#I just kinda fucking created a whole fanfic here fuck don’t mind me I’m being delusional

[soplapinga]

Okay okay I agree with everyone talking about the possibility of Pluto finally getting to go to France and meeting Duke in one of his shows, but I now raise you: What if they met BEFORE and Duke was actually the one to tell him about France and the lights and everything. What if Duke were the reason he wanted to go there in the first place. What then.

#imagine if Duke at some did a tour or something and stopped some time in London #and they met there for some random ass encounter #also Pluto seemed pretty much more kinda angry and jumpy bc of the whole living w his father thing obviously so they’d probably have+ #+the messiest first(s) encounters ever w yk Duke being naturally sassy n silly and Pluto in that fucking place just done w everything #bonus points if they at first kept bumping into each other comically coincidentally and they get practically destiny forced to get along #more bonus points if they end up meeting at night on some random ass rooftop and bc of this Duke starts calling him cat #aka the REAL origin of “mon minou” #imagine if Duke invited him to go there w him or something GOD the possibilities #I just kinda fucking created a whole fanfic here fuck don’t mind me I’m being delusional #almost everything in this is 99% impossible but I hate reality I don’t care #nevermore webtoon #duke nevermore #pluto nevermore #pluto x duke #pluke #cat in the hat #SOMEONE NAMED THE SHIP THAT AND I LOVE IT SOSOSO MUCH IM USING THAT FOREVER

[moonlightdancer26]

Is there a love story behind elloona👀???

I’m glad you asked 👀

To answer your question: Yes. There is, in fact, a love story behind my relationship with @maruke2003.

Here are the names in case you don’t remember:

El/Ellie — @maruke2003

Seph — @halfblood-princes-crown

Astro — @astronova-00

Martina/Mars Bars — @bookwalmartav

Will/Willow — @somesnapefan2

Rose — @rosetheslytherpuffxoxo

Teddy — @teddyscottish

Anyway

I’ll start from the ✨beginning✨

Disclaimer: This is input from both sides. I have told El about this question and we’ve discussed it.

Funnily enough, we met through our first adopted child—Seph. He was the reason El and I became friends, wives, and mothers. 😌

So, I never noticed El, even though she noticed me a little before. I only really noticed her when she began sending Seph Snupin drabbles to try and convert him into becoming a Snupin shipper.

(I’ll get to that in a bit ^)

How we felt about each other before we became friends:

El told me that: “You intimidated the fuck out of me but I wanted to be your friend cuz I thought you were cool.” (😕) Because of my aura, apparently.

And, I feel bad for saying this but, I was a bit weirded out when I first noticed her sending asks to Seph. Back then, I was only friends with four members of the Elloona fam (Seph, Astro, Will, and Martina) and Seph was my fave person on Tumblr. I wasn’t weirded out in a mean-sorta-way, I was just like “hold the phone. who’s this person and why’s Seph friends with them?” because I’ve never noticed their existence before and was curious because they really seemed to love Snupin, so I was like.. there’s a Snupin shipper trying to convert my bestie and I didn’t know about it?😭

******************

Moving on, it had finally dawned on me that Seph didn’t ship Snupin, so I was like *le gasp* and sent him this ask where I expressed my shock over him not shipping Snupin and told him that I can send a bunch of recs. Seph of course refused (🙄). On the other hand, @maruke2003, seeing this, tags me in the replies (all the replies are there in the post I linked btw, so you can go check them out for yourself) and asks me to send me some recs for our wonderful OTP, and I, being myself, decide to create The Ultimate Snupin Fanfic List and list almost 50 fics—in which there are series included (so idk if each part of the series counts as an individual fic). She thanked me for it and noticed that one of the fics I recommended to her was Lily’s Boy by SomewheresSword, so she was like “OMG I LOVE LILY’S BOY” and told me I went a bit overboard. I told her she had wonderful taste and apologised, then she said she opened like 20 new fics and that “we’ll need to chat about Snupin one day cuz YES.”

Here was the exchange, for the lazy ones:

And that was that. I was just like “aight ig they’re pretty cool (if you ship Snupin, I automatically like you, that’s the rule), I hope we’ll manage to convert Seph one day.” I simply moved on with life.

Then around two days later El DMs me, iirc it was about Lily’s Boy (and Snupin fics as a whole), I was kinda like “oh” but replied anyway. We got to talking and it was enjoyable, then we soon started messaging each other everyday. And then boom. Chaotic Snupin-loving besties.

How we became wives:

One day, a random idea popped up in my head: What if El and I had a ship tag for our interactions for both of our blogs? I thought it’d be a fun little touch to both our blogs and so I told her about it, and she said we should make a ship name for us. Then we exchanged some choices and El came up with: ✨Elloona✨

I don’t remember at what point of our relationship did we start calling each other wives, but it just happened. I’m pretty sure it might have started when Ellie edited her bio and added “Moon is my wife” (🥹), and I was like omg let’s do that for each other and so I changed my bio. And we pretty much just went with that.

El and I kinda made flirty comments with each other bc we’re both dirty-minded and we love to make dumb jokes, so I think that’s where it started.

How we became mothers / How we became The Elloona Fam:

One day, Ellie just told me “I adopted Seph” and I was like yoooo. I thought it’d just stop at Seph but El and I soon started to gather up more and more children.

Here is the order of who we adopted:

1. Seph

2. Astro (who declared themselves as our child 🙂)

3. Martina

4. Rose

And we also got siblings for ourselves, Ellie has two siblings—our children’s aunts: Will and Teddy. I don’t have a sibling in the Elloona fam (THE POSITION IS OPEN but if we aren’t that close I’ll have to decline <3), but I suppose I have more than enough irl siblings to make up for that 🤷‍♀️

One day, El came up with a new tag: “The Elloona fam.” And now we just accepted it as our family name. We also created some other tags: “stan the Elloona fam for clear skin,” “Elloona and their first child,” (<- I came up with the first two 😌), “the Elloona fam,” “Elloona fam,” and “the Elloona sisters.” We might create one for the children but they hardly interact. 🙄

So yeah, I guess this just about covers it. Thanks for asking!

#i’m using all the elloona fam tags here btw #-> #elloona #stan the elloona fam for clear skin #the elloona fam #elloona fam #elloona and their first child #the elloona sisters #ask #asks

[bigskydreaming]

You're asked to choose one and only one or DC's future stops existing immediately. your choices:

1. Jason Todd the anti-hero who seldom works with only a couple of the bats he doesn't hate, for example Dick and Cass VS. Jason Todd who came back with healed body but broken spirit, folded back into the Gotham gang and learns to be part of the society again.

2. Tim Drake who makes all of his mistakes as canon but realizes he's been wrong and apologizes to people VS. Tim Drake back in his first iteration, a cute little brother character who is a reader insert and a fun teenager.

3. JayKyle VS DickKyle.

4. Jason Todd with a sword VS. Damian Wayne with a sword.

5. Chris Kent VS. Jon kent.

Okay but which DC future? Its omniversal future? Its hypertime future? Its multiversal future? Its Elseworlds future? Its dark multiverse future? Mwahahaha your threat is useless because the sheer wtf of DC's continuities, timelines and conflicting declarations of what to even call their multiomnihyperverse makes it impossible to target simply A future! DC's overly unnecessarily complicated nature renders it functionally immortal and impossible to ever truly destroy, take that Darkseid.

I mean. But anyway. Whatevs:

1) I honestly do prefer the idea of Jason someday fully reuniting/reintigrating into the Batfam as a whole, because fuck it, the found family I'm here for is the one where they actually act like a family....I just think it takes actual work to get to that point and I get irey when people are like we're here! We found it! And its like meanwhile, abusive dynamics still abound. Mmm. No thank you. But even though I've been on a huge Jason and Dick and Cass kick for like, forever, I do still aim for him having a dynamic of his own with the rest of the family.

Like the thing is, I hate playing the favorites card in families, and I think the emphasis on so and so being Bruce's favorite child or so and so being this kid's favorite sibling, etc, like it really does feel like to the detriment of the whole family, because once you start validating the idea of favorites, ESPECIALLY in a found family that is CONTINUOUSLY growing....I think you're kinda shooting yourself in the foot because you're kinda creating a situation where either no future new additions to the family can EVER be Bruce or one of the kids' 'favorite' or else you're innately positing that said fave status is conditional and even a current fave of Bruce or a sibling can be bumped down the ladder by the addition of a later arrival....

Which is LITERALLY the entire essence of the eternal conflict between Dick and Damian and Tim fans. Its not even that Damian is Dick's favorite, allegedly, its that prior to Damian's very EXISTENCE, fans felt comfortable declaring Tim unilaterally to be Dick's 'favorite'.....and then all it took was the addition of a single family member who had specific NEEDS in regards to Dick's attention and focus, largely because of his age and needing a legal guardian while Tim was old enough to literally jet set around the world on his own.....and like, everything went up in flames in large corners of fandom.

So I'm just like, death to the fave family member myth, its just incredibly counter productive to the idea of found family as a whole especially when it usually only exists to prop up a preferred character as better than others via the proof of see, these other characters say he's their fave or whatever...but also like, its not even necessary?

Because the thing is, you can have Jason reintegrated into the whole family overall, and still prioritize your personal narrative FOCUS on characters you like more than others, like say Dick and Cass.....because of course its natural for even people in the same family to have entirely different DYNAMICS with different family members....and these dynamics don't have to come with a ranking system in order to prioritize which ones you just focus on more in a story. Because its not necessarily that Dick has to be Jason's fave brother, y'know, just for Jason to prefer spending time with Dick simply because he's more comfortable with him due to knowing him longer or being more secure in the idea that Dick doesn't judge him based on their greater shared history.

This doesn't mean that Jason doesn't care for his other siblings, that he can't have strong dynamics with them as well, its just about finding a reason for why these two specifically might be in a story without the others that doesn't demand putting a definitive ranking on which one Jason considers his FAVE. Just like Damian doesn't have to be Dick's FAVE just for them to have the super close canon relationship they have, even relative to the other siblings, because there's everything needed in canon already to establish that the mere fact of Dick essentially RAISING Damian for a year, and being the first one in the family to really take a chance on Damian, like, this lends itself naturally to them maybe more naturally gravitating towards each other than other siblings due to comfort level and familiarity, etc, but it doesn't have to be like....oh but yeah, I just like Damian more than you, Tim, y'know?

So my answer on this one is a total cop out of both, both is good. Jason totally reintegrated back into the family, but with dynamics that still lend themselves fairly easily towards story lineups where its just him running missions with Dick or Duke or any other one or two specific family members even if for no other reason than they gel together best in the field, y'know?

2) Hmm. I honestly really do love and miss 90s Tim Drake and just....don't see him in a lot of what I read these days. I'm like no, why did he have to go, he was doing so well! BUT I'm also on a big accountability kick, and like, I'm so steeped in fics where Dick GROVELS for forgiveness for every little slight he's ever done real or imagined, with every character but Tim in particular, so its like.....I'm not gonna lie, I really have a preference these days for seeing stuff where its literally anyone actually owning up to shit they've done to Dick and apologizing or groveling or making it to HIM, like, completely unconditionally. In the same manner we usually see Dick apologizing, glossing over any reasons he might have had for doing what he did or feeling the way he did, and saying oh it doesn't matter, putting the entirety of his focus on what HE did and why it was wrong no matter what and he's sorry.....that's what I would kill to see from more fics, just in reverse.

Because so often even in the all too rare fics where we DO see other characters apologizing to Dick for shit, its watered down with Dick volunteering that oh he messed up too, it was a two way street, and its like no! This is Pettiness Hours! I want the unconditional apologies! Give me the groveling! From anyone, I don't care at this point, lol, just show me characters actually PUTTING IN THE WORK to make it up to Dick for harm they've caused him, even if completely unintentionally or via neglecting his feelings or considering the repercussions their actions or words would have on him. Aaaaaaand, frankly, Tim's a good place to start there, because of how one sided all the takes on their conflicts have been for so many years. I mean, if people need a place to start, Batman and Robin Eternal gets enough praise it can't be pretended that people in fandom don't know that story exists, so how about some stories where Tim says he's fucking sorry for punching Dick in issue #4 or #5 of that one, and it was uncalled for and he was clearly just looking for an excuse to unleash some more of his resentment and upset for the Spyral/Forever Evil stuff, and family deciding that its totally okay to punch Dick whenever they're mad at him and need to work off some aggression so they can then finally forgive him (for now) is a trend that needs to die in a fire post-haste? I mean just as an example.

But the thing that kills me about fanfic trends is like....the sameness of so much of it. There's SO much room for variety and diverse takes, and like....I don't actually hate Tim! I'm just cranky because of the imbalanced nature of most content out there for literal years at this point. Push the pendulum BACK in the other direction, create some balance by showing the flip side of things.....and that leaves a lot more room for me and others of like minds to then be more amenable to - and even interested in - other stories that don't scratch this particular itch, but don't need to, because other stories are doing the scratching by then, y'know?

And THEN like, at that point, I would be ALL FOR more stories that are just callbacks to classic 90s Tim who I adore, with his skateboarding and his EARNESTNESS and his go-get-em spirit and also the gumption. All the gumption. I like that Tim. I do miss that Tim. But like, for the moment, like, I want accountable Tim because I am tiiiiiiiired of groveling Dick and tbh at this point its not enough for me to just see people move past putting Dick in that position and just have mutually respective and doting brothers Dick and Tim having adventures together......nah, first I want some reciprocation. Ngl. Gimme the apologies for actual mistakes actually made.

3) DickKyle. Easy question, c'mon, you gotta know that. LOL. ;)

But yeah, I've been shipping these two off their like, two shared pages from way back in the Obsidian Age story years before Jason even returned, let alone was in Countdown together with Kyle, so like, its no contest. I don't mind JayKyle, I certainly prefer it to JayRoy tbh, but there's not a ton of appeal in it for me, particularly in how its usually depicted, because like....the entire basis of JayKyle is that they DO have stories together and spent a whole year worth of weekly issues traveling the multiverse together in Countdown.....but there's like, practically no trace of their actual dynamics from that series or any specifics of literally any issue from that entire comic in most fics I’ve read, so its like.....idk, it tends to come across as more generic, not in the sense that it cant still be interesting, but more in the sense that it feels like just someone paired with Jason just because history between them EXISTS without any interest in exploring what that history actually IS....and at that point, its like, well there's no reason TO prioritize that ship over DickKyle for me personally, when like, I have a shit ton of headcanon reasons for why those two in a pairing specifically. *Shrugs* My logic. Its not for everyone, but it works for me.

4) Jason with a sword or Damian with a sword? I don't understand the question. Both. Both is good. All the characters should have swords. Swords are awesome.

5) Chris Kent vs Jon Kent - oof. I adore Jon, I really do. I love his dynamic with Damian, I love a lot of their specific stories, the parallels between them as friends and Bruce and Clark as friends....its all very bien. But I gotta give this one to Chris, because I'm always gonna have a soft spot for him because I'm a sucker for all abused kid heroes, and I just miss that funky little dude so much. There's so many stories we didn't get with him and were just ripe for the picking, but nooooo, DC's like lol you can't have nice things, here we just rebooted the entire multiverse and now Clark and Lois never adopted the son of Clark's worst Kryptonian rival and raised him with tender love and care awww does that make you sad, were you invested in him, WELL TOO BAD, HE'S GONE NOW AND BASICALLY NEVER EXISTED, NOW GIVE US YOUR MONEY ANYWAY MWAHAHAHAHAH.

Yeah. I'm still not over that. Probably will never be tbh, so I with great grudge-bearing do affirm that I'm gonna go with Chris on this one and like, he is a Priority for me and I'm still very keen on the idea of him and Duke being besties for random reasons that might not make sense to anyone but me, but eh, whatever.

[whentheynameyoujoy]

So the ATLA Movie Is... Good, Actually?

Just kidding, of course it’s not, it’s so bad it sucked the paint off my walls. But after ten years of people pointing out its glaring flaws, why would anyone bother talking about this garbage heap if not to go the other direction? So here’s a very brief and very superficial list of things the movie does get kinda... not atrociously wrong.

And they won’t be fake hipster pokes, like “It’s fun to laugh at”, “The Rifftrax for this is OK”, or “Kudos to the actress for managing to say we believe in our beliefs as much as they believe in theirs with a straight face”.

(though now that I mentioned it, it is fun to laugh at, the Rifftrax for this is OK, and massive props indeed.)

Rasta Iroh

Yes, I know it’s not exactly the aesthetic of the real Iroh or that it makes no cultural sense for him to sport this do when no one else in the racebended Indian “OMFG what were you thinking Shyamalan” Nation does but goddamn, long-haired dudes are my one mortal weakness and I will ogle the hell out of him.

Jesus is that a man bun I see that’s it mum I’ve been deaded

Yue’s hair

No.

Now we’re talking. Yue’s hair turned white when the Moon spirit gave her life, so it makes sense for it to go black again when she sacrifices herself to revive the koi fish. It’s a neat detail I find myself expecting whenever I rewatch the scene in the show. Yes, I realize it’d be a pointless hassle to animate since she, unlike in the movie, immediately goes on to become the Moon herself but still. I like.

The Blue Spirit’s mop

Zuko, hun, what’s with the dance-off?

First of all, I want to imagine that Zuko the Theatre Nerd was about to leave his ship with just the mask like in the show but then stuck his head into the cleaning cupboard and went, “Yeah, more coverage might be good, even though it do seem mighty fried to shit”.

Which makes me giggle. I like to giggle.

And secondly, the hair’s movement is what makes the static mess of the Blue Spirit’s solo fight scene appear at least bit more dynamic because God knows the cinematography isn’t doing it.

Any particular reason why it’s at the edge of the action, shot all boring-like?

Now, I get why circular shots would be reserved for Aang while he’s in the practice area and then used once the two join forces. What I don’t get is why Aang’s part of the action scene has a defined visual style while Zuko’s delegated to a few stationary wide shots from afar as though he’s a tertiary goon, meaning that when the time comes to combine the respective pieces of cinema language and visually convey collaboration, there’s not really much to combine.

But as long as Zuko is stuck in this static mess, it’s that awesome disaster on his head flopping about that draws the eye, helping me understand that something even is going on over there.

It also prevents me from paying much attention to how the extras are mostly just staying put and a lot of the hits don’t land, so that’s good.

The music slaps

James Newton Howard is too good for this.

Pls ignore that the word “gods” is used in the ATLA universe

I can’t be the only one who constantly uses this piece to daydream about writing specific fanfic scenes instead of, you know, actually sitting down and writing them. It’s just so good at communicating a sense of sorrow while speaking of rebirth that I find myself getting misty-eyed whenever I listen to it. Unfailingly, the soundtrack as a whole manages to break through the mile-thick crust of horrible acting, confusing writing, and uninspired cinematography and make me feel things. And considering how everything on screen is working against it, that’s no small feat.

Imagine what a powerful experience it would be if the score was used in service of an actual movie.

Dev Patel

No wonder since he’s the only one in the film occupying that crucial intersection between “is a good actor” and “was given something to work with”. It also doesn’t hurt that he breaks with the trend of actors starring in martial arts flicks despite never having done any martial art.

And all EIP-jokes about “stiff and humorless” aside, he’s a pretty decent Zuko considering how abridged this version of the character is. A while ago, I remember hearing a reviewer say that with his comedic chops, Patel should have been cast as Sokka. And on one hand, yes, god, absolutely, I need to see that asap. But on the other? He captures all layers of Book 1!Zuko, the desperate obsession, rage, and self-loathing, and at the same time gives you a peek at the soft momma’s boy dork that’s buried underneath. For Christ sakes, he exudes intensity and ambivalence even when acting against an emotionless hunk of wood that’s giving him nothing in return.

Oh, and I guess there’s a tree in the frame.

Ba dum tss

What can I say, the guy’s good.

Showing vs telling

OK, so this movie is all tell and no show, except for one single moment. And it’s the exact moment where the original goes in the other direction in terms of how information is conveyed.

See, I never liked this. The revelation is preceded by Iroh giving advice to Zuko who scolds him for nagging. Iroh then apologizes, moves in to say the line above, and is interrupted by Zuko who seems rather uncomfortable with Iroh laying his feelings out like this. And once they’re out, Zuko verbally confirms that he knew already and Iroh didn’t need to bother.

All this extraneous information and pussyfooting ends up weakening what should be a profound scene that reveals to us, the viewers, how deep the relationship between these two in fact runs.

Compare to the movie where Dadroh acts like a parent by fussing and worrying, with Sonion needing a single look to tell him and us that he understands what it’s all really about.

It’s genuinely efficient and just good.

No Cataang

Fine, a bit mean-girl bitchy from me since I only start minding the ship in Book 3. And probably unintentional on the part of the creators since there are moments where I think they’re trying to set the romance up? There’s a, well, an attempt to recreate the famous introductory shot of fateful meaningful destiny of meaningness, there’s some slight note of saving each other’s bacon going on, I’m pretty sure they’re the only ones in the film who smile, and oh, right, Katara’s shoved into her post-canon useless role where she doesn’t ever do anything, and is all about Aang right from the get go.

Yes, I will blame the “executive producers” because a) I’m incredibly petty, and b) it’s perfectly in line with their vision of the character so why the hell not.

Hilariously, none of it reads on screen because the actors are just... yeah. These poor kids are struggling so much with delivering their own lines and portraying their own characters they don’t seem to have any strength left to create something between them. To be fair, the bare-bones shot-reverse shot style of their scenes doesn’t exactly lend itself to the idea they occupy the same universe, let alone are friends or each other’s crushes.

And I enjoy this immensely because it allows me to forget the depressing horror show Katara’s life turns into post ATLA.

Yes Zutara

I need to delve into this because it’s fucking hilarious. So in a movie which fails to establish the original’s central romance so spectacularly that if Aang got lost in a crowd I don’t believe Katara would notice, SomEOnE thought it’d be a good idea to add an utterly unnecessary non-canon moment where Zuko for some reason feels the need to pause his character-defining hunt for the Avatar which otherwise has him ignore everything and snap at everyone, and explain his central conflict to an unconscious peasant he doesn’t know, complete with gently pushing the hair from the pretty girl’s the soulmate’s the Water Tribe Ambassador’s the Fire Lady’s the love of his life’s her face away, AFTER his uncle nagged him twice to find a girl and settle down.

I just wanted to make sure we’re all on the same page and this is what we really saw.

Celibate Avatars

I have no idea why the decision was made, if TPTB thought expecting viewers to understand the story through the lens of Buddhism would be too much, or if the “executive producers” already worked their retconny magic. What I do know, however, is that there’s a big shift in worldbuilding and Aang’s struggle with his role as the Avatar stops being a personal conflict defined by a) his grief for Air Nomads, b) his notion of being robbed of the loved ones in his life, and c) the selfish attachment to Katara he confuses with true love. Instead, what he has a difficulty to accept is apparently a general notion of who Avatars are supposed to be, i.e. a fantasy version of Catholic monks, no family and worldly relations, period.

I guess either someone understood the original’s portrayal of de/attachment as “hermit no freaky”, or thought the audience would so why not go there outright.

Now, do I like this on its own? No, God no, it makes the world infinitely poorer and changes the story from an exploration of ideas which aren’t all that ingrained in the West, to a cliché tropester about a Catholic priest going Protestant so that he could be with a girl.

