each attempt to move, feeling your knee dig deeper into him. “Shhhh you can take it baby, come on, we’re almost done. That’s what you tell them, right? NOW HOLD STILL.” Mocking his pain you turn his head the other way, slicing “issime” into his other cheek. Blood pours from his face, staining your hands and wrists. “Spurcissime – complete filth. Quite fitting I think.”

You stand up to admire your work and release the demon writhing on the ground. Time to go. Turning to leave, you hear Val call out to someone. What is he crying about now? Without warning you’re hurled against the brick wall - your head taking the worst of the impact. As you struggle to pull your body off the ground, a large, blue claw wraps around your neck to pick you up. Between the blow to your head and your now rapidly declining oxygen, your strength dwindles.

“Are you fucking kidding me Val –You got your ass beat by Carmilla Carmine’s secretary!?”

How the fuck does he remember me?

“No she’s not –“ Val tries to warn but is ultimately ignored.

“It’s okay sweetheart. She can replace you. Sucks though. I always enjoyed staring at that ass. Made the meetings less insufferable.” Vox’s grip tightens around your neck and his other hand slides up your thigh, starting to grope every inch of you. Your vision begins to tunnel as your body goes limp, his grasp controlled and unforgiving.

Just before complete darkness takes over, a familiar voice booms in your ears, “ENOUGH!” The hand around your neck releases and the world around you spins, fading out then back in. You pull yourself to your hands and knees and try to gasp. A stabbing pain rips across your sides with every attempt to collect the air around you. Any adrenaline your body had was long gone now. Oh yeah, cracked ribs. Ouch.

Looking up you realize you’re in Alastor’s room. Any other day you would have inhaled the soft musk filling the air, but right now you can barely take a breath. “Alastor?” you whimper, throat hoarse from being nearly crushed. “Hello? Alastor?” Still silence. You lay back on the floor to try to steady your breathing and wait for the Radio Demon to make an appearance.

It only takes a few minutes to see his shadow appear, followed by Alastor himself. The initial relief you feel is quickly replaced by concern. His jacket was ripped up, and blood trailed across his mouth. “Shit are you okay? What happened?” you try to move to him but double over.

He huffs wiping the blood from his face. “No, you don’t get to ask the questions right now.” His words were near inaudible over the static. He was livid. “I want to know what the FUCK you were doing out in V territory ALONE!?” He rather unkindly picks you up, prompting throaty cries of pain and protest.

Alastor brings you to the bathroom and sits you up on the counter while he digs through his medical kit. You finally gather enough breath to speak, “Last I checked, I don’t need permission to walk around the city. Have you forgotten who I am? I am not some stupid -”

“Well apparently you are.” He bites at you without making eye contact – continuing to pull apart the kit.

Tears well up in your eyes. Too tired to fight them back you let their warmth coat your face. They steadily stream down and drop into your blood-soaked hands. You try to squeak out an explanation, “He…he just hurts so many people. He almost killed Angel. If you ask – “

“I didn’t.” he cuts in.

“I didn’t know he would get Vox in –“

“I don’t care.”

“FUCK Alastor what is your problem!?” you snap, tears burning as they run down your cheeks.

He slams his hands on either side of your legs, caging in your body and leaning right down to your face. If he wasn’t pissed right now, this would be so attractive.

“My problem? What is my problem?” Alastor’s antlers expand and a red ‘x’ glows on his forehead. His body grows and looms over you as his grip starts to crack the countertop, “Do you forget who they are? Of course Vox got involved! And if I hadn’t stepped in, he would have done who knows what to you! His hands already started to defile you - Is that what you wanted? To die at the hand of a perverted, unscrupulous Overlord?” His words were like knives, and you despised every slice he made.

His outburst ignites your own rage, making your demon form flare, “No, Damnit, you don’t get it! Down here you’ve only ever lived for yourself! You’ve never watched someone you care about almost die because of some piece of shit! You’ve never felt the need to tear that person limb from limb for what they did! I wanted to make him suffer and I DID!“ you scream at him until your voice gives out and your body gives up. A deafening silence falls over the bathroom. The only sounds reverberating off the walls are your stifled sobs. Some from anger, some from pain. Ṟ̸̂u̸̫͂l̴̟̈e̷̩͛ ̸͖̽#̷̹̀4̴̎͜ ̴̰̇Ṉ̷̀e̸̲͌v̴̻̈́e̵̥͘ṛ̸͛ ̵̗̑l̴͍̃ė̶̠t̶͈̾ ̴̣̒y̷̬͋ò̵̭u̸̩̽ŕ̶̼ ̴̪̾ẉ̵̑ȅ̴̩ą̴̕k̵̗̐n̶̻̅ȇ̷̳s̸̢͋s̸͖͂e̷̡͛s̶̘̍ ̴͍̏š̴̢h̶̼̐ǫ̴͊w̷͉͝

 Alastor shrinks back to normal. He cups your face gently to clean off the dirt and blood – tending to the few scrapes across your cheeks. You keep your eyes down to avoid his stare. The last thing you want to see is pity from the demon, at least not right now.

As he kneels to clean your hands, his buttery voice finally breaks the quiet, “You know, had you said all of that yesterday, you would have been absolutely right.” He looks up, noticing your head tilt in confusion. “Seeing his hands on you triggered something in me, and I wanted nothing more than to rip apart that piece of shit for….trying to take you away from me. So yes, I do understand. But that doesn’t mean I’m still not cross with you for going by yourself. You’re lucky I had my shadow follow you.” A sly smile flashes up at you. In that moment a gnawing thought crosses your mind. Does he actually care for me? Or is he only afraid to lose the power I can give him?

Either way, he did save you, so you conjure enough strength in your voice to whisper, “Thank you Alastor,” and place a kiss on his forehead.

Once he finishes cleaning the cuts on your hands, he stands and hooks a finger under your chin, forcing you to look up at him. His red eyes dart back and forth between yours as if trying to read every thought you could have. A smile paints his face but you can see something more. Worry? Sadness? Regret? You want to question him but the intensity of his stare has you frozen.

“I want to make another deal.” he finally says in a whisper, holding his gaze. Your stomach drops. This is what you’ve been worried about. That he was going to try to break down your walls until you willingly promise him your soul, bounding everything you have to him. R̴̤͑u̵͓̒l̷͊ͅḛ̸̒ ̸̉͜#̴͉̓1̶͇̔ ̸̟͑Ṋ̸͋e̷̮̎v̷̼̾e̸̪͌r̴̥̈́ ̵̳̽t̴̩͐r̶̻͊u̷̘͝ș̴͒t̶͙̂ ̶̝͑â̵̩n̴̙̿o̸̡͗t̸͚̒h̴̯̓ë̸͓́r̶͎̂ ̸̙̎O̸̺͌v̷̧͠è̴̼r̸̹̓l̵͊ͅo̸̜͒r̵̠̂d̸͓̽ . 

“Wh-what?”

“I want to make another deal - you promise to let me accompany you every time you leave these hotel walls and, in exchange, I will teach you how to grow your strength and power so this never happens again.” Well that is not the deal I was expecting.

Relief replaces anxiety. You lean in and give a cheeky smile, “You do realize both of those things can happen without a deal - unless you’re just looking for an excuse to kiss me again.”

“Bold of you to assume I need an excuse, “ he purred, closing the last bit of space between your bodies, lips hovering over yours, ‘but do we have a deal?”

You can barely breathe out “Deal.” before his lips gently press into yours. A glow fills the room but you don’t even notice this time, too lost in his touch to care. 

He reluctantly pulls away, “You should probably stay here tonight. I don’t think it’s wise for you to be alone in this condition.”

“Oh no, it’s fine. I got it –“ hopping off the counter, you almost crumple to your knees. Alastor catches you with a smug chuckle. “I had a feeling you would fight me on that. It is completely up to you of course. However I will warn you I am willing to go to extreme lengths to convince you of the right choice.”

Once again, you’re lifted up and out of the bathroom. “Don’t threaten me with a good time -” You try to tease but lose your breath. A low laugh leaves his chest, “I believe we’ve had enough fun today my dear.” Every muscle in your body welcomes the soft bed as he lays you down on his silk sheets. 

Your eyes flutter heavily as you hear him move about the room, leaving briefly. Am I really going to stay here with him? Guess not too much of a choice now. I know he won’t hurt me, not tonight anyway. The door opens and you feel him climb into the bed with you. 

Turning to face him, you watch him lean back against the headboard, book in hand. “I thought you didn’t sleep.” you joke drowsily. 

“I don't need much but that just means I can keep you company while you rest.”

You prop yourself up on your elbow, looking up at him with half-lidded eyes, “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to…but maybe you could tell me some stories about when you were alive? You can be my personal radio show for the night.”

A pleased hum leaves his chest, “As you wish, ma chère.” He wraps an arm around you and pulls you closer. Time might as well have stopped as he begins telling you about his life, his mom, his home, the old radio show. You practically melt into his chest while drinking in every drop of his sweet voice. It was nice to peel back a few layers of who the Radio Demon was.

You wake up in a panic the next morning. Sitting up, your tired brain takes a moment to catch up with your surroundings and you relax remembering the previous night’s events. The mirror across the room catches your eye, showing purple and blue bruises painted across your skin. “Uhhg I look rough.” you whisper to yourself. 

“Still beautiful as ever, my dear.” a voice cut in, making your heart jump into your throat. You didn’t even notice his shadow or him fading into the room while you tried to collect yourself. “Good morning Alastor, and thank you but these marks are not very flattering.” 

He sits on the edge of the bed and lightly traces his hand around your face and throat. His smile almost falters. “I loathe seeing the marks he’s left on you…but I take pride in knowing he won’t ever lay a hand on you again.” a snide grin crosses his face. That’s probably why he took so long to get back to the hotel. I don’t even want to know what he did to Vox in that alley.

“Now! You stay here, I will go grab us some coffee!” Alastor jumps up to rush out the door but you stop him. “No, wait – I want to come with you.” He nods and leans against the doorway, waiting for you to put yourself together. You only bother to run a comb through your hair. No use in trying to cover up anything.

He wraps his arm around your waist while walking down to the lobby. Plopping yourself on the couch, you look up to see Husk staring over a newspaper, eyebrow cocked. A gruff “Hmpf” comes from behind the paper as Alastor walks by into the kitchen.

You roll your eyes, “Don’t even start Husk.” 

He slams the paper down on the bar, “I ain’t startin nothin! But it sure looks like he tried to finish –“ “He didn’t touch me. I wouldn’t even be sitting here if it wasn’t for him – “

Angel bursts through the hotel doors roaring with excitement, abruptly ending your conversation with Husk. “Oh good you guys are here – you will not BELIEVE what happened last night and holy shit what happened to you!?“

He looks mortified at the marks across your face. “Tripped. Please continue.” you say dryly.

Alastor finally returns with coffee, taking his seat right next to you as Angel finishes talking about his shift and how bad of a condition Val was in.

“It’s crazy someone was powerful enough…or ballsy enough…to do something like that to him. He’s pissed and from what I heard, Vox wasn’t looking too hot either.” You shoot a look over to Alastor who huffs smugly, looking away as he takes a sip of his coffee. I fucking knew it.

You turn your attention back to Angel, “If someone knocked him around that much, he’s bound to want to take it out on someone. Are - are things going to get worse for you?” Anxiety grips your chest at the realization you may have only aggravated Angel’s situation rather than helped.

“Eh it’ll be weeks before he even gets back to working the studio, besides no one is going to take him seriously with those words on his face. Whoever got ahold of him CARVED into his cheeks. Fuckin deep too. Heard it was a carmine knife, so Satan knows it’s gonna scar.” The enthusiasm in his voice helps ease your worries.

Husk finally chimes into the conversation, “hmm and uh – what exactly was written on his face?” his eyes look straight through Angel and settle on you. There’s no way he thinks –

“I don’t know some Latin shit I can’t pronounce. I overheard some older demons say it ‘labeled him as dirty’ or something like that.” Angel shrugs it off and continues joking about how great the next few weeks were going to be for him.

You finish your coffee and stand to get more, wincing at how sore you still feel.

“You could have asked me, dear. I was about to get up for more as well.” Alastor motions for you to sit back down while taking your cup. When he walks away, Angel comes over and sits on the floor next to you.

“Soooo…you gonna to tell me who actually gave you those bruises? Did you get freaky with Smiles? I just knew he was into that kinda –“

“He didn’t do this Angel.” Your words are soft but stern. He looks up with worry in his eyes. “Don’t take pity on me like that. I am FINE…” you peek up to see Husk’s back turned. Leaning over Angel’s ear, you drop your voice to a whisper, “and uh, between you and me – the word is spurcissime. Roughly translates to ‘complete filth’.” R̴̗͠ǔ̷̮l̸͍͘ẽ̴̘ ̴̩͑#̴̙͆2̸̥̎ ̴̲͌N̸̰̒e̵͔͝v̴̯̆ë̸͙́r̴̬̀ ̸̩̏t̶̳̍ḙ̵̑l̴��͝l̵̹̍ ̴͎͆ă̴̤ ̷͖̉s̴͕̕o̸̼͊ǔ̶̡l̶̝̿ ̷̺̓ẅ̵̟́ĥ̵̞a̶͖̿ṱ̵̏ ̸̢̕(̵͉̽ŏ̵̢r̵͚͛ ̷̘̈h̷̯̾ò̴̺w̵͉̑ ̸͔̀m̷̡̈́ủ̷̞c̶͂ͅh̷͇̋)̶̻̂ ̵͖̈p̵͍͒o̶̤̽ẉ̶́e̷̤̚ȑ̵̪ ̸̣̚ÿ̴̥ö̶́͜ù̸͎ ̸͇̑ĥ̸̤ä̷̙v̶͖͒e̶̥͛

You sit back on the couch haughtily, taking pleasure in the absolutely dumbfounded look on his face.  

Tag List (Let me know if you would like to be added!)

@rl800 @fairyv-ice @looking1016 @martinys-world @sirens-and-moonflowers @alastorssimp 

[worth-the-chaos]

Adventures in Babysitting - Steve Harrington x female!reader - Chapter 9

Chapter Summary: Held captive by the Russians, tensions rise and as you and Steve attempt to navigate communicating in a drugged up haze, your feelings for each other become even more apparent.

Content Warning: swearing, violence, needles, mention of drugs

Word Count: 7.4k

Author’s Note: This chapter is a little bit longer and I hope it makes up for me posting it a little late! A lot of it sticks to the original plot of the show, but there are some important moments between you and Steve that I hope y’all enjoy ;)

Message me to be added to the taglist to be updated when the next chapter is posted!

Series Masterlist | Chapter 8 | Next Part

***

“I don’t understand, you’ve seen this before?” Robin asked as the five of you quickly descended the stair case, leaving the machine still thrumming with electricity behind you.

“Not exactly,” you replied.

“Then what exactly?” Robin pushed the question.

“All you need to know is that it’s bad,” Dustin responded, not really having the time to explain the intricacies of an alternate dimension full of monsters and unimaginable horrors.

“It’s really bad,” Steve chimed in, emphasizing Dustin’s words.

