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risetherivermoon · 9 months

Text

Intro Post

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Hello! my names Sock! (not actually) and i'm a fic writer and artist! i use this blog to post content about the marauders although it's just become my general blog...

My pronouns are He/They, im a minor and thats all you need to know about me!!!

edit:

i have DID (OSDD-1b), all posts made w/ the tag "🍁" are made by Autumn (They/She/He) the ao3 pseudo "autumnl3av3s" are all Autumn's works,

(i have known i have DID for a few years now, i am only now deciding to have this information out there on this account because Autumn has started posting using this account as well, i do not post abt being a system on here as this is a fandom account.)

Boundaries:

- pls do not repost any of my artwork or posts to other websites without credit!

- do not reuse my incorrect post formats unless i say that it is a reference to something, most of them are things i make up myself!!

- please dont ask me when ao3 fics are going to be updated or when i will post the next part of any of the social media aus i have, i do not have a posting schedule for a reason

- dont use my posts to spread hate!

- dont compare my ideas or works to others

Other Info:

this blog is a secondary blog! my main (although i dont post on there): @moonriverrise

Ao3: risetherivermoon (moonriverrise)

Instagram: risetherivermoon

social media au master lists are at the bottom!!!!

Masterlist - Fanfics

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How To Not Die Young

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 43/?

- Main Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Regulus Black/James Potter, Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier

- Minor Ships: Lily Evans/Mary Macdonald, Peter Pettigrew/Sybil Trelawney, Marlene Mckinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Pandora Rosier/Xenophilius Lovegood, Bellatrix Black/Rita Skeeter, Narcissa Black/Alice Fortescue, Ted Tonks/Andromeda Black

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: A marauders modern au focusing on mental health and healing from trauma, mostly from the perspectives of Remus Lupin, Regulus Black, and Barty Crouch Jr.

- Link: How To Not Die Young - risetherivermoon

Just Different, Apparently

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Finished

- Chapters: 4/4

- Main Ships: Regulus Black/James Potter

- Minor Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Marlene Mckinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: a meet cute modern day au, where Regulus is a barista and James keeps coming in - Regulus healing from past trauma and finding people who accept and see him - James finding someone who accepts him for who he is and learning to heal from his own past (Trans!Reg & Autistic!James)

- Link: Just Different, Apparently - risetherivermoon

Time and Time Again (Losing Myself and My Everything)

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Fandom

- Status: Ongoing - On Hiatus

- Chapters: 3/?

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death

- Desc: A canon compliant fic that follows Barty Crouch Jr. through his life, starting at his first year at Hogwarts in 1973, ending at his death in 1995 (Au: Rosekiller)

- Link: Time and Time Again (Losing Myself and My Everything)

Sing For The Damage We've Done

co-written by: @lostforgottenspaces

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 2/?

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./James Potter, Regulus Black/Remus Lupin

- Minor Ships: Marlene Mckinnon/Dorcas Meadowes, Lily Evans/Mary Macdonald/Pandora Rosier

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: a darksun fic that follows how Barty and James, once childhood friends, grew apart. Then follows them in how they reconnect and slowly mend their broken relationship, while facing challenges that pull them back (childhood friends to enemies to lovers)

- Link: Sing For The Damage We've Done - queer70s, risetherivermoon

Go For The Throat

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 1/?

- Main Ships: James Potter/Barty Crouch Jr., Regulus Black/Remus Lupin/Evan Rosier, Pandora Rosier/Lily Evans

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: a detective darksun au with James as a detective who is slowly processing through past trauma and Barty who's a lawyer that is adamant about terrorizing James (and might be lying about his identity)

- Link: Go For The Throat - risetherivermoon

I'm Tired, I Hate It, It Hurts, But I Can't Stop.

gift for: @lostforgottenspaces

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 1/?

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./James Potter

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: Major Character Death

- Desc: darksun au focusing on Barty's life and how he deals with living with a heart issue that he has to keep secret from everyone he knows, and how he starts to trust someone (James) finally

- Link: I'm Tired, I Hate It, It Hurts, But I Can't Stop. - risetherivermoon

Foolish Embarrassment

gift for: @murderoushagthesequel

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./Xenophilius Lovegood/Evan Rosier

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: Fluffy silverrosedagger fic about Barty throwing food all over Xeno out of panic

- Link: Foolish Embarrassment - risetherivermoon

Live Through My Scars and Blood, Live Through My Love

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier (IMPLIED)

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: Major Character Death

- Desc: A Barty Crouch Jr. Study in a way?

- Link: Live Through My Scars and Blood, Live Through My Love - risetherivermoon

Feeling Overheated

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

- Minor Ships: James Potter/Lily Evans

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: After Remus comes out a few months prior Sirius starts to realize things about himself and how he feels about his friend, he talks to James about it and then approaches Remus.

- Link: Feeling Overheated - risetherivermoon

Reaching From Arm's Length

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

- Minor Ships: ---

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: Remus freaks out during a party because of a migraine, Sirius brings Remus away from the crowd and they talk, and Remus confesses and opens up to Sirius for the first time.

- Link: Reaching From Arm's Length - risetherivermoon

Can't Get The Words Out

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: Lily comes out to her friends as Lesbian

- Link: Can't Get The Words Out - risetherivermoon

Like A Kick To My Face, Your Love

- Fandom: Harry Potter / The Marauders Era

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot 1/1

- Main Ships: Mary Macdonald/Lily Evans

- Minor Ships: Regulus Black/James Potter

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: Mary Macdonald, a famous singer, tells and interviewer how she met her now wife, Lily Evans

- Link: Like A Kick To My Face, Your Love - risetherivermoon

Bullshit Freaks - Bloody Lullaby

- Fandom: Stranger Things

- Status: Completed (Series Has Been Discontinued)

- Chapters: 40/40

- Main Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson,

- Minor Ships: Robin Buckley/Vickie, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: a Steve has powers au with a twist on the original story's horror elements, as well as plot, - takes place in season 2

- Link: Bullshit Freaks - moonriverrise

Boiling Point - Bloody Lullaby

- Fandom: Stranger Things

- Status: Completed (Series Has Been Discontinued)

- Chapters: 22/22

- Main Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

- Minor Ships: Robin Buckley/Vickie, Jonathan Byers/Nancy Wheeler

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: Sequel to Bullshit Freaks - a Steve has powers au with a twist on the original story's horror elements, as well as plot,

- Link: Boiling Point - moonriverrise

Thawing Of The Knife - Bloody Lullaby

- Fandom: Stranger Things

- Status: Discontinued

- Chapters: 3/?

- Main Ships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

- Minor Ships: Robin Buckley/Nancy Wheeler, Max Mayfield/Lucas Sinclair

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: Third book of Bloody Lullaby - a Steve has powers au with a twist on the original story's horror elements, as well as plot,

- Link: Thawing Of The Knife - moonriverrise

If You Need To, Darling, Lean Your Weight On me. - Darlin' I Would Do It Again

- Fandom: Good Omens

- Status: Completed (Series Ongoing)

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Aziraphale/Crowley

- Minor Ships: Maggie/Nina

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: A post s2 ep6 fix it fic, with crowley coming into the bookstore after having a nightmare and aziracrow finally talk to eachother

- Link: If You Need To Darling, Lean Your Weight On Me - risetherivermoon

So Someone With Your Eyes Might Come In Time

- Fandom: Good Omens

- Status: Completed (Series Ongoing)

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Aziraphale/Crowley

- Minor Ships: Maggie/Nina

- Archive Warnings: None Apply

- Desc: the sequel to my other GO oneshot...from az's pov

- Link: So Someone With Your Eyes Might Come In Time - risetherivermoon

Once Upon A FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Unfinished

- Chapters: 10/?

- Main Ships: Hermie Unworthy/Normal Oak-Swallows-Garcia

- Minor Ships: Lincoln Li-Wilson/Taylor Swift/Scary Marlowe, Lark Oak-Garcia/Nicholas Foster-Close

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: A silly canon divergent fix-it text fic,

- Link: Once Upon A FUCK FUCK FUCKITY FUCK - autumnl3av3s

Family Are The Ones You Love The Most

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: Hermie Unworthy/Normal Oak-Swallows-Garcia

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: Scary and the rest of the teens spend christmas together and she thinks about how much she loves her friends

- Link: Family Are The Ones You Love The Most - autumnl3av3s

Don't Look Now

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 1/?

- Main Ships: Terry Jr. Stampler/Veronica Marlowe, Grant Wilson/Marco Li, Sparrow Oak-Garcia/Rebecca Swallows, Nicholas Close-Foster/Lark Oak-Garcia,

- Minor Ships: Hermie Unworthy/Normal Oak-Swallows-Garcia, Scary Marlowe/Lincoln Li-Wilson

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: a no realms (but very dark) dndads au! based mostly on the kiddads, + the teens too, where i make willy 10x worse and everyones a bit more fucked up bc i love psychological horror and stupid dnd podcasts

- Link: Don't Look Now - autumnl3av3s

5 Times Nick's Dad Didn't Notice Him And One Time He Did

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: 6/6

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: a 5+1 fic about Nick & Glenn Close and their rocky relationship, as well as being a trans!Nick fic

- Link: 5 Times Nick's Dad Didn't Notice Him And One Time He Did - autumnl3av3s

Get The Fuck Out Of My Head - He's Half Of My Soul As The Poet's Say

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed, Series Ongoing

- Chapters: 6/6

- Main Ships: Nicholas Close-Foster/Lark Oak-Garcia

- Minor Ships: Terry Jr. Stampler/Grant Wilson

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: Lark gets hit with some kind of sleep spell that has him lost in his mind, Nicky is tasked with going into his head (via magic) and retrieving him. Once everything clears up, they notice a shift in their relationship and dynamic

- Link: Get The Fuck Out Of My Head - autumnl3av3s

I Wish You Were Far Away From Me - I Won't Ever Stop Hating You

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed, Series Ongoing

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: an au where Jodie is Glenn's older brother who he despises and argues with all the time, their relationship and Glenn being an angsty 12-year-old kid

- Link: I Wish You Were Far Away From Me - autumnl3av3s

Why Are You Here? - I Won't Ever Stop Hating You

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (podcast)

- Status: Completed, Series Ongoing

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: part 2 of the Jodie is Glenn's older brother au, Glenn gets sent home from school by the school nurse and Jodie is there to pick him up, Glenn isn't too thrilled about it

- Link: Why Are You Here? - autumnl3av3s

And Right Now I Just Wanna Grow Up

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (podcast)

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: Hero finally has a conversation with her Uncle and Dad about stopping her training, it goes better than she expects and honestly that makes it worse

- Link: And Right Now I Just Wanna Grow Up - autumnl3av3s

How Do I Get Angry? - I Won't Ever Stop Hating You

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (podcast)

- Status: Completed (Series Ongoing)

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: part 3 of the Jodie is Glenn's older brother au, where Glenn makes an unexpected friend at the library

- Link: How Do I Get Angry - autumnl3av3s

Dear Dad, Love Your Son

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (podcast)

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: (Oneshot) 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: Major Character Death

- Desc: A series of letters between Grant & Darryl as Grant grows up,

- Link: Dear Dad, Love Your Son - autumnl3av3s

Oh Universe I See Your Face

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 3/?