At least I assume that’s where they were going to take this eventually.

I mean, I think the direction was “look conflicted, this isn’t the final stage of your journey”?

But consider this—the show went there, it built on the concepts of Eastern philosophy and touched upon the ideas of spiritual awakening, only to swerve in the end and strongly imply they’re bullshit and Aang should have never wasted his time with them.

So honestly, I much prefer scanty worldbuilding to an insulting retcon by a damn rock.

Multiracial Air Nomads

Probably the most substantial “no hint of irony” point on this list and a genuinely good addition to the universe’s worldbuilding.

See, the notion of the elemental nations being perfectly separate and never mingling before Sozin has always been sketchy but it’s especially ridiculous in the case of airbenders. It never made sense to me for all airbenders to be Air Nomads and for all Air Nomads to be monks and for all monks to be chilling at the temples all the time to facilitate a quick everyone-dies genocide should an imperialistic warlord ever decide to commit one.

Because committing everyone to a single way of life at a handful of places kinda goes against the central philosophy behind airbending. Like the freedom and nomadism part.

Instead, there should be more variety to the airbending culture, with some staying at the temples as monks, hermits, and teachers while others live as nomads, travelling the world and creating more airbenders, with the resulting children in turn being influenced by the non-airbending cultures they grew up in.

And thus, not only should airbenders not be modeled after a single culture to create a one-size-fits-all lifestyle, but they should have the most diverse and dynamic culture out of the four nations.

And it’d be precisely this diversity which would pave way for an eventual reveal that some of them survived, that their complete extermination is impossible.

Because they’re everywhere.

You know.

Like air.

#atla #atla movie #zutara #anti bryke #dev patel #the last airbender #anti-kataang

[wolfstar-supremacy-innit]

"Tell who?"- Part 1

Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Alternatively:

The Marauders are in their 6th year at Hogwarts, it's New Year's Eve and Remus writes a New Year's resolutions list. Sirius finds it the next day. The story is written from Remus' point of view. It's wolfstar and lighthearted. Kinda inspired by this fanfic.

This is part 1 of the story. I will be posting the other parts separately here and also the full fic on ao3 (I will link everything when it's done, check this post for that in some time). Warnings: underage drinking and smoking, mentions of anxiety disorder.

Enjoy! :)

Part 2 Part 3

Remus sat on the windowsill in the 6th year boys’ dormitory rolling a cigarette with magic. Well, trying to. He carefully placed the tobacco and filter on the small paper and tapped it with his wand, but half of the contents plopped out. The spell needed perfecting, obviously. Remus had picked up the habit of smoking socializing with some muggle kids back home during that summer. He knew it was stupid, but he had thought it looked cool. Later, he also found out he quite liked the lightheadedness that followed smoking a cigarette quickly. And some more time after that, there was a boy at school to try to impress, but that's a little embarrassing to admit. A nicotine addiction was surely well on its way to becoming a reality, but Remus didn't like to think about that. And anyway, with the war looming over everyone's head, who cares if a 16-year-old werewolf is addicted to nicotine? The problem was that cigarettes were expensive and Remus didn't have a lot of money to spare, so he resigned to rolling as it was cheaper and lasted longer. With some practice, he'll be able to assemble them with magic effortlessly anyway.

"Hiya, Moony," James said, walking into the room, "you're not getting ready?"

"Yes, I am." Remus pointed at his cigarette rolling arrangement, although James was probably referring to the fact that he wasn't dressed for a party.

It was the 31st of December. The four of them were staying at Hogwarts for the entirety of the holidays, given that the full moon had been on the 26th. Well, that was the excuse they gave their parents. The real reason why they hadn’t gone to the Potters after the 26th, where they usually spent the Christmas holidays, was that Sirius had stumbled upon a flyer for a gig and party occurring in Hogsmeade that Friday. James and Sirius were ecstatic, but Remus was pretty apathetic towards the idea of going. With his crush on his best friend and all. In fact, he had been trying to steer clear of settings in which he was sure Sirius would look particularly, well, hot. However, there was a flaw in his thinking, he had realised. Day by day, Sirius was beginning to look extraordinarily hot to Remus in every setting, and there was nothing he could do about it.

When Sirius had arrived at their train compartment at the beginning of that school year, Remus was very, very confused. Sirius had run away from home and spent the majority of the summer at the Potters, but in the two months, he had changed profoundly. Although they had been exchanging letters the whole summer, nothing could've prepared Remus for the feeling of panic bubbling up in him when Sirius had stepped through the sliding doors. After finally being released from his family's clutches, the freedom and eagerness to express himself had been immediately evident. Sirius had let his hair grow out longer than usual, past his shoulders, messier and curlier, but all the better looking (if that was even possible). He'd gotten taller and his shoulders broader, his muggle clothes sitting flawlessly on his lean figure. He’d looked cool, to say the least- chunky black lace-up boots, black trousers, a small silver loop earring in one ear and, of course, a black leather jacket. Remus had been perplexed and silent the whole train ride. What is wrong with me, he had thought. It wasn't envy or disapproval. It was excitement for his best friend's joy after years of trauma, of course, it was. But what the hell was that lump in his throat and the inability to look Sirius in the eye? Later that week, as Sirius had stepped out of the bathroom with his shirt hanging loosely around his neck exposing his prominent collarbones, Remus had realised with a sinking feeling that it all impossibly resembled a crush. A crush on Sirius?? I am so fucked, he had thought as he swallowed a lump.

In the following months, Remus had been desperately attempting to push his feelings into the deep dark depths of his mind and just forget about it. Still, as it turned out, Sirius' natural charm and charisma were impossible to look past. He would casually sling his arm over Remus' shoulders on their way to class or wink at him when James said a sentence without picking up on the innuendo of it. And it made Remus' heart jump out of his chest. On top of all that, Sirius was, in all likelihood, the most handsome bloke in the whole of Britain. So much so that talking to him made Remus' stomach twist with nervous energy most of the time. Anxious talking to my best friend of five years... He felt completely off his rocker.

In the present time, Sirius threw the dorm door open, stepping inside with Peter following and Remus jumped a little. "Lads," he said rubbing his palms together, "tonight's the night. We're getting plastered!"

"No," Remus said, still struggling with the cigarettes, now resolving to roll them manually. He wasn't very keen on his big mouth outrunning his drunk brain as it so usually happened after a few drinks. And now he had a dangerous secret to keep...

"Oh come on, Moony! This is our night off the chain!" There wasn't much Remus could say no to with those big grey eyes looking into his. Before he could say anything, Sirius asked: "Mate, could you roll me a few?" He had picked smoking up from Remus, of course. Sirius had said it looked "wicked" and “punk rock”. Remus was more proud of that than he was willing to admit.

"Sure," Remus replied.

"Cheers." Sirius winked at Remus and his stomach flipped. "Right. I'm going to get ready. We gotta clear off when I get out," Sirius said disappearing into the bathroom.

Remus successfully rolled up enough cigarettes for him and Sirius and placed them into his case. Oblivious to James' and Peter's conversation, Remus contemplated how he would survive the night. He'll have his cigs and the music, he concluded. He'll be fine.

He changed into his teal sweater and dark jeans and plopped onto his bed, gazing into the wooden board above him for a while. He sighed. In a few hours, 1976 would die and the illusion of a new slate in the form of a new year will be born. Remus was aware it was silly, but he liked creating little lists of goals for himself for the following year. They were never anything revolutionary, just a couple of small and realistic things he would like to accomplish. He thought about it for a few moments, then reached into the drawer of his bedside table and pulled out some parchment, ink and a quill. He wrote:

1977 New Years resolutions:

1. Get mum that record she's been talking about for months now

2. Master the cig rolling spell

3. Improve on non-verbal magic

4. Complete that muggle reading challenge Lilly and I compiled

Sirius then came out of the bathroom dolled up and with very discreet lines of black eyeshadow around his eyes. The parchment and quill slipped from Remus’ fingers. The deep grey now stood out even further than usual. "Should we get a move on, then?" Remus rolled on his bed, pressed his face into the pillow and groaned softly, pretending it was because of his reluctance to go. He didn't know how many more of Sirius' little surprises he could take before his head imploded. This was clearly one of those times Sirius would look just exceptionally fucking fit.

"You're wearing that, Moony?" Remus picked his head up to look at Sirius, not being able to suppress the disappointment that was creeping up.

“What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, you wear sweaters every day, don’t you? This is a party we’re going to!” Remus sat up and peered at him silently, allowing himself to take a better look at the eyeshadow that suited him wonderfully.

“Where did you get that?” James piped in, finally noticing Sirius’ make up.

“Borrowed it from Marls. Now, Moony, let’s see...” He started rummaging through his wardrobe and emerged with a dark grey shirt with a band logo on it. “Here you go, mate.” Sirius held it up for him to look at, then tossed it on the werewolf’s bed. Remus loved that shirt, especially because it was one of Sirius’ favourites.

“It’s December,” Remus said, but excitement was swirling in his stomach at the thought of wearing Sirius’ clothes. “Well, wear your coat.” He flashed Remus a smile. As the other boys started pilling their belongings into their pockets and putting on jackets, Remus reflected on changing into the shirt. Then he did it, quickly. Heat rose swiftly up his neck and cheeks at the realisation it smelled like Sirius. It felt like he would melt into the carpet any second now. Maybe he could allow himself to simmer in his infatuation just for tonight.

“Looking good.” Sirius smiled at him in the mirror as Remus checked himself out. The blush intensified.

The four boys crept down hallways using the Marauder’s Map to avoid Filch and the teachers and made it safely to the One-Eyed Witch Statue on the third floor. Sirius and James were practically skipping down the secret passage leading to Honeydukes. Even Remus felt a little giddy, but that may or may not have been because of the shirt. They arrived at the pub without hindrances and made their way inside. The place was loud and crowded as they pushed their way to a round wooden bar table. There were decorative lights of different shapes and sizes everywhere as well as tiny glass lanterns with magical flames flickering inside. The atmosphere was bewitching.

“Right,” Sirius clapped his hands, “what’re we drinking?”

Remus wanted a Butterbeer, but it was decided on his behalf that he would be having Firewhiskey. After all, Sirius was now of age and this was his first opportunity to take advantage of it. And so, Remus was coerced into his first glass of alcohol. He downed it quickly when the first girl approached Sirius. This was nothing new, of course. He was showered in attention from girls at school all the time. What was different now was that it gravely bothered Remus. However, Sirius paid no attention to the lady and instead turned to Remus to ask for a cigarette. Sirius smoking was a work of art; Remus could testify to that.

After the first drink, it was no trouble following up with more and the boys wanted to try weird sounding beverages from the menu. Thick, white smoke covered their table when James brought over the Simison Steaming Stout. Later, Remus had a shot (or three) of something called Checker’s Quick Everclear which made him inexplicably snap his fingers a few times after swallowing it. It was incredibly amusing and enough to get him rather half cut. After that, things became somewhat fuzzy. The band was fine, so they danced and drank and Remus felt just swell. It could’ve had something to do with Sirius ignoring the girls or plainly the amount of alcohol in his blood. By the time people began counting down from ten, Remus had half lost his ability to comprehend what was going on. He caught sight of James hugging Sirius when the clock hit midnight as the two of them shouted: “Happy New Year!” A couple seconds later Remus felt hands around himself and realised James hugged him next, yelling the same words, frankly a bit too close to his ear. It seemed that James was either holding his drinks well or just hadn’t drank that much. Sirius’ eyes, however, were half-closed, Remus noticed, as he moved to embrace him. It was just a smidge underwhelming. Remus was numb all over and barely felt the touch of Sirius’s arms over the colossal spike of adrenaline that flashed in his insides. He likely held him tighter than necessary and reluctantly pulled away when Sirius did too. Their cheeks brushed briefly in the process. When Remus looked at him, Sirius was smiling. His hair was messy, lips full and smooth. The eyeshadow hadn’t moved. Remus almost leaned in, but chose to just smile back instead. I have a secret to keep. Big secret. Scary secret. He slyly avoided hugging Peter (who was really sweaty) as his stupid, drunk brain kept repeating: Big. Scary. Secret. Secret. But he had already forgotten what was so confidential. He was really fuckin’ pissed, wasn’t he? Remus sniggered to himself.

Sirius and James wanted to go to the dancefloor and Peter followed them. Remus, however, wasn’t quite sure he could stand very well without having a table to hold on to once in a while. So he stayed put, fetched a cigarette from his case, lit it with his wand and leaned on his forearms on the table. Reveling in the fact that that he was allowing himself to feel all his forbidden feelings tonight, Remus observed Sirius in a manner he hoped was subtle. Sirius was dancing with his eyes closed, smooth, controlled movements, face tilted upwards. Christ, Remus banged his forehead on the table, why does he have to look like that?! It felt strangely pleasant, so he stayed in that position for some time. His head was swaying lightly and he got an inexplicable urge to laugh.

“Alright, Moony,” a voice brought him back to reality. Remus forced his head up.

“Splendid,” he said. Sirius smiled at him.

“We got any more fags?”

“Yup.” He pulled out the case out of his back pocket and handed it to Sirius, just as he asked: “Having fun, Moony?” Remus’ mouth stretched into a stupid, crooked smile.

“Oh, I’m having a brilliant time.”

“Good.” Sirius struggled pulling his wand out of the pocket of his tight-fitting (Sigh...) jeans. Remus brought his own wand to the cigarette hanging from the other boy’s lips and produced miniature blue flames. Sirius sucked in the smoke, held it briefly, then exhaled. “Cheers.”

Remus downed whatever it was leftover in James’ glass. Then his mind blacked out. The next thing he was aware of was being dragged up the stairs by James to their dormitory. “You’re a miracle,” he mumbled, thinking how James could have possibly snuck him through the castle in this state without getting caught. James laughed softly.

“Okay, Moony.”

Remus plopped on his bed face first and let out a long, loud half-sigh, half-groan. He heard Sirius laugh from his own bed. “Nooo, we’re not getting plastered tonight! No waaay,” he said in a teasing voice. Remus smiled into his pillow. Why’s he so cute? He felt something rustle under his stomach. Reaching under himself, he pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment. His resolutions list. Remus flipped onto his back and squinted at the letters. Warmth was pooling in his chest. Something is missing here. He patted the bed in search for his quill and ink, then wrote:

5. Fuck this I wanna tell him I love him

The paper slipped to the floor as Remus’ arms gave out and he drifted into an instantaneous, profound sleep.

Part 2 Part 3

#wolfstar #harry potter #hp #fanfic #marauders #remus x sirius #remus lupin #sirius black #mine #pining #friends to lovers #fluff #marauders era fic #marauders era #james potter #peter pettigrew #lily evans #jilly #wolfstar fic

[i-dont-want-your-hysteria]

Too Daze Gone (Joe x Reader)

(Happy birthday to me! You’re all going to suffer. This is a little something that I wrote over 2 1/2 years ago based on a concept that I thought of three years ago; one of the first ideas I ever had for a Def Leppard fanfic. I made some very minor edits to it ((since I’m not 17 anymore)), and honestly, this is still one of my favorite things that I’ve ever written. But I know you guys are gonna have my head for it later...)

Prompt: It’s December of 1989. You and Joe are recently married, the world has now officially entered the post-Hysteria era, and- well...

-----

December 1989

The soft morning sunlight was seeping through the plane’s window right next to you. Joe’s head was resting on your arm, and you used your opposite hand to stroke his hair soothingly. He had one hand on his stomach, along with his green eyes closed and shut away from the world. The plane was flying steadily now, but your minds were anything but steady at the moment. There was so much to say, but no place or time to say it. It was almost as if you two were having a telepathic conversation; there was so much thinking between you both, yet nothing was being said.

“You alright, Joe?” the voice of a London guitarist broke your attention from the window. He’d strolled over to the seats where you and the man in question were sitting, and let his concern get the better of him.

There was far too much concern going around today, so Phil's question was rather unnecessary.

“Oh, he’s fine,” you answered sweetly, knowing that Joe didn’t want to answer, and also not wanting to give Phil any hint to your invisible nerves, “He’s just feeling rather sick is all.”

Phil sighed, “Ah, yeah, the turbulence wasn't the greatest.”

You decided to go along with Phil’s theory of why Joe wasn’t feeling well. After all, it was believable.

“Yeah, we haven’t been awake that long, either. You know how he can be in the morning. He’s just sick of the day, really,” you lightly joked. Today was not necessarily a good day for jokes. There was a deep, underlying sadness beneath the surface of everybody's tone no matter how much they joked around.

“Oh, so he’s got morning sickness, I see?” Phil joked along, trying to lighten the universally tense mood, “Well, congratulations on the pregnancy, Joe.”

Your heart jumped and you forced a chuckle at the statement. You felt Joe’s heart jump, too.

“Thanks, Phil,” Joe cracked a gentle smile for him as he walked away. You could feel how forced the smile was as Joe slowly reached out and squeezed your hand. He was definitely more worried than you.

“Shh, I know. I’m worried, too,” you whispered to him so quietly that you could barely hear yourself, “But we’ll deal with this later.”

~18 hours earlier~

You weaved your hands together with the utmost anxiety as you waited for Joe to get back from a small trip to the supermarket. As you waited, there was no stopping the racing thoughts in your mind. Once one thought appeared and rooted itself within you, it was impossible to keep it from rolling into a snowball of others. It was driving you absolutely mad on the inside. Keeping calm on the outside, however, came rather easily. It almost felt like second nature at the moment. Of course, you knew that was all going to change the second Joe got back.

Everything was going to change the second Joe got back.

When he did come back, you immediately stood up and went over to him, trying to be casual and lighthearted.

"Hey! How was the store?" came the greeting from you. Your voice was nearly on the verge of breaking from the tension of the whole situation.

"A fucking treat," he grumbled sarcastically, putting four bags down on the table, "The whole bloody place was packed, the service was piss poor, traffic on the way back, you name it."

You kissed him on the cheek for a few seconds in consolation, quickly making his small dimple appear as a result. Normally, it melted your heart to see him smile, but this time, it made it almost vibrate with worry. It hurt to see him happy now, since you knew it wouldn't last long.

He turned and put his hands on your waist, "I suppose it was worth it to get back to you, though."

You wrapped your arms around his neck, quickly pecked him on the lips, telling him, "You're too kind. Now let's see what you've looted up on-"

Desperate to distract both of you from each other, you turned to the grocery bags and started to pull the items out. You did it in a sped-up manner to keep your hands from shaking too visibly. You had no idea when to mention what had to be mentioned.

"I'll tell you what," Joe spoke up, his annoyance still audible in his voice, "The service down there was so fucking slow. Took me a half hour to get four bloody bags worth."

"I'll say you took a while," you impulsively decided to create a segue- any segue- that may get you closer to your fated subject. You blurted out "You’re late."

As he continued pulling out the groceries, he cocked an eyebrow, and asked without looking at you, "What do you mean I’m late?"

"Just, you're late, that's all," you shrugged, the anxiety overwhelming you more. It was getting close to the subject now.

"I'm not late," he chuckled, still not looking up or fully understanding you. You both often liked to joke and tease each other, so this wasn’t anything strange to him.

"No," you stated calmly, going completely motionless with fear, “But I am."

He didn't completely comprehend what you had said. He began to put away the groceries and asked you obliviously, "What do you mean you're late?" Late for what?"

You pressed on, remaining rooted to a motionless state and staring at him, "No, Joe... I’m late."

"You mean that this month you didn't get your-" he started off normally, but then paused as the penny dropped. He froze, and dropped the can he was holding. Your heart sank in your chest at his reaction. Now was the time to talk about it, and you could sense it wasn't going to be pleasant. Part of you began to think that this is how it might end for you two.

He turned around, looking almost mortified and whispered, "Oh my god... are you...?"

"I don't know..." you were shaking now, "I'm just assuming."

For a moment you both stood there, staring at each other, lost for words.

Another impulse suddenly arose within you, and you blurted out again with a wavering and worried voice, "I-I hope I'm not, Joe, and I know you don't want me to be, either, because now is not a good time for this to be happening! You’re at the peak of your career, and we’ve got the new album on the way, then you'll be on tour again- and-"

"Hey, hey, shh," Joe moved forward and put his hands on your arms, "Calm down... it's okay, it's okay. First of all, who ever said I didn't want this? You can't just assume that I wouldn't be okay with it... and I'm not mad- really, I swear! Second of all, this isn't set in stone yet. We'll have to find out if you are first, and if you are, we'll... then we'll make it work out somehow. Don’t think too much just yet; try to relax.”

You blew out a shaky exhale and muttered, “Yeah, okay...”

“Have you been sick?"

"No, but something just feels... off."

"How late are you?"

"About a week..."

"Have you been this late in the past, but gotten your period anyway?"

"Yes..."

"Then we don't know for sure," he kissed the top of your head, embracing you and reassuring, “So what if you're late? That doesn't have to mean anything! I'm worried, too, but we can't just jump to conclusions like this. I wouldn't even put the stakes at 50-50 right now. All this worrying is probably over nothing. You could just be overthinking."

You turned your head and attempted to look up at him to say, "But this is a child, Joe... if there's even a small possibility that this child exists, we've got to assume that it does... we can't just ignore it for too long."

"You've got a point, you've got a point, but just for a second, genuinely consider the possibility that you're not-" he didn't dare say the “p” word, "-you know..."

You sighed into his shoulder, fighting back against tears that wanted to fall, "Okay, okay, you could be right, but there's so much that might have to be done- we can't just put this off..."

"We can until we know for sure," he suggested, "If it's worrying you so much right now, then I'll run out to the corner store and pick up a test. We can sort this out once and for all. How long did you wanna wait before taking a test?"

"I don't know, I don't know," came the drawn out reply as a few tears spilled from you, "Maybe a day or two or three, but I'm just getting so worried that it might be true, I can't wait anymore."

"Okay, then you won't have to wait anymore," he tilted your chin up to give you a quick and thoughtful kiss, then wiped away your tears, "I'll run to the store quick and buy us a test. Is that okay?"

"Yes, please just do it. I'm sorry- you just got back from the store and-"

He laughed and squeezed you tighter, swaying with you in his arms, "Ah, don't worry about it; it's a necessary trip now."

"You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would."

"What'd you think I was gonna do? Leave you?" he chuckled lightheartedly, though he guessed exactly what you were thinking.

You faked a chuckle in reply, "Yeah, kinda... I had a lot of time to overthink everything."

"Well, would you leave me? Especially if I were in your shoes?"

It was your turn to squeeze him tighter (and laugh into his chest), "Joe, if you were in my shoes, I think we'd have a real problem."

"Oh, I know, I know- but apart from that- would you leave me?"

"Of course not..."

"Exactly. You wouldn't leave me, so I definitely won't leave you. You know we've always looked after each other, and I still plan on holding up my end of the bargain."

He kissed you again, longer this time, before softly assuring you, “I love you. Don't ever think that I’d abandon you to raise a child on your own, cos' it'll never ever be a possibility. I'll be here no matter what. Positive or negative."

