#im in my fucking feels about them again

[skiitter]

A prompt: whatever you want to write

"It's yours."

Self sacrifice is easy when the future doesn't exist. Now she drowns in black water and her lungs are coded membrane. The body was an easy trade when the only thing waiting for her was a short end to a shitty life. In the face of eternity, abject and non-euclidean, V begins to nurse the spark of regret.

"I don't want it."

A life of excess. The thrill of the chase for the ecstasy of the end. Johnny Silverhand flirted audaciously with fate, entombing himself in a violent, volatile arrogance. Never before has he been forced to pick the lesser of two evils. His legacy is that of the daemon slayer. Fuck your binary, he'll burn and pillage his way to a third choice. Only now, in the looming hour of their demise, fire and metal are but plastic playthings in the face of something greater, and deeper, than he can defeat.

"How could you?"

It's easy to judge when you're securely planted in a world of concrete truths. Never before has someone had to rip themselves, bloodied and bruised, from their designated meat, and accept that it is the only path forward. V wants for artificial sunlight, inky black titanium, all that glittering faux-gold befitting a chrome dragon in a city of neon blood. And she gives it up, the proverbial crown and all its illicit gifts, because the one time she should have been iron, she was water instead.

"Bring her back!"

Oh if he could. Johnny died for the cause, bled to the bitter bone in the name of all that he believed, and in the end, its but smoke wafting mindlessly in a dimly lit room. A body remolded to all his jagged parts, as if her skin could ever hope to cover the yawning pit he calls a heart. Or so they say. Or so Kerry says. Tits and an ass are all well and good but he'd set it all ablaze for the rasp of her voice on a cold morning breeze.

"Will it work?"

Hope is for children, for the infirm, for the fucking deluded. And yet, Alt whispers warnings wrapped tight in a foil of red potential and V is too fucking desperate to turn it away. She wants out, wants free, wants to rip the bars from her binary cage and eat the electric heart out of Night City's beaten chest. Fingers utterly beyond the scope of flesh and bone grip at the seams of the Blackwall, screaming for purchase. There is a body, somewhere, that used to be hers. And a killer inside that used to be no one's. She'll take it, take him, take the bite and the sting. Hand in the vipers nest, venom doesn't settle into the blood of an undead thing.

"Here's the thing,"

In case of emergency, break glass, release hell. Johnny is all wound up, coiled too tight in muscle re-knit to accommodate something profoundly fucking dumb. There is a hum, here and there, that haunts him. Something beyond words, as though he were the man to use them. So, he defies man and machine and corporate fucking greed. He severs the ties that bind them to the mortal and mundane and springs forth his daemon until the world anew.

"I'm sorry."

It takes an age. Time is a suggestion beat senseless by the insanity of it all. V was never patient, not in any version of her life, but like all things pertaining to Johnny, she's no choice but to wait. Incandescent in the fluorescence of a back alley ripper clinic, he drags her kicking and screaming into the here and the now. A body, close enough to count unless you're willing to look, encapsulates the sum and the total and the ugly in between. Apologies, like rainwater, spill forth from matching mouths. He's her when he should be hers.

"Not yet."

Torn asunder, as if he'd ever turn away, the pain is but a grim reminder of that which he is rejecting and that which he is becoming. Life is but a series of updates, a code ever changing. In the micro, it's shades of blue, constructed in a setting too familiar to divorce. Zoomed out, however, and observed from on high, all that she has wrought and all that he has claimed becomes another gleaming neon threat in an effusive black sky. A body frozen, thawed. A heart stopped, restarted. Lacking in appendages both chrome and digital, Johnny Silverhand takes a breath, and holds deep the air of a new day.

"Could we?"

Of course. The waiting end is still there, in all its romantic glory, and now more than ever, she knows the power of choice. V chose him, chose potential, chose a possibility totally beyond herself. Johnny chose her, chose retribution, chose a future within which she could bloom. It hurts, like all that is too good to be acceptably true, but a little blood and a little burn never bothered him. A creature, alight with arrogant conviction, he’s reshaped it into something important, something specific. She hated the demand people made of her feelings, as if she was beholden to their needs and not her own. Even firmly rooted in this most holy second chance, she is all needles. And Johnny is all leather, sun-cured and willing to ride out the sting.

“I’m here.”

A promise. A threat. Something she can analyze and observe. Dying makes for patience in a man such as he. It’s enough. It’s enough. It’s so very much enough.

“‘Til the end.”

Yet again. Once more, with violent feeling. Love is an action, a choice, a demand. V will take and Johnny will give, and along the way, they’ll choose to switch. Two people, one body, two bodies, one decision. It’s easy, even when it’s not. Even when it shouldn’t be. Even in the end.

#cyberpunk 2077 #johnny silverhand #silvermerc #johnny silverhand/v #skitterfics #im in my fucking feels about them again #two vodka redbulls and im a weepy mess #pls enjoy this purple to the point of garishness display of prose #EVEN THE APOLOGY IS BAD #anyway ty for this fucking Nice Prompt

[the-holy-ghosted]

congrats 2 henry peglar for being the only bitch confirmed as to be Fucking That Old Man

#the heron giveth #the terror #alright here come the funny tags #bridglar #briglar #people spell it both ways i think. ill do both hujst to be safe #henry peglar #john bridgens #uh um um. uh #peglar x bridgens #THIS FEELS WEIRD. TO TYPE #bridgens x peglar #alright im done good GRIEF #this isnt even that extreme compared to the shit people are putting on ao3 about these two. god. #anyways hi ive watched this show maybe 7 or 8 times? only just recently have i gotten hooked on them #the scripts make me go nuts too. ''they were lovers in their pasts'' shut the fuck up dont say that to me ill start crying #this is the most risque thing i have ever posted on here #getting out of the fandom game for a while rewired my brain i have to get weird again. and boy do they make me feel weird ! #i have a number of terror mutuals who r gonna go nuts over this. fuck yes a little bowl of seeds for me style #this looks blurry posting it hopefully tumblr doesnt crunch the shit out of the quality anyways im done typing goodbye

[ganondoodle]

me: finally im able to cope with how much i hate totk and can fuel that energy into other things :)

nintendy: the shiekah tech just dissappeared and no one knows why or cares enough to investigate it lol. lmao. its gone bc the calamity is gone or something even tho it literally isnt bc ganondorf is right there haha lol, stop asking, why do you care. just forget it existed and look at that sexy goatman and glue instead!! glue! isnt that wild?? also its totally a direct, 100% same universe and exact same characters, despite them act totally out of character, sequel to botw-