- Main Ships: Glenn Close/Henry Oak-Garcia

- Minor Ships: Darryl Wilson/Henry Oak-Garcia, Henry Oak-Garcia/Mercedes-Oak-Garcia, Darryl Wilson/Glenn Close

- Archive Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

- Desc: A no realms au where Henry grew up in a cult on earth (Oakvale) and when the dads + their families goes on a three week vacation to the beach, Henry starts to remember his childhood, (plus some enemies to lovers esc glennry with a little polydads on the side as a treat)

- Link: Oh Universe I See Your Face - autumnl3av3s

Will We Ever Be Enough For Her? - I Won't Ever Stop Hating You

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed (Series Ongoing)

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: None

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: the fourth part of a jodie is glenns older brother au, where the boys go to mcdonalds and nothing bad happens! ever! definitely nothing sad and terrible!

- Link: Will We Ever Be Enough For Her? - autumnl3av3s

Don't Fall Asleep Too Quickly - Swiftli Week 2024

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed, Series Ongoing

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Taylor Swift/Lincoln Li-Wilson

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: None

- Desc: oneshot 4 day 1 of swiftli week 2024: Birthday / Sleepover / Movie Night

- Link: Don't Fall Asleep Too Quickly - autumnl3av3s

Fell From Heaven - Swiftli Week 2024 + Three Sinners And One Angel

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed,

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Lincoln Li-Wilson/Taylor Swift

- Minor Ships: None

- Archive Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Warnings

- Desc:Lincoln, a fallen angel, falls from heaven into hell and is discovered by Taylor, a hell demon prince, and Scary, a sinner.

or: a prequel to an au on tumblr that ive written and drawn for on the account: @3sinnrsn1angel go check it out for more content! (though this fic is canon to that universe this can be read as a stand-alone)

- Link: Fell From Heaven - autumnl3av3s

Makeup and Skirts - Swiftli Week 2024

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Completed

- Chapters: Oneshot, 1/1

- Main Ships: Taylor Swift/Lincoln Li-Wilson

- Minor Ships: Erica Drippins/Scary Marlowe, Normal Oak/Hermie Unworthy

- Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

- Desc: Transfem Linc gets dysphoric before going on a date with her boyfriend, Taylor, and some other shtuff happens

- Link: Makeup and Skirts - autumnl3av3s

The (Not-So World Ending) Chaotic Life Of The Li-Wilson-Swifts - Swiftli Week 2024

- Fandom: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)

- Status: Ongoing

- Chapters: 1/?

- Main Ships: Taylor Swift/Lincoln Li-Wilson

- Minor Ships: Scary Marlowe/Normal Oak/Hermie Unworthy

- Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

- Desc: In a future Au, Lincoln and Taylor decide to adopt a child and start a family together, some things happen, problems and trouble but also happiness and love! yay!

- Link: The (Not-So World Ending) Chaotic Life Of The Li-Wilson-Swifts - Swiftli Week 2024 - autumnl3av3s

Social Media Aus

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Sock's Fame Au

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, James Potter/Regulus Black

- Minor Ships: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, Lily Evans/Mary Macdonald/Pandora Rosier, Dorcas Meadowes/Marlene Mckinnon, Peter Pettigrew/Frank Longbottom, Narcissa Black/Alice Fortescue, Bellatrix Black/Rita Skeeter, Ted Tonks/Andromeda Black

- Au: Fame Au (bands, modeling, acting, etc)

1. Part 0.5

2. Part 1

3. Part 2

4. Part 3

5. Part 4

6. Part 5

7. Part 6

8. Part 7

9. Part 8

10. Part 8.5

11. Part 9

12. Part 10

By The Beach

- Main Ships: Barty Crouch Jr./Evan Rosier, Marlene Mckinnon/Dorcas Meadowes

- Minor Ships: Remus Lupin/Sirius Black, James Potter/Regulus Black/Lily Evans,

- Au: Explanation Post

1. Part 0.5

2. Part 1

3. Part 2

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#redo of my masterlist post!!!#i added my stranger things stuff even tho i lowkey hate it #hag & leo are tagged becuz of gifts and co-writing!!#marauders #marauders era #harry potter #hp #dead gay wizards #stranger things #st4 #st3 #st2 #st1 #good omens #my writing #me stuff #me rambling

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honeydewtreacle · 4 months

Note

Okay, I just went over the iceberg and I have found or heard of a large majority of the stuff on there. My main question is how did you discover all of this stuff he's been in?

My other question are as follows

What is "why don't we say..."?

Do you have any information on Everything is Fine? I wasn't able to find much at all besides a basic premise.

What is Love NY?

Did you find a video of him singing the national anthem? I read about it and an article from the SoR days, but I didn't find footage.

I know about everything on the third tire except "Megan"? UNLESS IT'S THAT MEGAN!!? In that case, we good 👍😳👀

Is On Your Marc the show he and Drew created that is going to show (I believe) off Broadway starting early next year ? The Life and Slimes of Marc Summers?

Wasn't able to find much on Slow Children either, so if you have any, that'd be awesome!

What is "I could use a drink" BTS? I know about Drew's show, but the BTS I'm not sure about.

BROdway? I searched it up and could find nothing.

Last I guess is how on earth did you find that Collage staging of Hair he did? That's a deep cut!

One thing to suggest be put on there if you want to add anything is Twilight in Manchego. I just found it today. Idk if you've already discovered it, but in case you haven't it's something he did in 2008 I believe. If you Google it, it should pop up. There are a few videos on YouTube and there's a Facebook page.

So happy to answer!! I found most of this just by watching interviews, he's mentioned a lot of the stuff he's done offhandedly, not all of it of course. Others I found just by googling around, theres this site that has extended credits which is helpful. But really a lot of this isn't too difficult to find, I have "I must know everything about this topic" hyperfixations if that gives any more context.

And I'll say right off the bat that I found out about Twilight in Manchego like a few days after I made the ice berg, so I'd definitely put it on there now. Another thing I'd probably add now would be the reading he did for Book of Mormon.

Okay, now onto that list!

- I meant "How come no one says.." the song by Brett Ryback, that's my bad, I consistently get the song name wrong for some reason. I added it to the list because Alex has sung it four times (thats been recorded [1, 2, 3, 4] CW for wildly ableist language) and I'm like 99.9999% sure its the song he references in this interview and I found that a bit amusing.

- For both Everything is Fine and Slow Children, I only know what Alex has said in interviews. I don't have specific links, nor the time to rewatch a bunch of stuff right now, but I believe he talks about both of them briefly in this podcast with Drew if I'm remembering correctly. (I'm super sorry if I'm wrong!!)

- Love, NY was a show he did a reading for at the New World Stages, here's a playlist of the some the performance. He plays a character named Benjamin (Benji).

- No!! I never found a national anthem video, drives me up a damn wall honestly, you'd think something like that would be documented but I've had zero luck finding anything.

- I definitely mean that Megan yes. I thought it'd be funny.

- Kinda! On Your Marc is the documentary they did about the show. It was screened at a few conventions from what I know. It's listed on Alex's imdb.

- There's this fun article about the recording of the album, including a video which is broken in the article (had to check their Flickr to find it) so here's that.

- It's just a YouTube video! But it's a bit hard to search because of the pun, so here's that.

- I found it because F mentioned it in this show, I thought it was hilarious and I immediately had to find it.

Thank you for asking!! I will answer the other one soon, but I'm out right now. ^v^

#brightyberg #alex brightman #brighty

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streamafterlaughter · 1 year

Text

Fundamental Differing

Chapter X: It’s All Hate And Money

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | chapter ix

summary: an idea is proposed by your label that you’re not sure you want to take part in, especially given the circumstances.

tags: hurt/no comfort but barely, angst, fake dating, slow burn, idiots in love, mutual pining, mutual heartbreak, these two are so stupid sometimes it hurts

a/n: i’m so sorry this took so long and it’s still not very long, but it DID inspire me to keep going! also yeah, ofc i brought the angst back. bc that was the whole plot. just stupid ppl that cannot communicate right now bc they r afraid!!! also if any of my links are broken pls let me know, im trying to fix them but they decide to work half the time?? Disclaimer: I do not give permission to have my work reposted on other sites. Reblogs are more than welcome, but please inform me if you find my work elsewhere unless otherwise stated. Reblog to support the author!

——

July 1986

The breeze is refreshing, despite it blowing your hair into your face. Eddie sits next to you, hands behind his head as he lay in the sun. He’s showing off his tattoos, including the one he’d gotten from you last month, your initials in your handwriting scratched neatly above his hip. In front of you, Robin and Steve splash each other in the lake, both of them shrieking and laughing as the cool water hits their faces. Your heart is full, spending the weekend at Steve’s parents’ unused lake house with your closest friends. Nancy and Jonathan arrive tomorrow, and the five of you have plans to roast marshmallows and sing songs like in all those cheesy horror movies. You could do this every day for the rest of your life, and be perfectly happy. You know Eddie doesn’t feel that way, he gets restless in places so still, and you have this deep, irrational fear that his urge to keep moving will end up being your downfall. But right now, that’s a non-problem. You return to your book, The Harlequin’s Son, as Eddie cranks the boombox up another few notches to blast Beach Boys Surfin USA.

—

Present Day

Eddie’s POV

“Eddie! Is Sweetheart about Y/n?” “Was Pretty Boy written about you?” “How long have you and Y/n been together?” “Eddie, where’s Y/n?” The questions are hurled at him by fans and journalists alike as he enters the venue, cameras flashing in his face as Steve tries to shield him.

“We have no comment at this time, thank you! Bye!” Steve shoos the mob as well as he can manage, holding his hand out in front of photographers. Eddie keeps his head down, saying nothing as the door swings open for him and his band.

“Hey, they’ll let it go, it’s just fresh right now.” Steve reassured him, a comforting hand landing on his shoulder.

“It’s not them I’m worried about.” He looks around, every backstage of every venue looks the same to him, but you’re in the wings, lugging your guitar and amp to the stage as crew members set up pedal boards and wires. You look up then, and offer Eddie the smallest of smiles that he returns with a shy wave.

“I’m sure Y/n is fine, too.”

“You haven’t talked to them?”

“I’ve been busy with your temperamental ass!” Steve jokes, nudging him. “Besides, they’re a lot stronger than you think.”

“Hey. I know that. You think I don’t know that? We were together for like, four years. That isn’t my point.” It’s his turn to be defensive. He’s never doubted your strength, it’s your temper he’s concerned with. You’re not one to shy away from chewing someone out for a wrong assumption.

He looks from Steve back to you, watching as you chat with a crew member about something. You’re in plain jeans and a tight black t-shirt, your hair tied on top of your head haphazardly.

He feels a second nudge. “Stare more, would ya?” Robin’s appeared on Eddie’s other side.

“Who’s staring? I’m not staring.”

“And I’m not a lesbian. Try to blink, you’ll look less obvious.” Her smirk makes his eye twitch. “Or, y’know. You could just go say hi. Like friends do.”

“Seriously? You’re giving me shit about this too?” Eddie groans, craning his neck to the ceiling in irritation.

“Of course I am! If you guys are gonna do this dance the whole time we’re touring, I'm gonna get my jokes in!” This causes Steve to snicker.

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this once. Y/n and I are adults. You two are being so immature about this. There is absolutely nothing else between us, okay? Nothing.” Steve and Robin exchange a look, and begin to giggle again. “Cut it out!” Eddie whines, then startles when he feels a light tap on his shoulder. He turns around to find you, sparkly eyed with a tight smile on your lips.

“We need to talk.”

—

Your POV

You don’t mention what you’d heard from Eddie’s lips, but you feel your heart sting a little. Nothing else between us? Bullshit. But now isn’t the time to call him out on it.

“What’s up?” Eddie leans against the doorframe of the dressing room, arms crossed casually.

“I just got a call from my label. They, uh, saw the magazine article.” You keep your voice low, not wanting to alert your gaggle of friends hanging out inside the dressing room. “They want us to play into it.”