***

Positive or negative, indeed, you told yourself as you wearily gazed out of the plane's window. You still weren't completely sure how to feel about the outcome of the previous day, but- as you told Joe before- you had to deal with it later. There were more pressing matters currently at hand. Your previous issue could wait for an extra day or two. The more serious problem that you all were on your way to currently needed the most attention. This particular problem also seemed to outline a theme for the past 24 hours; accidental life or accidental death.

~17 hours earlier~

You both sat on the bathroom floor in quiet anxiety. Your hands were joined in a world of worry. At the moment, it was impossible to tell who was more worried, since neither of you could bring yourselves to speak.

The longest two minutes of your lives were currently taking place. The test was sitting on the counter of the sink, and neither of you were counting down to when you could look at it again. Every now and then, a reassuring thought would come to mind that you were all worked up over nothing. After all, Joe was right; you barely had any evidence other than the fact that you were late, so you couldn't just assume the worst. On the other hand though, you couldn't help but feel that there was some impending doom about to come, almost like you felt it instinctively.

With you both being scared shitless at the moment (and not even trying to hide it), you sensed that deep down, both of you knew what the result was going to be. Neither of you wanted to admit it, though.

A few rooms away, the phone suddenly sounded off, shattering the tension and making you both jump. It was almost like a form of divine intervention to prevent you from thinking any more. Almost immediately, Joe lifted his hand away and quietly said that he'd answer it. He stood up and left, leaving you alone with a possibly huge revelation sitting on the counter a few feet away. However, that would no longer be your biggest concern, for you could easily overhear Joe talking on the phone.

"'Ello?" he answered before pausing and replying anxiously, "No, I really don't have a minute... I can't say, but I don't have time to chat. You alright, mate?”

There was an unnerving pause before you heard Joe ask, "Why?"

There was an even longer pause before he spoke again. Your heart was pounding more. That gut feeling that your lives were about to change for the worse grew enormously without warning. On top of that, you suddenly realized that it had been well over two minutes at this point. Your future awaited you now.

"Fuck... oh my god..." Joe's voice was a lot more quiet now, "...oh my god, is he...?"

Now, you began weaving your hands together, slowly growing more and more impatient and worried.

"Dammit," Joe said a little louder, "We'll we've gotta go, then. We've gotta go as soon as possible. What about Rick and Sav...? Alright, then. We'll meet you there tomorrow morning- I've really gotta go and tell Y/N right now. I'll call you in a bit. Yeah, alright... just try and calm down, mate- okay? See ya, then."

As soon as he hung up, you heard him rush back to the bathroom.

"Y/N, he huffed before he was even in the room, "Y/N, something's happened and we’ve gotta-“

He froze in the doorway upon seeing you now standing and completely covering the test in your hands.

"No," he moved forward and put a hand on yours, "Please don't look at it yet; something awful's happened and I don't know how much sudden news we can take at this point. Did you look at it?”

You shook you head, not breaking eye contact with him, "No, but now I'm too scared to take my hands off. What's happened?"

He came right out with it, "Steve's been found unconscious at a bar in Minneapolis. They took him to a hospital, he’s in intensive care and... and he’s pretty bad.”

Right then and there, you dropped the test in your hands with a gasp. You were speechless, but part of you couldn't help but ask, "Is- is he gonna make it?”

You suddenly saw tears in Joe's eyes when he answered, "I don't know... he won't die unless we knock some fucking sense into him! That was Phil who just called, and he sounded scared shitless..."

"W-well what are we gonna do? Is anyone going to see Steve?"

"We are. Tomorrow morning we're flying out with Phil, Mutt, Tony, and Peter."

"Wait, what about Rick and Sav?"

"They both can't make it on short notice. We're gonna have to give Steve a beatin’ over the head from them.”

Just like that, you forgot all about the test on the floor. Steve was dying, and that was enough to flood your mind. You wanted to cry, you wanted to hug Joe, you wanted to scream, and most of all, you wanted to see Steve and sob your brains out to him.

"He's never gonna get better, is he?" you quietly asked, not particularly looking for an answer. Joe shrugged and sighed, running his hands through his hair.

He coldly chuckled in a quiet voice, "Not unless we keep drilling it into his head that he's gonna kill himself!"

Hanging your head out of astonishment, you sat on the counter, realizing that this was the biggest blow to your lives since Rick’s accident.

At least, it would be until you saw the result of the test on the floor.

"Joe..." you whispered to him, staring down at your hands, "Should we look at the test? Should we wait until we get back?"

Joe did nothing more than stare at you, frowning nervously. He moved his own hands forward, placed them on top of yours, and took a deep breath.

“We’re only gonna be more worried if we wait... so we might as well settle things now.”

Joe slowly got on his knees, and felt on the floor for the test without looking at it. When he located it, he rose back to his feet, and brought the test forward. He kept it covered with all his fingers wrapped around it to conceal the verdict.

Blowing out a trembling breath, you looked at him as he did at you, and he gently unfolded his fingers from the test. You both simultaneously looked down to see the clearly marked result. In that second, you were fairly certain that life would never be the same.

In fact, you were positive.

***

“Now is literally the worst possible time to talk about this, Joe,” you whispered again so no one else on the plane could hear, “It can wait a day or two. We’ve got to worry about Steve first."

Joe nodded a little, agreeing with you, “Okay, I suppose it can wait.”

“Don't stress yourself out so much; it's literally making you sick. Besides, I’m the one who’s supposed to be sick,” you chuckled, “That’s not your job.”

“Oh shut up,” he laughed a little, “It really is the turbulence… and the fact that Steve’s… and you’re… and I’m surprised you’re not this overwhelmed.”

You sighed and turned your head towards the window, “Yeah... I’m really surprised, too. This is gonna be one hell of a story to tell this kid when they’ve grown up...”

“I feel sorry that their story had to start out like this,” Joe put another hand on top of your already joined hands with a guilty exhale, “With such bad timing...”

As you watched the illuminated clouds move on by the window of the plane, you couldn’t help but think that things truly would be okay at one point: like that maybe this wouldn’t be such bad timing after all. Things would all work out eventually. How far away that merciful checkpoint was, you’d never be able to guess.

***

Later that day, you found yourself sitting in a circle of people in a rather pleasant-looking and sunlit room. For such a nice day that it was, nothing about the day seemed to fit the mood the weather provided; the universe simply wouldn’t allow it. Now was the time for the serious matter you came for; you were desperately trying to help Steve.

“Steve, you’re scaring the shit out of us,” Phil read bluntly from his letter to his best friend, trying not to let soft emotion seep into his tone. He knew he needed to be stern, but caring towards him.

The whole time he spoke, you wanted to devote all of your attention to him and Steve, but soon found that you couldn't. The constant thought of your unborn child was first on your mind, and although you didn’t want that taking over your thoughts, it was beginning to eat you alive. You almost felt like you couldn't hold the secret back any longer, despite only knowing for a day. In any other circumstances, it would have been so much easier to keep it secret. Today, however, was the worst possible day, with the worst possible scenario.

Every now and then, Joe would look over at you to see how you were doing, and turn back to not be conspicuous to everyone else. You could practically sense his growing worry. Going on in this manner for so long was starting to make your own unstoppable thoughts bubble to the surface. You couldn't hold out for much longer, and was even starting to think outside the box about your while situation. Was being with child really a problem? Did it have to be a bad thing right now? Could you actually find a way to rip some positivity from it all and shed some light on this situation?

That's when it hit you.

When Phil was done his speech, some silent tears were shed by everyone in the circle (including Steve). Near silence commenced afterwards (which only reminded you that there was no distraction from your thoughts now). You reached out to Joe slowly, and took his hand in a tight grip without looking at him. While you felt his eyes on you, you didn't dare look at him.

"Has anyone else got something to say to add onto that?" Peter softly asked, looking around the circle. Your heart began to pound; an opening for you was coming.

Phil slowly began to comment, looking at his feet, "Well, there's nothing I can say to get the point across any more. We can beg and plead all we want but the point still stands, Steve. I know you're not a fan of us guilt tripping you to hell- but we don't want to beat you up; that’s not what we came here to do. We love you, mate... so it doesn't matter whether or not we guilt trip you by saying we're worried sick, or- or..."

"I'm pregnant," you stated simply, closing your eyes and squeezing Joe's hand. While you didn't see it, you felt Joe inhale and look at you instinctively. For the single day that you were aware of your condition, you and Joe had feared the "p" word, and avoided using it at all costs.

Phil didn't entirely comprehend what you said, and kept talking on, "Exactly, even if we said that-"

"No-" you sat up in your seat and opened your eyes, now shaking again, "I mean... I'm pregnant."

You looked over at Joe, who seemed tired, yet understanding. Your eyes went down to his hand as you corrected yourself, "We're pregnant."

All eyes were on you now, but no one had any inclination to speak for a moment.

“Are you serious?” Mutt broke the silence in astonishment, “You're fucking with us right now, aren't you?"

“She’s not,” Joe shook his head, still fixing his loving eyes on you.

Steve looked at Phil and stated coldly, "I thought you said you guys weren't gonna make stuff up to guilt trip me."

"Does it look like I'm making this up?!" you snapped at him, anxious and shameful tears brimming your eyes. You looked around at everyone, landing your eyes on Steve.

"So you're serious?” he asked softly, frowning as he flicked off ashes from his cigarette, “You really are pregnant?”

You nodded, trying to hold yourself together.

“When did you find out?” Peter inquired gently, coming off as the most calm member of the group.

Your voice began to break as you told him with a sad chuckle, “Yesterday... we were waiting for the result of the test right when you called, Phil...”

Phil's eyes lit up at your statement, and he apologized, "Oh- fucking hell... Joe... you even said you didn't have time to talk... and what I said on the plane this morning- must've only made things worse... guys, I'm so sor-"

"That wasn't your fault, mate," Joe smiled sadly, "There's no way you could've known."

"It was just bad timing," you stared at Joe's hand in yours, feeling him shaking as well.

No one spoke for a while after that; no one could think of the right thing to say. It seems you both had scared them all into silence (even more than Steve had). Everyone in the circle couldn't speak because they no longer saw you and Joe the same way. A minute ago, you were still Y/N and Joe. Now, you were mum and dad. The others didn't know how to speak to those strange new people just yet.

“Well, congratulations, for one thing,” Tony broke the silence with a soft smile. A few muffled chuckles and agreements went around the circle, but it wasn’t what you or Joe wanted to hear.

“No, no, that’s not the point,” you threw your hands out in frustration, “We never even planned on telling anyone today! Don’t you guys see how suddenly life can come and go? Twenty-four hours ago Joe and I didn’t even have a child, and now we do. Twenty-four hours ago, we didn’t even think that there was a possibility of you dying-“ you pointed at Steve, giving him your own furious input, “-and now there is. It’s just all so surreal, but no matter how bad the timing of your life is, there’s always time to fight for survival. And that's exactly what we need to get a grip on right now.”

Steve put out his cigarette at this point, looking as if he were genuinely listening to you now more than ever.

“And I guess timing was a real bitch to us today,” you put a hand on your abdomen for the first time since you found out, addressing Steve directly, “But I’d say now you’ve got a little bit more to fight for. Just think about this whole situation; it’s not exactly a tale to be proud of. If this story keeps getting worse, and this is how it ends for you- I don’t want that to be the story of Uncle Steve. I want our child to be born into a world where you're thriving- where they... where they actually have an Uncle Steve."

You had hit a nerve (or a soft spot, to say the least). Before you even realized exactly what you had said, everyone in the circle was crying, including you and Steve. Joe looked at you with his face smothered in tears, but smiling, no less.

The seven of you remained like that for a minute or two, absorbing what had really hit everyone hard, and quietly crying your brains out.

Steve didn’t raise his head to ask you with heartfelt astonishment, “...Uncle Steve, really?”

“C’mere, you fucking idiot,” you sprang to your feet at one point and rushed over to him, taking him in your arms as he stood to take you in his without the slightest bit of hesitation.

“I love you so much, Steve,” you sobbed into his chest, “And I will always care about you. You mean so much to me, and I know you’ll mean so much to the baby, too.”

One by one, everyone else in the circle joined in the hug, each of them murmuring their love to Steve in their own affectionate way. Once you were all broken up, Joe embraced you himself and kissed you over and over again.

“Hey, back off from her,” Mutt teased, “Haven’t you done enough?”

“I still can’t believe you knocked her up,” Phil sighed with happy disbelief, “That’s something we only ever joked about!”

“Yeah well, it doesn’t have to be seen as a joke anymore,” Joe put his hands on your hips and smiled, tearing up all over again, “I’m gonna be a dad...!”

Peter chimed in, “Now that’s a bit scary.”

“It’s not scary,” you chuckled, stroking the back of Joe’s head, “It’s exciting! Timing is a bitch... but I think I’m ready for anything time can throw at me, now.”

Reaching that point of acceptance was a day-long journey that you thought would never have a final destination. All was nearly well in that moment where you and Joe hugged with a seemingly-changed Steve standing by. Right then and there, the future seemed bright for everyone; including your unborn child. An eternity went by in those two days you were gone for, and even though the next day you found out that your test result was a false positive, and Steve only lived for about another year, that false positive seemed to be just what you all needed to keep the world at bay.

The end

#*dances with an umbrella as your tears rain down on me* :3DD #your tears are the best birthday presents i could ask for #def leppard #def leppard fanfic #def leppard x reader #joe elliott x reader #original content #i honestly don't know if I'll ever write anything that can top this as far as a one shot goes #phil collen #steve clark #peter mensch #mutt lange #i thought of this when I was into Leppard for like 2 months #maybe less than that #also the pic of joe on the right really makes me fEEL THINGS #yes i stole the title of this from a Billy Squier song #i started writing this on august 13th 2018 and finished it on december 9th 2018 #I wanted to post this in december 2020 but I was taking a hiatus

[sedge-yells-at-comics]

Remember That Time... Vol. 01

Remember that time Eobard created giant robot horses from prison in exchange for a pardon, and then released one back into the 20th century in a long con to have an ugly statue stolen for him by Hal while he and Barry vibrated into each other, fusing together to defeat the giant robot horse by stomping it to death, and then Eo accidentally blabbed his whole plan after Hal returned with a dissolved statue and Barry defeated him by stripping his suit off?

This is the cover art to one of Eo’s lengthy Eobarry fanfics, because you know he’s one of those fanfic authors who’s extra like that.

“THAWNYE” sounds like some kind of diminutive if you say it like “Thawn-ya”. Great job keeping track of things, guys. Look at Barry pretending he doesn’t know who Eo is... or maybe it’s just the name thing. I’m not sure how humanity managed to drive horses to extinction, but I’m taking that as an indication that the 25th century is actually a horrid dystopia. I assume Eo does know what horses really look like, and just took some creative license, but it would be funny if he didn’t. I’m also concerned that they gave him a shop to work in, what with him being a mad scientist and all.

LOOK AT THAT OUTFIT. My boy is always out there, bringing the hottest new looks. Since his giant collar is the same color as his pants, and it’s The Future, I’m willing to bet that he wearing a--say it with me--mid-20th century retro-futuristic jumpsuit! And those pirate boots! And that consistently inconsistent hairline!

I kinda can’t help but wonder if Eo has some deep, hidden desire to become a sculptor. And is it the getting of the statues, or the having? Is it the thieving, or the collecting? And is shitty modern art the only art that exists in the future? Oh god, now I can’t get the image out of my head of Eo making a (life-size) reproduction of Blucifer, the 32ft tall patricidal horse statue, in his prison workshop. It just seems like an appropriate thematic progression to the robo-horses.

Side-sidebar: It amuses me that people in the 70s couldn’t imagine that we would move beyond the CRT screen. But I hope to god we don’t move on to the holographic/clear glass screens that Current Year people think we’ll have.

Ugh, the Guardians. If the worst Earth-cops ever did was steal the occasional bad statue, we’d be in a good place.

Also, uhhhh. Folks who are up on the Lantern lore--is time travel a standard feature of the rings, or is this one of those “it happened because we needed it to in this one issue” things?

BRING. BACK. EOBARD’S. SILLY. LAUGH.

Is it me, or does Central City--20th and 25th century--have a lot of movin’ around room? Lots of PLAZAS. Lots of pedestrian spaces. I like it in concept, kinda like how the Europeans do it, but in execution it has the feeling like you could start walking to those buildings on the horizon, and you would never get there.

I’m not going to lie to you. I included this page solely and entirely for the butts.

FUCKING. ANTICS.

Aaaaand FUSION DAAAAAAANCE! I love how Eo’s complaining and doesn’t know what Barry’s doing, but he starts vibe-dancin’ anyway.

+1 for the artist remembering Eo’s nose. I need to create a compilation in celebration of Classic Eo’s nose.

WELL.

I don’t know about you, but. I’m aroused. Not gonna lie, before I’d read this, I’d already been contemplating what a Eo-Barry fusion would look like and. Well, this isn’t what I had in mind. And I kinda got stuck on the resulting costume being ENTIRELY ORANGE.

Eo’s FACE in the 3rd panel is priceless. Is this confirmation that Barry would lead in any hypothetical dances? I’m taking it as that. And they’re doing a great job, considering! Eo seems so excited in the last panel. I want to see these moves at regular speed. They must be... somethin’ else.

Oh, right: Heh heh... the beast with no backs. Pffffff--

I know it’s a mindless robo-horse, but this, uh. I kinda feel like I need to call some sort of humane organization about what I’m seeing here. And that pink cloud HAS to be an environmental hazard.

BUT CAN YOU IMAGINE the grape-crushing potential?

Why Would Hal Jordan Do This?

WHAT IF...? They weren’t able to separate, and just had to DEAL with it for like the next year or so? Don’t think about it too hard, though.

Eo’s FAAAACE in panel 5 is *chef’s kiss*.

An ASTONISHING HR nightmare! I have a love-hate relationship with how the older comics avoid explaining how these suits work. They always pop out like they’re one single piece--gloves and boots and all! Do ya gotta slide yourself in through the neck hole? Where is all this excess fabric on Eo’s suit coming from? It sure doesn’t look like Barry’s making any headway in removing it. He’s a 25th century Draupadi over here. And he’s just wearing regular ol’ clothes underneath a skintight suit, a thing that will continue to baffle me about Flash comics for decades to come.

#the flash #reverse flash #green lantern #barry allen #eobard thawne #hal jordan #robot horse kaiju #ol' time comic reviews #the fun kind of yelling at comics

[morethanalittleconfused]

I accidentally wrote a 5k fanfic about incidents caused aboard the ghost by differences between species

I've been reading a lot of those old tumblr posts that are like “what if humans are actually just really, really hardy and alien species would be just completely blown away with the shit we put up with without a second thought” and it's got me thinking about the crew of the Ghost trying to get used to each other at first with three humans that are all just absolutely fucking insane, even more so than even your average human.

Rebels spoilers ahead, as well as a trigger warning for blood, vomit and general injuries

It starts with Hera and Kanan. It’s just the two of them, aboard the Ghost, and it takes some getting used to.

At first Hera is shocked by the way Kanan's body seemingly has no limits. He has never once complained about the temperature of the ghost, even when they were running low on power and Hera could feel her limbs start to get sluggish from the cold. Two weeks later he somehow managed to find his way back to the ghost after being in -2 degree Celsius weather for a half an hour with no coat on. When he walked back through the hatch with snow blowing in his loose hair and a red nose and said “it's cold as shit out there” after Hera had been panicking about losing him for the literal entire time, she had to practically scrape her jaw off of the floor. She would have been dead after a few minutes, and yet here he was, now steaming from a shower and shirtless, bitching about how the caf maker was broken.

As time went on, she learned his body did have some limits to the heat. At about 35 degrees he got irritable and short, but that was about when she started getting uncomfortably warm, too. But he would tolerate it. And more. He kept impressing her with the things he somehow managed to pull off, in conditions she would have thought would kill him. He could get knocked around far more than she thought he should be able to, and would haul himself back to the ship with a grin every time.

The way his body worked constantly surprised her. She noticed it first in how quickly he healed, and in how much he ate.

He could eat literally anything. Things she thought were poisonous for most species. He loved chocolate, and would easily eat ten times the amount that would send her to the hospital to get her stomach pumped. He could withstand a ridiculous amount of alcohol, and could drink unprocessed coffee with no problem by the cup. Caf didn't seem to really affect him because his body processed it so fast. And he ate so. Much. it was ridiculous. The good thing was it didn't really seem to matter what.

Hera didn't need much food, but it had to be good. It had to count. Too much filler and she would lose strength. Her body couldn't process a lot, and if what she got wasn't exactly what she needed, her health went downhill, quick.

Kanan was not the same. He could, and would, eat anything. He didn't have any noticeable preference for plants or meat, or the quality of the food. If he could get his hands on it, he would eat it. He would eat food out of the refrigerator she would have considered to be dangerous. He put appalling amounts of random, unrelated food in a pan, cooked it, and acted like that was an acceptable thing to do. Omelets? She hated the very idea but he seemed to think they were wonderful.

And yet, for all that, they had once been stranded for over a week with only enough rations for one, and Kanan had insisted that she take the vast majority of the ration bars. She pushed back, and he then presented her with the absolutely shocking fact that humans can survive for over a month with no food. She was absolutely flabbergasted, and he took advantage of her stunned silence to press another ration into her hand, smirk at her and say, “I can take it. Trust me.”

Another thing she noticed very quickly was how fast he healed.

He could be bleeding openly one minute, and the wound seemed to close itself the next. She knew human blood had clotting factors far beyond that of nearly any other being, but it was ridiculous how fast he sealed himself up. Further into their relationship she got to see this close up when she accidentally touched some of his congealed blood on the floor of the refresher after cleaning him up. She had had to turn away and take a few deep breaths at the slimy, gelatinous texture. He had gently huffed out a laugh.

“Kinda gross huh?”

“Yeah... it's… unique.”

“I've always been kind of fascinated by the way it congeals so quickly. Handy I guess.”

Out of sheer curiosity she had run the end of a pen through the small puddle and been horrified to see that it mostly stuck together.

“It just… does that? Inside you? And that doesn't cause problems?”

“It can. If it clots when it's not supposed to. But mostly it keeps me alive.”

And it did. And though she wouldn't say it to his face, his ability to pull through seemingly anything took just one more worry off her plate. His wounds would be almost completely closed in often under a week, where she would have been dealing with bandages and salves for a month. He almost never got infections, and could keep going with seemingly incapacitating injuries.

They had once narrowly escaped a fight with a gang of imps and made it back to the ghost with almost no problems. She had a sprained ankle, so he had supported her most of the way there, and they had patched up each other's scrapes. He had needed a bit of training so he didn't just slap a bandaid on what could have been a potentially life threatening injury for her, but he did alright. It was only later, when they were sitting in the cockpit, well into hyperspace, and he had coughed suddenly, when things went sideways. She turned to see blood seeping out of the corner of his mouth, and more on his hand when he pulled it away. They both looked at it for a moment, then Hera almost blacked out as a sudden wave of adrenaline washed over her.

“Kanan you're- are you- let me make the calc- are you dying?”

“What? Oh- no I had thought I just cracked a few of my ribs but it would appear I must have broken at least one of them.”

“BROKEN? Your bone? Like in half?”

“I- yeah?”