#ganondoodles talks #ganondoodles rants #zelda #totk #im just fucking!!!! at my limit!!!! #what the fuck do you mean #the calamity is the equivalent of ganondorfs farts trying to wake himself up and you say lololo is gone so the techs gone #then why do some parts still exist huh??????? #fuyking clowns #all the threads leading organically into another game WOOOP NOPE CUT THEM ALL WE DIDNT MEAN TO GIVE IT MEANING LOL #what is ancient energy and whys there a big concetration under these regions including hyrule castle? oh my god is it bc gan is there an- #NOPE forget we ever said that haha lol lmao even #can you really blame me for feeling like im being laughed at #like totk is mocking me bc i care about botw and thought theyd take up the interesting things they set up in it to expand upon??? #and no instead they backpedal like oh no we accidentally made it seem interesting quick get the iron out we need to FLATTEN this bitch #and they keep making it WORSE by insisting that its totally 1000% a direct sequel #just fucking say its some alternative bullshit again #i am begging them to let soemone else direct the next game #bc when the guy makes accidentally good lore he needs to immedaitely flatten all the good stuff when it comes to a sequel apparently

[tubbytarchia]

Sorry I'm still feeling dread about maid Jimmy. Poorly made comic thing under cut

Sorry this is gonna take up space but I really wanted it to be viewed as intended and such... I put it under read-more though so no one can complain!!

My art block is as strong as ever and killing me but I'm feeling so emotional and dreadful about that last SOS episode still, I forced my way through it lol. Joel wasn't there when it went down (I'm so fucking glad), which made me think of this instead and uh yeah I'm. Fuck man I dont even care about SOS that much!!!! This has ruined me

The way Pix (didn't really do anything wrong btw) made Jimmy dig a hole because he owed him for saving his life, and then Sausage comes in "aha!!!" and obligates Jimmy to do something for him too, quickly disregarding any uncertainty on Jimmy's half and shifting it onto Jimmy with "You actually reminded me that you owe me" (paraphrasing) grrrrr. And tbf he did talk about dancing at that point, but later Jimmy was clearly made to believe that he'd only be serving drinks and then Sausage goes "you're serving YOURSELF!" GRRRRRRR sorry this is just minecraft I know I know. I'm reading to deep into it yaada yaada. But no fuck that I want Jimmy to be happy and not to be made feel like he owes people things even if they saved him, I don't want Jimmy to talk like he's about to cry, I don't want him to be talked down to, I don't want him to feel like he has no room to object and has to just listen to others or expect to be treated a certain way hardwired into his brain, I don't want his abrasiveness to be more of a sought reaction to bullying/teasing/etc rather than a sign of the confidence he used to have, he's been through enough!!!! I hate this why can't I just awooga at maid Jimmy. That'd make things so much easier. Alas the horrors

#fuck it main tag fuck this!! I put a read-more so I'm alleviated of everything totally #I'm ashamed but. I see what other type of content gets maintagged anyway and that makes me feel better about my own #jimmy solidarity #Im so emotional Im SO emotional about him stop me please #This is just FH again for me my god Jimmy's been through enough!! #tubby art #Joel IS here but I hope to god no one complains about this as if it were shipping just because he's standing opposite of maid Jimmy #I do fucking love them as a duo a lot though (bad boy Grain erasure oops). Need to draw them more... for the betterment of the soul

[francy-sketches]

Hiiiii guess who finished her pmv. finally. um enjoy :3

#asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #valyrianscrolls #cersei lannister #and a bunch of others I don't feel like tagging them #wrote some of them in the desc if you scroll past my ramblings. the others I hope you can tell by context clues i believe in u #my art #pmv #it's finally joever oh my god #i dont want to look at it ever again. this is my child and I'm abandoning it at your doorstep 🏃‍♂️💼 #btw confession time I started this before finishing adwd so like if you notice book inaccuracies. just ignore it #tbh towards the end i was just kinda going off the song lyrics more than anything #also like her hair should not be that long I think. the show poisoned my brain bc they do fuck all for like a year post walk #n e way ill talk about it more tomorrow probably. im gonna be so annoying about this btw I WILL force you to watch it #istg if it flops 🔪

[loomingtwilight]

i love neuvifuri’s dynamic and relationship. like. imo they are the epitome of “we are inseparable, we are in love in every way, we are soulmates not by birth or due to fate binding us inexplicably but because we spent those 500 years being the one constant in each others lives and weve come to know each other the best, but we are simultaneously strangers. we never truly knew each other during all that time.“

and neuvillette knew for so long furina was keeping a secret from him and it pained him to force that secret into the light, but he knew he had to in order to save fontaine, and despite that he still wanted to do it as gently as possible. to make the trial the last resort if the travelers conversation didnt work. after the final events of the archon quest, he let furina go wherever she wished, he (if im remembering correctly) gave her a nice house and enough funds to do as she pleased and live comfortably. he used his new authority over hydro to give her a vision made specifically for her, the very first vision he has given out. he has made it as clear as day that she is welcome to talk to him, to ask to have tea, to ask him for whatever or simply just to talk.

neuvillette using those actions to say “i hope you let me know who you truly are, and allow me to stay in your life for as long as you wish, but i love you so i will not force you.”

#anyway new comfort m/f ship dropped. #genshin impact #furina #neuvillette #neuvifuri #i hope this is comprehensible to anyone other than myself. sometimes i completely lose track of my point when ranting about my blorbos #and in addition to that i also just have trouble verbally or textually translating thoughts into words that exactly describe my feelings #ALSO! this doesnt even have to be romantic. i equally adore platonic and queerplatonic interpretations #i just also love the romantic feelings between the two but feeling scared to act on it #especially from furinas perspective bc shes desperate to relearn who she is #and as much as she truly loves neuvillette shes hesitant to start approaching those feelings #again bc she is just starting to catch up on lost youth + a little bit of that fear of vulnerability near inherent in any relationship #yeah im super normal about them why do you ask? #genshin #genshin neuvillette #genshin furina #also i dont fucking care if you dislike neuvifuri and believe in whatever ship supremacy. idc leave me alone i dont want ship discourse. #let me enjoy my blorbos in peace or ill block you

[mishapen-dear]

OH. okay so normally i dont touch discourse with a 20 ft pole, but this has been niggling at my brain tonight and i finally realized why

the people who are mad at qbbh for the memory loss and “dodging consequences” dont understand that he doesnt want to dodge consequences. Like they cant know that, they werent focused on him when he was literally feeding himself to the soul vultures and planning his eventual imprisonment and also. The Many Many Many hints he made towards suicide/sacrifice/Just Fucking Dying.

ccbbh is a subtle roleplayer, he’s been building this shit up for two whole months- it was day FIVE of the eggs going missing that he resolved to do whatever it took (hurting his friends) to get the eggs back. It was day three that he followed in dapper’s footsteps and started feeding himself to the soul vultures (and gaining a Massive headwound beneath his hood in the process- you can only see it if you go on namemc and remove the layers). He’s got impaired judgement. Even the memory issues arent a new thing- i cant remember exactly when they started, but one of the first big moments i remmeber was september 30th where he spent an hour falling into a delusional frenzy searching his base for cameras that he forgot he asked aypierre to plant.