“Like, end-of-the-human-race-as-we-know-it kind of bad,” You reiterated the severity of the issue at hand. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest as you considered the possibility of facing the demogorgons again. You weren’t sure you could stomach it.

“And you know about this how?” Robin asked, but before you could respond, Erica spoke up, reminding you of the other, less supernatural problem at hand.

“Uh, Steve, where’s your Russian friend?” She asked, as you all simultaneously realized that the Russian soldier Steve had knocked unconscious was missing, a blood stain on the floor being all that was left. An alarm began blaring, reminding you of Hawkins Lab as you darted to the door, cracking it open to look out into the bustling hub of activity from before.

There, you saw the Russian that Steve had knocked unconscious huddled in a group of other soldiers, doubled over in pain with his hands gripping his head. The other soldiers looked up, making eye contact with you as they started sprinting towards the comms room.

“Shit! Go! Go! Go!” You exclaimed pulling the door shut, shoving the kids in front of you to hurry them along.

“Move! Let’s move!” Steve shouted, you darted through any and every open door you could find, ending up in the control room for the machine that you had viewed from the outside earlier. A bunch of Russians in lab coats muttered things you didn’t understand as you fled past them, exiting down onto the metal stairwell towards the terrifying looking machine.

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit!” Dustin screamed as you reached a dead end. Your heart nearly stopped as you saw the Russian soldiers gaining on you, before Steve yanked your arm, redirecting you down more stairs as he shouted.

“This way!” He shoved a man in a hazmat suit, pulling you along behind him. He pushed over a stack of barrels to knock three other soldiers out of the way, giving the rest of you a chance to keep running. You all entered another room, Steve pushing the door shut behind him.

Erica and Dustin ran towards the vents while you, Robin, and Steve pushed with all your strength to keep the door closed as more and more guards showed up attempting to force it open.

“Come on!” Dustin yelled at the three of you, but you didn’t budge.

“Go! Just get out of here!” You screamed, desperate for the kids to be as far away as possible from this whole mess.

“Come on! Please!” Dustin screamed back, but Steve cut off any further pleas.

“No! Just go get some help, okay?!” When Dustin hesitated Steve shouted back, “what are you doing?! Go!”

“I won’t forget you!”

“Go!” The three of you shouted in unison as the young boy disappeared into the duct system. No sooner had he disappeared did the door give way, all of you falling to the floor as several Russian soldiers stormed the room, guns at the ready.

You raised your trembling hands, breathing shakily as you looked over at Steve. He looked just as terrified as you felt. One of the soldiers grabbed you roughly by the arm, yanking you up from the floor.

“Let go of me, you bastard!” You shrieked, trying to break free from his grasp, but to no avail. As two other guards grabbed Robin and Steve, another soldier slapped you across the face, displeased with your disobedience. Your lip, already injured from the elevator plummeting, split back open, blood beginning to trickle down your chin. The soldier that slapped you took a finger, running it across your mouth and roughly grabbing your chin, a sharp contrast to how Steve had gently wiped away your blood earlier.

“I’d watch that pretty mouth if I were you,” he seethed in his thick Russian accent, leaning in uncomfortably close towards you. “If you don’t, we have many other ways to keep you silent.”

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Steve shouted, trying to free himself from the guards that were restraining his hands behind his back. The soldier that had slapped you looked at Steve amused, before unholstering his gun. You heard the distinctive click, knowing it was cocked and ready, as you felt the cool metal of its barrel press against your temple. Your breath caught in your throat and a tear slipped down your cheek as you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for everything to be over.

“Don’t make her seem like more trouble than she’s worth,” the guard warned. Steve froze, terrified as a lump formed in his throat.

“Please, man. Just put the gun down. We’ll do anything,” he begged. The guard lowered his gun, and you let out the breath you’d been holding as a sob tore through your chest. A look of realization flashed across the soldier’s face as he barked orders to the other soldiers surrounding you. Suddenly, you and Steve were pulled in one direction while Robin was pulled in another.

“Steve! Y/n!” Robin shouted, fighting against the soldiers pulling her away.

“Robin! Let her go!” You cried out, yelling at the Russian men around you. You continued to fight against their grasp, until you took a blow to the side of the head, the last thing you heard being Steve’s shouts before the world went dark.

***

Steve sat on a bench with his hands tied in front of him and you were on a heap on the floor across from him, your hands similarly bounded as you laid there unconscious. Two soldiers had been beating him senselessly for the last half hour, interrogating him repeatedly. Every time they didn’t like one of his answers, a physical blow came, whether it be a jab to the stomach or a punch across his face.

One of the soldiers struck him across his the jaw as he groaned, and spit out blood. “That one stung.”

“Who do you work for?” The Russian soldier asked him. By the appearance of his uniform, he clearly outranked the other soldiers you had encountered.

“For the millionth time, I work at Scoops Ahoy!” Steve cried out, but the captain just nodded at the other soldier, who swiftly landed a blow to Steve’s ribs. He doubled over in pain. “What the hell?! Look at my outfit! You think I just wear this?! Think I’m a spy in a sailor’s uniform?”

The captain nodded at the soldier, looking back at you, and the soldier moved to your unconscious body on the floor, dragging you under your arms to the center of the room. With the movement, you started to come too, but clearly still extremely out of it, not quite able to understand what was going on.

“How did you get in here?”

“Please, please—whatever you do—just leave her out of this. Don’t hurt her,” Steve begged. The soldier sat you up and your head lolled to the side. Your eyes fluttered open and your heart leapt to your throat as you were met with the sight of the Russian soldiers. The reality of the situation was sinking in, but you were too exhausted to fight back.

“Steve?” You asked eyes darting around the room until they landed on him. His face was bruised and battered, his eye swollen shut and he had a nasty gash down his chin.

Suddenly you felt a deep pain in your ribs as the soldier beside you swiftly kicked you. You doubled over, crying out in pain.

“How did you get in?” The captain repeated himself.

“I already told you. I told you before. My delivery didn’t come, my friends and I thought it was left at the loading dock, so we went into the room and it turned into an elevator and then…and then we dropped and then next thing you know I open my eyes and we’re in this…wonderful facility,” Steve chose his words carefully, hoping to appeal to the soldiers’ ego.

Clearly this wasn’t an acceptable answer as the soldier punched you across the face again, clearly understanding that the best way to get to Steve was through torturing you. Your ears were ringing, and you felt blood dripping down the side of your face, the skin above your eyebrow split open. You struggled to keep your head up, and your voice was quiet but desperate as you choked out a small “Steve.”

“I-I…I swear to god, nobody knows about us, nobody saw us, you could just let us go alright? I’m not going to tell anybody about this—she’s not going to tell anybody about this—okay? Shit happens life goes on! And…and, uh…ice cream! You guys know what ice cream is, everybody loves ice cream! I don’t know if you have Russian ice cream or if that’s considered gelato, I don’t know what’s what, but whatever you guys want, just please, let us go,” Steve rambled on.

“Steve, shut up,” you grumbled, your eyes closed, still too weak to force them open.

Suddenly the captain broke out into a laugh, and you could hear Steve laughing nervously along with him. “I like this guy!” He exclaimed through his laughter but quickly stopped, leaning in towards Steve, “who do you work for?”

When Steve couldn’t provide a new answer, the soldier threw another punch to your face, and blood began rushing from your nose. You groaned, but it was cut off as the soldier placed a hand around your throat, restricting your ability to breathe. A tear slipped from your eye as you gasped for air. The captain walked towards you, and you felt fear creep up in your chest as you decided that this man was a psychopath. He reached a hand up and wiped your tear away, slowly dragging the back of his hand down the side of your face.

“Hey! Hey! Just leave her alone! Stop fucking touching her; she didn’t do anything wrong! If you want to hit someone, hit me,” Steve yelled. He watched as your eyes continued to flutter, finally rolling back in your head as you stopped struggling, your body going limp as you went unconscious again.

“Gladly,” the captain responded, punching Steve so hard across the face that he too lost consciousness. The Russian soldiers dragged the two of you to a different room, tossing your unconscious bodies on the floor.

Through a different door, two soldiers appeared dragging Robin who was fighting against them. She clearly hadn’t been tortured like the two of you were, but they threw her on the floor next to you guys.

“Y/n? Steve? Guys, wake up!” She frantically shook your shoulders, to no avail. She saw how battered and bruised the two of you were and couldn’t help but feel guilty that she hadn’t been given the same treatment. “What did you do to them? What did you do?!” She shouted at one of the guards, who in turn backslapped her across the face. She fell to the ground groaning in pain.

The guards pulled the three of you up, tying you in place in desk chairs, back to back. The guard grabbed you by the hair pulling your head back to inspect the injuries on your face.

“Don’t touch her!” Robin seethed. He let go and your head lolled back forward.

“It looks like your friends need a doctor. Good thing,” he said leaning in close to her face, “we have the very best.”

He laughed and Robin spit in his face, which twisted quickly into a scowl. “You are going to regret that, little bitch,” he promised her, but she continued to look at him with her chin up. The guards went to leave and Robin’s yelling allowed you to finally come to.

“Let us out of here, bastards! Let us out!”

“Robin?” You croaked. “Where am I?” Your head was throbbing and you were confused, the last thing you could remember was Dustin and Erica slipping away into the air ducts and the Russians bursting through the door.

“Y/n! Thank god! Are you okay?”

“I-I…I don’t think so,” you choked out. You could feel blood caked on the side of your face. You still couldn’t quite open your eyes, and you tried to move your arms but something was pinning them to your sides. “Where’s Steve?”

“We’re all tied together. Steve? Steve?” She asked, but the boy was still unconscious. You whimpered, your body exhausted and aching, tears slipping down your face, creating streaks as they washed away some of the dried blood.

“We’re gonna die down here.”

“No, y/n. No we’re not, but we need help, okay? Help!” Robin began calling out as you continued to cry. Once you started, you couldn’t stop, everything from the last twenty-four hours hitting you at once.

“Hey, would you stop yelling?” Steve grumbled as he finally began to wake up.

“Steve! Oh my god! Steve—are…are you okay?” Robin asked as she threw her head back, shifting around in her chair attempting to look at the boy. Her movement pulled on the binds that tied you together and you groaned.

“My ears are ringing, and I can barely breathe, and my eye feels like it’s about to pop out of my skull, but…you know, apart from that I’m doing pretty good,” Steve replied, his sense of humor somehow still intact.

“Steve,” your voice called out, still small and raspy.

“Y/n! Are you alright? Please tell me you’re okay,” he immediately tried to turn to you in his chair, and both of you groaned again at the sudden movement. Your heads both throbbed.

“I mean, not really. I’m pretty sure my ribs are broken…among other things, you know?”

“Y/n, oh my god—I-I’m…I’m so sorry! I’m gonna fucking kill him I swear,” some of the strength returned to his voice as he said it, his tone laced with determination and rage.

“It doesn’t really make a difference you know? Whether or not you beat the shit out of him, we’ve still got broken ribs.”

“Well, the good news is, they’re calling you guys a doctor!” Robin spoke up, a smile flashing across her face.

“Is this…is this his place of work?” Steve asked, jokingly.

“Yeah, I love the vibe,” you continued, your head rolling forward. You were too tired to keep holding it up.

“Hey, you see that table over there? The one with the scissors?” you turned your head as far as you could, catching just a glimpse of the table she was talking about. Your neck was aching, bruised from the rough hands that had choked you earlier. “I think if we move at the same time, we could get over there and maybe I could kick the table and knock them into your lap.”

“And I could cut the binds,” Steve finished her thought.

“Yeah, and then we could get out of here!”

“Gotcha. Okay, yeah, we could do that. Those morons, they left scissors in here?” you asked with a hopeful laugh.

“Yeah, those morons,” Robin agreed, smile plastered to her face.

“Total morons,” Steve emphasized.

“Alright, on the count of three, we’re gonna hop,” Robin said. You took a deep breath that rattled in your lungs as you psyched yourself up. “Three…two…one!”

You all hopped and the cluster of chairs move about six inches across the floor. Robin counted down again, and you all moved another eight inches.

“Holy shit! This is going to work!” You exclaimed. Robin counted down and you hopped once more, but Steve’s feet moved slightly late, leading to you all toppling over. You all groaned as you hit the ground hard. Your ears were ringing and your vision blurred, everything sounding fuzzy as you attempted to stay conscious after yet another blow to your head. When the ringing finally cleared, you could hear Robin laughing.

“I’m so sorry,” she breathed out, her laughing starting to die down, “I just…I can’t believe I’m gonna die in a secret Russian base with Steve “the Hair” Harrington. It’s just too trippy, man.”

She chuckled again, and you couldn’t help but agree with the sentiment. “We’re not gonna die, okay? We’re gonna get out of here. Just—you gotta let me just think for a second,” you heard Steve’s voice add to the mix. He sounded desperate and your heart ached for him. You wished your hands weren’t bound so you could reach for his.

You wanted to let him know that everything was going to be okay, but as time continued to pass, you weren’t so sure that was true anymore. Maybe this was the encounter with the abnormal that would kill you. Maybe you weren’t meant to return from this.

“Do you remember, um, Mrs. Click’s sophomore history class?” Robin suddenly spoke up.

“What?” Steve asked, shaking his head, confused as to why this was important.

“Mrs. Clickity-Clackity. That’s what us band dweebs called her. It was first period, Tuesdays and Thursdays, so you were always late. And you always had the same breakfast—bacon, egg, and cheese on a sesame bagel. I sat behind you twice a week for a year. Mister Funny. Mr. Cool. The King of Hawkins High himself. Do you even remember me from that class?” She asked, her voice getting small.

When Steve didn’t answer, she continued. “Of course you don’t. You were a real asshole, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” Steve’s voice was small as well. You thought back to the things you’d said to him in the hallway earlier. About his response. About you never believing he had the capacity to change. You felt guilty while you sat and listened to Robin call him out for his past. You knew he had changed. You knew he was better, and what you had said was out of line. Robin’s words helped you to realize this and your eyes began to well with tears again.

“But it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter that you were an ass because I was still…obsessed with you. Even though all of us losers pretend to be above it all, we still just want to be popular….accepted, normal.”

Your heart sank in your chest at her words. Is she interested in him? Suddenly you felt nauseous, as you thought back to the fact that you had basically ruined any chance for you and Steve to be together. Now that you had thrown it all away, would he go to her? Would the kisses he reserved for lazy mornings before work pepper her skin instead of yours?

“If it makes you feel any better, having those things isn’t all that great. Seriously. It just baffles me—everything that people tell you is important, everything that people say you should care about—it’s all just…bullshit,” Steve replied. He thought back to your words and the way they had stung. There had been truth to them though, but not for the reasons you had thought.

You were right. Steve hadn’t paid attention to you before you almost died in Jonathan Byers’ living room. But that was exactly why he wanted to change. Spending that evening with you—watching the way you cared so vehemently about the people around you, putting your own wellbeing aside—he realized that you were the type of person he wanted to be. He wanted to care the way that you did. He wanted to be there for you the way that you were always there for others. And yeah, he was guilty of losing sight of that while he tried and failed to make things work with Nancy, and that was on him. But he was trying—really trying—to make it up to you.