“Chopper we need to get to the nearest med center right now. Tell them were coming. I dont care if its a fucking imperial light cruiser”

“Wait no lets not be hasty-”

“HASTY? YOU BROKE YOUR BONES KANAN”

“Okay i know it looks bad but really i'm not going to keel over and die right now. Make sure it's a safe med center and cheap too. I can wait.”

“Kanan your bones are literally broken.”

“Yeah. It's happened before and it will happen again. I've broken my arm twice. I've broken one of the bones in my lower leg. A couple toes. At least one finger. And don't even get me started on my nose. It didn't always look like this.” At that he had huffed out a small laugh, but then winced and brought a hand to his lower chest. Almost as an afterthought, he reached down and pulled up the hem of his shirt. She had started to avert her eyes at the sliver of hip he showed, but as he pulled the shirt up higher and revealed more, she felt the breath taken out of her. His skin was mottled a whole host of awful colors, angry and puffy. He coughed that wet cough again and said, “Maybe I do need a med center after all”

She was incredibly relieved when they dropped out of hyperspace and into the welcoming arms of medicine. She was less happy when Kanan was returned to her, that night no less, with only bandages around his chest and a note to “take it easy for a while” she was appalled to say the least.

His ridiculously resilient body sometimes created just as many problems as it solved, though. He got into bar fights after downing enough alcohol to kill a bantha, and got the piss kicked out of him. He ran headfirst into danger with little consideration for life or limb. He was reckless, and incredibly hotheaded, and overall behaved like a clown. She had no idea how the Jedi accepted humans into their ranks, if Jedi he was. Restraint, my ass.

His recklessness applied to food as well. He didn't really seem to mind what he ate, content with the knowledge that if it didn’t work out, he could always regurgitate it back up. Twi’leks could not vomit, like many other species. It was yet another bizarre human trait. The ability to purge substances from your body without them having to pass through your entire digestive tract and cause more issues had always seemed like a neat trick to Hera. That is, of course, until she saw it in action.

She was roused one night by a strange noise coming from the refresher, and she had padded to the door, only to find it open. Blinking in the harsh light, she saw Kanan curled on the floor, wearing no shirt. His hair was loose and hanging around his face, and he was panting heavily. She only had time to say “Kanan, what-” before he coughed and vomited into the bowl.

Her immediate reaction ricocheted from “Oh my god he's dying” to “I’m actually going to die just having to witness this” to “Oh stars he is actually dying” so fast she could barely process it. She was immediately horrified but had no idea how to help him.

“Kanan are you- do you need a medic? How- chop- CHOPPER! How do I help you? Are you hurt?”

He had turned and peered up at her with puffy eyes and a runny nose. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He tried to talk but his voice came out too rough and he had to try again. Even then it was strangely thick.

“Hera? Are you okay?”

“Am I okay? Am I okay Kanan? You're in here dying for stars sake and I have no idea how to help you and where the hell is chopper-”

“Hey. hey.” He turned away for a moment and took a long breath in through his nose. “Calm down for a sec. I feel like shit so you're going to have to talk slower. Are you hurt or something?”

“Hurt? No I'm not hurt i’m just- you- you're in here- I don’t even know-”

He closed his eyes and took another long breath in through his nose.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah i’m just… trying really hard not to throw up again.”

“Oh.”

He opened his eyes again and looked up at her again.

She shifted against the door frame. “But you're… okay? This isn't life threatening?”

He huffed out a soft laugh, then seemed to immediately regret it as he dropped his head between his knees for a moment. Then he cleared his throat and tipped his head back up.

“No. I'm good, I just ate something bad at that pub. And I also probably drank a bit too much as well. But I think it was definitely the squids fault.”

“Oh. So this is… normal?”

“More so than I would like. Yes.”

“Okay so…” she took a deep breath to calm her nerves now that it was apparent he wasn't in any imminent danger. “Do you need anything? How can I help you?”

“Some tea maybe. Some crackers. Anything ginger you have. It'll work itself out with time.”

She stood in the door, unsure of what to do, wanting to help him, and watched as he drew a quick breath in and closed his eyes again.

“Hera. Tea. Now”

“Right.”

As she dashed to the kitchen she heard the sounds of retching from behind her.

  There were some strange things about humans that became interesting as their relationship developed beyond mere captain and crew. His hair, for example. At first she had thought it was appalling, the sheer volume of it. It was everywhere. But all it took was threading her hands through it a few times, and hearing the wonderful noises he made, before she quickly changed her opinion.

Related to his hair was the fact that humans seemed to enjoy a certain level of pain, which she could not understand. He would moan audibly when she tugged at his hair, which startled her the first time, in the best way. Once, when she was feeling particularly adventurous, she had dragged her sharp canines across the delicate skin of his throat, and had been surprised to find the taste of metal filling her mouth, sharp and bright. She was even more surprised at the way he had shuddered and come apart beneath her, just like that.  

Then, later, when Zeb and Sabine joined the crew, there was yet another learning curve as Hera adjusted to another human as well as a Lasat, and Zeb adjusted to Kanan and Sabine at the same time.

Sabine was just as reckless. She was a fighter too, but she didn't have the force to help her out. Hera had more than a few small heart attacks in the early days of Sabine's presence before she fully appreciated that she could take almost as much of a beating as Kanan. Sabine had once walked over a half a mile back to the ship with a broken leg, and when Hera pressed her on just how she managed to do that, Sabine had gotten quickly tired of the argument, ending it with a, “I don't know what to tell you, Hera! I didn't have any other options! I had to do it, so I did.”

Hera was used to most of Kanan's strange human quirks, but Sabine presented a new and entirely alarming one, which Hera first came in contact with on a supply run. Sabine needed a monthly supply of medical supplies. Hera knew very little about menstruation, as that was a trait entirely unique to human females. Why their biology decided that it was necessary was completely beyond Hera, it seemed incredibly inefficient. Sabine made as little fuss about it as possible, but Hera had embarrassed everyone about three months in when Sabine asked hera to go get her data pad from her room. Hera had burst back into the common room, and only then was able to identify the smell Sabine was carrying with her that had been tugging at the edges of Hera’s mind all day. Blood. She turned on Sabine with a very distressed, “Sabine are you injured? Are you sick?”

To which Sabine had responded, with a distinct note of confusion, “No? Why?”

And Hera, without thinking, had said, “There's blood all over your bed? Did you hurt yourself?”

Sabine had gaped at her for a moment, then blushed ever so slightly. “I uh- I forgot to wash my sheets after... Sorry. I forgot about that before I told you to go into my room.”

Hera still had not connected the dots and was opening her mouth to further interrogate Sabine as to why her bedsheets were covered in blood when Kanan had jumped up and said, “Hera! Let's go for a walk, yes?” and pulled her gently out of the room, but not before she heard Zeb turn to Sabine and say, “So, why were you bleeding?”

Zeb apparently hadn't had much contact with the more alarming of the humans' quirks, as he had his own room, until Ezra showed up. Then Zeb had to learn for himself just how absolutely wild human biology was for himself. He arguably had a rougher go of it, because while he had the rest of the crew to help him out, he was literally sharing a room with a teenage human.

The first time Ezra got food poisoning was just about as rough for Zeb as it was for Kanan and Hera, except it happened in Zebs room.  Ezra was mostly self-sufficient, but Zeb had come hollering down the hall. He had broken the “do not open my door without knocking” rule Hera kept firmly in place, but she couldn't even be mad at him. Hera was just glad Kanan had been in his own bed that night. She had woken to see Zeb standing in her door, his fur standing up like a spine down his back, one ear folded inside out, panting hard.

“Hera the kid- he’s- I don’t know what the fuck happened but he- I think he’s hurt- or- or something but I don’t know how to help him- it’s Ezra-”

At which point Kanan, who had been woken by Zebs racket, slid open his door wearing only his sleep pants. He took one moment to assess the situation, looked down the hall and said, “Oh, Ezra’s throwing up. Do you want me to take care of him, Hera?”

Hera sighed and got up from her bed.

“No, you get Zeb some tea or something. I've learned well enough how to hold hair back at this point.”

Zeb, still looking entirely horrified by the situation, allowed himself to be led into the galley by Kanan. Sabine poked her head out of her door, decided this crisis did not involve her, and went back to sleep.

The same situation had happened the first time Ezra had gotten a bloody nose in the middle of the night. It was the kind Hera had witnessed with Kanan, and knew firsthand how horrifying it was if one didn't know humans noses just Did That sometimes. It was a middle of the night kind of bloody nose, where Ezra had presumably woken up with blood all over his face and in his mouth and in his hair and on his sheets, and had tried to catch the blood in his hands, which was all well and good until he somehow had to get down from the top bunk and open two doors to get to the refresher. That left Zeb to wake up to a room smelling of blood, with blood on the floor, on the door panel, and a trail leading to the refresher where he found Ezra leaning over the sink which was also, conveniently, covered in blood. All it had taken was for Ezra to turn his face toward the creature standing in the door and say “Zeb?” before Zeb was hurtling down the hall in a panic, calling for Kanan to come help him because the kid was dying.

Sabine, who had been up working on a project, was the first to respond to this particular “The human is dying!” call. She took one look at Ezra, standing in his pajamas with blood on his hands and said, “That sucks,” and turned back to her room.

Hera, who was making her way down the hall to check on if Ezra really was dying this time, had the pleasure of seeing Sabine turn back and say, “If you want a tampon to stop up the bleeding, they're in the bottom left drawer.” This worked surprisingly well at stopping Ezras bloody nose, because he was blushing so hard there was no blood left for his nose. Hera turned back to comfort Zeb, telling him she had reacted the exact same way the first time Kanan had woken up with a bloody nose. She saw him come out of his panic in time to realize she had effectively confessed to sleeping with Kanan, but wisely decided not to say anything. Nothing he didn't already know.

The humans were absolutely bizarre to spend time around. They ended up installing a wall in the galley that had live plants in it, not because they needed fresh plants to eat, but because their brain chemicals got thrown off if they weren't around plants for too long.

They had empathy for everything. Hera had once witnessed Ezra cry in a market when they passed a fruit stand with a deformed Meiloorun. When Hera asked why he was crying, he had looked up at her with these huge eyes, sniffed, and said, “I just feel so bad for it! No one will buy it!” They had, of course, bought it. Kanan tried not to get attached to anything, but he apologized for bumping into inanimate objects, and Sabine got visibly sad when they had to throw out a good piece of gear because it was broken or old.

They all three loved swimming. They were awful at it, just barely flopping around on the surface, but any time they were near even relatively safe water, they were in it, having the time of their lives. Kanan had once explained to Hera that humans have an extra fun little bit of evolution called the mammalian dive reflex, which slows their heart rate and lowers their blood pressure when they are in water, making it calming and enjoyable. Hera was skeptical until she watched Ezra calmly floating down a river on his back and wished she had that, instead of feeling nothing but panic anytime she had to float in water.  

They were mimics. They could replicate a stunning array of sounds, from animals to tech. Ezra's favorite way of annoying her was to make the noises her ship made when something went wrong, just to see how much she would panic before she realized it was him. They would sing along to anything, even if it was just instruments, and Hera would never admit it, but she loved Kanan's voice.

They could sleep anywhere. One of her favorite memories was walking around Chopper Base after a particularly exhausting mission and finding the three of them, Kanan in the middle, with one kid leaning on either shoulder, asleep, leaning against a crate. They had looked so peaceful, and yet she was again surprised at them. It was far too cold for her to even consider sleeping, there were fighters landing only a few hundred meters away, people running all over, and they were snoozing with smiles on their faces, just glad to be home.

And humans would pack bond with literally anything. She had thought Kanan was bad until she met Ezra. It was ridiculous. Her father had said that she was improper for developing a fondness for a droid, but the kid formed a relationship with everything that moved. It got them out of a few tight spots, sure, but she would never get used to having to sit still as some enormous predator loomed in their faces. The sight of Ezra staring down a cat the size of the ghost on some jungle planet, the cat's fangs mere inches from his face as it huffed at him, was something she would never forget.

They were wild and hard headed and strong and made her life so much more interesting.

Early on, Kanan’s strange human ability to adapt to seemingly anything had been a momentary point of contention between the two of them, and was still something she struggled with. It took time for her to be okay with the fact that humans and Twi’leks were just built differently. But it frustrated Hera how weak she felt compared to him. It infuriated her the way he could just walk off something that would have killed her. She had always striven to be adaptable and up for anything. She was strong, and she knew it. But she felt her inadequacies sharply next to Kanan. Early in their partnership they had been in the galley repairing themselves from yet another fight, when Hera had turned to see Kanan casually sewing his own skin up with a needle. The way he could just puncture his own skin like that, with nothing more than a wince and a hiss of breath, had made her see red for a moment and she had to excuse herself to the cockpit to take a breath. They had talked about it, and he had helped her to realize that she was, of course, strong. Humans were adapted differently, so it was entirely unfair for her to be comparing them. But they could compare emotionally, and she was one of the strongest people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing. The two of them were forged in war, and had been through incredible things. She had fought prejudice and overcome so many obstacles to get to where she was, the best pilot in the resistance, without question. As he had said the last part, she heard him smirk a bit, and looked over at him, bathed in the blue light of hyperspace, to find him with a little crooked grin on his face and his hair falling down around his ears. She had felt her guarded heart open a little bit more at that, and had to turn and gaze back out at the stars before her heart opened completely to this rogue of a man.

Later, pressed against his chest in a supply closet, hiding from some stormtroopers, she would marvel at just how fast humans' hearts beat. She knew they were supposed to beat about two times faster than a twi’lek, but his seemed like it was fit to fly out of his ribcage. She found herself thinking, “Is it supposed to be doing that? Is this why he's such a hot headed idiot?” Later she would discover it did not always beat that incredibly fast, usually just a bit faster than hers. It made him ridiculously warm, and also may have contributed to why he was so quick to anything. Not rushed. Not hasty. Just quick. Quick to anger. Quick to smile. Quick to fight. Quick to laugh. Quick to love.

Maybe that was why it was such a shock when he finally reached his limit. She had gotten used to him pulling through impossible situations. She had forgotten that they had limits, just like her.

And then, years later, a glimmer of hope. Ahsoka and Sabine, travelling the galaxy over, searching for Ezra. While Kanan was gone forever, she still had a chance to get one of her boys back.

And of course, there was always Jacen. Her beautiful little boy, who was soft and sweet and yet surprisingly strong, just like his father. And Hera was comforted to know that wherever this wild galaxy would take him, he had Kanan Jarrus’ blood coursing through his veins to keep him safe.

#kanan jarrus #kanan x hera #caleb dume #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #hera syndulla #sabine wren #garazeb orrelios #star wars #i accidentally wrote a fanfic #enjoy #tw #blood #angst #blood tw #rebels spoilers #rebels fanfic #fanfic #kanan x hera fanfic

[meyeselph]

Gwenpool: Desperate Misanthrope's Confused Angst

Showtime

Ms. Pool woke up in a familiar room. Not in Krakoa - there are no mutants around. This isn’t a story about that. Look, honestly, without an actual Gwenpool series and the constant breaks in her comics appearance I can’t even begin to give a fuck. I cancelled my marvel universe subbie. I might get back to my stories but single issues are iffy. I read fast and don’t pore over the artwork. So I get 10 minutes of entertainment for….FIVE DOLLARS? When did this happen? Jeezus.

Who even reads comics anymore?

Anyway, long story short, Gwen got out of bed and recognized the room as her old one from the “old times.” The dark times. The ‘not running around in pink and white outfits and shooting people’ times. She panicked (Been there. It is what it is though). The only way out of trauma is through.

She dressed in old clothes, immediately hit by old smells, she couldn’t help but cry. Was it all a dream? Have I gone insane (again)? All the usual self doubts cropped up. I mean, really, if you think this kind of thing didn’t pass through her mind regularly why don’t you transport yourself to a comic book universe?

Oh, you can’t?

Oh. It isn’t actually possible for you and I’m stupid for suggesting it. So, yeah. If it actually happened and you kept that attitude then the logical assumption for a normie is a mental breakdown. Trick for Gwen, though, is it's probably always been both real and her being nuts.

So she goes downstairs to the kitchen to figure out why this is happening and Evil Gwen is having cereal. Let's say cocoa puffs. I’ve been thinking about those recently. You ever remember cereal as something worth cherishing. Not as just bullshit that TV convinced you to want? God damn, now I want Cookie Crisp. Cookie Crisp wasn’t even ever that good. Why do I want Cookie Crisp?

So also sitting around the table were the faceless versions of her father, mother, and her brother. Just chilling. No BD. Seen Eternal Sunshine of The Spotless Mind?

Yes, I know that references aren’t jokes - fuck you, I’m painting a picture and I CAN’T PAINT, THAT’S WHY THIS ISN’T A COMIC. Fucks sake. Anyway. So, Gwen is so creeped out that she just sits her butt down by Evil Gwen as if she’s the comforting presence here.

Her name’s too long. Let’s call Evil Gwen uh…….Gren. You know, like Grendel from Beowulf. I haven’t actually read Beowulf and this is all a little confusing but I'm solving problems here. Writing this is harder for me than you would think so it’s best to keep things flowing off the cuff. That’s the Gwenpool™ style anyway, isn’t it? Are you laughing yet? IMPROV. “YES AND” MY SHIT, READER!

“So, you ever really look into the retconned past thing, hun?” Gren said, moving her tongue around her food. Being gross as an attempt to be properly evil. She swallowed before continuing. “This is all I could really put together on short notice but i’m pretty sure what the future people created, all that stuff to try and trick you, it was all bullshit.”

“What do you mean? Are you trying to convince me to go all psycho like you again?” Gwen asked, exasperated, realizing she was now back in the whole ‘fuck with Gwen to decide her fate’ song and dance routine from the end of her first arc.

“Nah, not really.” Gren said. A hammer appeared in her hands out of nowhere and Gren swung it into their fake father’s head, snapping his neck..

“DAD!” Gwen instinctively cried as she saw her father’s body slump to the floor. Gren slapped Gwen’s face. “That’s it,” Gren said, “this is what the trick was.This is a poorly created character in a fictional story. Meant to manipulate you into attaching your concept of “father” to it. Even his finished version in the original comics run wasn’t THAT well drawn. Your dad read like a boomer’s idea of a responsible parent. You were going through a mental crisis and struggling to find purpose in life and his genius idea was get a shitty low paying job and suck it up?”

Gren turned to their brother, pushed his face to the table and smashed the back of his skull. . “Brother dearest, too. Going right along with their victim blaming. He gaslighted you as if what you were going through was just you being ‘irresponsible.’ Bitch, people working a minimum wage job aren’t somehow not impoverished and miserable because they get some of that ‘honest work’ that folks keep badgering on about. Minimum wage work is occupied by many physically and mentally disabled people held hostage; they’re people society only pretends to care about. Then they turn it all into you acting like some world ending threat. No questions about what drove you to the edge in the first place. You are just ‘unstable,’ so you’re just a problem to be solved. They say, ‘Let’s all solve this girl being upset and on edge by ruining her concept of self, reality, and memory.’ Brilliant!”

Gwen barely processed this in horror. Gren then slit the poor facsimile of their mother’s throat while continuing to rant, “You see people die all the time, Gwen. Half of the time you are doing the killing. You do it because it’s in a story. In a story the NPCs don’t matter and, after all, your original schtick in the story was to be kill-crazy. The non-marketable characters can be replaced or retconned at the stroke of the artist’s pen.” Gren leans forward as she pulls a Gwenpool mask over Gwens face. “Then the writers convince you that you have some middle class milk toast family and you take abuse and subsume your emotional needs because the problem MUST be you. You aren’t ‘normal’ so you have to be fixed.”

Gwen wiped her eyes over the mask and sighed. A bit of fire filled her gut as she stared at Gren. “So fucking what? You want me to go on a killing spree and be a big time villain to get myself a nice, shiny permanent big bad status? That’s how I stay around right? Just build my legacy on bodies?”

Gren scoffed “You already lost that fight, girly. Where do you think we are? Because this ain’t Marvel Comics.”

Confused, Gwen blinked and tried reaching for the page margins, finding nothing. Wait….why was everything on this page so ill defined and undetailed? Wait? Why was the story in kinda wobbly third person past tense?

Gwen sighed “Oh. I’m in a fanfic. I guess the publishing fight is for another day eh?”

“My advice, personally,” Gren stated, “is that you consider the lobster.”

“Wait, what the fuck?”

Gren pulled aside the kitchen curtains revealing the face of a giant lobster, its claws tapping on the glass. The lobster muttering gutterally about personal responsibility.

“Because there’s a couple thousand giant lobsters outside that would like to claw you until you read their book.”

--

Scared of Girls

On the rooftop, Gren shoved a high powered rifle into Gwen’s hands while she handled the close range threats. So, this conversation they’re about to have is important. Sniping puts Gwen into a sort of zen space, so that’s a better task to keep her focused, after all.

“So, what? You wanted me to internalize that my “origin story” is bullshit? Okay, what does that accomplish, then?” Gwen asked in a bit of a deadpan. She was so tired today. Not really feeling her happy go lucky energy. More like a “happy go fucky” energy. It was hard to always be on a knife's edge. Still the rifle’s kick into her shoulder was satisfying as she blew through two of the creepy looking lobsters at once. “Also, why the lobsters?”

Gren considered this. “Okay, last question first, I had to experiment a lot and do a lot of research to construct this place for your learning and healing in fanfic form....These buddies are a failed experiment of mine that I repurposed because the fic needed more action. Isn’t that right, giant enemy crap?” As she peppers the nearest goon with a hail of shotgun pellets the entire throng of them burst out, sharply muttering about divine symbols.

“As for what I'm trying to teach you, it’s that you aren’t reaching your potential.” Gren grumpily huffed.

“Duh,” Gwen reloads, “I mean you just killed a mannequin version of the voice in my head that says that to me every day.” one of those crustaceans talks about feminine symbolism while she decides on her next target.

“Not like fake daddy’s ‘Be a responsible member of society by paying your taxes’ type of potential. I mean your creative and emotional potential.” Gren flipped off the slavering throng of monsters, noticing they were starting to keep their distance from the roof.

“I never did finish that fanfic idea I had.” Gwen mused.

“God, don’t mention that,” Gren thrusts a finger at Gwenpool. “Not that I don’t respect fanfic, but when comic book writers make you and Kamala squee about fanfiction to try and relate to “the kids” it comes across as so condescending.”

“Really? I mean…..I'm sure it’s meant as support for the concept?”

“Most fucking superhero comics are just legalized fanfiction! The people who created the characters are either long gone or working on someone else’s characters! They just think they are so much better because they got fucking paid. They can’t imagine themselves as on the same playing field as fanficcers even though most of them have the same level of connection to the roots of the work as anyone else.” Gren groused loudly as she seemed to pull Reed Richards out of nowhere.

Confused, Reed looked around until his eyes met Gwen’s.“Oh great, you again.” Reed groaned as he turned to survey the piles of lobster gibs while Gwen cheered the lobster forces’ retreat with a resounding “EDF, EDF!”. The scattered creatures skittered amongst the bland scenery. It looked like a suburban neighborhood but someone forgot to color in the sky….or write that the sky had color. A castle hung out in the distance breaking up the generic normalcy and lay cloaked in shadow despite being surrounded by an endless white void.