The super murder of purgatory and the memory loss afterwards probably all feels very sudden for people who havent been following his story, but as someone who has been- all of this has been true to character. The only cheap swings he’s made have been combat-based in purgatory, and even the motive for those was built up in rp.

People are calling for consequences, but he has alrwady been experiencing self-inflicted consequences for months. The blue on his usual outfit is blood. This recent memory loss isnt a restart to get away with the atrocities - it is yet another consequence of his egg-protecting complexes and the ways he punishes himself for failing them.

he is NOT a moral character. he’s a demon hiding in plain site. he has eaten people. he has killed people. he understands the cruelty of his actions, and the consequences of them for the loved ones of his victims. but it matters when that harm is being done to his loved ones. he’ll still do it, because he will do anything for the eggs, but it matters, and that means that he has already started the process of self-inflicting those much-demanded consequences

#anyone who isnt a qbbh makn please extend some sympathy for us. our guy is being misunderstood again #so if people seem twitchier than usual that probbaly plays a factor #but if it ever gets annoying be rest assured he is doing his very best to train us in media literacy #and also the block and filter buttons are your friends #and qbbh mains join me in the genuinely freeing revelation that they have just. strawmanned him yet again #i feel like youve gotta be able to understand a character to truly hate them #and no one (not even us oh my fucking god) really understand him #and thus the vitrol means nothing and i am free of all woes #anyway tho genuinely if you want to know more about this cube im willing to talk about him #i have Credentials #one of my posts was dono’d to the cc almost word for word and he called me a know it all #qsmp #qsmp badboyhalo #discourse #<- mentioned #an interestinf discussion could be had too about xyz character Deserving xyz thing #and really people in general Deserving xyz thing #but i think that is a wasp nest i dont know enough about to join swatting #i ngeed. to go to bed

[aroanthy]

kiryuu sibling stasis post-32 is so interesting to me. nanami tries to leave and is (temporarily but also, crucially, violently) prevented from doing so by touga and akio. after this experience she puts distance between herself and them: she leaves touga’s phone in the car, she resigns from the student council (though she dons her old uniform still), she repeatedly dismisses and undermines the authority of the rose code, of end of the world, of akio, of touga. but she’s still in ohtori, isn’t she? uncomfortable with the idea of leaving, uncertain if it’s really possible. she tried before, and it hurt her. deeply. it’s so interesting to me, nanami’s agency and how she limits her exertion of it after 32, when she realises it for what it is. contrast that with touga, who accepts this weird stalemate between them, who is, really, uninterested in having any relationship of any kind with nanami if he can’t gain something from her. he’s very passive with her after 32, compared to the passivity he’d always feigned towards her before in order to stoke reactions from her and then exploit them. i was thinking about how touga has always been able to sever his relationship with nanami, but chosen not to; first out of a sense of obligation (‘we should live to help each other’) then a realisation of how that could be exploited. i was thinking about how nanami has never realised her ability to leave, in part because it is limited by touga and the harm he does her. i was thinking about the desperation and confusion akio calls out to anthy with as she leaves. i was thinking about how different that is to the kiryuus’ strange semi-breakdown; touga doesn’t want or need nanami, and nanami might love her brother but she cannot trust him or feel safe around him, doesn’t want to see him anymore; she’s itching to leave, and just a little scared (you know, because last time she tried that her brother assaulted her), and he’s not doing anything because ignoring her means he doesn’t have to deal with the emotions of her leaving or staying. something something gendered power dynamics something something tragic siblings

#local kiryuu sibling enjoyer has thoughts about them #i wrote this like three days ago but it’s getting posted now i have to speak my truth #touga loves a bit of inaction #nanami doesn’t but what the fuck else is she gonna do?? be brave? she tried that already #and she WILL try it again and i don’t think touga will try particularly hard to stop her #i think he might try a little but in doing so he’ll just become more aware of how much he doesn’t want to do that #and is only doing it bc of a vague sense of obligation to a perspective on life that he’s already questioned a la utena #im just. i have so many feelings about them. i bet none of you were aware of that fact already #i am once again wondering: does touga love nanami? what does that mean for each of them? #and im concluding: i really don’t think he does #i think he’s felt obligation to her and turned bitter towards that emotion and her in turn #i think he has no idea how to feel about her so he ignores the problem and exploits HER feelings as he thinks he understands them #until he realises that he doesn’t and has to deal (a little bit) with the ramifications of that #touga and anthy when nanami makes them self reflect. or swagever. the 32 way. neither of them would ever admit this but it’s true #dais.txt #her tragedy her triumph

[mueritos]

its crazy how coming into clinical social work, i really just thought I was up against systems and cycles of trauma....but it turns out i'm up against those two things AND other therapists. the amount of work spent correcting mistakes from other clinicians--whether with clients or during the classroom--is fucking crazy.

i totally get we're all on different journeys in terms of being clinicians. but it is insane finding out day after day of therapists and clinicians saying the worst things ever to clients. demeaning them, telling them "it's all in their head", the racism and the ableism and harm that is caused. like no fucking wonder people are afraid to seek therapy (on top of the accessibility issues). while i'm a little biased and think that at the very least clinical social work training focuses on viewing people within their environments (so not engaging in the medical/individualist models of practice that a lot of counseling programs focus on), that doesn't mean it gives every person the skills to be an effective therapist. i'm also not saying i'm the best clinician ever--I'm literally in training--but boy! it is jarring seeing how some of my peers interact in class and wondering...is that how you are with your clients??

my social work program at the very least also has a focus on anti-racism, but i know students from other programs and some of them don't even mention racism AT ALL and focus entirely on diagnosing people "correctly", or finding the perfect form of therapy to use on a client. but man, what none of these programs teach are basic life skills. wanting to be a clinician isn't enough, especially considering that an inhumane amount of people in my program are 1. so nervous about making mistakes that they lose scope of their practice 2. have so much internalized racism/white guilt to work thru 3. or they have absolutely no listening skills.

again, im not trying to make it seem like I am the number 1 clinician in the world ever. I don't even have a psych background or bachelor's in social work. my reasons for going into social work are quite selfish (I want a job that is very flexible, easily transferable, and can be done in different contexts), and the helping people part is just a plus. i'm just saying it's very jarring seeing other people in training and realizing they too are working with clients. i have conversation after conversation about these issues with other BIPOC/queer/marginalized clinicians, so I know i'm not the only person worried about some of the people that will be out of this program in a few years practicing on their own or with vulnerable populations.