His mind flashed to how you had referred to yourself as “just another one of his girls,” and his heart sank in his chest again. He didn’t know how to tell you that you were so much more than that.

“But I guess you gotta mess up to figure things out, right?” He finished, closing his eyes as he said it, wishing he could erase the mistakes he’d made but deciding to give himself the grace to forgive himself for them and move on.

“I hope so,” you spoke up. You were glad you couldn’t face each other as tears continued to slip down your cheeks, but you fought to keep your voice even as you said it. “I feel like my whole life has been one big error,” you chuckled, and you heard the familiar sound of Steve’s laugh beside you. You felt your cheeks heat up, proud that you had made the boy laugh.

“At least it can’t get any more messed up than this,” Robin laughed, and you joined in, even though deep down you knew that it could always, absolutely get worse.

“You know, I wish I would’ve known you in Click’s class,” Steve spoke up, “really, I do. Maybe you could’ve helped me pass the class. Maybe instead of being here, I’d be on my way to college right now.”

Your heart broke again as he said it. You could see the writing on the wall and knew how this was going to end. Steve wouldn’t be yours anymore—hell, after what you had said to him, you doubted he even wanted to be friends with you. You wished you could just rewind time and take back the things that you had said. You wished you hadn’t spoken in anger.

Suddenly a buzzer sounded, and you could hear footsteps enter the room. You watched as the captain from before approached, chuckling before asking “where were you three going?”

Two Russian soldiers grabbed your binds, tugging roughly as they righted your chairs. You faced a man in a lab jacket. He held up a vial with a blue liquid in it, shaking it up and tapping the side as it cleared.

The captain leaned in towards Steve and the boy’s breathing quickened. He wished he could just reach out to grab your hand; to hold you so that he wouldn’t fall apart.

“Try telling the truth this time…It will make your visit with Dr. Zharkov less painful,” he warned with a sickening grin on his face. Steve winced as the captain pushed at one of the open wounds on his face, the pressure causing the skin to break further as fresh blood began to trickle down his chin. Dr. Zharkov, you presumed, turned around, a menacing looking instrument in his hand, loaded with the blue vial you saw him holding earlier. It had a long sharp needle on the end, and you watched as the bright fluorescents glinted off of the shiny metal.

“Wait a second, wait—hold on! Okay, wait, wait, wait! What is that thing?!” Steve yelled out as he started to writhe in his chair, fighting against the binds. You whimpered, Steve’s fear sparking terror in your chest as you began to hyperventilate.

“It’ll help you talk,” the doctor said before plunging the needle into Steve’s neck. He screamed in pain and you squeezed your eyes shut. You felt a stabbing pain in your neck as a needle sank into your skin, feeling pressure build up as the blue liquid entered your body. You yelped as your vision suddenly blurred, your eyes unable to make out anything in front of you as you began to feel increasingly dizzy.

The doctor’s form came back into your line of sight, and you could only make out the general shape of him. He sounded far away as he spoke up.

“Don’t worry, it’ll all be over soon.”

***

The Russians had left the room and twenty minutes had passed. The initial dizziness began to wear off and you felt completely normal…well, other than the massive head injury and the cuts and bruises littering your skin.

“Honestly, I don’t really feel anything,” Steve finally spoke up.

“Me neither,” you and Robin replied in unison.

“I-I...I feel kinda…good,” you added, a chuckle escaping your lips. Where had that come from?

You weren’t alone, however, as Robin and Steve began cackling right alongside you. “Wanna know a secret? I like it too!” Robin giggled.

“Morons, they messed up the drug!” Steve laughed. You snorted, causing Robin and Steve to both laugh even harder. “Y/n, I just love it when you laugh like that,” Steve added. If you weren’t so busy laughing so hard, you may have flushed, but you barely heard his words as the three of you continued to hoot and holler about how moronic the Russians that had been holding you hostage were.

“There’s definitely something wrong with us,” you gasped out, your mind finding a moment of clarity in all the fuzzy, buzzed up mess.

“Somethin’s wrong,” Steve concurred, his laughing subsiding a bit as well.

You heard the door click open and the captain and Dr. Zharkov returned to the room. You felt your heart race, afraid of what was about to happen. The doctor began pulling out different medical instruments, and you felt your palms start to sweat.

“Let’s try this again. Who do you work for?” The captain asked.

Steve chuckled, his eyes staring blankly ahead as he answered, “Scoops. Scoops Ahoy.”

All three of you giggled while the captain scowled. “How did you find us?”

“Totally by accident,” you spoke up, snorting once more as you threw your head back to continue laughing. Suddenly, the doctor picked up a tool, moving over to you.

“What is that shiny little toy?” Steve laughed. However, when you started whimpering his demeanor swiftly shifted.

“Woah, woah, woah! Wait, please wait!” You cried out.

“Don’t fucking touch her!” Steve shouted, fighting against the binds once more. The doctor gripped your fingernail with the tool, beginning to pull as you started to yelp in pain.

“There was a code! We heard a code!” Robin yelled out. The doctor moved around her chair to look at her as the doctor let go of your hand. He looked at her expectantly and she continued. “The week is long, the silver cat feeds when blue meets yellow in the west, blah, blah, blah. You broadcast that stupid spy shit all over town, and we picked it up on our Cerebro, and we cracked it in a day. A day! You think you’re so smart, but a few kids who scoop ice cream for a living cracked your code in a day and now people know you’re here,” Robin spat at the Russian man in front of her.

“Who knows?”

“Well, Dustin knows. Yeah, Dustin Henderson,” Steve spoke up.

“Steve!” You shouted, far from laughing now. Whatever was in that fucking serum was potent, and you couldn’t believe that Steve could just endanger your kid like that.

“This is your small curly-haired friend, no?”

“Oh, curly hair. Great hair, kind of a ‘fro. Yeah, that’s him. And he’s long gone you big asshole,” Steve laughed, “and he’s probably calling Hopper, and Hopper’s calling the US cavalry. They’re gonna come in here, commando-style, guns a-blazin’, and kick your sorry asses back to Russia. You’re gonna be two pieces of toast.”

Steve continued to laugh as the Russian captain fumed, leaning in closer to the boy. “Is that so?” He asked pointedly.

“Well, yeah!” Steve chuckled. Suddenly an alarm began to blare and Steve gave the Russian a look that said “I told you so” as the captain left, leaving the three of you and the doctor in the small room. Suddenly the other door burst open and Dustin Henderson himself ran in, shocking the Russian doctor with some sort of taser. “Hey! Henderson! I was just talking about you!” Steve laughed.

“Get ready to run,” Dustin warned, releasing your binds. You were glad to have the pressure off of your arms as you quickly stood, wobbling on unsteady feet, as Steve grabbed your shoulders, equally unsteady himself.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ve got you,” he giggled and you couldn’t help but laugh in return as you leaned into his chest. Steve’s hands gripped into your hips and he swayed with you, planting a small kiss to your forehead.

“Guys, stop flirting with each other and go!” Dustin yelled, shoving Steve as Erica pulled Robin by the wrist, guiding her out the door. Steve’s hand interlocked with yours as you both stumbled out into the hallway onto the transport vehicle that Dustin had stolen. The three of you piled into the back, drugged out of your minds as Erica and Dustin got in the front, Dustin peeling off down the hallway.

“Slow down!” Steve yelled out, an arm reaching out across your chest protectively, keeping you from jolting forward as Dustin took a sharp turn.

“Yeah, what is this? The Indy 500?” You slurred out, glaring at the boy who was definitely too young to be driving you all.

“It’s 300,” Steve corrected you.

“No, asshole, it’s 500!”

“It’s 300!” Steve bickered, continuing to argue with you.

“Let’s say, one million,” Robin proposed causing all of you to cackle in the backseat. Suddenly, Dustin careened into a stack of barrels and you groaned as all of you slid forward in the back, your inertia carrying you until you hit the metal walls of the vehicle. The door opened, and Dustin gestured for you all to get out.

“Come on! We’ve gotta go!”

You all piled onto the elevator, Dustin swiping the keycard and pressing a button before it began to ascend. Steve grabbed you gently, making sure you were steady as you both laughed giddily.

“Look at this!” Robin shouted out, pushing a red metal cart your way. You gasped, quickly stepping up onto it, your arms flailing behind you as you tried to gain your balance. Steve got up behind you, wrapping his hands around you from behind, as he laughed into your ear. “It looks like you’re surfing!”

“They seem drunk, why would they seem drunk?” Erica asked Dustin, looking at the three of you with furrowed brows, confused by your demeanor. You guys had been the hard asses this whole time, so uptight about every little thing and now you were all acting like complete jack asses, a complete shift on the spectrum of assholery.

Robin pulled the cart, causing you and Steve to tumble off. You fell across his chest, straddling him as he grabbed your hips and looked up at you. “Hey,” he breathed out, his eyes darting across your face and taking in the sight of you on top of him. Granted, he imagined you on top of him like this a bit…differently, but he didn’t complain as you smiled down at him.

You rolled off of him, lying next to him as you felt Dustin’s hand across your head.

“She’s burning up,” he told Erica as you shoved his hand away. He turned to Steve, checking his eyes. “And his pupils are super dilated.”

“Maybe he’s drugged?”

Dustin turned, patting Steve on the side of the face to get him to refocus, “Steve, are you drugged?”

“How many times, Dad? I don’t do drugs. It’s only marijuana,” Steve slurred, reaching up and poking at Dustin’s face while laughing. Dustin pushed his hands away, rolling his eyes.

“This isn’t funny, okay? I need to know exactly what they did to you.” When nobody’s words really answered his question, Dustin attempted to redirect the conversation, focusing on you this time. “Okay, they’re going to be looking for us up there, y/n, so I need to know where Steve parked his car.” He was hoping that you—being his babysitter and all—would maybe, just maybe, be a little more alert to help him.

“But…but I don’t have a car?”

Good god you guys were gone.

“Uh oh,” Steve mumbled.

“‘Uh oh’ what, Steve?” Erica questioned, a hand on her hip.

“The car’s off the board. They took the keys, the Russians, they took the keys. Like forever ago,” Steve began laughing and you and Robin chimed in.

“That’s a bummer, right?” You smiled up at Dustin and he really just wanted to scream.

It really—really—was a great, big bummer.

***

Dustin and Erica had led you into a movie, Steve sat in between you and Robin. They told you not to go anywhere and you grumbled as you turned towards Steve, attempting to pay attention to the film that you had missed the first twenty minutes of.

“Steve, what’s happening?” you whispered.

“I don’t know, baby,” he whispered back, placing an arm around you and pulling you towards him. You happily obliged as you leaned into his shoulder and he laughed.

After sitting like that for a while, you looked up at him through your thick lashes. Even though his face was battered and bruised, you couldn’t help but swoon at how attractive he was. Deep down, despite being drugged, you remembered your argument, but you used your inebriation as an excuse to forget about it as you turned and placed a gentle kiss to his arm. He removed his arm from around your shoulder and you sat back up, your breath catching in your throat as he stared deeply into your bloodshot eyes.

Slowly, he moved in, placing a gentle hand at the nape of your neck as he leaned towards you and peppered gentle kisses down your neck, sucking on your tender skin. Your throat was still bruised from the way the Russian soldier had choked you earlier, but the pain subsided as Steve’s soft lips explored the expanse of your neck, kissing it better.

Steve suddenly stopped as Robin elbowed him in his already bruised and broken ribs, groaning as she whisper-shouted at the two of you. “You guys are so gross. Get a room, geez.”

“Are you guys thirsty?” You whispered back, eyes darting between the two of them. They both nodded and you swiftly left the theater, no longer caring about the film. You took a long drink at the fountain first, before stumbling to the side to let Steve take a drink.

“So like, I wasn’t totally focused in there or anything, but…I’m pretty sure…that mom wanted to bang her son,” Robin spoke up, staring at you both wide eyed.

“Wait, wait, the hot chick was Alex P. Keaton’s mom? But they’re the same age” Steve asked, going back to drinking water as he waited on a response.

“No, but he went back in time,” you slurred, answering his question.

“Then why is it called Back to the Future?”

“Because he has to go back to the future because he’s in the past. So the future is actually his present,” you explained, looking at Steve. He looked up, and you almost thought you saw realization flash across his face before his brow furrowed and he turned back towards you.

“Wh-what?”

“It’s my turn, you’ve had enough!” Robin shoved him from the drinking fountain and he moved to stand by you.

“Hey,” Steve said, putting his hands on your hips again. He didn’t know what it was about what the Russians had injected him with, but all he really wanted to do was hold onto you.

“Hey,” you breathed out, looking up at him. You felt an aching in your chest, remembering the way that you had fought and you wanted to make things right. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your eyes welling with tears again.

“What are you sorry for?” Steve’s brow furrowed as he said it, his eyes searching your face. Seeing you upset was enough for him to sober up a little bit. You didn’t respond, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath that rattled through your lungs. “Hey, hey, hey, look at me,” Steve begged, his gentle hand moving under your chin to guide your gaze towards him, “what’s wrong?”

“I just…I just don’t want to lose you.”

It was a sentiment that you had reiterated time and time again. A sentiment which felt a lot different now that you weren’t both curled up in the comfort of Steve’s bed. Different now that the two of you stared into each other’s eyes, battered and broken and drugged.

“Y/n, you’re not gonna lose me,” Steve emphasized, “I’m right here and despite everyone’s best efforts, I’m not going anywhere. I mean it.”

“But you don’t know what’s going to happen,” you reminded him, hiccuping through your words. “Steve, they hit me so hard that I was afraid I wasn’t going to wake up...and I know they hit you harder,” you cried.

“I’m tough! I can handle it y/n, believe me. Some Russian asshole is not gonna be what takes me out—especially not after we’ve dealt with those freaky motherfuckers from the Upside Down,” Steve assured you, and you broke out into a watery laugh, wiping at the tears that slipped down your face as Steve pulled you into his chest. He hugged you tightly, placing his chin on your head as he rocked you back and forth, attempting to sooth you.

“Woah!” You heard Robin’s voice ring out, and you stepped away from Steve. “You gotta check this out.”

She was staring up above her at the lights that littered the ceiling of Starcourt Mall. The lights blurred and stretched in your vision, and though it was just a result of your drugged up haze, you had to admit, it was quite a sight to behold.

It actually became too much of a sight to be capable of beholding as you felt dizzier and dizzier. You felt nauseous as the three of you darted to the bathroom, vomiting what remained of the drug in your system.

Once you were done, you moved to Robin’s stall, holding her hair out of her face and rubbing circles on her back to comfort her. Maybe you should have been comforting Steve, but you decided he was capable enough to figure his own shit out. He was the party king after all; he’d experienced a hangover or two.

You both laid down on the disgusting bathroom floor after she had finished, and a minute later, you heard the toilet in Steve’s stall flush.

“The ceiling stopped spinning for me. Is it still spinning for you?” Robin finally spoke up.

“You know what…no,” you replied with a chuckle.

“Do you think we puked it all up?” Steve asked.

“Maybe? Ask me a question…interrogate me,” Robin replied in a Russian accent and you all laughed.

“Okay, uh, when was the last time you…I don’t know, peed your pants?” You asked.