“And…..black….you?” Reed pointed to Gren, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I have an evil future self….well I stopped that future so it’s an….evil...alternate timeline self?” Gwen said with a nervous chuckle, abandoning the kill quest for the minute and rested her rifle on the roof.

“Ah. Yeah I’ve been down that road. It’s a rather common occurrence. Multiverse being what it is.” Reed laughed heartily while putting his hands on his hips.

“I’m not sure I’m evil, honestly,” Gren interjected. “I think I’m just really fucking grumpy and I’m slightly more gung-ho on the homicide. Considering Gwen’s already one of the more kill crazy characters on the roster it’s not that much of a distinction.” Gren flipped her cape. “My main distinction is I don’t like that meme from The Incredibles! You can just make it so the cape detaches automatically when it’s pulled hard enough!”

“You could still have it tangled up around your face.” Reed pointed out in his standard know-it-all fashion.

“Don’t make me go into fuck wife mode, stretch.” Gren spat. “Okay, anyway, so I brought him here to illustrate a point. Reed. Explain particle physics to me as a laymen.”

“Huh...i’m not sure why but okay. Particle physics (also known as high energy physics) is a branch of physics that studies the nature of the particles that constitute matter and radiation. Although the word particle can refer to various types of very small objects (e.g. protons, gas particles, or even household dust), particle physics usually investigates the irreducibly smallest detectable particles and the fundamental interactions necessary to explain their behaviour. In current understanding, these elementary particles are excitations of the quantum fields that also govern their interactions. The currently dominant theory explaining these fundamental particles and fields, along with their dynamics, is called the Standard Model. Thus, modern particle physics generally investigates the Standard Model and its various possible extensions, e.g. to the newest "known" particle, the Higgs boson, or even to the oldest known force field, gravity.” Reed rattled this off rather mechanically.

Gren then took out her phone and showed Gwen the Wikipedia article on “Particle Physics,” which is naturally the same words that Reed had regurgitated above, just without any formatting and, again, on a phone.

“Reed can’t be a genius in any subject unless he’s written by a genius in that subject. That’s how stories work. Everyone is limited by the understanding and capabilities of the writer. Same with your origin story and all the people you’ve interacted with. If you are as ‘meta’ as you think you are then you have to realize that you aren’t actually talking to people. You are talking to the writer. Dr. Strange didn’t rewrite your existence to be a part of the Marvel Universe. As far as most of Marvel continuity goes Dr. Strange was never there and doesn’t know or care about his MCU casting…..Hey Reed, buzz off please before the conversation pivots to why you haven’t cured all known diseases.”

Reed looked a little surprised but then pulled out a teleportation device (of course he has one) and blipped away with a shrug.

“How awkward is that going to be when he enters the MCU after Kamala is already introduced with a very similar power set?” Gwen chuckled.

“Keep up the way you’ve been going and you’ll never see it. I’m not exactly expecting a young blonde girl casting call for Deadpool 3 and that’s your best bet.” Gren snarked. Gwen winced with a sigh.

“I don’t get what I'm doing wrong. I have a fanbase comparable to some of the characters that have already shown up but I can’t even get comics written about me most of the time. An MCU push seems unlikely. They would literally have to deal with completely recontextualizing my powers and gimmick”

“Let’s ask her what you should do.” Gren motioned her way to the suddenly appearing long hair future Gwen, looming over them like The Attack of the 50 foot Woman for some reason. Dwarfing the roof they are on. Let’s call her BIGwen!

--

Gold Guns Girls

As BIGwen acclimated to her surroundings she stubbed her toe on a car, dramatically flipping it so that it took out a few more lobsters before caving in a nearby house. The lamentations about clean rooms soaring as the remaining couple dozen of them attempt to clean up some of the bodies of their fallen kin. The large and sort-of-in-charge Gwen hissed in pain and adjusted her boot. Getting her balance as best as possible she muttered curses that traveled rather well considering the lung capacity of a giant.

“You know,” Gren started, “I wasn’t expecting much from our previous uses of the ‘make her big for emphasis’ trick, but it really does only work as a vague ghostly background element. I didn’t just want it to be ‘oh, here's a third Gwen for the conversation, though. Would lack umph.”

“ Yeah, I get it, but staring at my own giant taint is unsettling.” Gwen muttered.

“I’d still, hit it.” Gren grinned, then immediately got punched in the arm. “OWWW! Look, I’m the evil one here and we’re in a fanfic. I’m allowed to make internet fetish jokes.”

“And I’m allowed to hit you for it.”.

“Dirty lampshading goody two shoes. Don’t act like half your fanbase isn’t thirsty. It’s “insert current year argument”, all art is sexy to someone.” Gren complained back,rubbing her arm before hopping off the roof. Gwen followed while listening as patiently as she could considering how many changes in topic her evil-caped self is going through to get to her point. “This chick is the reason you’ve been on the path of good girl. Some vague idea that in the future everything will work out for the best. HEY, DOWN HERE, BIG SHOW!” Gren waved at BIGwen and she looked down curiously.

“Yeah what??” BIGwen responded in a booming and agitated tone. Honestly, being in this fic made every version of Gwen a little grumpy.

“How’s she supposed to be a popular hero that makes it into the MCU and has a stable publication history?” Gren asked.

“Fuck if I know.” Came BIGwen’s response. “Have you tried growing your hair out?”

“Rub it in,” Gwen muttered under her breath, “I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of depressed now.” Gwen said as she sat on an abandoned car.

Gren hopped on the roof of the car, patting Gwen’s shoulder before squatting with enough force to flex the car’s shocks like a rocking chair just to amuse herself. “Future “good” Gwen wasn’t an actual plot point, it was a call to action to the fans to make fanfic like this and support the character outside of the actual Canon. Chris didn’t trust that Marvel would treat the character right. That, and your obsession with getting a new book, are both the writer’s attempt to turn a marketing tactic into fan engagement. If you want to be real then that makes the fans want you to be real even more, too.”

Gwen sighs heavily and leans her chin on one hand. “I mean...the time traveling through the life of an NPC fan complete with a Never Ending Story reference was a bit sappy even by the standard we sometimes set...damn it it really was just kind of a fan manipulation trick wasn’t it?”

BIGwen Sat down on the street next to them and crossed her legs. “Hey, little me. Don’t get too down. I mean it worked for the most part. You have a healthy cult following. Characters have survived on less and there are worse things to be known for then as a fan first character”

“But I have to fight for attention all the damn time, though. It’s so easy for Wade with his fucking meme bullshit. He even gets runoff enthusiasm from me. Jeff the land shark is all over Oldpool online” Gwen felt rather heavy and tired all of a sudden. Marvel editorial forcing a gun to your head is not a fun way to be.

“All that fight is hell on the fanbase too.” Gren sighed. “Advocating for shit, getting crumbs and being expected to accept it while Disney lavishes all the attention based on some bullshit numbers game. Even if you make it into the MCU will it be a Batroc style cameo with obligatory ‘killed off in case we don’t feel like paying the actor again later.’ Will it be an emotionally rounded character or an ambush bug style joke? The thing is. You're Not the one fighting and you never were.”

“The fuck do you mean?”

“This version of her doesn’t know?” BIGwen whimpered.

“You aren’t real, Gwen.”

--

Head Like a Haunted House

“No….we aren’t having this conversation. Fuck you fuck you i’m not a fucking Nihlist and i’m not going to do this right now.” Gwen said as she scrambled off of the car and pulled out some guns. BIGwen then picked her up off the ground.

“You need to hear this, Gwen,” BIGwen boomed. “The gimmick has run its course. It’s fucking with your canon. You’re never going to be a marketable character keeping up a half fourth-wall Kayfabe”

Gren climbed onto BIGwen’s Shoulders and perched over Gwen all menacing like. “You need to listen. I’ve been trying to ease you into this. Making things more meta slowly until you were ready but it was never going to be easy.”

One of Gwen’s guns was fired from it’s holster and pierced one of BIGwen’s fingers. BIGwen screamed and her grip loosened. Soon Gwen was on the move running up her arm and firing at Gren, who dodged like the nimble and cute badass she is. “Don’t do this Gwen. Just because it doesn’t matter to the comic version of you doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter.”

“I’m a real person god damn it! I read the comics out there! I came in! That’s why I know shit I shouldn't know. That’s what I am! THAT’S ALL I AM!” Gwen shrieked as she pulled out a sword from hammer-space and decapitated BIGwen. Suddenly a mess of colored streamers and a pile of Mickey Mouse merch tumbled out. Look, I am busy right now. Gwen is still slashing at my ass. I'm not going to explain it.

For some reason now the remaining lobsters were helping Gren. For Gwen’s own good you understand. This is proof that I’m right for some reason.

Gwen pulled out a revolver, firing pumpkin sized holes in lobsters who were still wailing about self actualization. She fully planned on shoving a sword up her evil self’s ass and getting rid of this doppelganger shit for good. Which is total bullshit by the way. She totally just cut off Gren’s leg because what the fuck you mean I’m not real? I’m going to be real all over your corpse.

Gren didn’t really think that was even a good comeback and also thought you should probably say it instead of meta willing the smack talk into existence, otherwise this fanfic is going to read like trash. Also, Gren’s leg wasn’t actually cut off. In a puff of smoke it is revealed that the cut off leg is a log and her leg is fine. Gren is a ninja now, believe it.

Gwen proceeded to do a sick ass CQC judo throw on Gren and then grab her cape and wrap it around her face like Reed suggested. Callbacks for the win! Callbacks to Checkov’s gun ideas always lead to victory in fights! She then totally shot at her and such.

But the bullet was caught by the cape because the cape was a symbiote! That’s right Gren is also GRENOM!...boy that sounds stupid. Anywho, the cape was no longer around her face and the fight continued and Gren now ALSO had extra powers and special wizard-symbiote armor (that would only show up in the MCU version if Marvel finally got the Sony characters back). The meta powers work like shit in text but this would be really good in CGI or animation if Marvel wanted to adapt this fic and give the writer lots of money. Gren still has more experience with them, though, and Gwen can’t really just kill her way out of this fic so she has to just let the story play out.

…...eh?....oh Gwen’s crying. I love/am you girl but we gotta work on the crying. Fucks sake this is harder than I thought. I’m depressed now too. Well I'll try to get the writing back on track so you guys can see what is going on. Even the lobsters are minding their manners now. Chill vibes, guys.

“The marvel character page for Gwenpool says, and I quote:

Gwenpool arrived in the Marvel Universe from the “real world,” but has wasted no time in making the most of her time in her fictional universe. Using her knowledge of comics to her advantage, Gwenpool causes and solves problems for her fellow heroes.”

Gren drags a lobster corpse slowly toward Gwen and sits on its tail as she talks to her. Taking her time to really scrape the lobster against the ground, smearing the gore on the pavement. Not that it was heavy for her or anything. Totally still has that symbiote, which would make moving it easy. Totally wasn’t a detail added in the second revision of the fic slightly before the lobsters were added.

“The words “Real world” are in quotation marks in that wiki. Real people don’t make it into comics because fiction isn’t real. Half of your versions barely make use of the ‘real person’ gimmick because it’s too meta by half and not every writer wants to waste time justifying it. So they just treat it like Deadpool’s medium awareness. Which it mostly is.”

“I really am just a fucking rip off distaff character.” Gwen moans. “Just a Gwen combined with a Pool. I’m worse than the Batman who laughs. I never mattered because I was never real”

“Fuck don’t say that. You were made with love and care by a team of creators who took a weird offshoot idea and built out a compelling metafiction idea and a likeable protagonist off of it. They just didn’t have the time and foresight to go far enough.” Gren sighed.

“Far enough?” Gwen sniffed as she was pulled up to her feet and dragged toward one of the big castles. As they walked Gren kicked along a Mickey Mouse doll that had rolled out of BIGwen’s severed head. Every time it bounced it cheerfully said ‘hahah. I love you!’

“Too much haha, not enough trauma. You’re not just a joke character.” Gren said as she kicked the Mickey doll into the big front door of the castle. The shadowy thing of course lighting up and being all fantasy and shit as the door opened.

“Well I did end both of my comic runs pretty mopey.”

“Damn right you did. When the jokes run thin they run to your real bread and butter. You’re an empathy machine.” As Gren shoves Gwen through the gate they are swallowed up in the castle, going dark again. “Let’s getcha sad clown on.”

--

Never there

“See, what evil me should have been telling you about in the original run is how to find meaning and purpose when technically nothing means anything. Comic book characters live in a world without real death and suffering. It’s all a puppet show version of real pain and real emotion meant to bring that out of an audience.” Gren opined as they walked through a black void to a couch floating in a nothing area lit only by the static of an old TV.

“Can we turn on a light?” Gwen asked as she sat on the couch. Gren sat on another recliner that suddenly appeared and put her feet up.

“Fuck off. Ambiance is a thing. We aren’t having a ‘lights on with something fun on the TV’ conversation. So look, I am not really ‘evil gwen.’ I’m half an author insert and half a plot device. If we are talking about the reality of the story you are basically talking to yourself. I am speaking about the things you don’t want to admit to yourself. You know, you’ve seen this kind of story sorta... right?” Gren picked up the remote and frustratedly changed channels between a bunch of vaguely illustrative footage on the TV, not finding anything that worked. A lot of black and white footage of trains for some reason. Just what comes to mind when I think of documentary footage? Weird.

“I am not sure how to illustrate this shit visually and this is a text story anyway so I would have to explain the illustration,” Gren griped.

“I basically get it. It’s not that uncommon a trope.” Gwen nodded.

“Because of the level of meta we are on right now we have to really acknowledge that you are basically an author insert, too. I mean, to a certain extent every version of you is more the writer that is working with your character at the time than a set character.” Gren said as she settled on a visual of Gwen being pushed out the window by her own narration text in the original comic run. When all else fails, resort to footage from the last story. That way people can look it up online!

“Right here is where the character crystallized in the mind of the author of the current fic we are in. A vague suicide metaphor wrapped up in the flavor of self destructive escapism. Your parents in the story thought it was a suicide attempt on at least some level. This is serious business. Not just a girl who doesn’t like work and can’t finish her fanfic. In this comic you are built on this understanding. The writer of this fic has ADHD and autism. So his version of you more or less has it, too. Writers bring themselves with them into their work.”

Gwen nods and takes a deep breath. “I….I can feel it. Like the world is closing around you. You aren’t built for anything that anyone wants from you. The one thing you really believe in, the one thing that really defines you, the stories in your head…..it’s just not enough.

You can’t trust you’ll ever make it with writing because you can barely write. You barely have the energy to do anything but wish that you weren’t you. What if someone actually listened? Actually believed in you and whisked you away somewhere else where the world would fit your needs? What if you were someplace you could be someone else, someone strong and confident?”

“Yeah. Like a funny anti hero in a comic for instance.” Gren nodded. “But the original comics sort of left the theme on the table. They were captured by the misconception of Gwen as the problem and not a person who needed help. All that desperation that real fans of the character might feel just bundled up into love for this character that really ‘gets’ them but Marvel doesn’t ‘get’ the character. They won't use her. They won’t go past vaguely gesturing at her mental issues and moving on. They saved the angst for Wandavision.” Gren scoffs.

“I mean the show was okay but they literally have a character built entirely on the theme of escapism and trauma. One that’s custom built for mind-screw visuals and reality bending plots and they think she’s just a lazy fangirl who really likes guns that they can sit beside Deadpool sometimes and stick in the X-Men’s bloated background character roster when they don’t need her.”

Gren leads Gwen off the couch and deeper into the void where a door to a bedroom waits. A room like her own, absolutely slopping over with old toys of comic book characters. An unclean messy space in a run-down house that smells faintly of cigarette smoke. Huddled in bed, reading an 80s era X-men comic with a flashlight, is a 12 year old Gwen.

“This is never going to be canon but this is the version of Gwen in this fic. She can’t stop crying at school. Things that shouldn’t be hard are so hard and she can’t explain why. Everyone says she’s making excuses. Meanwhile her mother is fucked out of her mind on pain killers and her step father killed himself last year ‘cleaning his gun’ while drunk. You know exactly what is on her mind right now?” Gren says as she gestures at the girl.

“I wish the superheroes would save me from this.”

“They won’t. They can’t. They were never meant to.” Gren Slams the door loudly on the scene.

“That is the emotional core of Gwenpool in this fic. The desperation that so many of the fans down here in the fucking muck of the real world feel. Poor and emotionally unfulfilled. Confused and vulnerable. If Disney and Marvel gave two fucking shits about people like that they wouldn’t waste as many stories as they do. They wouldn’t just use untold wealth to make expensive escapist stories with the military. Their gestures toward progressive ideas that they occasionally make in their stories would be THE ENTIRE POINT of their stories and the actual thing they used that money for instead of lobbying the government to keep Mickey Mouse out of the public domain.

“Disney has the power yet they save a fucking miniscule fraction of who they could. Saving people doesn’t make money.”

--

When I Get To The Green Building

Gren stormed through the void. The scene disintegrated around her as Gwen followed. Both now in a bit of a sour mood but with newfound determination.

“Come to think of it. Why is the fucking Hulk getting to fight for social justice in the comics? Why are they making a gay alternate universe Captain America? Why are they grasping at straws so hard to find characters that get to advocate and I am just sitting on a fucking island being grumpy?” Gwen groused. “I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual….at least in this fic. I could advocate for a bunch of shit at once.”

“You have a youth fanbase, a unique story and you technically aren’t an alternate universe version of fucking anything no matter how many people still think you are a Stacey. They made a fucking ‘for the fans’ character and then neglected it. Presumably because some fucking money making metric didn’t pan out despite the comics just being an MCU test kitchen and IP farm anyway.”

“You’re a fucking check mark on a ledger. I don’t even know if anyone technically created Gwenpool as a whole and Disney/Marvel can give the character to whoever they want to do whatever they want completely separate from what the fanbase wants and needs because she isn’t established. The IP landlords have spoken. The fans haven’t risen to enough ‘buy my merch’ calls to action to invest more resources. So tease endlessly until that changes.”

“Gah. Now I'm actually as pissed as you are.” Gwen said as she started fiddling with her guns. “Who do I kill?”

“We can’t do shit. You’re not even a character at this point. You are a meme for an underused character.” Gren smirked all evil like. “See but that’s it. You aren’t just a meme. You’re a MEME.”

“Uhm...I don't follow.”

“Like the concept of Justice. Gwenpool is an idea. Defined entirely by how people who engage with the idea choose to engage with it. The IP law means Disney owns Gwenpool but they don’t own how Gwenpool is perceived. Just like we as a people decide what justice is through popular consent we also decide what Gwenpool is. You see they made a character for the fans…..in my opinion that means the fans can do as they like with it even if it makes Disney uncomfortable.”

“I mean they can’t even stop porn of their characters just because of the sheer volume of the problem. I suppose people could do whatever.” Gwen nodded.

“Exactly. So the fans should just fucking Occupy Gwenpool!” Gren said as she flipped her cape dramatically with a mad smile on her face. That’s right. She was Dirtbag Leftist Gwen all along!

“Squat on that IP. Make Gwenpool a mental health advocate. Make her an LGBTQ activist. Make her fight for social and financial justice so hard that Bruce Banner looks like a poser. Make her talk shit about politicians who put their career ahead of the people. Do all the shit that makes the comicsgate crowd sad. Keep politics in our stories! Rally around that pink and white ass so hard they have to notice and then tie it all to the fact that Disney has great power and with great power they take no responsibility for how shitty the world is.”

“ If they are going to fuck Gwenpool fans they gotta learn Gwenpool fans fuck back. We have already proven we can make all kinds of cool shit. Let’s get serious and make more, harder, faster! Get a hashtag or some shit. They can't DMCA all of us! GWEN IS OURS WE JUST HAVE TO REACH OUT AND TAKE IT. Then they either respect the character and her fans or they just hit a PR disaster.”

“Marvel/Disney neglects fan focused cult character themed protest movements. Proves they are only progressive when it makes them money. They’re so worried about Mickey ending up in the public domain? We’re the public domain! After our entire lives stannin their characters and buyin their merch building them from an animation house into a juggernaut they are just another weight on top of the boot on our necks. They have to take responsibility!” At this point Gren is pretty much ranting maniacally and neglecting the actual writing of the story so this is Gwen taking over to wrap up.

Guys I may not be ‘the real Gwen’ but really, isn’t the version of Gwen that actually came from the real world all of us? Isn’t Gwenpool really the Gwens we made along the way? We could easily bring a little heroism and chaos to the real world (at least to the internet) if we really tried. Put the fear of God into some IP landlords and fight for some cool people that society is screwing over, too.

Prove that even in the fandom abyss people aren’t as powerless as they seem. Use that internet comic fan mobbing for something besides giving Zack more money. Disney is gearing up for their next IP fight for Mickey in 2024. Seems like a fine time for IP themed protests. For now we just need to spread the word that our needs are more important than their profits.

It’s been real. It’s been long. It’s been a real long time coming…..

But I finally finished my fanfic.

See ya, true believers.

#gwenpool #fanfic #deconstruction #outofloveiswear #fortheoriginalwritersnotmarvelordisney #tw mental health #tw mentions of suicide #tw mentions of drug abuse #tw violence #tw gun violence

[erekiosuncreativeideas]

The Part-Time Puppeteer - Chapter 09

<= Chapter 8

Summary : Lukas gets to have a conversation with a friend.

Also available on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/23828971/chapters/81432325

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Heehooo, new chapter ! I hope you'll like it !

Thank you again for all your comments, likes and reblogs. You're always making my day !

I get to see them when I wake up and let me tell you, this is the best thing I could get before going to work. Thank you so much.

This fanfic also makes me realize I'm not as bad at writing slice of life stuff as I first thought- Huh, good to know.

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Chapter 8 - “Was… Was he always like this?”

It was such a strange feeling for Lukas… Having won that duel when he had been so convinced he had no chance to begin with. He had been prepared so much to be downgraded to being a stagehand again that he had never truly considered what he’d do if he ever beat MJ.

So… He was an actor, now? The realization seemed surreal, like he was just imagining things… And yet, here he was, sitting in the staff break room, staring into space. His body was there, but his mind was somewhere else, lost in thoughts and unable to focus on the current situation. Even when other stagehands had come to congratulate him, telling him they were happy he put the diva in his place… He replied, saying thanks and every variant of it, without really being there at all.

In hindsight, the fact he had won wasn’t the reason he was feeling like this- it was that it had been so easy. Just like DJ Grooves had said, it was… A switch to flip. Sure, it required him to put his anxiety aside- but on this particular occasion, the anger he had felt towards MJ had been a way to temporarily shift his… Priorities, in some ways.

What the investor had said regarding the show had created quite the mess in the crew. While the Conductor and DJ Grooves had joined him for a private meeting regarding the scenario, most of the stagehands seemed lost. Lukas couldn’t blame them- with how the project had been questioned, it was hard to know whether to continue their job or wait for new instructions. A lot of them were exchanging thoughts about the whole thing: how they had been lucky most of the search of actors hadn’t officially started, how they were worried about a lot of their work going to waste… It was all understandable.

To think he might have been with them, perplexed about the same things… Apparently, fate had decided something else for him.