#muerto talks #just rambling #maybe im just a hater virgo with a strong sense of justice #i am just forever perplexed #learning that some of my classmates believe that you can be racist to white people is crazy #learning that some of my classmates are rude and dismissive to BIPOC students but they work in BIPOC communities #learning that some of my classmates weaponize their mental illnesses as an excuse to act shitty to professors classmates or clients is craz #there are zionists??? trying to be social workers?????? #i literally have classes with zionists #some people r doing a whole ass career change because they had a spiritual calling to help people?? #again not saying im such a great clinician im in training just like the rest of my program #but you cannot like tell me to even try to be hopeful about some of the people who will be my collegues in a year #because i have no hope for them #and its going to take making serious mistakes for them to maybe snap out of it #and that fucking sucks #nothing in my body feels safe around those people #like idc maybe im an elitist with impossible standards #maybe im the one asking too much from these people..... #the cognitive dissonance is real in these people man

[medi-bee]

These are the guys who have total martial control over the center of the galaxy? are you sure?

#my art #spore #grox #spore game #3 foot tall fucked up alien cats #grox really just walk around like O_O . in PUBLIC #i wish spore fanfic was more popular i want to read about their space society. who said that #kicking my feet and spinning and smiling while thinking about alien biology and culture again #im not arguing with an alien with giant baby doe eyes. whatever you say beautiful #hey. gamer grox that bullies and gets bullied by other alien gamers. but that’s just a theory #they are like invader zim to me #have you guys actually listened to their voice files on the wiki #they’re sooo cool. like their voice boxes have been entirely replaced with cybernetics #with ​the glitches and stutters. honestly deserves more attention #if i had meds it'd be over for all of you #ignore my insane notes please #space playstation (completely normal playstation but drawn from memory) #trying to get a feel for how i want to draw these freaks #i say. like i have plans to draw them again #whatever maybe i just wanted to draw little guys. that doesnt mean im going to make a grox oc or anything #wipes sweat off brow #the internet is so crazy you can just draw whatever and post it. and sometimes people will even like it

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

heya, i have to wake up in three hours but! here's another lil human au snippet! ft. lightly implied Laughingstock! disclaimer i am so so tired so don't come at me for typos or strangely worded sentences or missing info <3

~

Before heading home, Eddie swings by a charming little store he’s been to once or twice before. He usually goes to the chain store by his house, but he doesn’t feel like dealing with the hustle and bustle and the endless aisles. This little store is quiet, nice, and strangely has everything anyone could need. 

The lot is mostly empty at this hour, so Eddie claims a spot right at the front. As with the other times, the windows are littered with displays and stickers - half off on this, sale on that. Eddie enters Howdy’s Place with the chime of the door’s shopkeeper’s bell. He’ll get what he needs and get out, quick and easy and peacefu-

Boisterous laughter slams into Eddie like a hammer, so sudden that he jumps in place. An employee stocking cans nearby glances weirdly at him. Eddie clears his throat and hurries into the nearest aisle as the laughter tapers off. The silence barely lasts a second before loud chatter starts up. It’s too fast and muffled for Eddie to understand, but he can pick out two distinct voices - one deep, one less so but still decidedly masculine. 

Eddie tries to tune it out as he gathers what he needs. Toothpaste, some paper towels, shampoo. For the hell of it, he nabs a box of classic bran muffins from the spacious food section. He lingers for a moment, enjoying how far-away the conversation seems at the other corner of the store. Unfortunately, theft is illegal, so Eddie is forced to move towards the noise.

A strange thing about the store - it’s a combination general store, antique shop, and diner, complete with a miniature gift shop separating the two. One long checkout counter stretches from the open store area, behind the gift shop, and into the diner, where the conversation is coming from. An interesting setup, but an understandable one. It allows anyone behind the counter to move fluidly between customers and sections.

As Eddie approaches, the conversation becomes slightly clearer. 

“-said, no wonder you didn’t get her number!” the deeper voice barks, and the two dissolve into that almost-too-loud laughter again. 

As it tapers off, the other voice says, “Sounds like a real charmer! But really, you oughta be careful, Barn. One of these days someone’s gonna throw a right hook at ya.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up. A transatlantic accent? He hasn’t heard that anywhere outside of real old movies and a queen he once knew. It sounds natural too, like the man was born to sound like he belongs on a 1920s radio show. It nudges something in the back of Eddie’s mind. He’s started to get really sick of that nudge.

“Oh, this guy did.”

“No kidding? I don’t see a shiner.”

“Well, yeah. I went left.”

Both of them laugh again, and Eddie feels a tiny tug at the corner of his mouth. That wasn’t funny enough to garner an actual laugh in his opinion, but it wasn’t unfunny. 

Eddie steps up to the counter and quietly puts his acquired items on it, not wanting to interrupt. He chances a glance to the side - walking space in front of the counter’s length lets him see right down into the diner.

A large man with dyed-blue hair and an interesting fashion sense is at the bar, talking to an employee leaning against the other side. The employee doesn’t really catch Eddie’s gaze, but the other man… Eddie swears he’s seen him before. He studies him from the corner of his eye, not wanting to be rude but unable to mind his business. 

“Our bouncer didn’t even get a chance at the action - the idiot knocked himself out tryin’ a second swing!” The customer says. His deep voice, wavering with humor, only adds to the sense of familiarity. Metal glints in his right ear. Eddie knows this man from somewhere.

The employee shakes his head, tutting. His busy hands polish a vintage pitcher. “I swear, you get all the crazies.”

“Makes for a good story, though.” The customer takes a sip from his tall milkshake and scoffs. “Though if it wasn’t all well-ending, amusing bull, I doubt I’d be so tolerant.”

Minutes drag by as the two keep talking. Eddie goes from patiently waiting to awkwardly trying to get the employees attention. If only there was someone else behind the counter, but the only other staff member is elsewhere, likely still stocking shelves. 

The two men are too absorbed in their little world, even though both are facing Eddie’s way. The customer has both elbows on the counter, one of them bent to prop up his chin. The employee has his hip leaned against the edge as they chat. They’re obviously very familiar with each other, and clearly deeply enjoy each other's company. 