“Today,” Robin replied, and you hit her in the shoulder.

“No way!”

“Yeah, when the Russian doctor took out the bone saw…but it was just a little bit!” She defended herself as you cackled. “Alright, my turn,” she continued, “Steve, have you…ever been in love?” The question she settled on was calculated, hoping that he would just speak up and tell you how he felt.

“I mean, if you would have asked me a year ago, I would’ve said totally. Nancy Wheeler…but now I’m not so sure, you know,” he started and your heart sank a little. “Ever since Dustin got home from camp, he’s been telling me ‘you’ve gotta find your Suzie, you’ve gotta fine your Suzie,’” Steve explained.

“Who’s Suzie?” Robin asked, her brow furrowed in confusion as the two of you sat up.

“It’s some girl from camp, I guess his girlfriend. To be honest with you, I’m not even 100% sure she’s even real,” Steve chuckled, “but that’s not—that’s not really the point. The point is, there is this girl that I like, and I didn’t really pay her much attention in school. I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because Tommy H would’ve made fun of me…or I wouldn’t be…prom king? I don’t know, it’s stupid. Dustin’s right, it’s all just a bunch of bullshit anyway. Because when I think about it, I should’ve been hanging out with this girl the whole time. She’s smart and she’s funny—I mean, I’ve never laughed as much as I have when she’s around—and…and she really knows how to swing a golf club, even though I’m pretty damn sure she’s never played before.”

Your ears perked up as you realized he was talking about you. After the conversation him and Robin had about Mrs. Click’s class, you thought that maybe he was talking about her. You felt your heart jump to your throat as he continued.

“And she’s super strong. Like, I don’t know anyone else who would fight like hell the way she does. I mean, it’s insane, really; she should give herself a break, let other people do the fighting every once in a while. That brings me to my next point which is that she’s a total control freak,” Steve laughed and Robin nudged you in the side as she smiled down at you. Your eyes were welling with tears as he continued.

“I guess I should be grateful for it because she really helped me get my shit together, but you know, I’m still learning. And she’s patient too. I would’ve dropped my ass by now if I was her, but she sticks by me, which I guess I haven’t been as grateful for as I should’ve, but I’m gonna change, I promise,” Steve added, sliding under the bathroom stall, his hand reaching out to you, pinky extended. You laughed a wet laugh as you ignored his stupid finger, wrapping your arms around his neck. He gripped you tightly, as if it was the last time he’d ever get to hold you. He wouldn’t take you for granted again. “What about you Robin? You ever been in love?” Steve asked as you pulled away, sitting back to look at her again. Suddenly her face dropped, the smile that had been sitting on it disappearing as her brow furrowed.

“Robin, are you okay?” You asked, grabbing her hand.

She took a deep breath before she spoke up, “do you remember me talking about Click’s class? About me being jealous and, like, obsessed?”

A look of realization flashed across Steve’s face as he spoke up, “Robin, I’m sorry, I—“

She cut him off, “just let me finish…it isn’t because I had a crush on you. It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

“Who?” Steve asked, but you were already starting to catch on, your hand squeezing hers as she worked up the courage to speak.

“Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at me. But...she couldn’t peel her eyes away from you and your stupid hair. And I didn’t understand it because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor, and you asked dumb questions, and you were a douchebag! And—and you didn’t even like her…and I would go home…and just scream into my pillow.”

“But…Tammy Thompson’s a girl?” Steve asked, a confused look on his face.

“Steve,” Robin breathed out. His furrowed brow relaxed as he finally realized what she had been trying to say.

“Oh,” he said softly, “holy shit…I mean yeah, Tammy Thompson, she’s cute and all…but she’s a total dud.”

You stared at him incredulously while Robin responded, “no she’s not!”

“Yes, she is! She like wants to be a singer in Nashville or some shit like that!”

“She has dreams!” You chimed in, fighting on Robin’s behalf.

“She can’t even hold a tune! She’s practically tone deaf, have you heard her? She sounds like a Muppet!” Steve said and began singing off key, mocking the poor girl.

Robin laughed, “she does not sound like that!”

“Yes she does! That’s a great impersonation of her! She sounds like a Muppet giving birth!” Steve emphasized.

“I know, I know,” Robin finally admitted cackling.

Suddenly the three of you were just singing like Kermit in a movie theater bathroom, and all of the shit going on didn’t even matter. Dustin would eventually burst through the door, pulling you back into the commotion of a Russian invasion and an alternate dimension, but right now, you were just three kids, living.

Your ribs were broken and each breath you took hurt like hell, but this was the first time in a long time that you felt like you could just breathe. You reveled in it, knowing it would only last for so long.

***

a/n: Thanks for reading and I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter! If you liked it and wanted to reblog, I would be eternally grateful! Also feel free to send me asks! They can be about the story or anything really, I’m happy to talk to you guys <3

taglist:

@season4steve @sassyheroneckgiant @tangledinthegreatxscape @maeve-wileyy @palachannie @chaerfull @usaguisenpaisblog @emilieluckwood @sabrinadelreyy @mochminnie @xprloki

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 7: Costumes | Matt Murdock

Pairing: Matt Murdock x reader (no y/n)

Wordcount: 1.7k (this is going to be the longest one)

Warnings: 18+, PWP, costumes, a lot of sacrilegious activities, party sex, dirty talk, no protection (wrap it!!), afab reader but no pronouns are used, maybe slightly ooc matt but i am too tired to care. it's porn.

Summary: You may have fucked up on picking costumes for Marci's Halloween party, but at least Matt looks hot, right? Surely this won't awaken anything in the two of you- right?

A/N: Hi! I kind of got carried away on this one, there's probably a lot off repeat phrases, but this is the late day 7 and the late day 8 should be coming tonight as well but if not: oops. Also cmon, i had to make it a priest costime.

It had taken months of begging and persuasion to get Matt to even consider putting on a costume for halloween. Much less a shitty priest costume that you had snagged from the local party shop two hours before Marci’s ‘ghoul gala’ party. You’re not exactly sure how to tell Matt what the two of you will be going as, the ‘hot nun’ costume you snagged alongside his currently laying on his bed in front of you as you contemplate your options. 

“It could be worse,” you nearly jump out of your skin, having forgotten you called Karen for help, her slightly glitched voice coming through your phone. Sighing, you pick up your costume and open the packaging, allowing the spandex like material to fall out onto the sheets. It’s incredibly skimpy considering what it’s portraying, the slats on the long skirt allowing most of your legs to be visible. Obviously the holy grail of it all, the wimple cutting off at your collarbones to allow a deep V to run down your chest “how can it be worse than this Karen, truly. I mean I could spit on a bible, maybe then-” 

“You’re being dramatic, I’m sure Matt will love it.” 

“I think Matt is going to have a stroke, but I appreciate your enthusiasm,” you remark dryly, biting back a smile when Karen snorts. 

“Well he just left the office not too long ago so he should be back to you soon. Marci’s thing starts in about an hour, Foggy left the office in costume so I assume he’s more than stressed about it.”

“Oh i’m sure he’ll feel better when we get there,” you laugh, perking up when you hear the door click shut “Matt just got home, i’ll see you at the party okay bye!”

“Was that Karen?” Matt asks, stepping behind you and wrapping his arms around your waist, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. “Yeah,” you speak, voice tight as you prepare yourself to tell him about your outfits for the night. He notices immediately, concerned questions spilling from his mouth and you brush off each one, assuring him that you’re okay before pulling from his hold to grab his packaged costume. You turn back and hold it out in front of him, biting your lip when he takes it from you, squeezing the plastic that encloses it. 

You take the chance as soon as he begins to open it “don’t be mad at me.”

Matt pauses, sunglasses turning in your direction as he sighs “what did you do?”

-

The venue was huge, and you suddenly understood why Marci had spent so much money on it. You had been correct about Foggy’s mood improving when you showed up, the neutral look on his expression immediately turning into one of disbelief and elation. “You’re kidding me,” Foggy laughs, walking directly to Matt and pulling him into a hug before holding him back at arm's length. Matt is tense, you can feel it, but god he looks so hot, so you can’t find it in yourself to be that worried. The clerical collar accentuates the muscle and veins in his neck, adam's apple bobbing against it when he leans toward you to speak. “At least act like you’re not getting wet right now,” Matt grits his teeth, his volume dropped low enough so only you can hear.

Foggy’s voice is immediately drowned out by the rush in your ears, your thighs clenching together, his words like a warm rush through your body. “I need a drink,” you manage to spit out, weaving through the group of people until you reach the cooler on the opposite side of the room, pulling a seagram and beer from the ice. You’re half tempted to climb in, just to cool the heat that is spreading to the end of all your limbs and maybe clear your head. The beating in your chest is rapid, heavy thumps against your ribcage as your heart repeats what Matt has just said to you over and over and over, and you know for a fact that he’s listening to it purely because of the smirk that tugs his lips as you walk back towards him. 

“Fancy a drink, father?” you raise your voice over the music to tease, handing the bottle to him with a bit more force than intended. Matt doesn’t know what he expects to feel when father slips off your tongue with such carnality, but lust was not one of them. It burns fiery in his chest, everything he has ever been taught about Thou shall not covet suddenly thrown out the window. You see the dilemma in the shape of the sharp inhale Matt takes, jaw clenching tight enough to see the muscle work.

“You’re treading an incredibly thin line here, sweetheart,” Matt warns, hand going to rest on the base of your spine before pulling you flush to his . The open slats of your costume causes your legs to brush against his pants, the thin fabric not doing much to cover the feeling of his hardening cock against you. “What?” you say breathlessly, hoping the thumping of music will drown out everything you say “you can’t handle it father? Do you need me to confess my sins?” The pressure against your lower back increases, as does your heart rate. 

“You don’t need to confess them,” Matt replies smoothly “I’ll fuck them out of you.”

There’s a moment of pause as you gasp and Matt’s head cocks to the side as he focuses on something, bottle being taken from your hand and set on a table, his glasses nearly black mixed with the deep red lighting of the room. Grabbing your hand, Matt begins to tug you to the back of the venue, passing by people with ease and you hope that it’s too dark for anyone to notice the blind man leading you instead of the other way around. Soon enough he’s at a door, twisting the handle and pulling you inside. It’s a washroom, also bled in the same crimson lighting as if a bloodied glass was placed in front of your eyes. It’s giving you a headache. 

“Is this what you wanted? Play a game of blasphemy until I get fed up and make you feel good?” Matt twists the lock on the door and presses you forward until your thighs hit the sink, his breathing ragged and heavy against your back. The costumes may have been unplanned, but your choice of words throughout the night had not. This is what you wanted, but the admittance of it out loud seemed more like desecration than anything else. You do it anyway.

“Yes,” you grin, pressing your ass back into him. Pride blooms in your chest when he chokes out a moan, fingers frantically pulling the skirt up to bunch at your waist before undoing his belt and pants. Matt’s hand rests between your shoulder blades, pressing you forward to bend over the porcelain. You blink back the haze in your eyes glancing up at the mirror inches in front of your face to peek at him, the sight of the clergy shirt ridden up his stomach revealing his hand fisting his cock enough to make you whimper. 

You’ve never seen Matt so worked up before, and something tells you this is a subject you’ll have to tap into again at a later time. Right now though, he’s pressing into you slowly, lip caught between his teeth as he focuses on the feeling of your cunt taking him in. “Made for me,” he murmurs before pulling his hips back just the slightest to press in further than before. 

The counter digs into your legs with each roll of his hips, moans tumbling past your lips with no hesitation, your body responding to him as it always does. “Oh my god Matty, so good,” you whimper, eyes pinching shut. No one has ever made you feel like Matt has, romantically or physically, the call of his body always pulling a response from yours. Your hands press against the tiled wall, eyes blinking open and glancing over him in the reflection catching the quick dip of his head, his hips stalling momentarily. 

One hand leaves your hips to grip the white collar, pulling on it “gotta be quiet now sweetheart, someone’s waiting outside.The music is loud, but so are you.” Once it tugs free he reaches around to your face, holding it in front of your mouth. “Bite,” he instructs, voice ragged and terse. You do, clenching your teeth onto it to keep from crying out when his hips slam back against you. Your pussy clenches around him as your knees shake, the only thing keeping you from falling being the sink you’re bent over.

“Being so good sweetheart, need you to cum for me,” Matt moans, almost unheard through the ringing in your ears and hum of the outside music. Small shocks spark along your skin when his fingers find your clit, rubbing and applying pressure that has you keening, face falling forward to press against the cool metal of the faucet. He knows exactly how to play you like an instrument, knows how to make you sing the prettiest songs for him like this, and he knows it. You can hear his cocky chuckle when your legs begin to shiver, hands slipping from their spot on the wall.

Everything seems to slow except for your breathing, your orgasm racking up your spine and down your legs, inching through to your fingers and it takes everything in you to keep the collar clenched in your mouth as to not alert whoever may be lurking by the door. Matt praises you through it, slowing his thrusts but not stopping, waiting until he knows you’re coherent enough to hear him to speak. 

“That’s it, baby, you did so amazing,” Matt leans forward to press a kiss to the back of your head, pulling the white fabric from your lips “think you can do another?” He rolls his hips into yours once more, hitting something inside you that makes the red lighting of the room turn to white. You hum, pushing back against him.

“Yes, father.”

[redstringraven]

probably not important to anyone but me, but i'm becoming increasingly convinced that traximus is a 1w2 like leo. which delights me for a number of reasons.

firstly, in that it shows off the whole comparison of the core types to colors. there may be an infinite variations of the color 'red', but they are still variations OF red. you might not see the immediate similarities between leo and traximus at first glance; i think most folks are likely to group raph and traximus together (which DOES make sense, of course, given they spend more time directly interacting in-series). but leo and traximus both have a powerful sense of justice and service. they both have a temper. they both want to do what's right, they have an ability to organize, and others are willing and eager to follow them. and they both go through a period of severe, consuming depression that warps their sense of motivation and purpose. i'm simplifying this a lot because this is more a stream of consciousness post than one of my giant analysis posts or whatever; if it feels vague, that might be why and i apologize jkfldsg.

secondly, leo was the one who 'got through to traximus'. he was IN his own "season 4" headspace when we meet him below the gladiator arena, all doom and gloom. "mister sunshine", i believe is how raph refers to him. that is until leo spared his life and then extended a hand to help him back to his feet (cue me vibrating through the floor for reasons that only make sense to me due to comic that only exists in my head right now). this turn-around happened a lot 'faster' than leo's s4 arc buuuuut that's the life of a minor character compared to a main character. still, i'm happy to work with scraps. it's part of my brand.

thirdly, i like how you may at first think traximus is more of an 8 like raph is--maybe because the anger he has is more on his sleeve than leo's or he spends more time with raph overall. but traximus's "visible" anger and confrontation makes sense for him, as the thing he's angry about is not only active and worsening, but he's also an adult. he's had more time to know that this anger he has isn't "bad"--that he should be mad about this, actually, and he can turn that anger into something productive. he doesn't go out of his way to hide it or identify it as anything else (there's also obviously cultural/nurturing differences here, as well). leo, still a teenager, is likely still prone to labeling his anger as 'less bad' things ("i'm just trying to get it right" or "i'm not mad, i'm just trying to understand"). he's also grown up hearing how master splinter talks about raph's anger, and likely feels a stronger need to hide or disguise his own.

note to self: trax and leo should have a conversation at some point. because i said so. i think it'd be good for both of them, but especially a little enlightening and maybe even further healing for leo.

but ye, this has been me chattering about something i've been thinking about that makes me happy. i just think it's neat. and i like that the fact raph and traximus get along so well kind of gives us a taste of what his interactions with leo--when the pressure's off or it's just the two of them chilling--may be like.