His attention was caught by the sound of a door opening, and he lifted his head. He didn’t know how much time had passed since the directors had started their meeting or how long he had been sitting in there… But he was pretty sure it had been at least a good hour. And so, when the student recognized Mike through the door frame, a feeling of confusion settled over him. Wait, didn’t he go to comfort his asshole of a twin…?

When the two young men’s eyes met, the puppet maker’s expression lightened up slightly. It didn’t take long for Lukas to understand his friend had been looking for him. Thus, he wasn’t surprised when he saw the other approaching him, before sitting next to him at the table.

-“Hey,” Mike greeted him, his voice clearly showing things hadn’t gone so well with MJ.

-“Hey,” he answered back, his expression turning concerned: “You alright?” he asked. He didn’t want to ask about the actor unless his friend actually wanted to talk about it- contrary to some people, he had been raised with manners and tact.

Said friend put his elbows on the table, leaning in as he rubbed his face:

-“I wish I could say yes, but I’m not,” he replied honestly. His mismatched eyes glanced at him, a sigh leaving his lips: “It’s not because of you,” he assured, probably not wanting Lukas to feel guilty. Well, too bad, he kinda did, with how upset Mike seemed to be.

-“Do you… Want to talk about it?” he offered, wanting nothing but to help his friend to feel better.

At his question, the puppet-maker remained silent, as if he were hesitating. Lukas waited patiently- he knew that if Mike needed to open his heart, then he would, but if he didn’t want to, then… It simply meant he wasn’t ready to, which was fine. The law student wasn’t going to force him. Eventually, though, Mike sighed again, moving his hands back to the table as he answered:

-“Morg- MJ, I mean, he’s not… He’s not a bad person,” his voice was faltering and he had to rub his eyes to hold back his tears: “I know he’s not easy to deal with, but… But he’s a nice person once you get to know him.”

“How much do you need to dig to find that ”nice person“, deep down?” Lukas thought to himself with sarcasm, but he did everything he could to keep those words to himself. Mike being related to that diva, the former most likely wasn’t objective- hell, Lukas’ relatives certainly weren’t perfect, but he still loved them nonetheless.

-“I’m sure he is,” he lied, his tone kind and comforting. With how Mike was dealing with everything, it wasn’t hard to guess some things had been said between the twins, and that it probably wasn’t the first time nor the last. Sure, Lukas couldn’t stand that guy, and the current situation wasn’t improving that, but he had no right to judge Mike for loving his brother. Still, what a great relationship… Not.

The puppet-maker sniffed and looked away. His eyes were getting red, just like his nose.

-“Sorry for… What he said to you,” Mike added after a minute: “And for… Him trying to punch you.”

-“It’s… It’s fine,” the student assured him, even if it wasn’t. Still, his friend didn’t need to hear that right now. Apparently, the other instantly noticed Lukas had just lied, as a weak scoff left his mouth, an insincere smile taking place onto his lips.

-“It’s not, you can say it,” he admitted with a shrug: “You wouldn’t be the first one to tell me that, anyway.”

Lukas turned his head, caught red-handed. Well, at least he had tried, he supposed… It was obvious Mike had gone through unpleasant conversations about his brother’s behavior- lying about everything being fine most likely wasn’t a good thing to do in those circumstances. The puppet-maker wasn’t stupid, after all.

-“Was… Was he always like this?” the young man dared to ask, slowly turning back to his friend, hoping this wouldn’t offend him. But it didn’t- on the contrary, Mike imitated him, facing him again. His expression showed sadness, pain, but also… Inner conflict.

-“… No, he wasn’t,” he shook his head, taking a deep breath as he tried to repress other, new tears: “A lot of stuff happened when we were kids, and… That left a mark. He’s never been the same since then.”

-“Do you… wanna talk about that?” the student asked, hinting at whatever trauma MJ had gone through. However, his friend frowned:

-“No. No, I don’t- I can’t,” he breathed out, leaning back against his chair: “Look, I’m… Not supposed to talk about that. It’s very… Personal, and I guess it just… Slipped out,” his eyes glanced to Lukas apologetically: “Sorry. I promised not to talk about it again, and he… Really wouldn’t like the fact I told you.”

Lukas tilted his head to the side with a wince- yeah, that was understandable. Still, he couldn’t help but be curious about what Mike was so secretive about. What kind of trauma could justify acting like an asshole to everyone? Sure, one could have gone through a lot of stuff, but that didn’t allow them to be a bitch to their friends and especially not their family! With how hard Mike was trying, it was frustrating to see the diva just… Hurting his own twin because he was frustrated or angry.

-“No, it’s fine- I get it,” he agreed, deciding not to push the topic any further: “You don’t have to tell me. Is he still around?”

-“No,” Mike shook his head, his breathing finally calming down through efforts: “He’s gone back home. I always tell him to when he needs to… Calm down.”

-“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Lukas asked out of politeness. To be completely honest, he couldn’t care less about MJ’s tantrum, but it was obvious his friend needed to speak about it. Comfort was the minimum he could offer for that.

-“I don’t… I don’t know,” the other confessed, rubbing his face again while his eyes stared into space: “It has never been that badbefore. I’m not gonna lie, this kind of thing happens… A lot. But this time, he just… Refused to talk to me. Usually, I can get him to speak his heart a little, you know? Today, he ignored me and drove back home- he didn’t even look at me.”

“What a jerk, what a jerk, what a fucking jerk,” Lukas did his best to keep that thought to himself again. Seriously, how could one act like an entitled brat that much?

-“Why… Uh,” he paused, joining his hands together as he struggled to find the right words to convey what he wanted to say: “Okay, this is going to sound bad no matter what I say, but… If he’s acting like that to you, his own brother, why would you… Keep trying?” At his sentence, Mike looked up, frowning at him- of fuck, he had been too direct, he should have kept his mouth shut: “I-I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand why! But… You seem really upset, and you said it kept happening, so, you know…”

The student was now rambling, trying really hard to make up for his lack of tact, but eventually, Mike’s frown turned into a weak, genuine smile:

-“Because I love him,” he answered as if it were blatantly obvious: “And I guess… Because I feel guilty too,” he then admitted, looking away with an ashamed expression. Well… That was new. Him, feeling guilty? But what for? After all, Mike was perhaps one of the nicest person he had met! Apparently, his confusion must have been quite visible as the puppet-maker sighed.

-“Listen, I really can’t talk about this, it’s… Like I said, it’s something very personal for MJ. Still, well… MJ and I went through a lot when we were kids, but he had it much worse than I did. Compared to him, my childhood was easy. So… I kinda feel like I owe him my help, now that it’s over, because I couldn’t be there for him years ago. That’s all I can tell you.”

The law student fell silent- yeah, he could get what the other was saying. Still… He couldn’t help but feel like Mike was putting his own feelings to the side, prioritizing MJ’s first. It wasn’t healthy. A simple look at the puppet-maker was enough to see how upset he was!

-“Does he… Know you feel that way?” Lukas dared to ask, a bit hesitant after his previous question.

A soft and sad scoff left Mike’s lips:

-“No. I haven’t told him- but trust me, it’s fine, I’mfine,” he replied, his expression showing more determination: “I want to help him the best I can. I know he doesn’t actually want to hurt me, and that’s all I need.”

It took Lukas a lot of willpower not to retort anything about that, and so he simply nodded. Oh, he wanted to tell Mike he didn’t have to play the role of a punching bag, that he didn’t have to feel guilty about something that had happened when he was literally a child… But it was clear that Mike wasn’t going to change his mind. Plus, it wasn’t like he could have a say in this, he was just a stranger. He had no idea what had happened during the twins’ childhood and… Well, even if he didn’t think any of that would justify MJ’s actions… He still had to give both of them the benefit of the doubt.

Nonetheless, he couldn’t help but feel like this was really unfair.

-“Thanks,” the other added, visibly glad Lukas hadn’t insisted. He let out a sigh before glancing at his watch, his eyes widening as he quickly stood up: “Crap, my break’s over,” he mumbled, and then spoke louder: “I need to repair some costumes. I’ll, uh, see you soon.”

-“Oh, yeah,” the student nodded awkwardly: “Good luck.”

-“I’ll definitely need some of that…” the puppet-maker sighed again and quickly left the break room, barely looking back. His face had looked so stressed, but Lukas couldn’t blame him: with what had happened with his twin and the fact that his work had gone to waste… Yeah, that seemed to be a lot. Furthermore, Lukas guessed Mike had to postpone the work on the new puppet, considering he had to wait for the new script to be validated. Poor guy wasn’t going to design a new character when no one even knew said character’s personality yet.

The young man let out a sigh, his eyes glancing around: what was he supposed to do, now? He had been promoted, sure, but what could he do if he had to wait for his role to be remade from scratch? Even the other stagehands didn’t know what to do! It sure was a weird situation to be in. Maybe he could lend a hand to whoever needed it? There had to be someone out there needing assistance or something…

After taking a deep breath, Lukas stood up and left the break room. His legs led him through the different part of the studio, hoping to find something to do. At some point, he passed in front of a door, where loud voices could be heard through it- the Conductor’s, Grooves’ and the investor’s. Well, seemed like it was the meeting room, which was probably the last place Lukas wanted to be right now. It didn’t sound like they were arguing, no, it sounded more like an intense discussion. He couldn’t understand anything, as the voices were muffled, though it was enough for him to quicken his pace.

He then found a group of stagehands ready to put the props and backgrounds for the Moonjumper’s home back in a closet, never to be seen again. There were a lot of stuff and so, naturally, the young man decided to help them. The stagehands he joined were touched by the attention and thanked him for it. Once they were done, they offered Lukas to tag along for other tasks, and he happily accepted. Not like he had anything else to do anyway and, well, it was always a good thing to be close to the crew.

Hah, helping the stagehands… Not something MJ would do, huh?

In any case, the hours passed and most of the work was done by the evening, when it was time to leave. After saying goodbye to his co-workers and making a quick stop to Mike’s workshop for the same reason, the young man took the last bus of the day and headed home. What a day this had been… Lukas’ mind was unable to think anymore- how could he, after everything that had happened in only a few hours? His shift had been… Wild, to say the least.

Once he got home, the first thing he did was to let himself fall on his couch. Were all of his shifts going to be so exhausting…? He sighed in one of the cushions, already feeling tired enough to fall asleep- nope, he still needed to eat and do his homework. Doing the latter after such a day of work sounded terrible, though he didn’t have a lot of choice, as he didn’t want to procrastinate. Plus, thankfully, law was something he was interested in, so at least it wasn’t boring, just… Time-consuming.

After the previous night, he really, reallyneeded to sleep a good amount of hours. With that new, motivating goal in mind, the young man hurried up to put a quick meal in the microwave. As he ate, he started his homework in the meantime, his tired brain doing his best to produce a good essay. Thankfully, it was a short one, allowing him to go to sleep earlier than what he had first thought. And so… He went to bed, his head full of memories from today. He wondered what the next day would have in store for him…

It actually took two weeks for the studio to get a new, validated version of the script. In the meantime, Lukas kept helping the other stagehands the best he could. He visited Mike in his workshop during his breaks, trying to see if his friend was feeling better. It took a few days but soon enough, they were back at talking about various topics. Visiting Mike also let him have a look at the new character designs the other was preparing, various versions he was planning to show the directors, so they could pick a particular design. All of them were really different from one another.

Lukas didn’t get the opportunity to read the script yet, as the Conductor and DJ Grooves wanted to be sure it was perfect before showing it to the team this time. However, Mike had gotten some information on the new characters and changes, as he had to design them and couldn’t do so without knowing their personality. Thus, the other shared him the secret info he had been given- and so, apparently, the new character was going to be a ghost ruling over a forest or something like that… Mike wasn’t given too much information on the setting itself, but the student still got to learn that this character was going to be charismatic, sadistic, and mischievous. From what the puppet-maker had learned, he told Lukas the directors were most likely inspired by his performance to write this new character.

This was… Really flattering. For days, he had thought they had disliked his improvisation, but it seemed like he was wrong. Learning that made his day- his week, even!

Eventually, the script was finally ready and finished, with the investor’s approval. Lukas received a copy and was told to read his parts for the day after, so he could get familiarized with this new character. He was… Strangely excited to do so, knowing this character was based on him. In the meantime, the crew made another audition announcement, this time featuring all the new characters and removing the ones that were cut.

Lukas didn’t think he would be one of those people but… He actually couldn’t wait to go back to his job!

… Too bad this passion was going to be stained in the near future.

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Oh boy I love ending my chapter ominously huh

=> Chapter 10

#a hat in time #ahit #ahit mj #ahit the prince #ahit the snatcher #ahit snatcher #ahit moonjumper #mike #ahit mike #a hat in time mike #ahit fanfiction #a hat in time fanfiction #erekio #erekiosuncreativeideas #the snatcher #snatcher #a hat in time the snatcher #a hat in time snatcher #the part time puppeteer #tptp #fanfiction #fanfic #a hat in time au #ahit au #a hat in time puppet au #ahit puppet au #puppet au

[justjstuff]

For the ask game: I, L, R and S?

Thanks for the ask!!! <3

I - The last time I felt jealous, and why.

r: I honestly can't remember lmfao. Maybe it was back in 2020 before the whole pandemic thing and this Almost Something guy that at that point was an ex-Almost Something Guy was giving more attention to this friend of mine instead of me? Hmmm could have been that I was jealous of these two girls for moving abroad too xD Oh wait, I'm actually really jealous of everyone who's already vaccinated when my dad just got his first dose a couple of weeks back so things are awful over here.

L - If I have siblings.

r: Yes! I have an older sister, she's 5 years older than me and the reason I started reading fanfic haha I also have @calliartss who is my cousin but we're the same age so we basically grew up as sisters/best friends.

R - For me to tell 10 of my curiosities.

r: I thought this was about like "ten fun facts about me" but then I asked someone else about this and she answered as "ten things that interest me" and I much rather answer something like that so here goes:

1. People. As in, what makes people act certain ways, how we interact with each other, how different people manifest the same emotions in different ways, etc. All of this coming from a place of simple curiosity but also research for better characterization in my writing/acting.

2. Writing. Lol, ofc I had to put it there because it's just a huge part of who I am. I'm not even saying writing as only creating stories but also writing pros and cons lists to get my thoughts in order, writing sad passages about what's happening to me to get a little bit of relief from some overwhelming feelings and all that.

3. Folklore. I find it fascinating to read about ancient legends, how societies grew from them and how it still kinda influences them to this day. Did you know that all around the world there are myths and legends about dragons? And I mean, yeah it's cool and all, but I mean, these civilizations had absolutely no contact with each other. I'm talking about Mayans and Incas and Vikings and ancient Chinese people depicting the same creatures in their lore. It's interesting because it tells a story and it makes you wonder. Did they somehow did end up having contact with each other or did something else happen?

4. On that topic, Latin American history in specific. Our people has such a rich culture and it's sad that it's so unexplored and misinterpreted in many ways. When it does get some attention it's mainly about Incas/Mayas/Aztec people and South America often gets forgotten or depicted as brainless savages.

5. Still on that topic, space and mythology. As in, every myth has a little bit of truth and it makes me wonder sometimes. I'm a huge sci-fi fan, grew up watching Alien and Star Trek and shit so yeah xD

6. Heist movies. Also Mission movies in general. I love everything about them and I wish we had more lol.

7. Martial Arts. I love fighting and even though I've been a beginner all my life I find it really interesting to know different kinds and where they came from and why. I had a kendo lesson once in the temple in Kyoto where kendo was created with a teacher that was one of the last descendants of samurai and just... oh wow I really like martial arts lmao.

8. You see I'm slowly diverging into interests/things I like rather than things I'm curious about BUT let's just pretend I'm sticking to the script here. ART. I have a very intense urge to create sometimes and get seriously depressed when I don't for a while. I suck at drawing/painting but I love it hahah in 2019/2020 I was trying my hand at watercolor which is incredibly hard for me bc I'm an absolute control freak but it was also a very nice therapy for letting go and letting things run their course. Now in 2021 I started oil painting which is also incredibly hard but super relaxing and it's teaching me patience.

9. Traveling. Not in a oh let me see just how many different Hyatt hotels/resorts I can see the same inside in different places in the world way but more like... God how fucking privileged are we that we get to experience things like that??? Think about it, you get to taste a bit of someone else's culture, you get to walk through streets and forests that your ancestors wouldn't even dream of. And all of that you get to do it in a way that contributes to that particular culture's economy if you're careful about the way you go about it (where you stay, what restaurant you eat in, what store you're buying your clothes/trinkets, etc).

10. The internet. lol, lame I know but it follows the same line of thought from number 9 because look, I've made friends here with people whom I wouldn't ever get to know if the internet (and fandom) didn't exist and I just love how we can share experiences here and learn from each other and lean on each other and just... yeah, i'm soft about it haha

S - 2 habits.

r:

1. Drink a bottle of water as soon as I wake up. I started this last year when I was in a really bad depressive loop and it honestly changed my life. It's about being mindful of what your body is doing and giving it a proper wake up. I don't do a lot of the things I probably should be doing but this is thankfully a habit I managed to keep.

2. Tea before bed. Tea at any and all time of the day, really, but it's really something that I miss when I can't do it (because I'm traveling or there's no more tea or whatever), just have a nice cuppa before bed, warm up and calm down and then Zzzzzzz xD

ask me a brutal honesty question

#ask #ask meme #answered

[ri-ahhh]

playing games

Hot summer days are meant for playing games  6k, basically all smut lol whoops

Disclaimer: I’ve created a whole OC character for Grayson in the past year or so, just as a creative outlet, and never really intended on posting it anywhere. Like, at all lol, so on the off chance anyone actually reads this, go easy on me please. If something seems like it doesn’t make sense or needs more background, it’s because it’s already written in the deep recesses of my Pages documents lol.

If you do read, thank you so much! Creative writing, especially fanfics, have always been my creative stress relief, so this is all in good fun. I’m definitely not attached to only this character, though, so if you don’t think this is complete dog shit and want to see other concepts, I’d love to do that! :)

***

There are a lot of negatives to be said about LA, as MJ had learned quickly when she moved here a few years ago from her home state of Oklahoma: the stuck-up snobs; the traffic; the dirty streets everywhere you go. One thing not on that list, however, is the weather — nine times out of ten it’s perfectly sunny and warm.

Today is one of those days where it’s borderline hot, but still comfortable to sit outside and bake in the sun for a couple of hours. That’s what she and Grayson are doing as they lounge peacefully by the pool in his backyard, soaking in all the Vitamin D that mother nature can give them.

MJ welcomes the blast of heat from the outside air that contrasts harshly with the AC she leaves behind in the kitchen. She had gone in to grab the two of them glasses of water and, while she was in there, noticed the house was oddly silent.

She plants a peck on her boyfriend’s full lips as he accepts his glass with a thanks. “Where are the E’s?” she asks, referring to Grayson’s brother Ethan and his girlfriend Evie. They were both still home when she and Gray first went outside, but a quick glance at her phone tells her they’ve been out here for over an hour, so that really means nothing now.

“I think they were gonna take a Soul class and then have a beach day,” Grayson answers. He sits up a bit to take a sip of his water, and MJ can’t help but admire the way his abs, slick with tanning oil, contract deliciously at the movement. They’ve been together for nearly a year now, and she still can’t get enough of his physique. Amongst other traits of his too, of course, but in the context of lying in the warm sun surrounded by the sheen of coconut-scented body oil, it’s what comes to mind first.

Not to mention, he’s wearing her favorite swim trunks of his — the ones she had bought him — that not only make his olive skin tone pop because of their bright turquoise color, but the fit hugs his ass (and dick) in all the right ways.

Clearly, she’s doing a piss-poor job at hiding her ogling, though to be fair she isn’t trying all that hard to begin with.

He smirks at her. “Can I help you?” he teases, knowing damn well what’s going through her head.

MJ flushes when she realizes she’s been caught, but quickly decides two can play this game. She bends over him and only lets him steal a quick glance at her ample cleavage in her bikini before taking hold of his face in both hands and kissing him.

“You’re sexy,” she admits simply when they part, smiling and wiping a dab of saliva from his lower lip with her thumb.

He swats the exposed skin of her ass lightly when she turns to walk the couple of feet away to her own lounger. She yelps in surprise, which melts into giggles. “Not as sexy as you.” She rolls her eyes playfully and blushes at this, though he can’t see her doing so behind her oversized black sunglasses and the shade of her baseball cap. “I mean, come on, MJ, they’re just muscles,” he says with smug grin.

He’s so full of shit today. MJ scoffs and settles into the chair, not quite believing her ears but also realizing he’s still teasing her. “Okay, Gray.”

She glances over at him and sees him rubbing his thighs, something he knows always gets her going, under the guise of applying more sunscreen. The audacity. She knows it’s intentional by the way he’s biting back a grin and stealing glimpses at her out of the corner of his eye.

Oh, so he still wants to play this game? Apparently ten months together hasn’t clued him in that she is just as competitive as he is, even in stupid things like ‘who can make the other person hornier.’

She forms a quick plan. MJ pretends like she’s oblivious to his nonverbal taunts and reaches out her hand for the bottle of Sun Bum. “So the E’s will be out for a while?”

Grayson stops his ministrations to hand her the slick brown bottle. “As far as I know. Why?” he asks, lying back in his lounger and pillowing his head on his hands. The way his arms curl send his biceps and shoulders bulging, another one of her physical weaknesses for him.

Douche.

“Just wondering,” she answers casually. MJ reaches behind her to raise the back of the lounger that is almost completely flat, higher up so that it can keep her in a relaxed sitting position.

Using his physical teasing as fuel to gather her nerve, she next twists her arm behind her back and tugs at the tie on the thick straps of her cherry red bikini, then does the same to the one around her neck. Even though they’re on private property, in an enclosed yard where no one can see, it still feels a little odd and uncomfortable to be even partially nude outdoors. But if it gets her points in this game against Gray, she decides it’s totally worth it.

When she tosses the scrap of fabric to the ground, the rustling causes him to look over and do a double take. “What—?”

MJ looks at him innocently, but grins devilishly inside; boys really are too easy, sometimes. “What, what?” she questions, spraying some of the tanning oil into her hands.

Grayson shakes his head at her and she can feel his gaze, hotter than the rays of the sun on her newly exposed skin, bore into her through his Ray Bans. “I see. So it’s like that, huh?”

“I don't know what you’re talking about. They’re just boobs,” she counters, throwing a variation of his own words back in his beautiful, annoyingly perfect face. Grayson scoffs at her incredulously, and MJ doesn’t even attempt to hold back a victorious smirk. She’s definitely won this battle, and she hasn't even brought out all the ammo. Yet. “For real, though, we basically live together; you see these every day.”

Grayson tosses a hand up and shakes his head like she had just said something ridiculous. “You see me shirtless every day and still look like you want to jump me all the time, so how is that any different?”

He has a point and he knows it, but he’s an idiot if he thinks she’ll admit so. MJ shrugs. “Anyways,” she continues, ignoring his comment, “I’m just trying to get rid of tan lines. And it’s only us here, so who cares?”

“What if they come back?” Grayson argues weakly, still trying to appear nonchalant about his half-naked girlfriend gleaming in the summer sun just three feet away from him.