“Play into it?” Eddie quirks an eyebrow teasingly. You’re sure he knows exactly what you’re talking about, but he wants to hear you say it.

You groan. “They want us to be seen together more, out in public. Hold hands and shit.”

“They want us to date for publicity?”

You shrug. “Pretty much.”

“Do you want that?” He sounds sincere, even concerned.

“I don’t know if I have that choice.”

Eddie straightens his posture. “You always have a choice. It’s your life, regardless of what your label wants you to do.”

You sigh. He means well, you know that, but it would be so much more added stress to fight with executives while on tour. “Well, what do you think?”

“You know I’m always down to play tricks on the public,” he laughs, “and if you don’t mind being around me all the time, I’ll definitely do it.” You can’t get a read on him. If he doesn’t have feelings for you, why would he want to pretend?

“Okay. Then let’s play some tricks, yeah?” You offer your hand, and he stares. “You’re supposed to shake it.”

He blinks his stare away, and grasps your right hand in his. “Let’s do it.” He nods, and you can’t help but smile.

—

Your anxiety is skyrocketing tonight. With the added weight of this dating scheme, you barely have the mental capacity to make it through soundcheck.

“Are you okay?” Robin approaches you when you fumble the chords to Pretty Boy again, wincing as you sing the lyrics you’d written so many years ago.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone. Not even Steve.” You’re whispering, even though you really don’t care if your bandmates find out. But Steve will try to protect you, probably going as far as making a scene in front of the label execs if he deemed necessary, and that was way too much to deal with right now.

“Consider my lips locked.” Robin makes a point of zipping her lips, locking them, and tossing the imaginary key behind her shoulder. You fill her in on your plan, not mentioning your nerves or feelings the entire time.

“And you think this is a good idea?” She asks when you’ve finished your rant. She’s not saying it to bite, she genuinely seems worried for you.

You shrug. “Probably not, but DDA is still new, we could get kicked off the label if we object to them this early. And they talked to CC’s agent already, so we pretty much have to do it.”

“But, what if you get the feelies again? Or worse, what if you don’t get the feelies, and now you’re lying to the world and to yourself?”

“First of all, feelies, Robin? Are we twelve? And secondly, I know. I'm screwed either way. Eddie already said he didn’t have feelings for me, so it’s not like-“

Robin interrupts you, waving her hand frantically. “When did he say that?”

“I overheard him talking to you and Steve earlier. ‘There is nothing else between us. Nothing.’.” You mimic Eddie’s gruff voice as you quote him, warning a chuckle from your bassist.

“You know that’s like, total bullshit, right?”

“No, I don’t! I can’t figure him out anymore, and frankly I don’t see why I have to.”

Robin pinches between her eyes like a disappointed mother. “You don’t. But you should figure your own shit out. Might be healing.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. This could totally be my undoing, I am very aware. But this could also be the push I need to make a decision. Either I’m over him, or I’m not.”

Robin pats your shoulder lovingly. “Okay, babes. Whatever you want. But maybe stop thinking about it until after we rock the shit out of this place, okay?”

You nod, finding the first chord again, and playing it perfectly. “Right. Let’s do this shit.”

—

Eddie’s POV

He taps his foot along anxiously with the house music, currently Blind Melon’s Tones of Home. His pen bounces up and down frantically in his hand, tapping against his frayed leather bound journal. A melody has been stuck in his head all day, but he can’t bring the words to match it. He’s about to throw in the towel when he feels another presence in the room.

He glances up, and his eyes meet with yours in the mirror. He whips his head around, startled by your stealth. “Hey, sw- hey, you.” He chuckles, feeling his cheeks heat up at the slip up. “Sorry, practicing.”

You shake your head, a small smile on your lips. “Hey. I wanted to be the one to tell you, there’s a lot of press here tonight. I heard Rolling Stone might try talking to you.” Your voice shakes slightly as you deliver the information.

Eddie is far too used to the overwhelming amount of public attention that comes with being a successful musician. It’s something he can’t stand, and you know that well. Nosy reporters were a huge reason he didn’t like when you would go on tour with him when the two of you actually were together. He was insistent on you not being seen with him, because he didn’t want them twisting your image. It was a selfish thing, Eddie realizes now. You are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but Eddie didn’t want to share you with the world. You were his to protect, and only his to be in love with.

But the world is falling in love with you now, for something you had created without him, and he feels all the pride for you in the world. Every day he wishes he’d been more supportive. Maybe this is his second chance?

“Thank you for the warning.” Eddie answers after a beat too long. You nod your head once, and pivot to leave the room when Eddie hears himself call, “Wait!” You turn to him again, waiting for him to continue. “You, uh, you think you could help me with something?” Eddie’s shy again, suddenly, like he’s back in high school asking you to go to prom with him. And he wasn’t even shy when he asked you to prom.

“Sure, what is it?” You walk deeper into the room, and Eddie moves aside to make room at the small vanity mirror. He slides his open journal toward you, where the page is littered in words crossed out, rewritten, and crossed out again. He snatches his guitar from where it leans against the wall, throwing it over his lap in a swift motion, despite the tight space.

“I have had this thing, this melody stuck in my head all day, and I either need to know if I came up with it, or if I’m remembering it from somewhere.”

He finds the first notes, fingering the strings expertly to a twinkling melody.

—

Your POV

You are really trying to focus on the song he’s playing. It does sound familiar to you, but you can only hear it like this, unfinished and on the fly. You squeeze your eyes shut in concentration, really focusing on the way the song flows together, trying to put words to it that escape you.

Until you figure it out. Your eyes fly open, wide as the memory comes back to you with full force. “Oh my god.” You throw a hand over your mouth.

Eddie stops suddenly, and looks back to you in the mirror. “Shit, is this someone else’s song? I thought I had something really fuckin’ good here!”

“No, no. Well, yes and no.” Eddie raises an eyebrow at your confusing response. “It, uh. That’s the song we wrote together. Like, right after graduation, when we went to Steve’s lake house. You played it on that really gross acoustic guitar that was in the garage, the one we found when we were—“ You don’t finish the sentence, knowing the raunchy turn the story takes. “Anyway, we started fuckin’ around with it, ‘member? And you came up with that—“ you point lazily to his guitar still in his lap, “but we never put words to it, we kinda just forgot. That is insane.”

—

Eddie’s POV

The memory washes over him, like a tidal wave pulling him under. You’d had the guitar in your lap, strumming lazy chords as you tuned the old, barely usable guitar that had belonged to Steve’s mother in another life. He remembers how hot that day had been, a record breaking heatwave baking the entirety of the midwest. Your hair was piled high on your head to keep it off your sticky skin, glimmering with perspiration. You wore only a bikini top and shorts, feet bare and dirty with the mud of the backyard. He’d stolen the guitar from you, plucking the same chords he’d just been playing, You’d started humming, then eventually singing, to his music, a soft smile on your face as your eyes closed, focusing on the way the two sounded together. He remembers everything else about that night, too, from the clumsy sex in the shed to the bonfire surrounded by his favorite people.

He finally turns around, his head purposefully craned up to avoid being eye level with your chest. The space between you two is small, and he feels his heart rate quicken. “Oh, shit.” Is all he says, being rendered speechless by the discovery.

“No, I mean, it’s okay! It’s such a pretty tune it’d be a shame if one of us didn’t use it. You should!” He can’t help but hear the slight disappointment in your voice, like you feel something was taken from you, by him. The idea comes almost as quickly as the memory had. “What if we just, put the song out?”

You place a hand on your hip. “What, like as a duet?”

Eddie nods, feeling the hope take hold in his chest. “Yeah! Yeah, we could write it, record it when we stop in New York maybe, or even after the tour if you want. And the suits would eat it up, too. Especially with this whole thing we got goin’ on,” He gestures to the space between your bodies.

“Oh. So this would be like, a money grab for you?” The hurt is clear in your wavering voice, and Eddie’s smile is wiped from his face.

“No, of course not.”

“No, right, but it’s a nice little extra. Have your cake and eat it too, right?” Wrong. So wrong, but what is Eddie supposed to do? Now is not the time to be confessing that he’s still completely enamored with you, head over heels in love. It’s so unfair to you, to both of you, to put that out there right this second.

“I mean, if you wanna look at it like that, yeah. The extra money would be nice. But it would also be cool just to work with you again. For real this time, as friends.” He’s praying it’s a good enough save.

You shrug. “We can try, but I’m not confident in our ability to work together.” There’s a bite to your words, and Eddie winces. “But I gotta go, we’re on in an hour.” You turn, and leave the room with an extra sense of urgency.

“Jesus Christ.” Eddie puts his guitar down, and throws his head into his hands.

—

Your POV

You angrily wipe the tear that’s escaped from your tear duct, annoyed with your own sensitivity. You’re absolutely overreacting, but the pain in your throat threatens to suffocate you if you don’t immediately do something about it.

And so, with nothing else running through your mind besides Eddie, the memories of him contrasting deeply with who he’s become, you stomp past your bandmates as they put the finishing touches on their makeup and hair, you slam the bathroom door behind you. You’d swiped the scissors from Harley months ago, and keep them in your toiletries bag for things like this. You grab a fistful of your hair and chop, not stopping to measure the length. You repeat the ritual on the other side, and again across the front of your face. When you’re finished, your hair looks like you lost a bet, your eyes are puffy from crying, and a string of snot has fallen down your face. You wipe it with your sleeve, and quickly change into the outfit hanging up on the towel rack: black sheer tights and a baby pink lingerie nightgown you’d thrifted in Montreal. You throw your leather jacket over it, do your makeup haphazardly as you hold the rest of your tears in, and apply an excessive amount of deodorant. You step out of the bathroom, and are immediately met with the horrified looks of your friends.

“What did you do?!” Sylvie throws their hands over their mouth in shock, and Lilith’s jaw unhinges as she gasps.

You shrug. “Needed a change. Now let’s rock the shit out of this place, huh?”

Your bandmates move to leave the room, not about to engage with your suddenly erratic behavior. You’re grateful for their silence, knowing you probably look ridiculous. This will give the press something else to talk about.

The noise of the crowd grows louder as you approach the wing. “Alright guys, go out there and-“ Steve cuts himself off as his eyes scan over you. “What the hell happened?”

Robin is quick to speak. “They’re fine. Don’t worry about this right now.”

“Right, but there are so many cameras out there, and I-“

“Steve!” Robin interrupts, shaking her head. “Not. Right. Now.”

Steve surrenders, lips tight. “Okay. Right. Go kick some ass!” He hugs each of your bandmates before they go on stage. When he gets to you, he rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, and pulls back when he discovers you’re shaking. “Are you alright?”

“Later.” You say shortly. More words about the subject will make you cry again. “I promise.”

“Okay. I love you. Do your thing.” He brings you into his hug, and you relish in your best friend’s warmth for a few seconds too long. The crowd is losing their minds.

“Okay, I gotta go.” And he lets you go. You walk onstage, and are blinded by the stage lights. The crowd never falters, even after seeing your new abomination of a haircut that Harley will surely kill you for later. Cameras flash from all corners of the room while fans whoop and holler for your band.

“What the fuck is up, Portland?!” You scream into the mic, and the answer is thousands of screams in your direction. “I just cut my hair in the bathroom, let’s fuckin’ party!” Lilith clicks her sticks together to count you off, and you launch into the first song of your set.