[regallibellbright]

Some general thoughts on Precure All Stars F:

1) I knew it going in, but it really is delightful that the literal plot of this movie is some kind of all-powerful alien capable of destroying planets deciding after a fight to become the most powerful being in the universe: a magical girl. (Complete with mascot made of the weak and useless parts of yourself like compassion and a desire for friendship and ugh you’re not destroying things with our incredible cosmic power, get away from me.)

2) Laura: I’m looking for someone (my girlfriend.)

Mashiro: What a coincidence! I’m looking for my girlfriend too!

3) Love how StarTwi staff have said Lala’s “On my home planet I am TOTALLY AN ADULT” is a lie, but she still got grouped in on Team Adult… as the token kid.

4) I will say, the evil alien bunny girl does have a really good sense of style.

5) Tsubasa just fanboys every time he meets a princess, huh. What a dork. <3

6) I missed Manatsu and Laura so much. But you know who I missed more? Nodoka. Also love the inherent in-joke of Nodoka talking about how she misses and is looking for Rabirin to Mashiro, who shares a VA.

7) So yeah the train part made me go wibbly. Also, Nodoka took up running to build her stamina but still can’t run as fast as the others, none of whom are particularly athletic but also aren’t chronically ill. YES. (Laura trying to use her tail to bridge the gap was a nice touch.)

8) A tiny puppy reminds Yukari of her girlfriend, who is a dog.

9) The reunions were so cute, all times. Team Soaring Sky getting a group hug. Manatsu and Laura getting a HUGE hug while Yui and Amane and Nodoka and Asumi’s are a bit more restrained. So cute. (And then meanwhile, the adorable bunny mascot with Serious Trauma is having a very reasonable freakout. Poor Puca.)

10) Team Wing sees explosions in the castle and just vanishes for like five minutes only to reappear having already defeated Supreme’s “final boss.” High achievers, all of them.

11) Also La Mer getting to do her little “Victory!” jump and kick after her attack, even though they’re still running. So cute.

12) Reiterating what I said when Toei posted the first Big All-Precure Fight Scene: People were not kidding, Milky Rose looks dead there, and I’m not sure we actively see her get up later in the scene when everyone rallies? I… assume so? Looking forward to people uploading screenshots of a lot of the quick shot sequences to get a closer look (that one and the Cure Allies shots during All For One Forever, in particular.)

13) So the last couple movies hadn’t used Miracle Lights. Sure. But would it really be an All Stars movie - for a milestone anniversary, no less - without them? Of course not.

14) I am always a sucker for a good memory montage featuring the power of love. And oh, that was a good one. Not sure my favorite: Manatsu and Laura and Yui and Amane reacting to their shared memories are both fantastic, but so’s Yukari just standing by the wall as her memory plays out, and of course they pick That Scene from Healin’ Good for Rabirin and Nodoka’s maximum emotional impact.

15) That said: Distinctly NOT a fan of Supreme’s design featuring a darker skin tone once she goes evil and only when she goes evil, even though she keeps the black costume change in the ending.

16) I was admittedly a LITTLE disappointed when I got the soundtrack to realize they weren’t repeating All Stars Memories with a like twelve-minute fight scene track that was a medley of the theme songs. I do love the eight-minute medley track. All For One Forever is more than acceptable as a substitute, though.

17) We finally get the Delicious Party/Kirakira a la mode teamup we all wanted and deserved. Plus, bonus food-themed Cures adding their own powers to the mix! The ULTIMATE battle cake.

18) Also great: Laura and Minami’s “did we just become best friends?” attack. (All the thematic combos were delightful but seriously La Mer and Mermaid just seeing each other and going “let’s do a combo” is PERFECT.)

19) Yukari and Akira trying to act cool once they’re reunited, like Yukari hasn’t been utterly miserable all movie because her girlfriend is gone. Lala wiping out some cannon fodder so Yukari can have a moment with her girlfriend. (Lala understands. Her girlfriend was past the cutoff for getting two major cast members this movie. Probably because Nodoka and Rabirin with Team Prism had thematic purpose and a sequence break would look seriously weird - Hikaru seems like a shoo-in for Team Sky’s Goofball Energy And Preme.)

20) Cure Puca, like Ellee, gets the benefits of being a Precure seemingly requiring you to be a humanoid teenager/whatever’s going on with Cure Earth Who Is At Least This Tall Unless You’re A Mascot: being able to give a heroic speech.

21) Things I’m remembering last-minute I enjoyed: Sora showing the others her Hero Diary and being sad when she sees the “We Are Pretty Cure” page of her and Prism holding hands. Sora incorporating Yui’s and Manatsu’s mottos into her own. The lead Cures during the Portals Sequence all being like “yeah we don’t really know what’s going on here but we’ve all been in an All Stars movie or several before, we can handle this, sure.” The emphasis on hand-holding in general, particularly that FLASH of the battle they lost and Precious that Sora gets the first time she takes Yui’s hand and the vaguer one for Manatsu’s. And in a “this amused me” way, the way everyone getting lined up for the battle before the Requisite Explosion Jump is just them floating in space like a bunch of dolls on invisible shelves because it’s the only way to manage this all, there’s like 80 of them, it is SO MANY PRECURE.

So yeah, solid movie, I enjoyed it greatly. Probably gonna give it a minute until I finally watch the Healin’ Good one.

[midnightcreator12]

The Splinters and how good of a Dad they are

Why? Because I want to

Also, side note, this is the Splinters from the TMNT stuff I have seen (which is mostly the movies and TV shows). And I won’t be looking at how good of a sensei they are, I’m more interested in how good of a Dad they are.

SO ANYWAY!

First is the 1990 movie with the Jim Henson puppets!

And might as well include the whole trilogy in this because despite the quality dip it’s all the same timeline.

He doesn’t get much screen time in these movies, he spends most of the first one being kidnapped, but when he is interacting with the turtles, it’s actually really sweet.

He makes a point to try and teach them but he always speaks so softly and kindly. They react like he’s lecturing them but he always approaches the turtles in a very open manner.

A highlight of this is when he talks to Raph about his anger management. He mentions how he’s tried to help Raph channel his anger over the years, in a way that sounds like he's saying ‘you’re better than you were before’.

He’s very upfront when they ask him for advice, using the ‘old man stories’ to add onto his point rather than just telling a story and letting the turtles figure it out.

Again, his role in the movies is limited so most of this is assumption but I feel confident in the option that he is a firm but kind father. 7/10

Next, the 1987 Splinter!

This guy should get a prize for how much he just rolls with the punches of life. And one of those, ‘sure, this is fine’ moments is when he suddenly has four mutant turtles to care for. 

He’s a lot more active in the turtles missions than most Splinters, often joining them or coming to their rescue. When the turtles go after the Shredder the first time he quickly jumped to join them. (got kidnapped almost immediately but he tried!)

And something that he does a lot is encourage. Almost every episode he is complimenting his boys, praising their accomplishments and comforting them when they stumble, often teaching them through stories he grew up with in his childhood with his clan.

There is also an early episode where Shredder makes a de-mutating ray and he does not hesitate to destroy it when Shredder tries to use it on the turtles. He clearly prioritizes the turtles, even over his own humanity.

One of the best Dad’s in my option (ironic because the turtles never call him dad and he never calls them his sons) little prone to kidnapping but a good dad. 8/10

Next we have the 2003 Splinter

This Splinter treds the fine line of dad and sensei. When we first meet him he is clearly acting in the role of sensei and more often than not that is how he acts throughout the show. When his sons have problems he often uses cryptic stories and lets them try and figure it out on their own. 

But when this Splinter goes Dad mode, it’s awesome. Best examples are when he forbade the boys from fighting the Shredder the second they told him about the guy, the Ninja Tribunal arc, where he went halfway across the globe and was ready to fight a group of powerful mystic ninja masters because they kidnapped his kids and at the beginning of Back to the Sewers, when he takes a LASER to the chest for his kids without hesitation.

So while he does often portray the role of a strict master, when he sees his kids threatened all bets are off and he will not think twice about jumping into the line of fire. He often calls the turtles ‘son’ but they rarely call him dad, but despite that there is a clear close connection between the five of them.

I am biased because 03 is my fav series but I rate 2003 Splinter as a great dad, maybe just work on the emotional openness in less life threatening situations. 8/10

Next is 2007 Splinter!

(side rant about how the 2007 movie suffers from trying to do way too much in one go and many characters suffer as a result including Splinter)

Okay, let’s get this out of the way real quick, this movie does not make Splinter look good. 

His first mistake was sending Leo away to train. Alone. Without any kind of support system. Something that is consistent in every version of the turtles is that they are very codependent. While it isn’t ideal, a large part of that is by virtue of what they are and how they had to live. And Splinter sent the oldest of the group away.

Second, it’s clear Leo’s absents has fractured the family but we don’t ever see Splinter trying to fix it. There isn’t even insinuations that he’s tried to fix it. He just let his family kinda fall apart.

His one saving grace is his speech to Raph near the end of the movie but that still doesn’t change how hands off he’s been the entire time.

So, if this Splinter IS a good dad, he sadly fell out of the habit as his kids got older. 4/10, TALK TO YOUR KIDS OLD MAN!

Okay, now we have 2012 Splinter!

So, 2012 Splinter has a very strong start in the show. He is very caring towards his turtles, even a bit overprotective. I’m pretty sure the 2012 turtles are the only ones who have NEVER been topside before the show starts(when they were tots doesn’t count since they don’t remember it). He had them on full Lair lockdown when the Shredder comes after them and often fusses over them when they come home after missions gone wrong.

But he sadly suffers from the inconsistent writing common in this version. Despite being the youngest Splinter in the lineup, he hardly ever goes on missions with the turtles and often orders them to go into dangerous situations, more and more often as the show goes on, losing that overprotectiveness until you forget he ever was a helicopter parent.

He clearly loves the turtles but despite the liberal use of calling them his sons, I always felt like there was a disconnect between him and the boys. A proverbial wall that maintains a clear distance between him and them.

This does not mean he doesn’t care, there are a number of times he’s run to rescue the turtles and often actively seeks them out when they’re having issues but out of all the Splinters, he falls pretty hard into the trap of sensei first, father second.

So, yeah, I liked the foundation but I think his overall dad score is a 5/10.

And finally, we have Rise Splinter!

AKA, the reason I made this post.

Because this guy is fundamentally different from every other Splinter. He ran from the tradition of his clan and sought out his own path in being a movie star. Which makes it all the more meaningful that he got these four little babies and just decided, ‘ok, I’m their dad now’

He is definitely the least strict out of all the Splinters, helped by the fact he probably only taught the kids any ninjutsu because they begged him too. We know via flashbacks and the turtles constantly referring to him as Dad that he was pretty active as the boys parent when they were younger.

But by the time the show starts it’s clear he pretty much lets the boys run wild and do what they want within reason. We see throughout the show that he still struggles with his vice of pride and often deflects with humor which can come off as dismissing, but he still loves his kids.

The second he finds out what kinda stuff his boys get up to (fighting Draxum and the looming threat of The Shredder) he drops the over confident actor shtick and starts actually teaching the boys how to be ninjas.

So, not a perfect dad by a long shot, but he’s clearly trying and has the most personal growth out of all the Splinters 8/10

AND THAT’S WHAT I GOT!

Feel free to addon, I’d love to get some more options on this. And have an awesome day!

[itsclydebitches]

If we want to give RWBY the most generous interpretation possible, I'd say the whole thing was meant to say that the mistakes Ruby made in previous volumes were a result of trying to emulate Summer/fairy tale heroes, and the whole arc of the volume is her learning that these heroes are flawed and she shouldn't try to emulate them perfectly. Of course, this really wasn't set up well if that's the case, but hey I'm trying to throw a bone here.

I do think that's the general vibe they were going for. Like the generic "be yourself" message, it's a great takeaway on the surface, just horribly executed to the point of, at times, actively undermining what RT wants to say. Example: accepting yourself is the ultimate end goal so that's why, uh... Ascension turns you into someone entirely new? Unless you're the protagonist, of course, because what story wants to deal with that can of worms.

Beyond the numerous issues I have with Volume 9 itself, I find this "Ruby needed to accept that she was trying to live up to the impossible standard of Summer Rose" to be incredibly unpersuasive given that Summer hasn't been portrayed as a perfect hero for the majority of the series. Maybe at the very start when Ruby was more naively optimistic and less informed, but definitely not past Volume 4. She learned fairly early in the story that Summer didn't just die on a random huntsmen mission doing Good Hero Work, but that this was something connected to Salem - AKA, the super morally ambiguous fight that the group has been criticizing since they learned of its existence. Ruby herself has experienced being a huntress in this world, making gray choices left and right (if I'm being kind), so how in the world would she have maintained this idealized image of Summer's own career? To say nothing of how Ruby never expresses any opinions about Summer, warped or otherwise, because no one ever talks about her. The supposedly ~emotional~ trinket this Volume was a rose emblem Ruby gave up after never ONCE mentioning it before she's given it back from the tree and... proceeds to continue not mentioning it. After 9 Volumes Summer has remained firmly in the personality void of Dead Mothers. All we knew about her going into this Volume was that she was a SEW and liked to bake cookies. We couldn't even emphasize her reading Ruby impressionable, highly inaccurate fairy tales because the early Volumes told us that Yang read her those. Summer doesn't exist as a person, so all we have to work with is Ruby's own experiences which consistently undermine the idea that her mother was a flawless hero. She was part of what Ruby now knows to be a highly, systematically flawed career, working for Ozpin, who then died. Without some inkling as to how Ruby sees her mother - and how she's maintained that narrow perspective in the face of everything in Volumes 3-8 - what about this says Perfect Person, Impossible to Emulate?

Which makes the whole "My mother LIED? Omg she wasn't perfect?? Clearly I don't need to be perfect either! 🤯" revelation... not really a revelation at all. Which isn't even taking into account a) Ruby's own choice to give a doozy of a lie a couple weeks back (if anything, she should consider that a mark in Summer's favor) and b) the fact that this depression, self-doubt, and suicidal ideation stems from the very real problems Ruby has no idea how to fix. It's like watching someone collapse because their house is on fire and they don't have any means of putting it out. "Don't worry," the mystical therapist says, "Your mother loves you and you don't have to be perfect." Fantastic takeaway! The house is still burning.