MJ shrugs again. “We can hear them coming up the driveway from here, so I’ll just cover up when we do. Also, it’s not like Ethan’s never encountered boobs before, and I’m pretty sure Evie and I have seen each other naked more times at this point than you and E have each other.”

He looks a little affronted. “I’m not sure if thats weird or kinda hot, actually.”

She rolls her eyes again but fights back a smile at his somewhat predictable response. “Don’t be weird. Girls generally just don’t give a fuck with each other,” she explains.

“Well, I still don't want my brother peeping your goods; they’re mine.”

MJ should be irritated at his possessiveness, but admittedly she finds it a little endearing — not to mention, she loves when she drives him to be dominant, especially when she knows she’s really the one in control here. She thinks back to the couple of times Ethan had barged in on them in the bedroom on accident and how Grayson always made sure his body was completely shielding hers while he screamed at his brother to get the fuck out. Ethan clearly wasn’t a threat, but Grayson always made her feel safe and secure either way.

It also isn’t like she wants E to see her tits either, but it won't be the end of the world if he does, especially if the risk of it gets Grayson so riled up for her that he’ll think twice before teasing her like this again.

MJ’s got him hooked now and she knows it, so really she doesn’t need to take the final step in her plan. But thinking about his deliberate words and touches gets the competitive fire lit inside her again.

Taking the oil in her hands, she massages it into the supple flesh of her breasts that were, indeed, several shades lighter than the surrounding skin. Her tits jiggle enticingly and her nipples harden a bit at the pleasurable stimulation caused by her own touch; his sunglasses are still on, but she knows he can see the effect she’s having on herself.

“Fuck, MJ,” Grayson finally groans in defeat. He sits up in his lounger and plants his left foot to the ground, utilizing his long legs to pivot over to her chair and straddle the end of the cushioned seat in one movement. His large hands stroke the smooth skin of her calves that are bent in front of him, his eyes glued to the way she’s touching herself. “You win, okay? I’m sorry for teasing you.”

MJ smiles at him, her ego at soaring. She can tell his hands are itching to reach for hers and replace them. He hadn’t lied that first time they met — he really is a boob man, to the tee. Even in non-sexual situations, like whenever they spoon while sleeping or watching a movie, his hand automatically goes under her shirt to cup one.

“I really do want to get rid of these tan lines, though,” MJ tells him, feigning innocence while simultaneously trying to ignore the way her body is reacting to him being right in front of her, touching her. Unfortunately, there is no denying the rush of wetness to her bikini bottoms. She finishes rubbing the oil into her skin and cups her breasts as if he’s blind and can’t see what she’s talking about. “This is really not cute, what I’ve got going on here.”

Grayson scoots farther up the lounger and cups his hands under her bent knees to drag her into his lap. MJ gasps in surprise and hooks her elbow around the back of his neck to balance herself after his forcible movement of her body. He ducks his head down and kisses her, tongue meshing with hers perfectly and exploring her mouth just the way she likes.

“How about we do something more fun than just lay here while you work on that, then?” he pants when they separate. She nips distractedly at the juicy center of his full lower lip in reply, eliciting a low, rumbling growl from him. He plants kisses across her jaw, down her neck, and back up to the spot behind her ear that makes her putty in his hands.

MJ bites her lip to hold back any sounds, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet of letting him know he can do whatever he wants with her at this point. “You were just giving me shit because your brother might walk out here and see my boobs, but now you wanna actually fuck outside?”

She actually didn't hate that idea at all, to be fair.

“Yeah,” he says simply, like there’s nothing to it. “I’ve never done it outside, now that I think about it. Besides our first time, anyways, but that was still in a tent so technically it wasn't ‘outside.’”

This surprises her. Despite his young age, there aren’t a whole lot of opportunities for ‘firsts’ with Grayson, given his past ways. She isn’t about to let this chance slip because of a relatively minor, albeit highly embarrassing, what-if.

MJ grins. She takes her baseball cap off and puts it on his own head, backwards so she can have full access to his pretty face. Not to mention, she definitely has a kink for it that way. She rolls her hips down against his, pleased to feel him semi-hard already.

“Okay,” she agrees easily, using her grip on his neck to bring his lips down to hers once again.

She doesn’t think she’ll ever get tired of kissing Grayson; the man has the act down to a fine art. And as irritated as she had been with him only a few minutes ago, she now feels an overwhelming need to please him as much as he so often does her.

“Sit down,” she whispers directly in his ear, motioning behind her to indicate he should be the one reclining back.

She feels him shudder before obeying. He keeps her securely in his lap by wrapping her legs fully around his waist and stands with her still clinging to him. MJ bites her lip and marvels at the complete lack of effort the shift in position takes for him, and he sits them down where he can rest his back against the lounger.

MJ removes their sunglasses and places them on the ground. “That’s why I love your muscles,” she says, rubbing her covered center along his length and devouring the expression on his face as she does so. Her hands massage delicately across his shoulders and down his biceps as she rocks fluidly on top him. “Forget aesthetics. They’re just evidence that you’re so fucking strong. That you work so hard. That you try to be the best version of you every day.”

She suctions her mouth to the pulse point thumping wildly under his jaw and drags her nails down his pecs, threading her fingers through the patch of hair in the center that he’s allowing to grow. Grayson grabs her ass with one hand to encourage the rocking of her pelvis against his, and squeezes one of her breasts with the other.

“How am I supposed to follow that?” he asks breathlessly and with a huff of laughter, tugging her nipple between his thumb and forefinger.

MJ moans softly at the sensation. “Do your best,” she replies with a grin, scraping her teeth along the spot on his jaw before trailing kisses down his throat now.

She feels his hard swallow as he thinks for a second. “Uh, every part of you is so beautiful, and your body is just a reflection of how amazing you are on the inside.”

Wow. MJ laughs incredulously and pulls back to look him in the eye, golden hazel meeting bright green. “I can’t believe you just came up with that romantic ass statement while I’m dry humping you. That’s pretty impressive.”

“I mean, it’s true. And I do aim to please,” he smirks, thrusting up into her.

MJ gasps. Her eyes darken and her tongue subconsciously trails across her lower lip as she stares at her boyfriend heatedly. She cups a tit with her left hand, circling her nipple with her thumb, and grips her fingers into the curls at the back of his neck with her other hand. “I would have been happy with ‘I love your tits because they're the best tits I’ve ever seen, held, or had in my mouth in my entire life.’ But I’ll take your version, too.”

Grayson smiles. “How about, I love you, MJ, every part of you — especially your tits.”

MJ bites back a sappy grin and swears she can feel her heart swelling for him in her chest. “I love you, too,” she sighs, and uses her grasp on his hair to drag him in for a deep kiss.

When she’s had her fill of his mouth, she scoots down his body, trailing her tongue down the indentation dividing his abs and nipping playfully at the taut skin right above the waistband of his trunks. Her mouth waters at the sight of the bulge beneath them, straining against the slick material. “Lift up,” she instructs as she tugs the drawstring and hooks her fingers in the fabric clinging to his hips.

Grayson moans and does as he’s told while MJ pulls his swimsuit down his inked legs until she has to stand up where he can kick them off his foot. She takes a moment to admire the masterpiece that is her boyfriend’s body and uses the advantage of already being stood up to shimmy her bikini bottoms off her hips. She lets them drop to the concrete at her feet before crawling back onto the lounger in-between his thighs.

She can’t resist drawing a ticklish trail down his Adonis belt with her long nails and watching his dick twitch at the playful touch. Grinning, she takes him in her hand and observes with amusement how her simple grasp is already affecting him, spreading the resulting dot of precum around the swollen head. Her palm is still slightly lubricated with the remnants of tanning oil, which creates the perfect amount of friction when she starts to stroke his length up and down slowly, adding a twist of her fist when she reaches the tip.

Grayson throws his head back and moans. MJ utilizes his position as an element of surprise to duck her head and lick a trail on the underside of his cock, base to tip, then wraps her lips around his head.

His chin drops to his chest and his hazy gaze is met with her mischievous one while she stares up at him through her lashes. “Holy fuck, MJ,” he moans, taking hold of her dark locks and fashioning a makeshift ponytail in his fist so he can see her better.

MJ smiles around his length, pulling up and holding the tip against her mouth, kissing it lasciviously. “You want me to suck it?” she asks sweetly.

Predictably, Grayson nods enthusiastically, tugging gently on her hair to guide her down his cock. MJ smirks and gathers saliva between her lips. She purses them slightly and drags the slick moisture all along his shaft, coating him until she decides he’s wet enough for her to take him in her throat. He’s the biggest she’s ever had and hasn’t mastered letting him fuck her face yet, but her lips encircle him and she slides him down into her throat as far as she can with relative ease. She hollows her cheeks as she pulled back up, over and over again.

“Oh my God,” he growls, his blunt nails digging into her scalp; MJ adores the sensation. “Just like that, baby.”

She grins and lets him slip out of her mouth with a light pop, stroking him with her small hand while laving his balls with her tongue. MJ always loves sucking Grayson’s dick, but she can’t believe how much doing it outside is making her even wetter than usual. There’s something incredibly hot about being under the cloudless sky, in the fresh air, and, yes, the danger of potentially getting caught.

With that thought fueling her, MJ’s fingers dip down to her pussy and she lets out a tiny whimper when her slim fingers light upon her swollen clit, more for his benefit than an actual reaction to her touch; she wants him to know how much she’s enjoying having him in her mouth. Something about the situation they’ve gotten themselves into out here is amplifying her desire in every way.

“Should I make you come now with my mouth?” she asks, dribbling more saliva on his dick and sucking him as far as she can a few times in quick succession, eyes trained on his, and she’s earned with wanton moans from Grayson’s plump lips. MJ lifts her head, her chest heaving, and gives him a devious smile as she raises the fingers that had been playing with herself to his mouth, continuing to stroke him steadily with her fist. “Or should I put you inside me, baby? Hmm? Should I put your big dick in my tight little pussy?”

Grayson lets out a guttural growl and sucks her proffered fingers into his warm mouth readily. Before she realizes what’s happening, Gray is reaching behind him to lay the chair flat again, and she practically topples over at the sudden movement.

“C’mere,” he instructs as he lies back, motioning for her to climb up his body. He takes the hat off and throws it across the yard when the bill impedes him from lying flat.

MJ pouts. Despite her teasing questions, she isn’t done sucking him off yet. And she really liked how that cap looked on him. “But—”

“MJ, sit on my fucking face now,” he demands, his voice deep and commanding; it makes her shiver and her head swim. His hazel eyes, which usually turn almost as green as hers in the sun, are now a deep chocolate brown behind the darkness of his pupils, dilated with pure desire.

Well, shit. She doesn’t need to be told twice; when Gray is in this mood, there’s no room for arguing, and she loves it. MJ bites her lip and crawls up his abdomen until her knees are resting above his shoulders and her shins lay alongside his chest in what little room is left on the lounger. He wastes no time in wrapping one arm around her thigh, the other reaching up for her breasts, and attaching his mouth to her throbbing center.

She cries out when his tongue drags through her slit and flicks against her clit a few times before thrusting inside her. One of her hands supports her weight on the top edge of the chair and the other cards roughly through his thick hair, tugging none-too-gently on his dark wavy mop.

Grayson moans and nuzzles his nose against her swollen flesh, grinning up at her and tweaking a nipple with his thumb and forefinger. “Did you get this wet just from sucking my dick, sweetheart?” MJ nods, the game of pretending he has no affect on her flying out the proverbial window. He lets out a little noise of affirmation. “I thought so. That’s why I love eating you out after you blow me; you’re always dripping for me.”

Without warning he sucks harshly on her clit and she shrieks, throwing her head back and moaning uncontrollably despite her best efforts. “Grayson!”

Grayson leaves the little bundle of nerves and dips his tongue down to her entrance once again as if to taste the fruits of his labor, groaning quietly. “So fucking sweet, baby. I love how you taste,” he says before repeating the actions over and over, driving her insane with the unrelenting pleasure of his simple motions.

She doesn’t know how she has the capacity to speak, but she manages to get her vocal cords and brain to coordinate. “I…fuck — I, I wanted to t-taste your cum, too,” she squeaks out, trying not to grind down on his face too hard. Not that he seems to mind.

His big hands restrain her hips anyways, long enough for him to speak. “I know you did,” he says with a smirk, and his voice vibrates sensually against her center. “You can do that next time, but right now you’re gonna come for me, and then I’m gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk. How’s that sound?”

God, the man knows how to use that mouth — in more ways than one. MJ can only moan and use her vice grip on his hair to tug him back to her pussy as confirmation that yes, that sounds fucking amazing.

All teasing pretenses are dropped as he goes straight for her clit and suckles her with purpose, that purpose being to get her to cum hard and fast. Sure enough, she feels the beginnings of her orgasm in her lower belly, driven by the sight of his eyes gazing adoringly up at her from between her legs.

It doesn’t take much longer once he adds both hands to her breasts, her moans reaching higher and higher pitches the closer she gets. “Ohmygod, yes!” she squeals, her knees squeezing instinctively around his head as he keeps up his ministrations, only gentler so she can ride out the high of her orgasm.

MJ’s moans turn to whimpers, and when she’s relatively back to earth she murmurs an apology as she slinks back down his body. Gray shakes his head in dismissal of her words and sits up, cupping her cheeks in his hands and kissing her deeply. She can taste herself on his mouth, and it gives her little aftershocks.

She settles over his lap and straddles his hips, grinding her dripping wet pussy against his rock hard dick because despite the amazing orgasm he had just given her, she was always ready to go for him; he makes her insatiable, sometimes.

“Fuck me,” she demands against his lips, lifting up so he can take hold of his dick and position himself where she only has to sit back and let him fill her up.

There isn’t much room on the lounger, but the way she’s forced to keep her legs close together just makes the fit extra tight and extra good. He lies on his back again, and MJ moans as she bounces on his cock with her hands planted on his broad chest for support while he grips her ass tightly.

Grayson for his part takes a moment to close his eyes so he can fully experience the warmth of the sun, the sweet wetness of her pussy, and the taste of her still on his lips all at once. He opens his eyes and is greeted by the sight of an angel leaning over him. The sun is right behind her head and creates a halo effect, making his heart skip a beat despite the fact that she’s doing all the work while he lies flat, spoiling him with her body like always.

MJ smiles down at him breathlessly and drags her manicured jet-black nails down his pec. He loves the pain of it, she found out early on in their relationship, and she’s more than happy to inflict it. It turns her on like crazy to watch his eyes roll back and his jaw to drop as he sucks in a harsh breath.

He can sense her tiring when she slows down and starts grinding on him, rubbing her clit into the groomed patch of hair at the base of his dick as she catches her breath and gives her quads a break. She moans and twitches when Grayson digs his thumbs in the sensitive creases of her hips as he sits up. He moves her legs to hook around his waist before wrapping his arms around her sweaty back.

“Hold on to me.”

MJ pants and clutches her arms around his neck, tightening her grip with her legs around his trim hips and digging her heels into his round ass. She buries her face in his shoulder as he stands both of them up. She doesn’t know what his plans are, but she hopes they aren’t going far; she needs him back inside her as soon as possible.

Her back hits the wall in the next moment and she revels in the firm, cool feel of the smooth siding against her skin that’s become heated from the sun and physical exertion. Grayson uses the leverage of the wall to keep her against the solid surface while he switches his hold on her so that her knees are now hooked over his elbows. Even in her somewhat delirious state, MJ can tell this will allow him to use the combined potential of his considerable physical strength and the support from the wall to fuck her senseless.

Their eyes connect as they both take a moment to gather themselves. Gray smiles at her sweetly and plants his palms against the wall as he dips his hips enough to thrust up into her.

MJ whimpers as he stretches her again, reveling in that sense of fullness and completion that she only experiences when he’s inside her. When he bottoms out, she cups his jaw and uses the strength in her core to raise herself up enough to connect their lips together. Her tongue instantly slips into his mouth and slides along his, tasting all of her that’s left in him, until she tucks her head in his neck to suck kisses up and down the thick column of his neck.

“Go, Gray, please.”

Grayson moans and lifts her up as he pulls back with his hips, only to let her sink back down on his dick while simultaneously thrusting up into her swollen pussy. As he continues and picks up the pace, the depth he reaches and the force behind their movements sends her reeling. Her nails dig harshly into the smooth ripples of his back as her eyes look almost unseeingly down over his shoulder at the wide expanse of flexing muscles. The newness of this angle makes her realize that this position is another first for the two of them. They’ve had sex standing up before, but never like this, where he’s almost completely supporting her and letting gravity do half the work for them.

The noises of their mixed moans and the sounds of their hips clashing fills the otherwise silent backyard. MJ leans back against the wall and grips his biceps, using her position to fully take in the power of his body. Every muscle bulges out with exertion, his jaw clenches in pleasure and concentration, his eyes flitting between her bouncing tits and her flushed face as he pants harshly.

Everything about her — mind, body and soul — is overwhelmed. She can’t help it; she’s so turned on by him, so in love with him, the words just pour out, even though she knows they won’t improve his stamina any.

“You’re so fucking strong, baby. I love how you can hold me up and fuck me like this with your big dick. You’re making me feel so good…” On one particularly sharp thrust, he hits the spot, and her eyes instantly roll back in her head while she lets out a purely reactionary shriek of pleasure. “Right there, Gray! Baby, holy shit…”

“Jesus, MJ, you’re so fucking hot,” Gray rasps out behind clenched teeth. From the animalistic noises he’s making and the unhinged expression on his beautiful face, she can tell he’s barely holding on anymore, but he’s getting her there so fast that she hopes he can last just that much longer.

With a surge of strength she didn’t know she had left in her, MJ leans up and wraps her arms around his neck, then hooks her legs over his ass for leverage so that his arms can hold her by the backs of her thighs. She starts thrusting herself and grinding down on his pubic bone, perfectly stimulating both her clit and that deep spot within her. Her body shatters a second later, her limbs quaking with the force of the waves coursing through her.

She knows that normally Grayson would let her ride it out at her own pace, even rub her clit slowly to get her through it, but he’s so riled up at this point that he simply slams her against the wall and pounds into her relentlessly. MJ’s mouth gapes open soundlessly as, to her complete amazement, she feels yet another orgasm right on the heels of the one that has just started abating.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she chants repeatedly, making direct eye contact with him. She knows what will trigger them both to fall over the edge. “You’re fucking me so good. I want you to come inside me, baby, please!”

A guttural groan rips from his throat, his thrusts falter, and his forehead drops to hers as she feels the first spurts of his cum shoot into her. This is all she needs for her own orgasm to tear through her, radiating warmth and electricity through her whole body with an indescribable intensity.

Masculine, relieved whines escape his open mouth, the sounds alone making her clench inadvertently around his throbbing length inside her. His lower lip is too enticing for her to resist, and she nips it teasingly before drawing him in for a slow, perfectly sloppy kiss. They’re both still distracted by the pleasure coursing through their connected bodies as he finishes inside her.

“Fuck, that was good,” he whispers after a minute of recovery, trailing his mouth down her jaw and nuzzling her neck sweetly. MJ smiles and hugs his sweaty head to her, kissing his temple in return. She’s about to suggest they go cuddle on the daybed under the shade of the awning, but she never gets the chance because…

“What the fuck, dude?!”

“Oh my God, you actual assholes! Gross!”

A scream catches in MJ’s throat as their heads whip to the sliding back door only a few feet away, and there they are; the E’s had apparently gotten home from the beach much earlier than she thought they would. Or maybe she and Gray have just been fucking for that long.

Once the scare of their sudden reappearance has worn off, she can’t stop a smirk from gracing her lips, though she does try to hide it in Gray’s neck in mock mortification. That’s not to say she’s not embarrassed, but what can she do?

“Well, don’t look!” Grayson cries, but she can hear the concealed laughter in his voice, just as her smile grows even wider against his sweaty skin.

“How about you don’t have sex outside against our house where we can look, you bitch ass!” Ethan screams at his brother. MJ peeks a glance at him and sees him standing there with the heels of both hands digging into his eyes, as if he is not only blocking out the image before him but trying to rub it from his memory, too. Evie is just running around the patio, laughing and yelling “No!” at the top of her lungs, which makes MJ giggle too despite her best efforts.

As humorous as this situation is and even though Grayson’s body is pressed against hers completely, it’s still pretty embarrassing considering she’s butt-ass naked with her boyfriend’s softening dick still inside her, in a backyard with two of her best friends right there to see. “I mean, we literally just finished if you want to walk away and let us clean up, then the whole yard is all yours.”

“MJ, can you not just clean up now?” Ethan insists irritatedly. “We’ve already got our shit ready to come lay out.”

She pulls her face out of his neck and looks at Grayson, biting her lip to fight the shit-eating grin threatening to break across her face; she can already picture his brother’s reaction to what she’s about to say. But what the fuck are he and Evie even still doing out here? Why are they not inside? They’re the ones making this weird.

“Well, we need to go grab my swimsuit bottoms, or otherwise there’ll be a, ah, mess, if you know what I mean. Also, I don't think I can walk.”

Just as she predicted, Ethan makes a dramatic retching sound and reaches his hand out for his girlfriend blindly. “Evelina, help me. Let’s go bleach our eyes out before I throw up from these mental images.”

#idk #dolan twins #grayson dolan #grayson dolan smut #dolan twins fic #grayson mj #grayson dolan oc

[sugarandspice-games]

Okay, so I finally got through Saeran's good ending, I might go back and play the normal and other bad endings later if I feel like it, but as that was an emotional rollercoaster, I need some time to recover. But I'm going to put my full review under the cut.

Will I be releasing my rewrite outline at this point (though not really a rewrite, since I made it before the AE was ever released when I was drunk and salty at the lack of news)? I'm not sure. I wasn't 100% satisfied, but we'll call it a good 65% as I feel like there was more I liked than I hated. I'll leave that decision up to my dear readers, whether or not they want to see it. (Though there are only like... 8 of you here and I know you're probably here for Obey Me content and not MysMess)

I do plan on playing the Jumin Bad End DLC, but I may not liveblog it as I haven't really heard good things. This seems like another ploy for fanservice, but I do want to get more lore about Jumin's backstory, and honestly... I'm gay and want to see those sexy CGs. That being said... this is the last I will discuss the canon material on this blog, and it may be the last time I engage with the canon material (as I believe cheritz has announced that this is the finale anyway, and will no longer update the game). I will most likely continue to create fan content for it, as Sugar and I have our own sort of... fanfic thing going on with the characters and our OCs. But this is a personal and huge special interest of mine, and rather than go through everything and pick it apart for the rest of my days... I want to leave the game and the characters I love so much with only my happiest memories. They'll live on in my heart.

But I digress... here is my semi-condensed review. Sugar may talk about it as well, though I do not speak for them. THIS SHOULDN'T NEED TO BE SAID BUT HERE THERE BE SPOILERS. DO NOT READ IF YOU DID NOT COMPLETE THE GOOD END OF RAY'S AE.

The Good:

Saeran. Saeran was the best thing about this route. His character development was beautiful, and every time I saw him, I felt my heart swell with pride and love. His new sprites are so adorable as well as his beautiful CGs, and he looks healthier and happier in a lot of them. He's grown to be such a loving, gorgeous, wonderful man despite everything that happened in his painful life, and his story is nothing short of inspirational. I have a lot of love for Saeran, I have from the moment I saw him but this route really drove it home for me. He will have a special place in my heart among my fictional loves that can never be replaced.