Still - and Eddie is sorry to say, but it’s bad customer service. He’s not in a rush, but he’d still like to be on his way home. He could be fishing out the complex keys right now. He checks his phone - he’s been here for nearly fifteen minutes. Picking out the items took less than five. 

Eddie sighs, staring at the various cigarette packs displayed behind the counter. He’s never seen the appeal in smoking, but as the laughter starts up again, he almost wishes he did. He’s going to treat himself to a very long shower once he gets home. 

The store’s other employee walks behind the counter, carrying a box. Eddie lights up. Finally - she pointedly clears her throat and heads into the back. 

The constant conversation stalls for the barest moment, and he looks over. The customer grins at him for a second - lord he’s handsome - before turning that grin towards his friend.

“You’re losin’ your touch, Howds,” he teases, bringing his shake straw to his lips.

“I resent that statement. You’re just distracting.”

“Lil’ me? Distracting? C’mon, you can just tell me I’m pretty to my face. I’ll take it like a champ, I swear!”

“Ha, good try.” The employee sets the pitcher down and starts to mosey in Eddie’s direction. “Your ego is big enough for the both of us as is. One more compliment and your head’ll pop like a balloon.”

“Well, given that most balloons don’t really pop, they just kinda deflate slowly-”

“Sorry for the wait!” the employee says loudly in a glaringly obvious customer service tone. He stops in front of Eddie with a cardboard smile. At the other end of the counter, the familiar man snickers and hides his grin behind his drink. “I trust you found everything you did - and didn’t! - need.”

Eddie just stares up at him for a moment. At six-one, Eddie hasn’t felt small in a very long time. He usually stands at least a full inch above other people. This employee - Howdy, his name tag states - has several more on him.

“Uh, y-yes, I uh, I did,” Eddie stammers, glancing at his items. 

“Wonderful! And again, my sincerest apologies for the delay. My friend makes a game out of keeping me from my job.” Howdy shoots his ‘friend’ a glare with enough heat in it to make an ice cube sweat. 

“No worries.”

Howdy scans the items at an almost frightening speed. Beep, into a paper bag. Beep, in. Beep, beep - “Oh, no.”

“What?” Eddie says, dread plucking at his ribs as Howdy holds the bran muffins and shakes his head. “Is there somethin’ wrong?”

“Indeed there is! You’re making a mistake with these. They’re absolutely horrible, I tell ya - and bad for you, too!” Howdy tuts and puts the box to the side. “No, no, you don’t want those.”

“I… don’t?”

“Not if you knew better! Lucky for you, I’m here to set you straight. What you need is-” he snaps his fingers, “Barnaby, be a pal and-”

“Already on it,” ‘Barnaby’ says, appearing next to Eddie.

If Eddie weren’t already paralyzed, he’d jump right out of his skin from how Barnaby towers over him. He has to be a scant inch or so shorter than Howdy, but he still makes Eddie feel tiny. Unfortunately, Barnaby is even more handsome up close. 

“Here ya go.” Barnaby hands a plastic container to Howdy and taps it, smiling lazily down at Eddie. “I’d take his advice on this one. Those bran-named muffins may sound fancy, but they’re pretty crumby! You want muffins of quality. Real breadwinners!

Eddie can’t help a soft laugh. “Breadwinners, heh, that’s a good one.”

“Are you selling these or am I?” Howdy says, raising a bushy eyebrow. 

“Hey, I’m just doin’ what you asked! I’m bein’ a pal.”

“And I - I’m sorry," Eddie interjects, "but you’re awfully familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”

“Eh, I’ve been around, but uh… you ever been to [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE]?”

Howdy clears his throat. “I’m trying to make a sale here, Barn. You can flirt on your own dime when you’re not costing me mine.”

“Didja know your nose gets redder when you’re jealous?”

Howdy rolls his eyes and shoves Barnaby in the diner’s direction. Barnaby goes with a hearty snicker. Despite the joke, Eddie thinks it has some merit as Howdy scans the final item and rings him up, considerably frostier than before.

Belatedly, Eddie realizes that he didn’t actually agree to the different muffins. Too late now. “Say, what kind of muffins are those?”

“Poppyseed-lemon.”

Eddie relaxes - that is a lot better than boring bran. “Y’know, my mother loved poppyseed-lemon muffins.”

“Did she now,” Howdy drawls.

“Like you wouldn’t believe! If baking was so much as mentioned, she’d jump right on houndin’ us to whip some up for her, or send us to go buy some. We’d never even get a taste! They’d be gone the moment they hit the air, I tell ya.” Eddie chuckles. “Took me a while to understand what all the fuss is about, but man was she right. They are good!”

“Uh-huh. Well, we have a fresh batch delivered every morning. They’re not the same type every time, mind you, but I can promise that they’re all of the highest quality.”

“Breadwinners, right?” Eddie jokes. Howdy doesn’t blink, but Barnaby snorts. He’ll take it. “I might have to come by more often, if that’s the case! Thank you kindly, sir.”

“Mhm, have a good day.” Howdy hands him the bag and strides away without a glance. The dismissal is clear as day. “Say, Barn, did you hear about the racket one of those cult crackpots stirred up at our dear friend’s tearoom?”

Eddie doesn’t catch the tail-end of the sentence as he hurries away, but he frowns. Cult? What cult? There’s a cult? He certainly didn’t hear of one before moving here, and none of his background checks had turned up anything of the sort. He hopes it was just a figure of speech. 

The door chimes again as Eddie leaves. It isn’t until he’s in his car that the embarrassment of that whole exchange catches up with him. If he had a nickel for every time he’d made a fool of himself in front of a gorgeous, strangely familiar man, he’d have three nickels. At the rate he’s going, he’ll either be rich, or he’ll have to move. 

Eddie subtly tries to peek around the store’s window displays from the safety of his car. He catches a scant glimpse of blue hair - come to think of it, it’s a similar shade to Wally’s. But where Wally’s had, to Eddie’s memory, been uniformly dyed right down to his eyebrows, Barnaby’s rich brown roots were obvious. His beard and eyebrows weren’t dyed, either. 

As Eddie relaxes back into his seat, he re-reads at the store’s name. The color drains from his face and he barely restrains himself from slamming his forehead against the steering wheel.