[h3ntaichrist]

ahem, i have some THINGS to SAY, and i'm well aware this may ruffle more than a few feathers. but i find my message to be more important than sparing the feelings of those who continuously evade accountability and the accompanying shame. TW: mentions of religious trauma, addiction, childhood trauma.

the most common response i've seen, online and irl, from christians when encountering something they don’t like or believe is wrong (often based on misguided interpretations of their scripture), is mockery and contempt. usually taking place in the form of memes, jokes, and slanderous or insulting rhetoric. it’s their gut reaction, an attempt to shame others. the only other group i've seen do this as much, if not more, than christians is gen x, but i’ll save that for another time.

this is my experience as bisexual, spiritual but non-religious, ciswoman that heavily supports the very social movements that are often targets of christian mockery: BLM, indigenous land rights, #metoo, LGBTQI+ rights, gun violence prevention, climate change action, USA’s pisspoor hEaLthCaRe system, fentanyl awareness, and systemic poverty. i could go on.

i grew up in the church and i learned a lot. my daddy was a preacher for quite some time, so i speak on these things with a WHOLE lot of experience. i was a troubled kid, born of addict parents. i moved in with my dad around 7 or 8 after my mama “moved to louisiana to be closer to her mom so she could get better”. this wasn’t the real story, nor did it happen that way for my mama, but that’s beside the present point.

i had a lot going on at home that little me couldn’t process alone, and i was never in therapy long enough for it to make a positive impact. each time a therapist started asking questions that pointed to the home dynamic with my dad and step-mom, i was transferred to a new one. this continued until i was no longer taken to therapy, entirely out of my control and earnestly at my detriment.

during this extremely transformative and impressionable period of my adolescence, i spent a whole lot of my time in the church—not just on sunday mornings. i was actively involved with my youth group, attended wednesday services, church camps, retreats, and went on a mission trip to broken arrow, oklahoma. while i made some friends and had some incredible experiences, these were also the places where i felt the most ostracized and i don’t think anything has come close to it since. i was a troubled kid from generational trauma, not wealth, and was destined to be the breaker of this cycle. its real hard to find your footing when the odds are heavily stacked against you.

i was very fortunate to have my grandparents, who provided comfort, kindness, and support, shielding me as much as they could from all the chaos and trauma i experienced at the hands of people who were supposed to protect me. but they could only do much. as a result, i rebelled—hard. or at least as hard as a girl growing up in the church, the bible belt, and just over an hour from Pulaski, TN, a city infamous for reasons you can google, could rebel.

my youth pastor welcomed my weirdness. we didn’t talk much about my situation, but there was an unspoken understanding between us that i’ll never forget or appreciate any less. unfortunately, the same cannot be said for most of the folks i encountered during this time. i often felt humiliated and alone, mocked, and held in contempt. not by all, but certainly the majority.

there are a few folks i still keep in touch with today, one of whom feels almost exactly the way i do. our conversations as adults have been very validating. my childhood best friend, despite our different manifestations of similar childhood trauma, did her best to stay close to me, and for that, i am forever grateful. but again, these supportive experiences were the minority. i wouldn’t feel right not including them, though.

so, forgive me if i do not share your sentiments regarding the “mockery” of your religion during this Olympic season. i don’t care. i honestly couldn’t care less. i know so many people ranging from young to old who share similar stories of experiences with the church, stories filled with mockery, isolation, false concern, and contempt.

i’m not trying to say that one wrong makes another right. this extends beyond some simple tit for tat. so much wrongdoing has occurred throughout history at the hands of christians supposedly carrying out the justice and desires of their lord. it’s time christians learn about, if they aren’t already educated, and subsequently acknowledge this. it’s time christians listen to the stories of those they cast out from their communities, whether indirectly or directly, and work to understand the impact those experiences had on them.

i personally think a step in the right direction would be attempting to understand WHY their religion and its followers are so often mocked and ridiculed by those who have suffered at its hands. but as long as its members choose to blame the devil for the current discourse, rather than acknowledging their transgressions, i will continue to care absolutely zero about the mockery of their religion.

my experiences and observations have shown me that the mockery and contempt often displayed by christians towards those they disagree with is not just a reaction to modern social movements, but a continuation of a long history of exclusion and judgement. this behavior has deep roots in the very bones of the church and its misguided teachings. its crucial for christians to reflect on this history and the pain it has caused, and to seek understanding and MAYBE reconciliation with those they have marginalized. only then can we hope to move forward in a way that fosters genuine compassion and respect for all. until that happens, i will remain indifferent to the mockery of their religion, as it pales in comparison to the suffering inflicted by those who claim to follow it.

and to the few and far between christians who are on the right track in this regard, i’m so sorry for the burden you bear due to the actions of your fellow members, past and present. your efforts to show understanding, compassion,and genuine respect are invaluable. please, don’t give up. your work is crucial in paving the way for a more inclusive and empathetic future.

rest of pics in replies

[minggukieology]

So I have a question that requires an open mind and perhaps a “tin hat”. I was reading about Jimin referencing 2315 during PTD so I looked at dates. This is a reach.., but.. well here goes, lol.

If you calculate the number of days between Nov 8, 2015 and Feb 1, 2023 -excluding both Nov 8th and Feb 1st, it equals 2641 which added together is 13 :) Not sure if that is how date the calculations are done? Do you omit the starting and ending dates when calculating anniversaries etc?

Coincidence most definitely? Or not? If I did the calculations correctly, a nice coincidence?

Hi there! Thanks for your message.

First off, let me start by being very honest and saying I don't personally entertain this type of narrative no matter who it is done by and who it is about. Seeing some meaning in a set of numbers and then proceeding to throw random ones into the mix just so that they fit into your own presumed context is hitting QAnon level of conspiracy thinking. Alas you admit it yourself, yet proceed to pull strings from all possible corners to arrive at any satisfying (to you) conclusion. That being said if it makes sense to you and makes you happy, go ahead and enjoy it. But from my point of view, you just wrote a bunch of numbers and dates and drew connections that are void of reason.

Anyways to add a bit more cultural context, yes numbers and dates are important in Korean culture, esp when it comes to dating life, fortune etc. Korean couples celebrate their 100/×00th day anniversary, their yearly anniversary, their 1000th day anniversary; Peppero day, Valentines day, White day etc those are also all important in dating culture. So, yes counting days from when the couple officially got together is also a thing. To add, it is typically a young people thing, as they are prone to follow trends and show off their couple looks and gifts etc.

In context of BTS or specifically now Jimin and Jungkook, 13 has been mentioned a lot and yes there is a signifance for this number that is justified and logical, as they themselves referred to it on multiple occasions and emphasized its significance. It is also justified and logical to ascribe meaning to different dates that were pronounced and even mentioned by them, such as "Jimin day" or "Jungkook day." Similarly, we also have 지민+시 = 지민시 (Jimin+si) as 10:13 Jimin o'clock. However, anything beyond that is just fanmade narratives. And yes, I am fully aware a lot of those narratives come from Korean fans. But it is important to emphasize they are also just fans. Meanwhile the fandom might feel like their cultural background gives legitimacy to whatever they say and whatever patterns they see, they are no less prone to cognitive dissonance and logical fallacies as any other group of fans or group of people really.

This is now a whole meta discourse that could be dissected in pages and pages. But to sum up, I don't look for hidden meanings in the dates of their posts, and especially not the hour and the minute they post at, or try to analyze numbers they mention (in my opinion) pretty randomly (and even if not by random, anything that is not given context by them is just pure speculation, fantasy)

Once again, this egregiously long reply might feel like sort of an attack so let me reiterate: if these types of posts, theories, coincidences bring you joy, go ahead and indulge in them (I myself do sometimes as well)!! but please don't get too lost in the sauce. I understand, many jikookers are set out to *always* find some kind of connection or link in between Jimin and Jungkook even in completely unrelated scenarios, but make sure to be aware of this echo chamber and think critically.

(sidenote: I apologize if I am missing some obvious connotation that has sprung up on Twitter or some other corner of the Internet recently, I am not so active within the fandom anymore)

[fresne999]

A Good Night at the Phone bank

I'm just going to put this out into the world. It's an election year, so of course there's all these posts that equate Democrats and Republicans, blah, blah, don't vote (or vote third party). 

Which since I volunteer (among other things) with an organization that does voter information outreach to Native Americans, I always want to ask questions about what kind of year round infrastructure work these third parties do to get local, state, and federal officials elected, and increase the political power of disadvantaged communities. Which is to say, I feel salty. 

Disclaimer: I'm not Native American. I'm one of many doing the work to free up Native American organizers' time to be on the ground organizing. Anyhow.

I was on a phone bank. Happens every week. At the end, the volunteer coordinator got very emotional and told us how thankful she is for the energy our group brings week on week. That because of the work we've been doing for years, Democratic Attorney General Kris Mayes won her election in 2022 by less than 500 votes. Seeing as it's 2024, I was thinking she was gearing up to ask for more election year shifts.

But no, what she wanted to say was that because we got a Democratic Governor and Attorney General (by <500 votes) "those fake rehab centers that were kidnapping Native American were closed." 

There was a huge ring of fake sober living facilities in AZ where criminals would scoop up Native Americans and hold them hostage to get government money. That in some cases Native Americans had to jump out windows to escape. Died in captivity. We're talking up to 2023, not some long ago thing. That "Some advocates believe the sham treatment programs are contributing to a growing number of missing Indigenous people." Reading that the previous (Republican) governor and attorney general ignored what was going on because they didn't care. 

I had no idea. I'm not from AZ. I knew that Tribal Nations were getting more say in water rights, and money for local school buses (they get very torn up on rural roads), and so on. But this is a little different.

So, yeah. Democrats do care. Good things come from voting Democrat. If AZ hadn't swung Democrat at the top level, those Native Americans would still be disappearing and their families wouldn't know what happened. 

I get that some folks are single issue voters, and their issue is…rubs eyes. That's a different rant. I am not a single issue voter. I am not a single issue volunteer. I look at this vulnerable community whose voting power is actively being suppressed, and understand that because of the Red State plan, Republicans are currently in a position to actively gerrymander voting power away from numerically large, but disadvantaged, communities. That it takes tremendous work to overcome that obstacle. I mean literally over a hundred thousand phone calls a year. I mean thousands of miles driven by local organizers on really difficult roads. Dealing with heat. Snow. Mud slides. Work. 

That because of the electoral college, even though Democrats have won the popular vote by several million votes in 7 of the last 8 election cycles (2004 I'm shaking my head at you), every Presidential election year you get Democrats begging folks not to vote for third parties, because presidential elections are NOT based on the popular vote. That how key state's electoral college votes will be awarded is going to be based on a margin of a few thousand votes. 

Which is just a bag of cats frustrating. 

I'm just one cog doing my best to turn a wheel. To transfer a few drops of my privilege to a community who needs it, and it's worth it. I get on phone banks like last night and I know it's worth it. I'm going to remind myself of the tangible results that come from voting Democrat and volunteering the next time one of those posts floats by my dash and puts salt on my popcorn. Now, back to writing postcards that help disenfranchised folks connect with their local organizer.

[cantsaythetword]

TickleTober Day 8: Haunted House

~A/N  - I thought of this fic for day 8 pretty much immediately after creating the prompt list so I'm super hyped for you guys to read it! It's kind of an avengers fic but mostly centered around Peter being the lee.

- Enoy! ~

Tag List:

Masterpost Link || TickleTober 2022 Masterpost Link

Rotten floorboards, creaky hinges, musty smells and the screams of patrons. All part of the joyful experience of a haunted house. There's something rather amusing about the fact that it's safe. There's literally nothing that can hurt anyone (unless there's a particularly jumpy customer who just so happens to take a swing when they get spooked).

And yet there's still something so ominous about them. Something that evokes such primal fear but we can't get enough of it. Peter, Steve, and Bucky were three such adrenaline junkies. Well...

At least Steve and Bucky were.

The youngest of the group was less than pleased with the activity they had chosen for the day. Peter scared easily and he scared BAD.

With the various 'KEEP OUT' or 'DANGER' posters plastered next to the queue, or the repeating signs warning pregnant people or those with heart conditions to avoid the experience, his nerves certainly weren't at ease.

They entered the doorway, instantly hit with a blast of cold air. Goosebumps rippling down their backs, and without even a moment to recover from the deep chill, a violent groan echoed from behind them and two hands reached to grab at the three.

Peter let out a squeal, collapsing in on himself in the clutches of a blood-soaked zombie. Bucky shrieked at the sight, with Steve locking his eyes on the young boy to make sure he was ok.

Instead of the expected wide-eyed traumatized look, Peter had a blush across his face and a smile teasing at the corners of his lips.

The zombie, slightly breaking character after being half-squished by a small superhero, let out another moan. Reaching his hands out to grab at Peter when-

"Nohoho wahahait!" Peter giggled.

The zombie cracked, breaking into a grin.

"Ticklish, huh?" He teased in a very human voice for the costuming (which, if Peter was completely honest, was more odd than the makeup itself).

"Nohoho..."

"Oh he's super ticklish." Bucky teased, tweaking Peter's side sending the boy into adorable giggles. "Give it a try! It's great fun."

"Buhuhucky stahahap!" Peter pleaded, doing his best to hide his face. "This was supposed to be scahahary!"

"Oh there's nothing scarier in a haunted house than a tickle monster!" The zombie smirked, clawing at the kid's ribs and massaging under his armpits.

"STAHAHAHAP!"

"But isn't this better than being scared Pete?" Steve chuckled. "At least you're having fun!"

"LEHEAVE ME ALOHOHONE!"

"It's in my nature buddy!" Zombie man laughed, letting his fingers gentle spider around his ears. "I want braiiiiiiiiins!"

It was an odd sight, watching Spiderman get tickled to pieces by a zombie while captain America and the winter soldier watched. And Peter wasn't escaping any time soon.

[freakystrashdump]

🔮The Oracle Bakery🔮

Emperor Belos|Phillip Wittebane/OC

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, Belos is a content warning by himself

Read on AO3

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Chapter 8: Devil's Food Cake

The stars on a clear night were always a sight to behold on the Boiling Isles, a type of magic which even the most ardent of poets would struggle to describe its beauty in full. Witches of every coven basked in their beauty and power. And if the Moon was in a particularly powerful phase, it was hard to turn a corner on the streets of Bonesborough without coming across someone performing a ritual. From luck to love to even some more vengeful ones resorting to hexes - clear, starry nights like these were like catnip for spellcasters everywhere.

So it would come as no surprise that if one were to pay a little closer attention to the starry sky, they might have seen a witch-sized cluster of stars flying across.

The enchanted cape, Selena thought, was such a good design choice on her part - not to toot her own horn or anything. The inside was enchanted to mimic the stars above, so when she would fly in the night sky, one would really have to pay attention to spot her. And even then , one might assume it was just a trick of the mind.

As it turned out, copying a book took much less time than the three days she gave herself off from work. All she needed to do was go through some really old journals she had saved a long time ago, and find the specific spell she needed: a very easy trick that most everyone used to copy notes back in school, an enchantment for quills which would -with some guidance- copy written words without fail. That, along with deciding to only copy the integral information from the journal (she didn’t need the Emperor’s personal musings and drawings, she reasoned, no matter how charming it was), had her finished by the time Friday evening rolled around. 

So she had the entire weekend to herself.

Which is something she actually kind of knew would happen - she just wanted the three-day weekend in general, and the whole journal thing was a really good excuse to justify it to herself. Which meant more time to sleep, laze around and scroll penstagram, and go give the emperor’s coven hell as Midnight. 