—

chapter xi

taglist: @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @wiildflower-xxx @beebeerockknot @champagne-glamour @xxgothwhorexx @therensistance @chonkzombie @brxkenartt @sidthedollface2 @bibieddiesgf @gaysludge @eddiesguitarskills @littlepotatobeansworld @ghost-proofbaby @poisonedluv | send a message to be added🫶

#eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #rockstar!eddie #rockstar!reader #fundamental differing #new kid fic #slow burn #hurt/no comfort #mutual pining #mutual heart break #st4 #strangerthingscentral #stranger things 4 #stranger things fanfiction #90s au

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polyhexian · 9 months

Text

Reply too big to keep in replies, forgive me

Flash emulation won't actually work with the way the site is coded. It's really difficult to truly illustrate HOW fucked the site is if you aren't familiar with it.

So the flash games are INTEGRATED into the site. They don't just play. They send scores and those scores are validated by the site and then affect the game in real time by awarding points. Thats backend stuff and it seems EASY. But flash EMULATION will not really let that process work. Not blanket. Ruffle is a browser add on for flash and you can play some games with it but every game has needed to be worked manually and individually to try and get it to play correctly and to let it send scores.

Here, so like. Last year you may recall having heard about the data breach. It was a long time coming. Neopets has terrible security and always has. So someone got backend access, downloaded the server and this had all of the usernames and passwords ever used. Were they hashed? Yes. Was the hashkey stored in the server and thus also available to the hacker? Also yes.

As a result neopets finally moved from http to https. Great!

Not for flash games.

Every game has links in it right. Backend stuff. Mechanics. But all those fucking links redirect to http, not https. And you cannot change that without editing the game and you can't do THAT without a program that makes flash elements. So they're basically unfixable on site. On one fell swoop, every single flash game broke at once. You could play them but scores were now unsendable.

The workaround neopets USERS found was, I shut you not, using developer tools to modify the way your entire computer communicates with the internet

"oh, that seems simple"

Look the fuck at what is IN the js file

It is 538 lines! It is manually overriding the links used in these games. This IS hacking. Technically this is against the rules, it's just not being enforced.

Don't worry, I'm terrified.

The workaround before this STILL had you download a new browser, modify it, take your internet offline and manually reinstall an old version of flash to create a jury rigged flash browser. Oh my God this is so dangerous and we Still do this. Did I do all this fiddler stuff? Yes! I did! Because neopets is very much like transformers in that there is a small user base but every single person there is fucking insane!

So.... Emulation is not a solution. Every game needs to be individually ground up REMADE in html5. And you can't just import the old game and tweak it. It has to be made from scratch. That's why there are so few html5 games. It's incredibly difficult and time consuming and probably not all that worth it when there's so much to be done.

This is what I mean when I say the site is virtually unplayable. This is the kind of shit that we have to do to make the site work. You basically cannot play unless you are accessing fan sites and communities to find resources that can offer fixes to everything that is broken. There are legitimately pages of this website that have not been updated since 1999. Until like two years ago you still could not say "gay" on the forums because the chat filter caught it. And do you know why?? Staff literally did not know where the chat filter was stored in the backend. They could not find it. The site traded hands and staff so much that no one remained who knew where it was.

There is LITERALLY a guy who found backend access several years ago and can, whenever he wants, get into the server and look at everything. HE could have stolen those passwords (which the other hacker was selling for $10,000!!) At any time he wanted. Instead he just made an anonymous reddit account where he would post info about how the fucking site works and why things are broken and "yeah they lied about fixing this its still broken" or "yeah actually they secretly shadowbanned a bunch of people from submitting scores to the big yearly event next year if you dm me I can tell you if you're on the list"

And he IS STILL THERE!!!! HE STILL HAS SERVER ACCESS!!! ITS BEEN YEARS AND THEY HAVENT KICKED HIM OUR BECAUSE THEY STILL HAVENT FOUND THE BREACH!!!!!!!

This. THIS is what staff is dealing with. THIS is the absolute shit storm they need to tackle if they want this site to work. The way pets are stored, the way accounts work, all of those things cannot be changed without causing severe issues conflicting with users accounts, pets, items, and all of that was originally coded in 1998/1999 and it cannot be changed. It cannot be modernized. They need to find ways to integrate old code that cannot be changed into a site coded for a modern internet. That is beyond the scope of normal site building.

All that is to say... I'm hesitant to believe things will improve, not because I don't think staff wants to, not because I don't think they have the drive and the passion to throw everything they have at it. Just because... Jesus dude I don't know if they actually have the resources to fix this mess at all.

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kfam-tea · 10 months

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Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii i dont know if this account is still active but i just stumbled upon this podcast randomly and i was thinking abotu picking it up but then i found this blog . I dont mind that it never finished, but based on the few posts I skimmed it doesnt sound like getting into this podcast is worth it at all. do you think king falls am is any bit enjoyable at this point?

Hi, yes this blog is still active (horrifyingly might I add). But you just asked the most loaded question.

Now, I answered that in my post here. That was around January 2021 and while I updated at the bottom some of it stands and some of it has shifted a bit.

Obviously, it's up to you because it's not that easy. Sure there were a lot of shitty things, but after hundreds of audio dramas, it's still my favorite. But it's also unfinished, had some problematic creators, problematic themes (racism, homophobia, a horrifying about of holocaust jokes, etc), and was overall a shitshow. I also have a more complex con: there's a current lack of community. The show ended in 2020 and it's now 2023. There are a few active users (including me) but most people have moved on. You don't need a community to love a piece of media but it was definitely a big draw for most people. Even I have very fond memories of staying up until 3:00 am to catch the latest episode and blogging about it. Oh and the memes and the fanart. It made everything feel alive. And that's gone. Even the website's gone.

TDLR: If I had to really sum it up, I'd say to steer away from this podcast unless you're super curious and willing to get your heart broken.

-RBPS

PS: If you can't load links because Tumblr mobile sucks (I've had this issue for over a year now) and want to find the post go to @realbigpodcastslut and search "Should You Listen to King Falls AM" or something similar.

#kfam #kfam tea #king falls am #rbps #ask

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finniestoncrane · 2 years

Text

Dano!RiddlerxReader

Dropping the first chapter here and this link to AO3 where you can see up to chapter five so far.

Warnings for smut, fluff, incels, mean boys, language, CNC, painplay, stalking, absolutely unhinged OC which is you I guess. See AO3 link for more tags/warnings.

It’s not physically impossible to sleep peacefully in Gotham, but it takes a lot of practice to get used to it. You’ve lived there your whole life though, albeit maybe in a slightly nicer area, way before. When your dad was still around and you still spoke to your mom. Before you’d broken contact and moved into the dank, wet, inner-city. Still, even that was around about seven years ago. Seven years of sirens, screaming, shouting, and strangely enough you could even hear audible punches landing from your window, even through the near constant pattering of the rain. And sometimes that was exciting.

That’s what the attraction to the step-above-homeless apartment was (plus the low rent). It’s not that you yourself were violent, but there was something in the violence that was thrilling. Your adrenaline pumped as you walked home, under the bridges and past unbelievably dark alleys. It wasn’t the usual feeling of uneasiness that accompanied being a woman alone at night. They were feelings that should be explored with a psychiatrist, or an understanding and adventurous partner. Unfortunately, you had neither the money for a shrink nor the social skills for a man. It was bedsit, open windows, and silently masturbating as you listening to the ongoing orchestra of police cars and burglar alarms, accompanied by a heavenly choir of screaming angels. It was perfect, so perfect in fact that you’d started to get annoyed, and a little bit worried, about this dumb Batman figure, floating around and “stopping crime”. Yeah, you could find any level of depravity you were looking for online, but then that would be admitting that you were into it. And that might be a step too far for your obsessive mind to walk back from. And here came the caped crusader to clean up the grotty city you knew and loved. Ruining the passivity of your pleasure.

It was around eleven at night, and usually this was the peak time for street fights that poured out from the seedy bars and clubs that surrounded the apartment building. It was eerily silent, however.

“He’s already made a difference!” you hissed in your mind, sighing out loud to your empty apartment, unless the rats that lived in the walls could hear you. In a bit of a mood now, you lazily grabbed your laptop from the floor next to your unmade single bed with one hand, chucking it onto your stomach. After checking several of the neighbourhood watch groups you’d joined to get a sniff of any action, you realised it was indeed a rare quiet night. A newsletter from some wannabe masked vigilante you subscribed to caught your attention as you listlessly scrolled your emails looking for a morsel of entertainment.

These emails always came from one guy, you assumed guy because some of the things that were said and that went un-checked about women were enough to tell you that you might not have been as welcome had your online alter not been purposefully skewed to read “male”. At first it had been a harmless newsletter about how shitty it was to live in Gotham, and how they needed someone to come make it better. Then he, and the very few followers that were active in those days, started focusing on how to make the city worse. A few weeks after that, they moved to a more ‘secure’ platform, and you needed a password. As a long time follower, you were given it by default. It was kind of scary, to let yourself get pulled in by these people. But you were a silent observer.

To begin with, they had organised graffiti campaigns. And then it sort of stopped there. They didn’t quite have the mettle to get involved in the gangs, the initiation rites were too much for them. And this pathetic dude who ran the newsletter was no great leader. It kind of fell apart, until it was just a few long-term readers who stuck around to get the latest news on the “anarchy” in Gotham. If anything, you had stayed subscribed out of habit, and maybe, partly, with the hopes that things might pick up again. But you could tell from the tone of the last couple of newsletters, infrequent as they were now, that Batman had left a scar on the writer.

This one though seemed pretty…upbeat?

NEWSLETTER: You guys should check out this stream!!

There was a link, instructions and a password, plus a screenshot of a website asking a puzzle question with the answer filled in. The guy who wrote the newsletter really thought everyone else was too stupid to figure that one out.

Unsure if it was the lack of information in the email, or morbid curiosity, you hovered over the enter key and pressed it anyway. Was it going to be a joke? Kittens frolicking in a field or something? Or was it going to be some horrible, possibly real, livestream of some poor woman being tortured in a dark room.

Disappointment, either way. You didn’t want to be scared, but you didn’t want to leave without a thrill. And instead, you were greeted by an empty room, a chat log on the side looked fairly barren. A message or two from about 5 minutes ago had come up. You recognised one of the usernames, it was similar to the one that the newsletter writer had used in the public days of his forum.

“Excited for you to get started tonight!!”

A few more usernames began to appear and the total count seemed to settle around 20 people, with a few dropping out and a few coming in consistently, a trend that would continue throughout. The clock at the bottom of the screen read 11:28. Your heart skipped a little in anticipation. Maybe something horrible was about to happen. What was about to start? Who was going to start? What had happened previously?

The sound of a door opening was the first noise that came out of your speakers, and was the first noise that had been made inside your apartment since you had sighed. It gave you a small shock. The waiting was almost over. Footsteps, heavy boots from the sound of them, grew ever so slightly louder as they approached the camera. The screen went black as the shitty webcam attempted to balance itself. Black, then a brief flash of white, then a deep, olive green. It took a second to register what was in the field of vision, but you were quick to recognise that the field of vision was encompassed by a jacket. Waterproof. A little army-esque. Hopefully this wasn’t going to be some neo-nazi, a militant fascist on a rant. What a huge waste of time, and a definite mood killer. The figure turned to the side and a flash of white on his coat was visible as he rotated to face behind him, fiddling with something on the wall at his back. It looked like some squiggles, like some paint had been spilled.

Heavy breathing echoed in the almost barren studio apartment as the figure leant across behind the camera. It sounded off, like it was muffled by something. Your heart was beating fast. You had managed to avoid seeing anything too horrendous on your escapades into the darker side of what the internet had to offer. At one point, you had considered reporting a video you had come across in the comments of a forum discussing the issue of stalking in Gotham, but it was quickly revealed to be a hoax. Still, the thought that you could be seconds away from seeing something to awful that you might be considered a witness, something you might not be able to come back from, it had you gently moving the mouse towards the exit button.