Jumin Jumin Jumin! Jumin was one of the absolute MVPs this route, he was doing the most and boy... I just want to hug him. Even though he was in horrendous pain he was doing the absolute best he could to help everyone. He's been a love of mine for a long time, and that love only grew in this route. I was also glad to meet Driver Kim and see the interaction between him and Daddy Han Sr. (Because obviously Juju is the junior Daddy Han lol)-- even though I have mixed feelings about the Chairman, it makes me happy to see Jumin getting the caring he deserves from his father. And the fact that he even turned his back to let Jumin express his emotions without feeling embarrassed... Fucking killed me.

They did Rika right this go around. Yes, she got off to a really rough start, but she was very human and bearable here... and complete with her realizing her wrongdoings and working to right them in the end. It was a gorgeous arc, I'm so happy for her. I have a love hate relationship with her character, as she used to be a very badly written villain IMO... but one of the good things about Another Story in general is that it gave her depth that she didn't have before. And if they wanted to redeem her, they 100% did it right here, even if she had a rough beginning and had to make mistakes to get to where she was. I thought it was very human. Good on you, cheritz.

Vanderwood got a lot of good interactions here, and I'm really happy they gave us more Van content. Even if we're not getting a route for him, it's enough to me to finally see him expressing the affection we all know that he holds for Saeyoung, and working to help him.

The twins finally get to be happy! Need I say more?

Everyone doing well in their lives made me really happy too... most of the other routes had this problem where if one person got to be happy, someone else would have to suffer in exchange. I'm so glad that everyone got a happy ending.

The new chats made me extra emotional... I'm not sure why, to be honest, I think I'm just happy to see everyone again. It had been such a long time since I played Mystic Messenger, and talking to everyone again just like old times felt like returning to a childhood home (though I was 19 when I discovered this game initially, haha). I cried a lot, which is extra weird for me since I don't tend to cry in general.

Yoosung loves Saeran soooo much... in fact, everyone does. It made me happy, bc I was initially worried that he wouldn't have made friends with the RFA or that it would be awkward, but seeing everyone loving him and him being sweet back to them was adorable. Jumin also loves him and you can't change my mind (though maybe that's my wishful thinking of being in a Jumin & Saeran sandwich talking...)

So many good messages in this AE, and they hit very personally. I came to the same realization last year, that in the end, nothing in life matters except love, since you can't take anything else with you when you die. I shan't elaborate more!

Everyone's voice acting was so good! It was so beautiful and emotional, I could feel it through their voices. I usually skip the voice lines since I read so fast, but I'm happy I didn't.

The Bad:

Oh Jihyun... what have they done to you? I know I said he wasn't OOC and I stand by that, but it really feels like the writers hated him this AE. Even his sprite looked so awful and blurry. And he didn't get any good realization that he deserved better or anything, the literal cult leader and prime fucking minister got to be redeemed when he didn't. What the actual fuck. Sugar will definitely have more to say about it, and probably in a more articulate way, but let it be known that I don't like it either.

Furthermore, even if it's not OOC, it's structurally sloppy for him to come to some realization only to stay the exact same as he's always been. And same with Rika too. As I said in a previous post, having them both go through these realizations only to make them the villains again really felt like beating a dead horse. What can I say except AAAAAAAAA. WHAT THE FUCK?

Again, I must reiterate... why'd they make it so you have to be a bitch to Rika to get the good ending? I get that it's probably wish fulfillment for some people in the fandom, but it isn't for me. I really don't have any desire to berate or insult her bc in the end she needs serious help (even if I wanted to throw hands with her sometimes), and if the point was to call her on her misbehavior... some of it went too far (looking @ the "Don't stab Saeran's eyes out!" choice. I didn't like that at all, especially since it felt like you were making fun of Jihyun's trauma.) It especially made the end of her arc fall flat when she's like "Thank you for being kind and trying to understand me..." like, gurl... the game didn't let me do that without making me bad end! Jeez.

Also, literally why was it necessary to redeem the prime minister? He's a monster who tried to murder his own children. It's okay if they needed that scene where Saeran and you tried to understand him, but having him actually come around made no sense... why would he want to listen to you or Saeran when we've seen time and time again that there isn't really any good in him? He's just not a good person. And no, I'm not saying this because I wanted him to die or anything! ...Okay, maybe I did. Fuck that guy. I hate him. (Also the whole "you're only this way because you're lonely!" was so corny, I didn't choose those options but gjkgkgkfk)

The Ugly:

Have y'all heard about how much I hate the agency Boss? I hate him so much... I want to drown him in the toilet. I want to feed him taco bell laced with laxatives. I want to-- anyway, I digress. Not classifying this under bad because cheritz did their job by making him hateable and oh boy, did I hate him. He made me want to barf. I also commend his voice actor for somehow making me feel greasy through the screen. Seriously, dude, hats off to you. You are a genius.

That's about all I have to say for now... you can peruse my talk tag if you want to see any of my other thoughts on this game, but they don't tie into the good and bad. Despite the flaws, I enjoyed myself this route and I'm happy I played it. Even though there will always be things to improve upon in this game... I'm happy I picked it up, and I'm happy I met everyone. I would write them all letters or something but that'd be kinda corny since they're just game characters and won't see it anyway, and I know I'm not the only nor am I the most attractive MC out there... so this is Spice, signing out! Byebye, Mystic Messenger. You'll always have a special place in my heart.

All of the... weird horniness between Rika and Saeran made me feel grossed out. Her having him in a collar with a leash, and the game options that insinuate she has a thing for him... ew ew ew. Please stop it. That shit is so disgusting and I'm going to puke.

@ Both Saeyoung and Saeran: stop fucking trying to die all the time! Seriously! Let me love you and want to save you, when will you get it through your thick skulls that one gay ass MC who loves you very very dearly would NEVER be happy if you died? AAAAAAAA

#ray ae spoilers #mysmess #mystic messenger #ray after ending #spice talks #mysme salt

[sinnabonka]

Hey Hun! Lots of love to you. For starters I wanted to say that there should be no cell in your body blaming yself in any way. You and your blog were hope for so many people. You were the "you are not crazy" of the final weeks, and I'm forever grateful to you. Instead of dying of anxiety I managed to have a blast in this time of waiting, thanks to you. I passed my master thesis, because you gave me strength to see past the fear. I laughed in those weeks more than in last 5 years, and all of it because of the hope you gave me.

The rest of the msg is going to be pretty emotional rant about the awfulness of it all, and I know my opinion doesn't matter to anyone but I wanted someone important to me to hear my thoughts, if that's ok. It's also ok if you don't want to read it ofc. It's like my breakup letter to the show.

I hear many people cheering for the finale and i find it really hard to deal with. I always considered myself an open person who fights for healthy love as the only redeeming quality of the universe. I could see people's point of view, even if it didn't sit well with mine, and I would always try to hear them out respectfully until they weren't being respectful themselves. That said, I'm fully unable to understand cheering for this type of spiteful content and hearing those cheers makes me feel like the entire world is listening to "this is how you treat your fans, this is how to abuse your power over naive sheep, this is how to keep dumb, hopeful minorities in check" and taking notes.

It also upsets me that the people who gave this show all of themselves and tried to understand it to the core are given no resolution, are spitted on and buried under the rug for doing their best to appreciate the art and the story it was telling. Yet people, who just hang around and watch the show doing the dishes, with no consideration to it's story or characters, got as nonsensical ending as their whole idea of character development in SPN.

I know people say that it was good enough, because it leaves space for guessing and own interpretation, but I feel it's really undermining the extend to which the finale was awful and hurtful to the fans. There is no end that realistically could stop fanfic writers from finding way around it in the world of Supernatural, so saying it was thoughtful of them Is like excusing abusive partner because "they could hit me harder, but they didn't. That means they care"

Lose ends, characters being written in a way that is totally not true to them and their development (personally my biggest allegation), dismissing years of story development, proving that it was all 'queerbaiting' in big part in the end (hell, even the whole "Cas is in heaven so do with it what you will" is a shameful way of appalling to LGBTQ community after using them so hard.

In the pie scene, the roles should be swapped, it's Dean who should say that Cas is on his mind and Sam explaining him that it's only right to keep on living doing good in their name. That's what Dean told Sam at the beginning of the season, when Sam lost Rowena, so it would be at least a bit poetic. This would at least give us some truth from Dean for once, but he died how he lived, in shadow of his fear to be true towards his feelings and needs. And as he died, he bound his little brother to the hunting till the end of his days, by guilting him into it on his deathbed. Guess Dean took after his father.

Have you realised what that emotional "love speech" from Dean to Sam resulted in? It was writers taking back Cas' confession after they didn't need our viewership anymore.

They basically gave us love confession to get us to follow the finale and when they didn't need us anymore, not only they didn't commit to the confession, but they undermined it by having Dean's speech to Sam go the way it did with obviously higher emotional charge, successfully taking back the value of Cas' confession and making it about a bait for "Tumblr idiots"

Finale killed my feelings towards Destiel, not because it wasn't confirmed canon, but because from what I see in the episode, they canonically confirmed that

- for Dean, Cas was only means to an end, which is such an awful way of ending Cas' character arc. They gave him everything he was scared of and nothing close to consolation price and they dare to tell us he had a happy ending, "because they said so". Well, I didn't see him being happy, and knowing what i textually know i can empathise enough to say that he faced a miserable finish. Even Chuck got an end that was better than Cas' fate.

- Dean, given power to do anything he could dream of, chooses to not even greet Cas, after Cas gave his whole life to Dean, told him he loved him and died for him. I know some people consider the little smirk of Dean confirmation of his feelings, but let's be real for just a second. If someone you deeply loved for years confessed to you, told you they thought you don't love them back, you would be freaking running to see them and tell them how much you love them. That smirk to me reads as "I'm relieved to know you're not going to spend eternity in mega hell that i left you in" and we really need to stop giving credit to writers for scraps like this when it's the last episode ever and we know this isn't going anywhere.

Not to mention that by having Jack bring Cas back behind the scenes it just highlights the fact that Dean didn't ask him to do that in episode 19.

As result, I'm unable to look at any Destiel scene and not think "in here Cas already loved him and in here Dean already abuses the power he had over Cas, because of his one-sided love"

And yet, the episode and endgames for everyone (maybe not Sam, but he was seriously pinning for Dean his entire life. Wincest much?) managed to be so bad, that not even bringing Cas back or following up on Destiel would make a difference in my eyes. I know you believe that Destiel would save it, but for me as much as it would be a redeeming quality, it wouldn't be enough to save this awfulness that writer doomed characters with.

And all the Wincest scenes in the finale... I low key expected them to make out and it made me feel physically sick. Also, cutting Misha out because of coronavirus is a cheap excuse. We all know better than to believe that, so let's not fall for the self pity play from the abuser.

If you managed to stay with me till this point, thank you so much for hearing me out. I hope i didn't anger you with my monologue. I will always think of the lamp when i think of you. The reality is that you were the lamp for so many of us in this darkness.

Love you so much, wish all the best to you, take care of yourself and stay safe!

Oh my god, if I didn’t cry with the final, I definitely am crying now. And now I have to explain my partner why I’m staring at my laptop and sobbing ugly. What have you done? 

First of all, I hear you pain, my friend! I share it! I didn’t spend a second after the final without the feeling of my heart being shuttered into million pieces, being stitched back just to break again, and so on and so on. 

I had my first panic attack in two years yesterday, when I kept thinking about the message the show sent to the fandom via Dean’s fate. I have a few posts in my draft on the matter, but I am not sure I will ever share them, because it is one strong depresso, and I don’t think people following me should see how fucked up it really is (if they didn’t get it by themselves, of course). 

I want to remind you, my gentle soul, that the story belongs to us. We know Dean, we know Cas, we know Sam and others. We know that the final is not who they are! I know it’s hard to ignore the text, the canon, because it’s kinda godsent, but the truth is essential. And the final is not the truth.

The truth: 

Cas loves Dean, he sacrificed himself for him, he saved his life on multiple occasions, he told all those beautiful things and he meant every word.

Dean loves Cas, he was on his lowest every time he lost him, Cas was his “big win”, his best friend, his brother, his white light that lead him out of his anger, hatred and despair. He took a dog and called it Miracle, he was looking for a job to retire from hunting, he didn’t kill Chuck - all of that, because the sacrifice Cas made was not in vain! The message was clear. 

I choose to ignore the “Carry on”, the only attention it is going to get is me creating 20 more mails just to put a one star review there and to drop some more salty or bitter comments with it. Maybe I will read through some reviews, too, add them to my collection. 

Maybe I will one day write here an article from scriptwriting perspective how fucked up in was, because that’s what I can do about it, without throwing up. 

If you can’t ignore it, I understand it. It is painful, it is disrespectful, I hate it as much as you do, probably. 

If there’s anything I can do for you to feel better, just drop me a message, we can talk about it. I am on the lowest, too, but maybe we can help each other.

You say I was your lamp. Let me lead you our of the darkness one more time <3 

CW can suck my metaphorical dick (I’m tagging every angry post with it), but Supernatural is not just the show on CW, it’s a big family. 

And you can’t give up on it! You can’t give up on Dean and Cas, you can’t give up on Destiel! It’s so much bigger then the show itself.

Rediscover the show for yourself, remind yourself that Dean and Cas are real, it was never one sided, it was always something amazing. 

What is real? We are.

Don’t you ever change.

I rather have you, cursed or not.

It’s love, hun, and love always wins. 

#the15yearshow #spn #destiel #cw #can suck my metaphorical dick #sinnabonka answers

[thickenmyblood]

Why get so upset about negative feedback? If the reader isn't being rude (or using explicit language) shouldn't they be allowed to write an honest comment? Just curious

Imagine someone spends weeks perfecting a recipe. This person works for hours each day trying to come up with a nice, sweet, fluffy cake. Then, they decide to give it to you for free, not asking for anything in return (not even a thank you note).

You get the cake, which took hours upon hours to bake and decorate, and you devour it in less than an 40 minutes. Once you're done you call them up on the phone and tell them what you didn't like about it. "Hey, I just wanted to let you know that the cake was okay but kinda dry, the frosting tasted funny, and I personally like my cakes with more cream filling." You tell yourself you're doing the right thing by telling them these things because you didn't hate the cake and you want them to improve! You want to help! You think your opinion is really valuable and that because you spent 40 minutes eating the cake you're entitled to criticize it.

Guess what? You're not helping. You're being rude. What would be the polite thing to do in this situation? You wait for the person who baked the cake to ask you what you didn't like about it.

Writing is incredibly personal. Putting your work out there for others to read takes courage, even when you're using a pseudonym or posting it anonymously. Every time an author/creator hits POST they are offering you free material that they spent hours working on for free. Fanart is free. Fanfic is free. It is free content done by people who have jobs, school, and family members to worry about. They're baking you a cake because they like baking. They want to do something nice, maybe get a pat on the back and get told that the frosting was cool.

Creating things takes a mental/physical toll on you. It is draining and frustrating and isolating. Do you think writing can be done at the dinner table, talking to your mom about the latest episode of Killing Eve? No. It is an activity that requires solitude, concentration, and silence (for me, at least). It is missing out on other things that you enjoy doing, such as reading, going out, watching a movie.

"Oh, but you said it yourself, you're doing this because you want to. No one is forcing you to do anything!" That is very true, but just because someone slaves over a cake out of their own free will doesn't mean you get to shit on it just because. When you get a gift, you don't tell whoever gave it to you that they didn't have to and then proceed to make a list of reasons why it sucks.

Here's the tough truth about life that some people seem to have forgotten: not everything on this earth needs a rating, an opinion, or critiques. You know who goes around telling people their opinions without caring about anything but being truthful? Children. Children don't know when they're being rude, most of the time. They just say whatever comes to mind because they haven't learned yet that their unfiltered opinions aren't what the whole world wants to hear.

It takes me approximately fourteen days to write a chapter for my fic. I write almost every day for at least two hours. Two hours doesn't sound like much, does it? But it's a lot of time. It's time I could be spending staring at the ceiling or eating popcorn or hating myself. Instead, I sit down and I write. Why? Because I want to. Why do I post it? Because I want to share it. I want to share some small part of me with the world. I make myself vulnerable every time I post something. And I do it for free.

I post a chapter that took me 14 days to write. I get a comment that says: "thanks, it was nice, but not that nice. here's a detailed list of things I didn't like" or, even worse, "I skipped this description" or "the last two chapters were boring". Two chapters... That's a month. Those two boring chapters took me a month to write. Another comment: "I don't understand this. It makes no sense. I don't like this plot twist." Another one: "You made a mistake here. This isn't the correct use of this word".

None of those comments are being explicitly mean or rude. They aren't calling me names. They aren't insulting my story. But... Are they kind? Are they respectful of my time and effort? Are they something I requested? Did I ask for constructive criticism? If I didn't, what makes you think I'm at a place in my life where I'm receptive to it? What makes you think I won't find those words harmful or frustrating? What makes you think your opinion is so important that you had to share it with me, even if it hurt my feelings?

Do you think there's such a thing as a perfect cake? There isn't. Some cakes are objectively better than others. Sometimes you buy a cake and it's awful. The solution? You never buy that cake again. Sometimes your mother is in a good mood and decides to bake something. It tastes funny but she's very excited about it. Are you going to tell her it tastes awful? Are you going to tell her it tastes "ok" but it could have been better?

Stories are like that. Writing is a craft, it's something you have to work on all the time and even if you wrote every day for a billion hours... You still wouldn't be the perfect writer. Perfection isn't real, it doesn't exist. The stories we tell are flawed because we're flawed. You think writers don't know when they're work isn't amazing? That they could have done better? That maybe if they had spent another agonizing 14 days re-writing the chapter you disliked it could have turned out better?

It's not that con crit offends me. My real issue with unsolicited con crit is that it's unsolicited. You're eating my cake and calling it shit when I didn't ask your opinion on it. No one asked you. Why did you feel the need to tell me EXTENSIVELY what you didn't like?

If I respond angrily, I'm the asshole. I'm interfering with your right to speak your mind. I'm a "special snowflake" who can't take criticism. Well, maybe I am.

I stopped writing three years ago and only came back now because I was quarantined. I still am. I haven't left my house in six months. One would think that a global pandemic would make people chill the fuck out, that they'd stop and think before posting stuff online. But I guess not. I guess the need to shit on other people's works is too strong. I guess people read stories and fics and never stop to think about the person writing them. I'm a real person. I have shitty days too.

My story is currently 200,000 words. Are you seriously telling me that you read that and couldn't find ONE nice thing to say? And if you like the story... Why focus on the bad parts of it? Why is it SO important to let me know EXACTLY why you didn't like A or B or C?

It's free fucking cake, motherfucker. It's FREE. Why are you complaining? What are you so salty about?

I'm very tired of this shit as you can probably tell by the length of this reply. I will not be addressing this again and I will not be replying to any comment I consider rude/impolite/offensive. If you have nothing nice to say, shut the fuck up. That's literally all I'm asking. And if you do have something nice to say... Say it, AND STOP THERE. Stop writing these weird passive-aggressive comments like 'yes!! Loved this except for X and Y. That bit sucked, but the rest was so cool!!"

Do I really need to put a tag that says DON'T LEAVE CON CRIT? Is this what we've come to?

Get. OUT.

#i am sorry but im on my phone i cant put the stupid read more break thing I AM SORRY #this is a clear sign that i need time off bc tbh I AM SO PISSED OFF IT IS NOT NORMAL #i feel like that dumb tweet like bitch how is cyber bullying even real just walk away from the screen #yes. ok. #and i replied to this so EVERYONE who has EVER read my stupid fics KNOWS that I don't WANT DUCKING CONCRIT #I will be back soon motherfuckers and i will delete all ur random comments bc i am THE EMPRESS of my fic #FUCK THIS #how does one tag things #also im pretty sure i know who this anon is bc i got this ask 2 minutes after i replied to a comment on ao3 being like shut the fuck up

[masonscig]

fic author commentary

thanks for the tag @hartfeld! i’m honestly really flattered to get asked considering i’m absolutely not a consistent writer for this fandom KSDJGHDSKSD sorry in advance that this is long! i talk a lot LMAO

so to preface, the series i started months ago (attached series) is on hiatus until i stop hating everything i’m writing SKDFKSD i do have the general stuff mapped out and a choose your own ending planned so i’ll get to it eventually but anyways, to the questions!

i was fascinated with the love triangle route, but i’d never played it – i got to thinking, what if there was something similar but for the other stark opposites in the group, mason and felix? they’re both near and dear to me for completely different reasons, and tbh before i created my second detective, mentally i was trying to force sofía to choose so the idea just came out of my own inner conflict LMAO

so, there’s a line of dialogue that i haven’t posted yet that i’ve been saving for something special, like The Moment that sofía reveals her feelings to mason, and it kinda haunts me ngl SJKDFKSFD i’m going to include it, because... truth be told i’m not quite sure if i’ll ever finish the attached series and if i do, it’ll be a while from now:

“You just chew me up and spit me out every time you fuck me, like you don’t know my heart doesn’t fucking break every time I wake up and you’re not there.” (sofía to mason)

i actually wrote a snippet of an argument from part two – the part where she calls mason out for being jealous – and then kinda built that part around it! honestly i write pretty linearly, as in if i get to a part that stumps me i literally can’t maneuver around it which can be really frustrating when you have SO many ideas but can’t complete them SKDFJKSDF

an image i can’t get out of my mind is a little nsfw LMAO i just can’t stop thinking about the boinking that’ll ensue after everything’s cleared up – i get to write two endings and best believe i’m excited to have some parallels :-)

oh yeah i had the idea and then told some of my friends about it, they said “DO IT” and... yea here we are LMFAOOO

honestly the root of attached was the idea that i’ve always wanted sofía to deviate a bit from canon in her relationship with mason – she thinks she can handle casual sex, but she ends up catching feelings and has to end it with him despite how much she’s grown to like him. and he knows he feels something for her too, but instead he shoves it down and is nonchalant about the “break up” (which can i just pat myself on the back for predicting some mason bakery scene behaviors? ok nice nice patting myself rn SKJDFJKSDF). in canon she’s just gonna be sad and cope on her own, but in attached i explore the idea that felix is there to pick up the pieces! anyways i just like the idea of being able to shift routes despite being a bit farther in (bc we can’t do that in canon) anyways!!! sorry to ramble LMFAO i’m done i promise!!!

tagging:

@raleighcarrera for backflip

@masonsfangs for t-shirt weather

@crackerdumortain for echoes in the forest

[i’m sorry if i’ve missed people!!! i kinda blank when it comes to tagging people]

the questions:

recently I have become really fascinated with fanfic authors and what exactly was rumbling around in their brain that inspired a fic?

was it a line of dialogue you couldn’t get out of your head?

a scene you wrote WAY in advance and then crafted the whole story around?

an image in your mind?

inspiration from another form of media?

maybe someone suggested something to you and it just TOOK off from there?

what is the root of your fic? the cornerstone -what is it all built around? the idea that started it all?

tag an author & their fic. let’s hear about what sparked your story. what exactly got your booty movin’ shakin’ motivated and writin’

#tag games #queue