Which is exactly what she was up to on this beautiful, star-filled night.

Selena couldn’t help the excited grin appearing on her face when she spotted a flock around three scouts patrolling below her. They’ve been much more active lately, ever since the conformatorium incident, which gave her ample opportunity to embarrass the Emperor’s most elite witches. How fun for her!

And how unfortunate for them.

The witch and her palisman gracefully let themselves fall from the sky, arms outstretched and falling head first, like a bird shot out of the sky. Though it resembled more a cluster of sparkling stars plummeting freely towards the ground with no sign of stopping. Just as they were supposed to hit the ground and most likely meet their untimely end, just short of a few meters behind the scouts on patrol, they disappeared into the earth, absorbed into the shadows with barely a sound, nothing to show for the disappearance act except for little particles of magic sprouting from where the earth swallowed them whole. One scout stopped in their tracks, turning their head to look back, but upon finding no one there, decided it must have been the wind playing tricks.

The scouts continued on their nightly patrol, unaware of the vigilante in the shadows, following closely behind.

“Hurry up, Selkie, get a move on.”

“I’m coming!” The one scout who staggered behind quickly joined their group “I thought I heard something, is all.”

“What, you scared of the dark?” the third scout sounded off, teasing.

The first one who spoke seemed annoyed. “Stop it, concentrate on the mission.” she cut them both off. “We are not going to be shown up again by Abra and her team again.”

“Yeah, how do they even find all those wild witches, anyway.” the second one scoffed “Feels fake, chief.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if they just imprison any suspicious witch whether they’re wild or not and just pump up their numbers.” The one named Selkie joined in, pouting “The paperwork to get them released takes forever, too.”

“Oh! Oh!” the second one cut in again “You know what would totally show them?! What if we caught Midnight ?!” his enthusiasm took a hit when the other two laughed almost instantly at his idea.

“Be real, Noir. Midnight? Really?” Selkie giggled

“Yeah, for real, not even the Golden Guard was able to track Midnight down.” the leader tried suppressing her cackle “He kept running in circles for so long, he zeroed in on some baker as his main suspect - you know, I heard that’s why he got moved to the position of head of the Emperor’s Coven. Emperor Belos personally took him off the Midnight case, apparently.”

“Do you think it was the same baker that delivers to the palace?” Selkie asked

“You know, I’m pretty sure it is.” Leader answered, scratching under her mask “Steve has been recently put on escort duty for her, I think.”

“That would make it so much cooler though!” Noir still remained focused on his idea from before “If we caught Midnight before even The Golden Guard did, we’d be able to rub it into Abra’s face forever !”

Selkie put a hand on his shoulders “How about we start with some…less dangerous witches. Bossa said she heard some rumors of rebellious bards!”

“Pfft, bards, come on, who cares about some bards?” Noir scoffed, holding out his arms like a ghoulie to appear bigger and scarier “Wild Witches is where it’s at! Don’t tell me you’re scared of ‘em, Selkie!” he laughed before puffing out his chest “Don’t worry, I’ll protect ya from the big bad Midnight!”

“Well if she’s scared of them, she might be the smartest out of you lot.” 

The three scouts stopped dead in their tracks at the new voice cutting into their conversation, unnaturally distorted and layered over itself, making it sound even more eerie. They instantly clamoured together, backs pressed against each other and staffs raised up in alarm, scanning every inch of the dinky dark street they were in.

 “Because when it comes to wild witches, you should be scared .”

They pressed closer against each other as the shadows on the ground grew darker and bigger, creeping closer to them at an alarming rate. “Coward!” Bossa called out “You don’t scare us, hiding in your shadows! Show yourself!”

"Oh? You're not ?" The shadows reached their feet, cornering them in a circle as the rest of the world seemed to grow even dimmer. "I should rectify that, then."

And she went quiet, as did everything else . Unnaturally so, to the point that silence was deafening, the three scouts anxious and waiting for the intruder to make their move. Noir turned his head just enough to check on Selkie from the corner of his eye, missing how the shadow rose, bubbling up from the ground and taking a tangible form just out of his sight.

"Boo!" 

Noir screamed bloody murder when he turned and was face to face with the white mask of Midnight. His body jerked back on instinct only to bump straight into Selkie and Bossa, the two quick to steady him, stopping him from falling over.

"It's Midnight!"

"Get her!"

The figure of Midnight which stood as if she hadn’t a care in the world turned into inky black the moment Bossa’s magic missile hit her. Splitting into two, which split into four, which split into eight, and so on until the shadow clones surrounded the three completely, forming an impenetrable wall around them.

“One of them is real, the rest must be illusions! Take them all down!”

Midnight laughed, all at once, the voices echoing over each other. Before the scouts could react, the wild witch(es) made a spell circle each, one pressed up against the next until they resembled a chainlink of gold. The sight alone was enough to make anyone freeze in fear - so many magic circles pointed at them, threatening with spells unknown. 

Bossa was the first to fall. The leader screamed as the shadows from below finally closed in, spiralling up her legs, knees and thighs, and starting to pull her under. Selkie dropped her staff to grab at her arms, trying to keep her above ground, to keep her afloat. Noir was quick to help as well, adding extra leverage.

“We got you, boss, we got you!”

The duo watched in horror as, despite their efforts, Bossa went under, disappearing into the shadowy void. The visions of Midnight which surrounded them wavered for a second while the two despaired, disappearing into sparkles of magic until only one remained. And the one remaining zeroed in on the next scout - Noir. The wild witch appeared next to them in a blink of an eye, neither having the time to react before the palisman staff met Noir’s head with an audible “thwap”, sending the man flying into the nearest wall. He slid down, slumping over as his vision faded in and out of consciousness.

"Noir!" Selkie gasped and reached out for him, only for Midnight to teleport right in front of her.

"You're the scaredy cat right?" She mocked "A funny little title for an Emperor's dog. So, scaredy cat, are you gonna run?" The wild witch cooed, leaning in so her mask was taking up all of Selkies vision "Or are you going to be dumb like your friends?"

The scouts chin quivered as she held back tears, yet despite it she still held a defiant expression. She quickly ducked and picked up the staff she dropped earlier off the ground, swiping it across Midnight's feet and knocking her to the ground. With her down, Selkie made a dash for Noir, kneeling down and gently holding up his face.

"Hey hey, Noir, can you hear me, you okay?" She begged urgently, giving his cheeks a couple of gentle slaps under his mask. And it worked, the scout shaking his head as he woke from a daze. Unfortunately, instead of greeting her, he looked at something behind her, gasping and pointing in alarm. Selkie managed to turn around in time just for the abomination projectile to hit her helmet and knock it off, the impact making her ears ring.

Midnight paused, arm freezing in the middle of a spell circle. As Selkie put herself between her and Noir, she held up her staff, ready to defend him from harm. "Come at me, wild witch, I'm not afraid!" She barked, even as her legs shook.

The wild witch lowered her arm "You're…young." Selkie could just barely hear her mutter.

"Don't underestimate me just because I'm younger!" The scout's voice shook "I may be the youngest and -and I may not be the bravest, but I'm not gonna let you hunt my friends for fun!" 

Wrong choice of words. Selkie realised, as the atmosphere changed, turning sharp and heavy on her chest. Oh, she angered her. And if that wasn't enough of a sign, the fireball just narrowly missing her face and hitting the wall behind sure was.

"Hunt you for fun?!" The wild witch hissed "And what were you and your friends doing just now?! Cracking jokes about hunting wild witches like we're nothing but common beasts! Treating your fellow witches like pests to be removed without any regret, and you have the gall to accuse me of being cruel?!"

The scout shook her head, not wanting such heresy to influence her "Wild witches are traitors to the will of the Titan, a-and to the Emperor, who-"

Midnight laughed "Oh, did your master tell you that? Do you bark when the Emperor orders too? He trained you so well~"

Selkie didn't answer, just pursed her lips tighter, hands clenching around the staff even harder. Midnight sighed, holding up her arm and summoning her staff into her grip. Selkie's face scrunched up in confusion when the witch turned away from her, walking away as the shadows retreated and followed after her. "W…wait, where are you going? Aren't you going to-"

"Kill you?" Midnight cut her off "Please. Have you ever heard of me killing any one of you?" She asked sincerely, and Selkie frowned. Had she? She couldn't recall any Midnight incident that ended with death, just beat up and shaken up scouts. "I'm not in the business of killing children, anyway. The Emperor may be heartless, turning out sisters and brothers to stone, but I am not." She made a spell circle with her fingers, and the wall against which Noir was leaning against turned darker for a moment, magic bubbling over the surface of the bricks, before spitting out the scout leader it swallowed up at the beginning.

“Bossa!”

“Boss! You’re alive!”

"Go home. Tell others of how you lost." Midnight mounted her staff and took to the air "And remember, I'll stop hunting the Emperor's dogs as soon as you stop hunting us."

~*~*~*~

Selena woke up late the next morning, feeling more exhausted than when she went to bed. It was hard to explain, but it was like exhaustion had just invaded every bone in her body, finding its home in her chest and weighing her down. Her lidded, tired eyes gazed with little to no focus at the painted ceiling above, the colours and shapes mixing together as her thoughts travelled elsewhere; the events of last night playing on repeat in her head.

By the Titan, the scout was…she was so young. She was barely 20, if even that old. She was still more child than adult, and she was terrified of her.

Sometimes…sometimes, when she was Midnight, when the mask was securely in place…

Without the fear of being recognised, of being known, she acted like someone else. The mask would go on, the sigil would come off, and suddenly the anxiety ridden Oracle was gone and buried - she spoke loudly without stuttering, without hesitating to offend or hurt, she was braver, bolder, she wouldn’t cower under anyone's gaze.

And she was…cruel. Unwavering. Gleeful at the fear she instilled in the scouts.

Sighing, she turned to her side, curling up on the bed. Hearing her move, Pip woke up as well, hopping out of the nest on the bedside table next to her, cuddling up into her neck. Selena smiled briefly, but the little show of affection wasn’t enough to stop the dark thoughts from clouding her.

 “Am I…even a good person?”

What is a good person, anyway? She mussed internally. They’d hunt her back, just as gleefully, if given the chance. So was she so wrong to partake in some form of sadistic pleasure from seeing their fear? Even if they were young…so, so young, and so brainwashed. Wasn’t most everyone brainwashed, afterall, to trust the Emperor, so how could she fault them for doing what they believed was right? What right had she to play liberator, that no one asked for?

Selena let out an agonised groan - early mornings weren't the best to have a personal crisis of these proportions, maybe it would be best if she busied herself in whatever way possible to avoid thinking further. Time to get up and face the day in order to forget her own insecurities! As soon as she sat up, however, Pip started loudly objecting.

“Come on, Pip, stop mucking around.” she stretched her arms above her head, arching her back until there was a satisfying ‘pop’ “Time to get up! Gotta get everything ready for tomorrow!” The crow gave her an indignant huff, feathers puffing up briefly in protest, and then plopped over to his back, raising his little feet in the air. Selena let out a little giggle and gently took his little talons between her fingers, moving them up and down “Oh you silly old bird! Lazybones! Layabout!” she moved in and planted many kisses on the soft feathers on his tummy 

“Fine! I’ll go do all the work, as usual! ”

Pip did agree to move downstairs with her, on the condition he got to stay in a warm basket with blankets to laze around in while she baked. A hard bargain, to be sure, but Selena accepted it, valuing the company of her beloved palisman despite him being such a lazy bag of bones (wood?). 

The two made their way down after Selena had breakfast and coffee, and tidied up the apartment area a little bit. And packed away the journal and placed it in a place she would make sure to bring it along with her tomorrow, when the guards came to pick her up.

Good manners were way too strongly  ingrained in her, as even if it were the Emperor, for whom she had no words of praise (well, maybe some words of praise, after he borrowed his absolutely amazing journal to her, but she was not about to admit that), there were certain ways you went about when returning what you borrowed.

When you return a borrowed thing, make sure to do so in the nicest bag you own.

Give a token in return for the kindness shown to you.

And always return it in a better state than you got it.

Finding a bag was easy - she had a habit of hoarding any pretty paper or tote bag she got from stores, so there were a lot of very fine ones in a cupboard somewhere. She found one that matched the golds of the palace. A token, also very easy, the next delivery was just going to be on the house, so it counted as a gift in return. The last one, though, gave her some trouble. There weren’t any creases in the paper to iron out or old dirt to clean from the covers, the journal was pristine when she got it, it was perfectly loved and cared for.

So, on a whim, she took the half-empty bottle of her perfume and spritzed it above the open book (she wasn’t daft to spray it directly onto the paper, that would ruin it!). That should be it, right? It smells nicer than before, that counts for returning it in a better state, it must! Selena nodded proudly, mom would be proud! She wrapped it up loosely in brown paper and placed it in the nice tote bag she had, before placing it near the hatch door to make sure she didn’t forget to take it tomorrow.

Even if he was a tyrant, that doesn't mean she had to act uncivilised in his presence.

And she had promised him to surprise him tomorrow with a new recipe, which is why she and Pip were in the downstairs kitchen.

She was thinking savoury for tomorrow. A bit of a change of pace, and she was sure it would impress the Emperor, too. If she cared about such things, that is. Not that she’d admit it even if she did - that a part of her felt excitement every time she got praise from the most powerful witch of the Isles, a man she opposed for years and caused nothing but mayhem and misery to his elite guards, and yet here he was, unknowingly enjoying the works of his enemies labour. It made her feel…almost powerful, somehow, like a super spy playing the long con right in front of the nose of the Emperor.

No chance, no way, she won’t say she found it exhilarating.

“Come on, Pip, smile for penstagram!” Selena coaxed the bird, but he paid her no mind, too cosy in his basket of blankets. Despite his grumpy efforts, Selena still took a cute selfie, flour on her face, and the sleepy crow behind her, scowling.

~*~*~*~

“Oracle_Baker: Trying a new recipe today for a secret client! No help from this lazybones hehe :3c #theoraclebakery #humanenthusiast #topsecret”

It was a very sweet picture, a wide smile shining brightly, apron and face lightly covered in flour, and her free hand holding up a peace sign.

Darius felt his lips twitch into a half-smile for a second, but he pushed it down fast as he gathered his thoughts with this new information. She’d be at the palace tomorrow morning then, if this was anything to go by (he felt a bit bad, he had to admit, when he realised she had been following him on penstagram for a while and he hadn’t returned the favour, quite rude on his behalf, not to mention maybe he would have realised something was awry earlier). With a bit of eavesdropping on the scouts (and maybe some gentle intimidation), he managed to get the schedule mostly down, apparently the guards sent to escort her changed every time, and only recently had she been assigned a consistent one.

All deliveries happened early in the morn, usually within the first hour of the bakery opening. Guards would escort her to the palace, where she’d stay for anywhere from as little as 15 minutes, to as long as an hour (which is how long she stayed last time).

The conjurer scrolled further up Selena’s feed, a calling crow placed on his shoulder as he waited for the other line to pick up. It was very nicely curated, matching in colours, with good angles and nice lighting. A picture perfect depiction of her life for others to see and marvel at.