As you neared it, the figure on the screen sat down. You gasped sharply.

A mask, glasses, the light reflecting off of…was that saran wrap? An olive green hoodie, with no strings for the hood. Leather gloves, reaching to adjust the glasses. And deep, wide, green eyes. The greenest eyes.

Your eyes were going wider as you stared into his. Everything melted away for a second. The chat log, the other users, the sirens, the rats, the crushing sense of isolation that you were so good at pretending you didn’t feel. All of it. It felt like he was looking into your soul, directly at you. Although, there was a screen in the way. But it didn’t feel like that. It was strange, confusing, and your heart just kept beating harder and harder until it hurt. There was something about those eyes, and whoever was behind them, you were hanging on their every word. And they hadn’t even spoken yet.

“Hello, thank you for joining me tonight!”

Deep, but it didn’t sound natural. There was some element of voice modulation for sure. But it was still strangely arousing.

The next twenty minutes were a blur. It would be a miracle if you could even remember your own name, let alone the specifics of anything he said. Heart thumping, eyelashes fluttering for a screen that couldn’t appreciate it, you were smitten. By a mask and some glasses. And the greenest eyes. The dreamiest eyes.

It had been three weeks since you first saw the stream. It had become easier to focus on his words when you thought about what his lips looked like as he formed the words. To think how he formed the sounds. To know if he spat when he shouted, and he shouted a lot. I wonder if he’d shout at you. If you asked nicely enough?

Thoughts like that kept popping into your head as you watched him rant and rave about the injustices in Gotham, about the lies, the liars, those who protect the lies, and the liars. As he pointed dramatically to the newspaper scraps pinned and taped to his walls. There was a frantic energy that was so intriguing, and exciting. And, to your absolute delight, there was that lingering threat of danger. He seemed so angry, so…unhinged.

Perfect.

You caught yourself holding your head dreamily in your hands, like a teenager desperately in love. Was that what this was? Love? Or lust? Or both? Either way, you would be absolute putty in his leather clad hands if you were ever face to face with him.

Your heart sank a bit at that thought.

He seemed like he had all of the potential to be big, bad and scary. The ‘boogeyman’. But, you knew it in your heart. You’d spent a lot of time around these people on the internet. You’d seen them get angry, rage, build up to what could have been earth shattering violence and then fall flat. Which, and you felt like you had to clarify this even to yourself in your own mind, you were very, VERY grateful for. It would be borderline psychopathy to wish that one of these ineffectual, women-hating, man-children would ever be able to grow up and do something instead of just bitching about it online. But the part of you that craved danger was intrigued by the capacity for violence. And, as much as you were drawn in by his words, his almost socialist mantras, how easy it was to believe him that, much like a French peasant, a revolt within the proletariat against the lies and corruption of the rich was not only the answer, but was already in motion, you just couldn’t get past the fact that he was online, in a dark and messy room, talking to what was for all intents and purposes himself.

What you wanted was for him to be the fearless leader. Maybe he would lead the charge in a riot in Gotham, his followers behind him, dressed in his uniform. Spreading his word like gospel, searching out Gotham’s elite, the upper classes, those who protect and serve themselves and their business interests. And after a night of shocking the city, the world, he’d come home to you. Tired, and sweating, and peel off the mask, the clingfilm, readjust his glasses and pull you into him. Whisper to you…

“What’s mine, but only you can hold it?”

Huh.

Even though you were alone in your room, you still shivered in slight disgust at yourself, making a fake gagging noise to really chastise yourself. Was this really what you had become? Some lovesick fool, imagining a romantic scenario with a man who, and let’s all be honest here, had likely never said more than five words to a woman, let alone pulled one into a warm embrace and whispered, so eloquently, a romantic riddle.

It had been about a week or so into the streams when he’d identified himself as Riddler, and at first, it was incredibly dorky, making you almost cringe when he said it, or when the others in the chat called him by that name. And then it grew on you, and you imagined him asking you to say it while he was on you, around you, in you. Heavy breathing, mask on, muffled and desperate pleas for you to treat him like he thought he should be treated. And after that point, it became your favourite word. You waited, with baited breath for the next time you could answer one of the riddles he posed to everyone for fun. His eyes lit up as the chat started filling with answers, some wrong, some right. It seemed he was excited either way, eyes glittering in bright emerald just at the thought of people paying attention to him, listening to him, doing as he asked even if it was something as simple as solving his silly little puzzles.

You’d never dared to answer one yet, not to the chat at least. But you usually got them right and felt smug, letting yourself imagine him being surprised of you, or proud of you, or rewarding you with a little kiss on your forehead but that’s not him but it could be but it’s not but you want it to be and-

The train of thought was proving too much, and your heart physically ached. It was stupid to let yourself develop a crush on a man you’d never even seen, either in full or in reality. He barely said anything beyond riddles and threats, and when he did talk about something else it was usually about Batman of all things. The crushing disappointment, the Schrödinger like problem you’d created for yourself. Either he wasn’t what you thought he was, or he was and you couldn’t have him. Or maybe he wouldn’t have you. It was a painful obsession and it was already too far gone to stop. Whether you knew it and were in denial, or were blissfully unaware, he’d tipped you over the edge.

His heart. That was his, and only you could hold it.

#dano!riddler #riddler fanfic #riddler smut #riddler x you #riddler x reader #paul dano riddler #riddler 2022 #edward nashton #paul dano #the riddler #the riddler fanfic #my shit

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stardustandash · 10 months

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Get By With a Little Help - Jedi Survivor

Summary: The many times the folk of Rambler’s Reach lend a helping hand to their resident Jedi, and a few times he helps them in return.Or, a series of short vignettes of Cal interacting with the folk found around Koboh.

Chapter 1 below the cut, if you prefer ao3 reading, this is the link! (Please drop in and leave a comment if you like it!)

Tags: fluff, hurt/comfort

Koboh isn’t the kind of place they write about in the Core to lure rich travellers somewhere to empty their pockets. It’s the kind of place that you end up in when you’re either running from something or too naïve to understand why the planet is so deserted. Unless you’re Turgle, who came here specifically to swindle fools, but Doma wasn’t Turgle. She’d once been a prospector, full of foolish dreams of striking it rich on an untapped planet. Then her partner had died and she had found herself alone on a backwater planet without a ship or hope of anything.

Then Doma had happened across the barest bones of what was once an outpost, and she has never been a quitter. She rallied a few prospectors and rescued a few others, and over the years a little town grew in the shade of the mountain and nestled against the slow, wide river. Others began showing up too. She didn’t care much about who was coming in back then, she still doesn’t now, as long as they aren’t raiders or agents of the so called Empire that’s burning their way through the rest of the galaxy.

So when a Jedi of all things lands at her doorstep Doma hardly blinks an eye, just gives him the lay of the land and sends him on his way. The kid seems halfway between polished and rough, but he helped out Turgle and that is enough to endear him to her somewhat. That and the priorite he has lining his pockets. Doma may be kind, but she isn’t a fool. There’s nothing that makes the galaxy go round more than getting what’s owed from credits to justice. She might have a few things a kid like him would be interested in, and she makes sure they’re on full display when he comes into Dendra’s Antiquities.

When he enters it’s a bit more energy than she’s used to from the folks around here. Not from the kid, exactly, but his little droid. The thing bounces off his shoulder and starts scanning any and everything around the shop. She watches the duo curiously from behind the counter as they inspect some old tools that Mosey’d found on an unlucky prospector over in the gulch then move on to a broken toy tooka. Not that there were any kids around to play with the thing, but you never know. Maybe the kid needs something softer than the droid to sleep with. He passes right over all the things Doma had laid out to tempt him to trade and eventually lands on the other side of the counter.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” asks Doma, slow and inviting.

“Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you have any clothes in here? I don’t mind used if that’s all you have,” says the kid. The look on his face says that he would actually mind very much but is either too desperate or too polite to say otherwise.

Doma gives him a once-over, taking in his appearance in the close proximity. While his face is clean and his hair has seen a wash sometime in the last few days, the state of his clothes say that they’re the only ones he’s got. Her eyes can pick out the lines of mending stitches beneath dirt that’s been ground into the weave of his shirt. The vest he’s wearing has seen better days too. So have his pants and boots. Probably the only set he owns then, Doma concludes. He must be one of the on the run types. Not that the Jedi part didn’t give that away.

“Sorry kid, not at the moment. At least I ain’t got anything that’ll fit you.”

“That’s okay. Does anyone else around here sell clothes?”

Doma chuckles. “I’m the only shop in business in Rambler’s Reach, though if you find an abandoned campsite out there with something in your size, chances are no one’s going to come complaining if you take it.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” says the kid.

“If you’re really desperate I’m sure Mosey has something that might fit a scrawny little thing like you,” she adds.

The kid flushes nearly as red as his hair. Doma forgot that humans did that. It’s sweet. He trades for a few songs and backs out of the store before the red fully fades. Doma watches him go. The new blood’ll be good around here, breathe some life into an old, dusty town. She does make a note to procure some clothes in the right sizes for the kid. If he’s willing to trade all that priorite she may as well give him something to trade for.

It takes a while, but eventually Doma gets a healthy selection of clothes for humanoid males into the shop. Some of it’s been scrounged from abandoned camps, others from the raider’s supply. Either way, no one’s come looking for them yet, and the kid, Cal, is the only one buying. He hasn’t asked her about stocking anything else yet, and so Doma settles in to seeing him at least once every few weeks for a new shirt or pants, the last ones looking like he’d dragged them by nekko around the planet then given them to a mogu. But it works for her and it seems to work for him.

Cal doesn’t have to ask her to stock anything else, but Doma learns. She learns the hard way, as she always does. She learned she wasn’t cut out to be a prospector with the death of her partner. She learns what Cal needs when the raiders come knocking.

The sound of the scuffle is what gets her attention. Doma is in her shop when the echoes of blaster fire ring through the outpost. Screams follow, and the sound of people running. This isn’t the first time the raiders have come to Rambler’s reach however, and Doma knows from experience that having a strong figure to rally behind gives the residents here the spine to stand and fight for their home. So she grabs her rifle and steps out into the sunlight with her shoulders squared. No raider will be taking their home nor goods today.

Yet the sounds coming from the entrance to town aren’t the usual gleeful hoots and hollers from the raiders. No, there’s concern in those shouts. Fear too. And the high pitched sound of something buzzing. Doma rounds the corner and sees the gang of raiders she was expecting, both humanoid and droid together. But what she wasn’t expecting to see was the local Jedi waving his lightsaber around and handling the group by himself. For a moment she feels like she’s small again, back when tales of the mysterious Jedi coming to save a planet were still common bedtime stories. But she has never been one to revel in the past, and Cal has never really cut an imposing fairy tale figure. He does not fight like she imagined a Jedi would. He does not possess elegance and grace but rather a lethal calculation to his strikes.

Doma arms her rifle and steps towards the fray. While she appreciates the help, this is her outpost, and she can protect it. No need to get complacent and rely on a kid, no matter his background. The few raiders still standing looked between Cal and Doma and made the smart decision by turning around and heading back into the dusty hills.

“Get gone!” shouts Doma after them. “And don’t try it again!”

As she tracks the raider’s retreating backs Cal approaches her. He walks stiffly, she notes, and has a bruising ring around one eye. He grins at her as if to share a victory. As if the raiders won’t come back soon, in a week or two when he’s off planet and cannot help.

“Thanks for the assist,” says Cal.

“Usually it’s me or Mosey scarin’ em off like that. You did good,” says Doma.

Cal keeps on grinning at her. He looks half a fool, but she lets it slide. The young often fall prey to foolishness, and he doesn’t seem like one to not know his limits. Unlike a certain green idiot hanging around the outpost.