Oh, of course. Of course he made a fool of himself in front of the owner. Eddie can never come back here again. And it was such a nice store…

#wait wym this is almost 2k words what the Fuck! #ok! the writing gods blessed me tonight i guess! #anyway slight context - #in my mind there's a whole Plot and stuff for this au #where it starts off with eddie running into The Group™️ and meeting them mostly separately #before they all meet up and go 'hey yeah you guys ran into eddie from high school too? cool. he's ours now' #and forcibly drag eddie into their little Circle #wh modern human au #snippets from the bog #also sorry about the [INSERT GAY BAR NAME HERE] lmfao i cant come up with one atm #i want it to be wh-related and Clever #but i am not very clever on a good day and this has been a bad one! and again! im tired! #i. dont know how to tag this. whatever! if you see it you see it! #ok im going to sleep. for a whopping three hours before my alarm goes off. *less than three. Sigh. #i always do this! its like 'oh i have to wake up early tomorrow! lets not sleep at all! im feeling so creative!' #gonna go think about this au's laughingstock as i drift to sleep #FOR THREE. HOURS. #have i mentioned the three hours????

[the-kipsabian]

a quick hot guide for people that struggle commenting on fics aka things authors love to hear and youre just over thinking it and its actually really simple to leave comments on stuff!!

key smash/emoji spam/reaction image/etc (it conveys emotions way more than you might think)

drop a line you really liked

say how much you love a ship/character and how happy you are that theres content about them

ALL CAPS ANYTHING

"i liked/loved/enjoyed/whatever it!" its better to say the most basic thing than saying nothing tbh; writers appreciate hearing anything over nothing 💜

"thank you for writing this" its short, sweet, and very powerful

think what kind of feedback you'd personally like to receive on a piece of art you made. try to translate that want into comments you leave for other people too

you dont have to be critical or constructive or anything, even if the author asks for that stuff in their notes. they'll get it from someone else, you just do you

i feel like people make leaving comments too hard on themselves, so really just make it simple. if you really dont come up with anything, just say thank you. youre there reading for some reason, tell the author what it is. fic comments dont need to be book analysis essays (tho those are. incredibly appreciated as well if you want to write one!!), writers publishing their works for free online appreciate any kind of feedback regardless if you consider it good or well written. a comment is a comment

bottom line is, leave comments on fics and other written works. its whats keeping this game alive

#feel free to add these are just the two cents in my brain rn #also absolutely reblogs encouraged #listen im not just speaking for myself i want to see every fic writer get more comments. more feedback #and dont even get me fucking started on getting reblogs on this goddamn webbed site im gonna blow up otherwise #just. fucking. support your friends. support your favorite creators. say nice shit about them and share their work #i cant believe this needs to be said in fucking 2023 god #im tired can you tell lmao #i also know im a fucking nobody talking about this but fuck if i dont who will ugh #as someone that tries their best to always leave at least a word in everything i read (which admittedly isnt a lot but still) #this is a very important topic to me. okay? okay #again feel free to add to this and its absolutely rebloggable if for nothing else than to remind people to COMMENT ON FICS #night is an absolute mess on main

[distant-velleity]

Stay With Me

Summary: Santiago and Chrysos have a lot of feelings to work out. Spoiler alert: they still don't confess. Word count: 2.6k Warnings: major character not-actually death (this is my Boxing Day gift to you all) A/N: I wish I could've put Major Character Death as a real warning. Alas... such is life. Anyway :) I'm super done with writing this, I don't wanna keep going insane, I'm just gonna post it as is. It's actually pretty tame for angst on my part. Enjoy!! Tagging: @thehollowwriter (finn mention!!!) @kitwasnothere and @nahelenia as my top 3 murderers <3

-

When Santiago comes to, groggy and lightheaded, he’s greeted by the watered-down sun filtering through the seas of Octavinelle above him. Bird and sky separated only by the glass and several gallons of water, his limbs sure feeling as distant and heavy as the ocean.

Ah, he thinks, ever-intelligently. How did I end up here…?

He can’t quite remember. All of his recent memories are escaping like soap bubbles in the wind. 

While he racks his brain trying to figure it out, someone approaches and kneels next to him. A single glance at the person’s blonde hair and red eyes tells Santiago all he needs to know.

“Sorry about that,” Chrysos says, monotone as always. It’s hard to tell if the merman really is sorry or not. “I usually don’t get normal customers involved when 86’ing nuisances.” 

Santiago can’t help the smirk that comes to him all too easily. “Are you sure I wasn’t the nuisance?”

“Hard to say,” replies Chrysos with an amused huff. He stands back up and offers Santiago a hand, to help him stand up.

Something about it feels off—maybe because Chrysos’ gaze seems so benevolent, that he seems so unbothered about gently helping someone he’d normally be too embarrassed or proud to. Still, Santiago laughs and sits up. “Tight-lipped as always,” he comments, and reaches for Chrysos’ hand, pulling himself up to stand.

They hold hands for a moment longer than they need to. It feels, if he dares to admit it just to himself, nice—

“Hold it.”

As if he’s been burned, Santiago jumps away from Chrysos at the sound of Azul’s voice. Approaching them are the Octavinelle housewarden and his entourage of three. 

Santiago notices, with a distant sense of dread, that he’s never seen Chrysos look so furious and disappointed upon seeing his upperclassmen. 

“Get back, Parrotfish,” Floyd warns. “That’s not the right Lionfishie to be getting all buddy-buddy with.”

How odd. Why would Floyd, of all people, go out of his way to warn him?

Santiago glances at the Octaquartet, then at Chrysos, whose expression is steadily darkening.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Chrysos says coldly.

“My, my.” Jade conceals his magic pen, clasped tightly in one hand, beneath the other. “There’s no need for that frigid tone. I’m sure we’re already on the same page.”

“No?” interjects Santiago. “No, we’re not. What’s going on?”

Finn looks him dead in the eye and then cocks his head towards Chrysos. 

Santiago turns back around, and everything changes. 

Where Chrysos was just standing as normal, there’s suddenly inky shadows surrounding the Octavinelle freshman. His eyes flare red-and-yellow as the ink (no, blot) viciously wraps around him in strands to form a cocoon of sorts. Santiago staggers back when the cocoon contracts, a dark purple haze spreading throughout the area and blocking out the sun. The whole dorm is plunged into a deep-sea darkness.

It’s Chrysos and a towering Phantom now, him hovering a little too close to the glowing pendant around its neck for anyone’s liking. 

“We’re running out of time,” Azul says grimly. “Our fight from earlier didn’t do anything—”

“I’ll help fight him if it cuts down on time,” Santiago immediately declares without missing a beat. “If it saves his life.”

“Of course you would. Well, stay sharp, then.”

And Santiago tries, of course—

—but it doesn’t stop him from misfiring at some point, trying to hit the Phantom, only for it to grab Chrysos with a sickening crunch of his ribs and hold him up in range of the destructive fire spell. Santiago can only watch as it strikes Chrysos indiscriminately. 