Darius straightened up in his seat when he heard a voice finally answer. Ah, finally!

“Good morning, Fortuna.” Darius chimed “Tell me, when will you be at the palace tomorrow? I have something I wish to discuss with you…”

[mywingsareonwheels]

Some hopefully reassuring observations on fandom and human beings

1. Sometimes (more of the time than not) when two fans of something disagree sharply on their interpretation of a character or event in the story, neither of them is actually wrong. Especially if the source material is any good and thus complex and open to more than one way of looking at things. The more simplistic an interpretation the less astute and wise it’s likely to be, but that doesn’t mean that even someone who holds an opinion like that has missed everything important about it! When portrayals of a character in fanfic vary wildly that’s... actually probably a feature, rather than a bug. (Even if it is occasionally saddening to be halfway through a fic and suddenly realise that this excellent writer hates your favourite character/adore your least favourite! ;-) Such is life, doesn’t mean anyone’s doing anything wrong.)

2. It is totally reasonable to unfollow or even block an entirely lovely strange or near-stranger on tumblr/refrain from reading their fics because their interpretation of the story or a character is so different from yours that it’s just stressful to read their takes. But if it’s someone you already know and like, especially a real-life or close-online friend, it’s really *really* not worth falling out about that.

3. Relatedly: I think we all got so damn burned out by “you need to not just follow/like/befriend people you agree with about everything” being used to attempt to guilt us into listening to fascists, or otherwise put up with bigotry or constant microaggressions or generally get exhausted by nonsense. So let us all agree that instantly blocking bigots or others with views that we find dehumanising is a Really Damn Good Thing. BUT ALSO... over issues that aren’t that crucial, writing friends off due to any possible difference of opinion (fandom-related or otherwise) is a bit miserable. And absolutely awful as a pattern for activism, given that people of goodwill who may disagree with each other over some stuff working together is an absolutely necessary bit of activism.

4. When a fandom has a pattern of preference over characters, ships, and storylines that conforms to societal biases, a) that’s a bad thing and worth talking about, b) it *doesn’t mean that everyone in the fandom who has that preference is doing so because of those social biases*. Group tendencies do not generally predict the motivations of every individual within the group.

5. “It is an especially good thing when A happens” and “It is a bad thing when B happens” are not the same thing. (I most want to make the point that “queer actors playing queer characters is extra awesome” is true but so also is “sometimes het actors play queer characters beautifully and as long as they do their jobs well that’s totally okay”.)

6. It really is okay to ship characters because you fancy them rather than for any more supposedly exalted reason. (Which isn’t to say that other reasons to ship characters aren’t valid and interesting! But “I ship these two because they are/would be hot together” is a complete reason. If indeed any reason is needed.)

7. There is no moral dimension to what gender(s) you find attractive (if any).

8. There is no moral dimension to what gender(s) you are (if any).

9. Not everyone in fandom is a woman, let alone a cishet woman.

10. Actors and other artists are all human beings first and foremost, and should be treated accordingly. And being human beings, it should be trivially obvious that the theory that all of them are motivated by the desire for publicity and nothing else is absolute nonsense.

11. Being kind and generous with yourself and other people is a very very good thing.

[waheelawhisperer]

Would you be willing to expand more on what you didn't like about v8?

Not gonna go in-depth on each of these, but I'll give you the bullet point rundown. Basically, my issue with Volume 8 is that it threw away almost everything Volume 7 set up.

Salem takes center stage for the first time and ends up sidelined 2/3 of the way through so Cinder and Ironwood can be the main villains. Her first fight somehow manages to make her seem more beatable rather than unbeatable despite her trouncing arguably her strongest subordinate and 3 heroes with zero effort and needing a magic nuke just to slow her down. The writers lowered her threat level in a Volume that should've been dedicated to establishing just how fucked anyone who tried to take her on is, and what's worse is that they had all the pieces in place to do it properly and fumbled the execution.

Ironwood's decline made sense to me based on what they'd done to set up his character beforehand but I kind of wish it hadn't been so abrupt and dramatic and found it personally unsatisfying. Would've rather seen him grow gradually more desperate instead of snapping at once. Feel like he kind of got screwed by the show's runtime issues a bit

Emerald's redemption arc was rushed as hell and someone other than Yang should've been suspicious of the woman who helped murder a school and cripple a Kingdom and whose actions directly contributed to the deaths of at least 2 of their friends. Instead, she makes one heroic speech and they're all sitting there laughing with her.

They kind of abandoned the trolley problem they set up at the end of Volume 7 (is it better to save what you can or fight and risk losing everything to save everything) and I'm pretty sure it's because they saw too many people siding with Ironwood (whose plan was fucking stupid and entirely inspired by his own fear of Salem independent of any moral considerations) during the hiatus and then decided to course correct by removing any shred of nuance that might exist in the situation

3/4 of the heroes drank tea in a mansion while Ruby pouted about reinforcements not materializing an hour after she called for help (Ruby consistently fails to understand how much time things can be expected to take throughout the series) and the Atlesian military (a faction portrayed as antagonistic) actually fights to protect the Kingdom despite its individual members being visibly terrified and having less training and worse equipment than the protagonist group and the B-team + Yang fights Salem. All of this occurs in-universe hours after Weiss swears she's not giving up her home without a fight. Between that declaration and this stage of the Volume, the only people she fights are the ones actually trying to defend the Kingdom.

Jk Weiss waved a sword in her defenseless untrained brother's face and the writers called that a girlboss moment and claimed he was the final boss of her arc

We never got to properly see what Hazel could do because the only two fights this show let him have were the terribly-choreographed Battle of Haven and then a couple minutes of him getting his ass kicked by his boss. Waste of arguably Salem's most powerful minion..

The message Ruby sent to the world should logically have made things worse everywhere that heard it - the original plan involved telling the people of Atlas about Salem, securing the Kingdom by suppressing the resulting surge of local Grimm activity, and then spreading the news to the rest of the world when Atlesian forces were organized, prepared, and ready to assist in combatting the increase in Grimm activity that would result. Instead, Ruby dumped that knowledge on two crippled Kingdoms (Vale and Mistral) that can barely defend themselves even without a spike in negativity and a Kingdom where survival is perpetually in question without any time for any of those Kingdoms to prepare and then acted surprised when they didn't immediately drop everything to assist her (I think she was right to call for help, but needed to craft her message more effectively and consider its implications more carefully) - but this will never be relevant because that might mean the writers considered the implications of a scene beyond its immediate relevance or that Ruby made a mistake that can't be easily brushed off and the narrative consistently refuses to engage with this possibility.

The show failed to adequately establish the necessity of evacuating the Kingdom's population to Vacuo because we never see the state of the Atlesian forces after Oscar's cane bomb. The Monstra is dead and the enemy can't spawn reinforcements anymore. It was the perfect time to counterattack, and I was actually expecting Ruby to have a Protagonist moment and rally the troops and get through to Ironwood so that they could save Atlas, but instead the writers decided that they wanted to dump the protagonists into some stupid fairy tale world for some reason so now Mantle's infrastructure is in ruins and the ability to adequately defend the world from Salem and her forces is crippled.

Penny's suicide. Just... Penny's suicide. The show fails to establish its necessity and instead it just feels like they're being cruel to both her and the people who like her

It felt like the entire Volume was just trying to recreate the emotional impact of Volume 3 without understanding what made Volume 3 work.

All of these could be a post of their own (and I've actually made posts on some of them) but that's my basic rundown of why I think Volume 8 is dogshit

[ashcroft-writes]

20 questions for fic writers

I was tagged by @bluedaddysgirl! Thank you; this fits well into my master plan of attempting to be more alive online hahaha @unmarked-credits @xinambercladx @sinisterexaggerator Not obligated to do this, I'm just trying to be social and thought it may be fun!

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 5 🥹 I am baby compared to some people I see answering these

2. What's your total A03 word count? 512943 words!

3. What fandoms do you write for? Actively, right this second, Star Wars! I do have a huge Fallout 4 WIP that hasn’t been updated in a hot second, but I love it dearly and do wish to finish it one day.

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

The Idiot’s Array

Rot, Dust, and Steel

Strong Hands

Homeworld Elegy

We can pretend this last one doesn’t exist lolololol (It’s the .hack Penguin Fic of DOOM, a reposting of my very first fic from the twee LULZ SO RANDOM era of my high school days. I like to have my history all together, and I own it, but goodness no one should read that.)

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? Oh I desperately wish I still was. I used to, every last one, and I still read and treasure all the ones I do receive. Over the last couple years, my life kept getting quite… upended, however… and I my well of communication energy just… died… and this is also partially because I find it physically impossible to just say “wow thank u <3” in a few seconds; I usually get really into it! Still, the kindness and joy folks have left for me has been so deeply appreciated and cherished. I can’t help but want to go back and respond eventually (“Hi! I know this was left like, two years ago, but you pretty much gave me the gift of sunshine then, sorry this is so late <3”) Hopefully it won’t be weird.

(If you’re reading this and you are, in fact one of those whose delightful comment I have not responded to, hi, I see you, and thank you so much for the gift of sunshine)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? Ooo. So though my stories definitely contain some angst, they usually end in very hopeful ways. Even the one about the collective grief for a destroyed planet 😆 Especially that one!! The future yet contains light! So perhaps the answer’s actually in a story that I never finished and isn’t available anymore.

I had this series I was writing when I was a lot younger set in Sonic the Hedgehog. It has this character who had been a villain switching sides and helping the Sonic group win their fight, and thusly secure his own pardon and freedom, a redemption sort of story. And it ended pretty sunshine and roses for most! But for the POV character, he never really would belong among the victors. They gave him a ship and his freedom in payment, and he took it and left for a world he didn’t know, off to try and find some new life on horizons where he would be either at best a stranger, and at worst hated for what he’d done in the past. I suppose there is still some hope in all that! New chances, new beginnings. Like I said, I’m a hopeful writer. But it was the most uncertain and melancholy of the lot, for sure.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? HA, almost certainly The Idiot’s Array; there’s a frickin’ romantic poem, a hopeful promise to see each other again, healing and reconciliation, and a man who flings himself out of the window dramatically in lieu of saying goodbye. What more could you want, I ask you.

8. Do you get hate on fics? Fortunately, no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Sure have! The Gunslinger’s Paean series has been my first public work with a couple hot and heavy sort of scenes, mostly because at the time I was dying to write Cad Bane, who is an extremely blunt and direct character, told initially from the POV of someone bringing what he feels are shameful parts of himself into the light. Thematically, it just didn’t feel the sort of story in which smut should be anything less than on the page in every last detail where it had to be unpacked. I guess you could say they were the sort of scenes meant to reveal the changes in the characters because smut scenes are vulnerable scenes.

But judging how I’m talking about it, you might detect I’m running some obscure ace algorithm in my internal software that demands a very particular ratio of what it deems smut too unprompted 😆 AND THAT WOULD BE RIGHT AHHHH. I don’t write a lot of pwp, though I’m known to partake (and I hope this even answers the question lmao)

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written? Not really my thing, but it sure is a valid lifestyle!

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Not to my knowledge, unless you count the LLM-training data scraping of Ao3, which I suppose doesn’t precisely qualify as theft in the classical sense 😅 I do wonder if a shard of my characterizations will some day jump out at people using those chatbots. Weird to think about.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Nope

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I have not. I think I’d like to try some day, however, if I vibed with someone hard enough on an idea!

14. What's your all-time favourite ship? Hilariously, I don’t even write for this fandom I'm about to name. I HAVE NOT READ A SINGLE FIC AND THE FANART ARRIVES ON MY DASH WITH NO ACTIVE SEEKING. But Good Omens really went off with Crowley/Aziraphale! Gives me SO many warm fuzzies. What a great queer yearning story.

And I know, I know, that’s weird, someone probably expected me to say something I read/write for at the very least, but the character ships I adore exploring creatively genuinely exist on such a different brain circuit for me than the “fave ship I cheer for like a sports team” heh, though they are in no way lesser.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? You know that Sonic the Hedgehog series I mentioned earlier? That. My remaining mojo-energy in the Sonic-verse is just not powerful enough to overcome the inertia of revisiting something YEARS AND YEARS gone, and I have too many works other works open and waiting, but I’ll always look on that unfinished beast with affection. Yes that means all other stories I haven’t updated in a long time I still intend to finish 🥺 Please don’t throw rocks 🥺

16. What are your writing strengths? I’ve been told it’s my worldbuilding and characterization! And boy howdy do I love doing those things, so I’m really happy I’m doing it well!

17. What are your writing weaknesses? I get real maudlin sometimes in my early drafts! A LOT of characters on my pages work through a complex array of feelings and internal monologues before I can wrest a moving story from their emotional morass. You would not believe how much I tone down in editing. And oh god I write a lot of words. Somehow my chapters are now often 9-12k words and I just can’t stop myself; they feel complete when they’re complete 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I dislike it usually, because in my work I’m often trying to immerse my (sometimes monolingual) reader in the headspace of another person… and if that’s the case, and my character runs into someone speaking a different language than the story's overall text, there’s usually three outcomes:

The POV character understands the other language fully. In that case, the reader should likewise feel the understanding is effortless, or they might get jarred out of the flow of words and character headspace. So I just write the translation of the words, i.e.

“I really wish I had a pet raccoon,” said Talky McTalkerson in soft-spoken French.

The POV character does not understand the other language at all. In that case, why would they mentally be able to give us a perfect transcription of the foreign words for readers? In that case, the character experience really is:

The man was saying something in a bashful sort of French—at least I think it was French. But I didn’t understand.

The POV character partially understands the other language. In that case, the translation struggle might even be part of the reader experience, and remains immersive, i.e.

“I really wish I had a…” Talky McTalkerson was saying in his quiet French, my poor student-learner brain straining to pick apart the mumbled crumbs. Something about… laveur? Washing? “I really wish I had a new washer too,” I tried in solidarity, and he looked at me as if I was an idiot.

(Note, I do not speak French and picked it out of a hat for examples <3)

Anyway, I think some exceptions can be made for words that don’t have precise translations! I like to do that with some of my alien language stuff if talking about the words deepens some understanding about the culture and people who speak them.

19. First fandom you wrote for? Pokemon, when I was a wee sprout in elementary school. It was never published lol but it was so incredibly dramatic and terrible. And it rocked

20. Favourite fic you've ever written? I will never get over Homeworld Elegy. It gets a little less attention than its predecessor—ah, such is the fate of all sequels, especially when it's not quite the same sort of story! But it means just as much to me. I don’t know how I pulled it out of my brain in six months, though I think I was processing a lot at the time, and looking back at the themes, hoo, it makes sense. I’ve never written something quite that complex before, the multiple POVs, all the wholesale alien culture invention, the making use of a past and present timeline, and the endless little circles connecting the two right up until the end. That and bringing in a stable of OCs and hoping people would like them… and I think it all worked even better than I’d hoped. I had no idea if I could stick the landing writing it, but I’m so proud of how it turned out and the things it’s inspired in some of my readers since.

Here’s hoping the next thing I publish will continue the trend of being my new favorite thing!! I’m really excited about literally everything I’m working on!!!