“Hey, do you have any bacta available in your shop?” asks Cal.

Doma doesn’t. A few of the residents have some stocked away for emergencies, including herself, but nothing for sale. Her eyes wander to where Cal’s hand is pressed against his ribcage, and thinks of the heavy electrostaffs she’s seen some of the raiders using.

“No bacta in the shop, I’m afraid,” she says.

A look of acceptance passes over Cal’s face. He sets his jaw against the pain as he nods and takes a few shuffling steps towards the saloon.

“I said no bacta in the shop, I didn’t say I had no bacta at all.”

Cal turns to her so fast she can’t believe he doesn’t have whiplash from it. There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“I got some stashed away just in case. I’d be willing to part with a few patches for a handful of priorite,” says Doma.

An amused grin appears on Cal’s face and he digs in his many pouches until he comes up with the required handful. Doma takes it, her large hand dwarfing Cal’s, and leads him over to the shop. He waits patiently as she slips into her living quarters and retrieves the promised bacta patches.

“Thank you,” says Cal gratefully. “Greez can’t complain too much if I already have bacta in hand.”

The last part he adds on quieter, like a thought escaping confinement. His little droid beeps in what sounds like agreement. That’s when Doma learns that she must also keep her shop stocked in bacta and probably other medical supplies. The little Jedi was going to need it if he kept throwing himself at the Bedlam Raiders. Greez would probably buy some too, now that he was shipping out with the kid across the galaxy. Yes, there was likely going to be some profit to be had from keeping bacta in supply.

Doma watches as he leaves, no doubt headed back to his and Greez’ little hideout underneath the saloon. It’s good the kid has someone looking out for him. She turns to survey her store. The shelf over on the left could use some rearranging anyways. Now all she had to do was find a good supply of bacta and she’d be rolling in priorite. She could claim it was to get more priority shards from the kid, or that it would be helping the outpost in the long run, but that wouldn’t be the whole truth. Maybe it was just her going soft as she got older, but she likes him, and if keeping clothes and bacta in stock will help him in the long run, then she is going to do it.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” asks Doma, slow and inviting.

“Sorry kid, not at the moment. At least I ain’t got anything that’ll fit you.”

“That’s okay. Does anyone else around here sell clothes?”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” says the kid.

“If you’re really desperate I’m sure Mosey has something that might fit a scrawny little thing like you,” she adds.

“Get gone!” shouts Doma after them. “And don’t try it again!”

“Thanks for the assist,” says Cal.

“Usually it’s me or Mosey scarin’ em off like that. You did good,” says Doma.

“Hey, do you have any bacta available in your shop?” asks Cal.

“No bacta in the shop, I’m afraid,” she says.

A look of acceptance passes over Cal’s face. He sets his jaw against the pain as he nods and takes a few shuffling steps towards the saloon.

“I said no bacta in the shop, I didn’t say I had no bacta at all.”

Cal turns to her so fast she can’t believe he doesn’t have whiplash from it. There’s a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

“I got some stashed away just in case. I’d be willing to part with a few patches for a handful of priorite,” says Doma.

“Thank you,” says Cal gratefully. “Greez can’t complain too much if I already have bacta in hand.”

#jedi survivor #jedi survivor fic #jedi survivor fanfic #cal kestis #doma dendra #I hope this works I’m using mobile since I’m not even in the same country as my laptop rn lol #I just happened to write so much on the plane and hit post on ao3 #fan fiction #Star Wars

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jadekitty777 · 1 year

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The Emotionalist: Chapter 4

Late, who’s late? Certainly not me.

I certainly didn’t just put the finishing touches on this chapter today or anything.

I’m going to continue to encourage reading this off A03 since my formatting is all messed up lol (I wonder how differently it reads without all the bolds and italics)

Prompt for Day 5: Magic

Rating: T

Word Count: 2K

Summary: Clover Ebi was a huntsman who, like most Atlesian soldiers, hid most of his emotions behind a mask of calm professionalism. That is, unless, one knew where to look. And Qrow looked a lot.

Or, 5 times Qrow learned to read Clover’s mood not from his face, but from his ears. [An adjacent story to Hunting Season Hunting Season; events from Qrow’s POV]

Ao3 Link: Shaking Like a Leaf

The horizon was black.

In all his years, Qrow had never seen a horde so large before. So many Grimm, not even a bit of the stars could be seen, blotted out end-to-end by writhing, rolling masses of dark creatures, broken only by bits of stark white bone and glowing red eyes.

Even miles away, it was terrifying to behold.

A strong gust threatened to topple him from the mountain he perched on - so he shifted from his feathers, sinking knee deep into snow as he yanked out his scroll and took a picture before sending it off to everyone with a warning.

Seventy miles south and moving fast. Whatever we’re doing, we better do it now.

He could see Ruby beginning to reply, but another gale hit stronger than the last, his already taxed aura worryingly bending. He couldn’t wait and shifted back before flying for the kingdom.

He just had to trust that the plan would pull through.

In the light of the rising sun, he could see it well before he hit the city’s limits.

Atlas was moving.

The little heart in his feathered breastbone thundered, roaring blood in his head as he soared above the tattered streets of Mantle, the signs of the last attack seen all over in the red streaked sidewalks and cooling bodies that had yet to be collected. A massacre despite their best efforts - and one that would only worsen if they chose wrong.

Was this it? Was giving up the only way? Would any of them be able to live with the weight if they did? Would they be able to live with it if they didn’t? How could they choose between a city and the entire world - as if lives were only significant in their numbers, not their substance?

How did Oz make these choices for so many lifetimes?

How was James making it now?

…Clover?

So distracted he was by his own thoughts, he didn’t notice what was broadcasting on the screens until he passed the third one.

Harriet’s expression was a mixture of calm and urgent, “-Don’t know how the quakes will affect Mantle, so we are asking everyone to stay inside and to not panic. Stay away from heavy appliances and take any objects down nearby that may fall on you. If you can not get to shelter, find the largest clearing you can. Emergency vehicles are already on standby to-”

It kept going, but Qrow tuned it out as understanding dawned.

Atlas wasn’t flying away - it was landing.

Feathers burst around him as he dropped to a rooftop, stumbling a bit on his feet as his knees threatened to buckle. He was so exhausted, he was all but ready to collapse. Flying at top speed for nearly two hours tested even his limits; but after a heavy fight and no sleep? It was a wonder he was conscious.

Not that he’d have time to sleep if that Grimm horde he’d outpaced caught up before they could finish.

Taking time to catch his breath, Qrow pulled out his scroll.

There were several missed calls, a few voicemails and a flood of messages. Some from Ruby. Most from Clover.

He opened his niece’s first and though he was expecting it, the very first one really did have him falling to his knees.

Clover found them!

It was the only thing he could see for a full minute, taking in that sheer miracle.

Thank Gods.

After the disaster that was Beacon, after the battle at Haven that was lost in the many who had already perished before they’d ever even arrived, after the terrible certainty that had settled in his mind that Mantle would just be another sacrifice in this war they didn’t know how to win…

Finally something was going right.

Laughter convulsed from him almost beyond control and for a split second, he wished he hadn’t given up drinking. He would have been celebrating this one so long, he would have emptied the damn brewery himself.

When he finally did manage to get some control over himself to roll his eyes downwards, he read over the few other updates Ruby had given him.

Neo was trying to escape at the train station.

Oscar’s hurt but he’ll be okay.

The General has Penny getting the relic back to us. We’re figuring out what to do now.

Then, almost a half hour later:

Uh uncle, did you not tell Clover about the bird thing?

He was freaking out about you not answering.

I might have told him by accident.

…Oops?

A chuckle burst out of him. Twenty years he’d kept that secret under tight wraps - and in twenty minutes his niece had undone it.

Ruby’s messages ended there, so he switched over to Clover’s, wondering if he’d be mad. They trickled in slowly at first, but grew more frequent and panicked as time went on.

You must still be out of range. Call me when you can.

A quarter of an hour later, Qrow? Hey if you get this ask the pilots to turn on the signal booster.

Another ten from there, Qrow where are you?! I just checked with Air Control and they told me no Mantas have been dispatched or are in the airspace for return.

But that can’t be right.

Are you okay?

Did you fall asleep?

Qrow? Please answer me.

Qrow!

He felt a little guilty, seeing how worried he was, but it was entirely understated by the exact moment Clover found out the truth, just two minutes later.

YOU CAN TURN INTO A WHAT?!

There was a short stretch of time between that yell and his next correspondence, though it was hard to tell if it was from coming to terms with the discovery or simply from distraction.

Okay, okay. We can talk about it later.

Not sure if you’ll read these, but I’ll get you caught up.

Qrow did read them, every last one.

A few minutes later, he took flight once more.

A lot had happened in just two hours.

Cinder had fled.

Neo was incarcerated.

Fria had passed away and Penny was now the winter maiden.

Oscar was in the hospital.

Winter was in the hospital.

James and Ruby had used Creation to restructure the steering mechanism so that they could guide the city back to the ground. Once it landed, it would stand astride Mantle, instead of above it.

The entirety of the lower section of Atlas which housed the military command center and other facilities that wouldn’t be surviving the drop had been evacuated.

It all seemed too perfect to be true - even the plan to cover the twin cities in an unbreakable shield once Atlas settled seemed foolproof.

It was the objective in-between those two things that had Qrow flying faster than he ever had before.

You need to get back here. Clover had written, sounding almost frantic. They’re going to create a doorway to Vacuo. James is positive Salem’ll stay here, try to starve us out. So we’re sending a team to Shade to rally up an army so we can pincer her in.

RWBY and JNR volunteered. Marrow and Penny are going too.

You need to hurry.

We won’t have much time between the two creations to do this once we land and if you miss it, we aren’t allowed to make it again.

Qrow rocketed around skyscrapers, the structures shaking around him as the land continued to shift, a constant, terrifying rumble booming back at him. The noise was pierced by his own caw of exult as he made it through the business district and a familiar towering building came into view. A straight shot to Atlas Academy.

He dove at an angle, picking up speed and clearing most of the distance in moments.

As he pulled up, intending to glide right through the open door, a very familiar person clinging to a lamppost caught his eye.

Though he knew he shouldn’t risk it, he cycled back and dove again, transforming as the cobblestones rushed to meet him.

The second his feet were on the ground, he felt the quaking under his feet, shaking up through his bones. He wheeled his arms, practically dancing on his toes as he lumbered about for balance.

“Qrow?!” Clover gaped, but Qrow knew it had nothing to do with his graceless landing.

He managed to stumble forward, catching onto the post as well.

“You really can transform.”

Even now, with the earth threatening to break apart underneath them and the clock ticking, Qrow couldn’t help but study the other man. Usually when alert, his ears would be up and forward, but right now, perhaps because of the cacophony around them, they were in the opposite position, down and slanted back like the wings of a cockatiel. It was familiar but one he couldn’t place when he’d seen it before.

“It’s a long story!” He readjusted his grip, fingers curling partway over one of Clover’s hands. “What are you doing out here?”

Eyes widening, Clover wrenched his gaze back to the sky as if remembering himself. “Keeping an eye out. If anyone interrupts now, we’ll all be in trouble. We think the one that escaped, the maiden, went south to meet up with Salem.”

“She didn’t.” Qrow scowled. “I would have seen her. She’s still here somewhere.”

The fingers under his flexed before relaxing. “Licking her wounds I bet. Don’t worry about it, we’ll handle it.” Shadows from Mantle’s tallest buildings were starting to cast along the ground. Clover stole a glance, brief but meaningful, “You… You need to go, Qrow.”

He knew that, he did.