The resulting wail of agony is bloodcurdling and unbearable, but not nearly as much as when the Phantom moves a thrashing Chrysos closer and closer to its chest, a gaping hole like a beast’s maw forming there, the pendant dangling right before it.

“Wait—”

It’s what all the teachers warn about when they discuss the occurrences of Overblots. Defeat the Phantom, and the victim will come out unscathed. Take too long to destroy it, and the Phantom will… will…

Chrysos is brought to that gap, drawn in like an object near a black hole.

Santiago can’t breathe. 

He can’t bring himself to close his eyes either. Even when a sinking feeling blossoms in his stomach, gripping him with all the force of a predator’s claws.

The ‘hand’ of the Phantom squeezes, another crunch of body parts that shouldn’t be breaking—

“Don’t you dare take him—let him go—” Santiago begs, but it’s useless.

The Phantom simply. Tucks Chrysos away in itself like nothing. Ignorant to his furious, fearful screams. 

The hole in its chest closes over with viscous blot. 

Santiago can’t look away.

“Ah… Ahh…”

He 

can’t 

look 

away—

“AAAAAHHHHH—!!!”

A guttural scream tears its way out into the open from Santiago’s raw throat, burning and hoarse and painful. Still begging for a life not his own, his eyes fly open as he sits up in a grieving frenzy. “Chrysos, please, don’t leave—!”

“I’m right here,” calls a familiar voice from beside him, miraculously free of its terrifying Overblot overlay. It’s melodious and soothing, easy on the ears, just when he thought he’d never hear it again.

“You—” Santiago’s hand shoots out without thinking, clamping down on Chrysos’ where it was gripping the edge of his blanket.

…his… blanket…?

Only then does Santiago realize, half-delirious, that he’s on a bed in the school infirmary. He’s not in Octavinelle, he’s not surrounded by torrents and mists of pure blot. The air is clear here, and the sun is shining bright and pleasant through the windows like it does through the forest canopy back home. Although his lungs still burn a little, everything’s okay.

And, looking at the boy sitting right next to him—Chrysos is okay. He’s alive. 

In silent awe, Santiago squeezes the cold, ungloved hand in his a little more tightly.

He’s alive.

Chrysos bites his lower lip and pointedly avoids looking at their joined hands. “What a nightmare you were having,” he says, false indifference in his tone. “Screaming like that… You’re lucky the nurse isn’t in right now.”

Santiago blinks. “A nightmare?” 

“Yes. You were trembling and crying out in your sleep. If it weren’t the first time you’d shown any signs of movement in days…” Chrysos trails off, brows pressed tightly together.

Putting aside the fact that it was all little more than a bad dream, thank the Great Seven— “What do you mean, in days?” Santiago echoes disbelievingly. “I don’t even know how I ended up here, and you’re telling me I’ve been unconscious for days? Hello? Way to hit me with the double whammy.”

It was an attempt to lighten the mood for both their sakes, but when the corners of Chrysos’ mouth twitch downwards and his lips thin in a stressed frown, Santiago immediately realizes he’s said something either really wrong or really stupid. Or both.

“You don’t remember what happened at the SDC?” asks Chrysos. “Weren’t you there? You know, for Schoenheit’s Overblot, like Yu said…”

Santiago’s eyes widen. He only slightly loosens his grip on Chrysos’ hand a second later. “Oh, you mean—”

Toxic purple mist surrounded them, reeking of a sickly sweet concoction. 

More saccharine still was the smile on Vil’s face. Even as blot dripped down his snow-white face from beneath his elaborate crown, he still found it in himself to pursue being the fairest one of all. 

Showing simultaneously all and nothing of his burning jealousy and bitterness.

“—yeah, I remember,” he continues, letting out a laugh with no real humor in it. “I even remember getting a faceful of poisonous mist and then passing out right after the awards ceremony ‘cause I tried to act tough.”

“At least your brain wasn’t permanently damaged. That’s good,” remarks Chrysos with a half-hearted smirk. “Maybe you’ll be out of here sooner than I thought.”

No, there was definitely a screw knocked loose if Santiago was imagining Chrysos Overblotting in place of Vil… much less sobbing desperately at the possibility of his death…

…Santiago swallows, mouth suddenly dry for no good reason. “Uh-huh? I don’t know, I still feel a little off.”

He nearly jumps out of his skin when Chrysos suddenly leans forward, hand subconsciously moving at lightning speed to place itself on Santiago’s wrist. “You still feel off? You’re not messing with me, are you?” he asks, voice demanding with a hint of… something else. “I swear, I will have the nurse over here faster than—”

“Whoa! Don’t get your boxers in a twist, jeez!” Santiago exclaims, and Chrysos halts immediately. “Am I still dreaming? Did you just gaslight me into thinking this is reality? I mean, seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worried about me.”

“I’m not worried,” retorts Chrysos, although the watery look in his eyes as he tries to meet Santiago’s gaze says otherwise. And where there would normally be an underlying bite to his tone, it’s totally absent. “Isn’t it fair to ask questions when a certain someone has been unconscious for days?”

Nevermind, I’m definitely not still dreaming.

“So you’ve been worried about me. Got it.” Hopefully that isn’t giddiness bubbling up in his chest, despite—or because of—the way Chrysos sputters out another denial, because it sure as hell is conflicting with his sense of spite. “Why don’t you save any of it for yourself? You’ve been a resident here way more often than me.”

Chrysos stiffens, before puffing up a little; chin lifted indignantly and gaze judgmental. Santiago wouldn’t have it any other way.) “I was conscious all those times and did not actively inhale dangerous toxins made by a very powerful mage.”

Seriously, this guy… Santiago shakes his head. “Dude, I heard you nearly turned yourself into sand that one time, also because of ‘a very powerful mage.’ I saw for myself when you could’ve died fighting Jamil or Overblotted at the same time and had to stay in the infirmary for a very lengthy check-up. You know, you—” 

died in my dream because of me and I would never forgive you or myself for that matter if that actually happened,

“—are a grade-A idiot getting hung up on the wrong details,” he decides to say instead. “One of these days, you’re gonna end up back here and I’m gonna get to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Hmph.” Chrysos scoffs and turns his head away. To anyone else, it might look aristocratically prim and stuck-up in the way his hair tosses slightly. “You wouldn’t come running to my bedside crying out my name, then?”

It’s Santiago’s turn to stiffen, feeling called out in too many ways. “...fuck, I forgot you heard me talking in my sleep. Well…” He pauses, searching for an appropriate response. “I would if you wanted me to.” He doesn’t have time to appreciate how smooth that was on his part before his traitorous mouth moves faster than his brain, going right ahead and saying, “And I’d still do it even if you didn’t want me to, ‘cause if you die on me I’m absolutely going to—”

Crap! Backtrack, backtrack, backtrack!