Still…

Qrow rested more of his weight against the lamp post so he could reach out, trailing fingertips along the length of the other’s strong jawline, up to the base of his ear to caress along the soft fur.

Underneath his touch, they quivered.

It triggered a flash of a memory. Them fleeing in the streets of Mantle, him pulling the other huntsman to a stop, a tattered restaurant and angry mob behind them. Clover, standing tall and speaking evenly with Marrow, even as his ears folded back like wings and shook with terror.

“It’s so loud out here.” Clover offered as an excuse as if he really thought Qrow would buy that.

Maybe he knew, actually, that he wasn’t fooled at all.

“Feels almost like the world’s ending.” Qrow declared before he tugged him into a kiss.

He wasn’t talking about the shaking.

No more than a millisecond passed before Clover’s fingers were tangling into his hair, pulling them as impossibly close as he dared and kissing him like he wanted to inhale him.

Like he wanted to keep him.

Qrow felt heat prickle in his eyes then he was trading his grip on the pole for Clover, trusting he’d keep him steady. Kissed him harder. Stroked his hand through his curls, along his ears. Anything he could do so that Clover would never forget this moment.

When they broke apart, it felt like a wound, hurting and aching somewhere deep.

“I’ll be back, I swear it.” Qrow promised. He wanted to sob.

Clover hadn’t quite won that war, tears trickling slowly down his face. “I’ll be waiting.” The hand in his hair softened, pulling him forward until their foreheads bumped together affectionately. “Now go.”

Qrow took one second more to drink him in.

Then did one of the worst things he ever had to do in his life.

He walked away.

#qrow branwen #clover ebi #fair game #fairgameweek2023 #rwby #fanfiction #Chase Firekitten's Tale

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 8 months

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FRET NOT, DEAR HEART - 1

Summary: After losing the battle against Vecna, the Hawkins gang has to care for their wounded, and since one of them is still a wanted criminal, they have to get creative...

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Eddie Munson

Warnings: fix-it fic, angst (only for this chapter, i swear), blood and wounds, mentions of death and panic attacks, some swearing here and there, SPOILERS FOR ST4 VOL2

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: I've been working on this for quite a while now so I really hope you enjoy it! This is basically a prologue and the next few chapters will come out in the next few days. A huge thanks to @tripleyeeet for hyping me up and just being supportive through it all!!

Links: AO3 / MASTERLIST / CHAPTER 2

\_/

Steve was going too fast. The camper was barely able to avoid the cracks in the tarmac and the fallen trees blocking half of the road. The entire structure shook at every bump, almost as if it was about to fall apart at the next one. They were riding in a death trap, already filled with enough death as it was.

Max was barely alive. Every breath that left her throat felt like it was to be the last. Holding her tight in his arms, Lucas had half of his face covered by bruises and blood. Steve could hear the soft chanting coming from him, escaping his lips like a prayer.

“And if I only could… I’d make a deal with God…”

However the gentle, broken melody was lost in the other screams and cries that filled the vehicle.

“Eddie…”

Dustin was sobbing as he was holding Eddie’s head, tears of both fear and pain running down his cheeks, but he seemed to have completely forgotten about his broken leg. “Eddie, please… please, hold on.”

“He’s losing a lot of blood…” Robin started laughing nervously, her hands covered in Eddie’s blood. “Wow, I-I-I- had no idea there could be this much blood inside a human being…”

“Robin, not helping!” Nancy was ripping every piece of fabric she could find, handing them to Robin and Erica, who —just like all the other kids— looked like a walking corpse.

“Keep pressing on the wound!”

Robin nodded, doing as instructed. “Yes, ma’am.”

Nancy started applying pressure on one of the bigger wounds with a clean cloth but even that was immediately flooded with a wave of blood. She shook her head, fear crossing her eyes.

“We gotta take him to the hospital.”

Steve laughed bitterly. “Yeah, right. Why don’t we hand him over to the police altogether?”

“If we don’t, his wounds will get infected! And Rob’s right, he’s losing too much blood and unless you know how to stitch up a wound-”

“I know how to do that.”

Four heads turned towards Erica, including Steve before remembering suddenly he was the one driving and barely keeping them all alive.

“How?”

Erica turned towards Robin’s wide eyes and shrugged. “I read a book about it once.”

“Great…” Nancy sighed, shaking her head again.

If her hands hadn’t been covered in blood, Steve was sure she would’ve pinched the bridge of her nose.

“We don’t have time to be picky, Nance!”

The girl turned quickly towards Steve, her expression a mix of anger and exasperation. “Even if I agree to let an eleven year old stitch up wounds-”

“I’m sure I can do it.”

Nancy shot a quick glare at Erica, who seemed to remain unfazed by that, before looking back at Steve. “We still need a place to hide him. A safe place.”

“Yeah,” Steve nodded, taking a sharp turn at the next crossroad, “I’ve got that.”

“Alright.” Steve tossed the keys to Erica. “The first aid kit should be somewhere in the kitchen, same with the sewing kit. The big key is for the main door and the plastic thing-y is for the alarm.” Erica was already running away from the camper. “You have thirty seconds before it sends a signal to the police so be quick with it!”

“Got it!”

He shook his head as his eyes lingered on the walls of his house. It seemed so alien after everything that had happened in the last few days, a memento of a life that didn’t exist anymore. However, Steve didn’t miss it. No matter how messy or scary that reality was, it was much better than the pampered and selfish way he had lived before.

“Nance? Rob? You good?”

With Eddie’s arms around their shoulders, the two girls were able to raise him up and bring him off the camper. Nancy was steadier in her steps, while Robin’s legs were as wobbly as pudding but didn’t falter once.

“We can manage,” Nancy assured, giving a quick nod both to Steve and to herself.

“He’s still losing so much blood…”

“Robin.”

“Focusing, I’m focusing.”

Steve nodded back. “I’ll bring the other three to the hospital and then come back as soon as I can.”

“Don’t-” Steve turned around. Dustin was standing just beside him, a heavy panting leaving his lips with each breath. “Don’t let him die.”

Nancy gave him a small smile. “We’ll do what we can.”

“I know you will.”

As they walked slowly towards the house where Erica was holding the door open for them, Steve turned the engine back on and rushed down the road. There was no time to waste worrying when he could do nothing yet.

The knocking on the door echoed through the forest behind Steve’s house. A lone owl took flight as Steve continued knocking. “Girls, it’s me! Come on, open-”

Robin opened the door, launching her arms around Steve’s neck and pulling him tight into a hug. “Thank God, you’re alright!” Steve had no time to return the hug or let out a pained gasp that Robin was pulling him into the house and closing the door behind. “What took you so long?”

“Hawkins is a fucking mess. Half of the roads are torn apart by the portals and the other half blocked by fallen trees. I had to change route so many times I lost count and wait for Lucas and Dustin’s parents to arrive at the ER before leaving them there on their own…”

He passed a hand on his face. Back at home, the few hours of sleep of the past couple days were starting to hang heavy on his body. He was craving the softness of his bed so badly.

“And Max?”

Steve shivered. He could still feel it, the sensation of Max’s body in his arms. She was breathing, of course she was, but the way her snapped limbs hanged so lifeless was going to haunt him for a long time; maybe forever.

“She was sent to surgery the moment we stepped inside.”

Robin finally exhaled. “Good.”

Steve looked at the light coming from the living room. Shadows were moving back and forth, but he didn’t move towards it. He stood still in the darkness of the hallway, too scared of what was waiting for him to actually take one more step.

“How is he?”

Robin didn’t notice the tremor in his voice. She just followed the direction of his nod before she turned back to him. Her eyes jumped from one place to the other, never really settling anywhere as she started fidgeting with her hands. Steve knew that expression too well and didn’t like it one bit.

“Well. He’s… breathing.”

“Okay.” Steve waited for a good minute but nothing else left Robin’s lips. “Any more details?”

Robin shook her head with a sigh. “It’s easier if you see it for yourself.”

She moved towards the living room but Steve didn’t move an inch. He couldn’t point out why he was so scared. He had already seen Eddie covered in blood, his flesh torn apart as more blood spilled from the open wounds with each and every breath. He had already seen him at his worst and —rationally speaking— he knew whatever Erica had done, couldn’t be worse than that. Nevertheless… terror was gripping his heart with its cold claws.

“Steve.”

When he came back to the moment, Robin was once again in front of him. Her hand was holding his, squeezing softly as a small, reassuring smile appeared on her face.

Steve took a deep breath and, when Robin walked away from the hallway, he finally followed her. And when he saw what was going on in the living room, all the air seemed to disappear from his lungs.

The carpet on the floor had lost its white color, now painted with different hues of red. Part of Steve's brain wondered how he was going to explain that to his parents, before his eyes moved to the three figures near the couch. Eddie was laying on it, covered in bandages like a mummy, but unlike one of those he was still breathing… and shaking.

“Why- why is he shaking?”

Erica cleaned her hands in a towel nearby before throwing it away —on a huge, dirty pile— and turning to him. He could still see remnants of blood under her nails. “I cleaned and stitched up the wounds as best as I could but…”

She stopped and lowered her gaze, her shoulders slumped in defeat. Steve had often questioned the fact that the girl was truly only eleven, but in that moment he saw it. He could clearly see how small she was compared to everything that was happening around her, to what they had tasked her to do. They were all mere specks of dust in the great scheme of things.

“It’s not your fault, Erica.” Nancy moved next to her, gently rubbing her back. “You did an amazing job.” Erica kept her gaze to the bloody ground.

Then Nancy met Steve’s eyes. Hesitation crossed her face before she spoke, maybe hoping she could find at the last second a better way to say what she had to. But she didn’t.

“The wounds were already infected.”

Nancy kept talking but Steve didn’t hear any of the other words. A sudden static noise filled his ears. He tried shaking it away but, for some reason, it wouldn’t go. The fear was back, crueler than before, clawing its way to his heart.

“Steve?” He turned to Robin, her eyebrows knitted in worry. “You okay?”

“Yes, I-” he shook his head, “I’m just… can’t we do something though?”

“Do you have any penicillin?”

He barely registered Nancy’s question but shook his head. He was so tired he could hardly put together any words in the right order. “I- I don’t think so.”

Erica sighed, crossing her arms. “Told you.”

“I might have some at home,” Nancy muttered, “but I won’t be able to bring it before tomorrow, at the very least. My mum will go crazy the moment I step home.”

“You’re right.” Steve sometimes forgot that normal people did actually have parents to go back to. Parents who cared and worried. Parents that were there when needed. “You should all go home, your parents must be worried sick.” His eyes went back to Eddie, who was still breathing quickly. “I can handle this, I think.”

Erica raised her eyebrows. “You think?”

“I mean, he has a fever, right? So I should just…” Steve opened his mouth to speak but nothing came to his brain. “What should I do?”

The eleven year old shrugged. “Whatever your parents did when you were a child.”

“So?”

“Oh. Uh…”

“Keep him hydrated. He’s losing tons of liquid with all that sweat. Damp a towel with warm water, not cold water —never cold water— and tap his face. It’s a really good sensation. And even if he’s shivering, don’t cover him. You need to let the heat go away. Also, do you by any chance have Tylenol in the house?”

Robin finally looked around, only then noticing all the wide eyes and raised eyebrows staring at her. “What? I was a sickly child.”

Steve nodded. “I might have that.”

“Good, it helps lower the fever. But don’t force him to take it when he’s unconscious. You don’t want him choking on the pill, do you?”

“Way to put a man under-pressure, Rob.”

She shrugged again walking backwards towards the entry door. “Better safe than sorry.”

“We really should go now. I’ll call you tomorrow to let you know about the penicillin, okay?”