He shuts up immediately before he can incriminate himself any more, pursing his lips and watching carefully for signs of a negative reaction.

Almost too neutrally, Chrysos glances back over at him from the corner of his eyes, the piercing look in his irises only partially hidden by his lashes. “...You really would be that concerned?”

“Maybe,” Santiago answers, pasting on a nervous smile.

“‘Maybe’ isn’t an acceptable response.” Chrysos looks him straight in the eyes. His hand feels warmer, for some reason. “Don’t be shy. What would you do?”

Santiago huffs defensively. “Fancy that, you telling me to not be shy—”

“Santiago. Stop messing with me already.”

That tone, desperate and curious and impatient all in one, is singlehandedly more commanding than any other order Santiago has ever gotten in his life. 

The beastman slumps back against the headrest, being sapped of his will to argue. He already knows it’s pointless. It’s kind of hard to beat around the bush when the bush has already slapped you in the face with a very thorny nightmare. “Miss you, probably. I mean, I dreamed about it, but…” 

He thinks about the way he screamed and forced himself to wake up because that scenario had seemed so real. Probably can only begin to describe whatever he was feeling.

“...Well. You’re the only person who’s ever gotten me, y’know, so don’t die because you couldn’t help yourself. I don’t wanna have to cope with my dream becoming reality. Please,” he finishes lamely.

“Oh.” Chrysos stares blankly at him for a moment, then at their hands. “...oh,” he repeats, in a much quieter ‘sudden realization’ sort of voice.

Santiago squints at him. “Dude. What kind of guy tells his buddy to open up about his feelings in such a pleading tone and then is surprised when he actually opens up about it?”

“The one right next to you who was expecting his buddy to dodge the question again.”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Santiago replies, rolls his eyes. 

Chrysos worries his bottom lips, gaze shifting to the side suspiciously quickly. It looks like he’s considering something.

“...Are you taking that literally?” Santiago wants Chrysos to take what he said literally, to be honest, but that’s beside the point.

“Because you’re so dense, yes,” Chrysos snaps back. His free hand comes up to tug one of his curls closer to his face in that bashful way he always does. “If you died like you could’ve from Schoenheit’s poison, I would march right over to the afterlife and drag you back into the world of the living. Then I’d beat you into the ground for hurting me like that. Your ass is not leaving this life until I say it’s okay to. Does that make enough sense to you?” 

“I don’t remember the story of the musician and his muse being this violent,” mutters Santiago, feeling incredibly touched despite the brash nature of that admission. Or maybe because of it.

Chrysos’s cheeks flush as red as the ends of his hair. “You asked. I delivered. Look who’s being a hypocrite now.”

“Touché.” 

It feels like something between them has… changed, when they both fall silent for lack of things to say. Not in the terrifying way Santiago’s surroundings shifted during his nightmare, but a change for the better. Like a burden has been lifted off his shoulders, making the silence bearable.

“I… think I may need to go,” Chrysos says, a dusting of pink still on his face. Maybe because he’s spoken too much, or at least by his own standards. He stands up, letting go of Santiago’s hand. “Culture fair and. All that. You know how it is. I’ll see you—”

“Wait a minute.”

Santiago reaches out and, instead of just grabbing, intertwines their fingers. His longer ones settle perfectly between Chrysos’ knuckles as if they were meant to be there. 

The merman goes still. 

“Hypothetically,” Santiago begins, “if I asked you to stay a little longer—would you say yes?”

Chrysos’ mouth opens, freezes, and then closes. When he next speaks, it’s slow and cautious, like he’s testing out how the words actually feel. Testing the waters. “In this hypothetical scenario… I could be convinced to stay. Possibly.”

“Cool. So don’t run away just yet. Stay here with me.”

They make eye contact.

“...How persuasive. Well—” Chrysos sighs and sits back down, before offering Santiago a small smirk. Barely noticeable, but there. “It seems like I’ve actually got plenty of time to spare all of a sudden.”

Santiago can’t help but smile too.

#kai's writing #twisted wonderland #twst #twst oc #santiago parro #chrysos pendentif #with a minor guest appearance from #finn clearcove #canon character appearances <3 too lazy to tag once again #bro. these. these freaking two. #santiago 'i cope using humor because i don't think my true feelings are socially acceptable to talk about' parro #and chrysos 'i am going to go ten different kinds of insane if this bird doesn't speak clearly to me' pendentif #theyre FINALLY getting over themselves a little #santiago: im going to hide how i feel about this! he'll never know! #santiago when chrysos deems the situation dire enough to actually sniff out his bullshit: ...fuck #ill stop going insane in the tags but #these two are literally an inch away from just confessing 💀 im so done with them

[tsams-confessions]

im not hiding myself, I send an ask a long time ago saying how, as someone who liked to ship, I was doing my best to keep Moon as Ace representation as best as I could (Im demi- who loves silly lovers) I speak to some Ace artist and they had guide me, I been follwing a nice blog too! that often responds to my ask, but I leave this ask now to say.. what Im doing wrong? I keep reading these ask saying "how aphobic people are when removing the sex repulsed out of NewMoon!" when.. all I do is going by how he is acting in canon and what he said- the "I dont swin any way" was to a literal monster showing his ass.. but but , im not here to get yelled at. im here to know, to ask those anons who say me and others artist are being aphobic, to please guide me, what Im doing wrong? maybe is my like to proyect into characters I like? is it because I view im as Ace-Sex favorable? is it because I just like him to be with Solar? I ask those who leave those type of ask, to please tell me, and by extent. others that will read, what is it aphobic to view NewMoon as another "type" (hope is ok to say it like that) if Ace, please because I care to know..

.

#sun and moon show #the sun and moon show #tsams #sams #tsams confession #< block this if you dont want to see these #mod 1blood #im trusting people to be nice about this #i cant personally comment because i havent seen your work but #in my experience a lot of artists/writers forget the ace and/or aro part of the character's identity when making them sex/romance favorable #i dont think this is intentional and again i have no basis on your work in specific #but i would stop and think in depth about how his ace identity affects his relationship with sex #you say he's favorable! what drives him to it? enjoying the feeling? high libido in general? maybe he just finds it entertaining? #because him being ace *will* affect the motivation to do it. it doesnt necessarily mean it'll make him want it less/not at all #but id definitely put some thought into *why* he wants to. since from my understanding attraction is most often what makes allos want it #<- take that last bit with a grain of salt. im ace so thats mostly and educated guess on why allos do it #if anyone wants to add on feel free. if this is worded badly its because its late as fuck as of queuing lmao