Steve nodded as Nancy followed Robin towards the exit. Erica wasn’t moving though. She was still near the couch, staring at Eddie’s shaky figure. Steve walked towards her and stopped just beside the little girl.

“Thank you for what you did today.” He whispered, as if he was worried about waking Eddie. “You didn’t have to do this and yet you did. It was very brave of you, Erica.”

She didn’t say anything for a while. They both just stood there, next to each other, watching the guy who fought hundreds of bats on his own and lived. His curly hair was sticking to his sweaty forehead but Steve stopped his hand before it could go and move them away.

When the noise of the engine starting reached the two of them, Erica finally moved towards the door. “Just keep him alive, Steve. Don’t ruin my efforts.”

The last thing Steve heard was the door closing behind her before silence settled in the house.

The clock was ticking in the kitchen, its sound echoing against the empty walls and in every empty room. It was deafening and all Steve could think of was destroying it once and for all.

He could still hear his thoughts, however the last thing he needed was his own mind talking hopeless nonsense into his brain.

He turned back to Eddie. Somehow, he looked even worse than two seconds before.

“This was really not how I pictured you coming to my house for the first time.”

The words filled the room like a warm, unexpected sunny day in winter time, silencing the storm of his thoughts and filling the stale quietness of the house, a stillness he never managed to get used to.

As the seconds passed, the realization of the meaning behind what he had just said hit him like a basket ball in the face. “Not that I pictured it thoroughly or anything,” he added, his words fumbling over one another, “just… the normal amount, I guess.”

He could feel his ears slowly heating up as his eyes fell back down to Eddie. His eyelids still closed, his mind focused on the fight against whatever disease was threatening him from the inside.

“Why am I even explaining myself…” Steve whispered, passing a hand through his hair. The sticky feeling that met his skin prompted a sudden wave of disgust.

“God, I really need to shower.” But he didn't move, nor tore his gaze from Eddie.

Steve finally dared to move away those rebellious curls from Eddie's forehead, but his hand jolted away the instant his fingertips touched the other's skin.

“Fuck, you’re scorching hot.”

Forgetting altogether the shower, he headed to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl, filled it with warm water —under Robin's instructions— and managed to find the last clean towel in the back of a drawer. Then he went back to the living room and sat on the floor next to the couch. The carpet was slightly moist under him, but he didn't mind. The rest of the carpet was no better.

“There you go,” he said, as he gently passed the damp cloth over Eddie's forehead. “I really hope this makes you feel a little bit better.”

He was probably imagining it but Steve could swear he saw the muscles on Eddie's face relax ever so slightly. He was still shaking, he was still boiling in his own skin, but the small crease between his eyebrows had disappeared.

A corner of Steve's mouth couldn't help but be pulled upwards.

“You heard the kid, Munson,” Steve murmured, as he continued his motions, “I cannot have you die on my watch or she will kill me.”

He slowly passed the cloth over Eddie's cheek, unconsciously lingering a little bit too long than he should've. A blaring red alarm started crying out in his head, but for once Steve ignored it. “So you gotta survive, okay? You have to fight and win, understood?”

Eddie didn't answer. He kept breathing and shaking, the bandages around his neck and waist tensing up at every slight movement. It seemed a puppet about to fall apart, its limbs ripped at the seams, barely holding onto the body.

Before his mind could stop him, his free hand found Eddie's. He held it as tightly as it could, until he felt Eddie's ring dig into his palm.

“Please, Eddie.” The desperation in his voice broke those few syllables in a silent begging, as Eddie became more and more blurred as tears filled Steve’s eyes. “Please, hold on a little longer.”

#stranger things #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things 4 #i have caved to your love #annie writes

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realcatalina · 1 year

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Painting of Edward IV and Richard III’s jaw

You know I have over 100 fallowers now and i am beginning to think, that if I don’t show a nice picture on top of post, nobody bothers to read it. Especially long ones, where firstly evidence needs to be laid first. But enough about misidentified portraits of Mary I, let’s look at another interesting portrait.

Posthumous portrait of Edward IV, part of Goverment Art Collection:

Links: https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/king-edward-iv-14421483-29441/search/has_image:on--date-from:1530--date-to:1570/page/13

https://artcollection.culture.gov.uk/artwork/1262/

Supposedly from c.1540. Well, dating nor maker is that much of concern to me at the moment. What I find striking is similiarities and differences to portrait of his brother Richard(on right):

Neither painting is in good condition, but the face are very similiar.

Very similiar brows, lips, considerably wide jaw and overall shape of face. Completely different noses and weight, but overall pretty good resemblence consistent with siblings.

Imo they were done at same time, and wood for Richard’s painting was felled in 1515, and was goldwork suggest it could have been Wewyck’s workshop.

Edward’s though-i think the ouftit is supposed to be cloth of gold-but it is not covered in golden leaf and rose is done very differently to any made by Wewyck’s workshop. Idk what to think of it. But workshop can mean big artistic differences, because artist come and go.

Interestingly they both have black cuffs or perhaps black shirts beneath outer robe and hat of similiar shape(though different size).

I am beginning to wonder, are the similarities due to them being created to look alike by Tudors or are they based upon earlier depiction? Perhaps a tombstone? -Which could have been done in advance.

In my opinion it is the 2nd option and reason for it is recreation based upon Richard III’s scull. As you look at photos of it from different angles, there is quite a lot of resemblence to the painting of Richard III with broken sword.

The differences could be solely due to recreations being sometimes only 70% accurate. And only now I noticed one thing in recreation which I didn’t prior.

Richard had mandibular prognatism(lower jaw slightly pushed foward):

In the painting there is hint of it too, but very subtly, and certainly not overexagerated. (unless you search for it, you won’t see it.)

So Richard had unusual position of jaw, and bend spine-based upon scientific evidence taken from his remains. And his fans still say Tudor propaganda!

It’s most likely that Richard’s physical form contributed to the man he became. It shaped him growing up.

People who have this condition appear to others to be constantly angry. Even when they are not. And as result people might shy away from them. Avoid them, feel uneasy around them.

I know person who has this condition. A lovely person, but she has few friends and had been growing up constantly arguing with her mother, because her mother kept asking her-Why are you angry all the time? What sparked your ire this time?! -She was rarely angry before her mother snapped at her.

The saddest thing about it was that her mother knew all along the girl had the condition, and yet couldn’t for years bring herself to accept her daughter is not angry all the time, just looks it.

Sadly this brings me no closer to knowing if painting with arched top is Richard or Henry, because Henry also had considerably wide jaw.

#york dynasty #historical painting

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hannaswritingblog · 1 year

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HI SIS BESTIE MY DEAREST DEAR MHUWA

OKAY so about that suggestions. I have few, but in case u won't accept it, I just send it all in one ask. If there is anything u like, then I will just send another ask with only that one request or something <3

(oh and im everywhere seeing reader as she but u can make it non binary or sth if you would like!!!)

OKAY SO LETS GO WITH THAT

Neville Longbottom (HP, 5 year) x reader - with prompt "Do you find me brave yet?". I have that idea that reader comes to him after that fight ("The Battle of the Department of Mysteries") and his nose is still broken and he feels sorry that that propercy was destroyed bc of him, and Reader comforts him and maybe,,, idk, maybe he says something ala "do you at least find me brave now?" and reader says that she always thought of him as brave bc he is Gryffindor after all and she knows him since second year,,,, or something like that :D

Penguin (gotham) x reader - it would taking place in season 2, when he was still at the top, and reader would be a second most important person to him after his mother, anddd he would go to her and ask her to go to his place on a dinner and he would just, ya know, flash his well-being to reader, and to her it would be silly and cute and there would be smooch on the cheek from reader bc hes the best heheh

Jim Hopper x reader - it would take place somewhere after season 1. He and reader are fbw, and fic is about Jim visitng him, but this time with flowers and wearing his fabulous flanner, and asking her on a date in a 'hopper way' (whats that mean? idk maybe 'if I read the signals wrong then you won't see me again." bc he wants to sacriface himself all the time omg). cute cute

Susan Pevensie x bestie!reader - its day after valentines and both girls are talking about all these chockolates susan got from boys, while eating the same chockolates. Susan probably would feel little bad for eating them, bc she doesnt feel anything to these boys but reader is like 'nah, we dont want to waste them right" and so on

Edmund Pevensie x gf!reader - they are going on a costume party, and at the moment are still at home, and edumnd is going as a king, and reader as a queen and Edmund says something cheesy like "you would be perfect queen for me" or idk just,,, I mean he would think that he would take her as his wife in Narnia when he was a king there, right, and would somehow say that aloud. ANYHOW they would end up beeing blushy mess bc it was so sweet

maybe you will like something hehe

ILY BESTIE MHUWAA 💜

HEYYYY SIS BESTIE!

It's actually good that you send me all the suggestions in one ask - it would be okay too if you send them separately, but I probably won't be linking the asks in suggested fics anymore, so I don't need them that way, and it'll be easier for me to have this just one post. So don't worry! And you don't need to resend anything later (unless you have any new ideas, you can send those!!! haha)

For the reader's gender, I decided I'll write with the female reader more often so it's okay if you see it this way too, but there will be exceptions and I can already see one of your ideas would be an exception. We'll get to that in a while though :D

For the ideas, I really love number 1 and 3-5. Those suggestions are therefore accepted. :D I was going to go into detail why but I feel like I'd be just repeating myself. So yeah, I'll just say that. I'll put them on my to-do list in a moment. ;)

For suggestion 2, I think I'll have to reject it. As much as I love Penguin and Gotham... I don't know, I don't really feel it at the moment. I might come back to it later but not now. This is the idea I'd likely write the gender neutral reader though - coding the specifically as female would feel wrong to me. I won't go into much detail since I don't want to spoil things for you, but people who have seen season 3 probably know what I'm thinking about.

But yeah, 4 out of 5 suggestions are accepted and I actually feel inspired for them so that's good. I should work on everything in the next few days, as well as on my own ideas. As I said, if anything else crosses your mind, you can also send it later and I'd love to give it a thought. :D ILY too 💜

#ask #non anon ask #winterxisxcomingx #tumblr sister #suggestions

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acespec-ed · 2 years

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hi! literally two days ago, I kinda clocked I'm somewhere on the aro-ace spectrum, and I feel really lost. I assumed that i was heterosexual, but from watching a few videos i realised that I feel sexual attraction with conditions (?) and all the crushes I had were emotional/aesthetic attractions. I've never engaged in sexual activity before either. I just want to know, when/how do you realise that, "ok i'm not allosexual"? And how to navigate microlabels too? (sorry this is badly written!)

This turned out far longer than intended, so I'll give you microlabel resources first, a tl;dr answer to your other question, and then my long answer.

Microlabels- Your best bet to finding one is going to this glossary I wrote up: https://aceglossary.carrd.co/ It has just about every ace term and label I've found on this wiki, but actually categorized by type with definitions next to them for quick finding and viewing. I've even got a category called "sexual attraction under certain conditions," so you can start there! For examples of the more popular microlabels in action, you can check out this cereal comparison post I made that led to the creation of this blog. There's also this handy flowchart I made recently that you might have already seen but I'm linking it anyway. (And, obligatory "you don't have to use microlabels if you're happier using an umbrella term or even no labels!")

Now for the tl;dr answer to realizing you're not allo:

The “new and improved” defintion of being ace/arospec going around nowadays, goes along the lines of; “anyone who experiences sexual/romantic attraction different from what society expects.” If you feel like you experience attraction differently, whether you’re feeling it rarely/weakly, whether you only feel it under certain conditions, whether you even feel it at all, you’re ace/arospec. Some people might decide that, even if they technically fall under this definition, they’d rather not use any ace/arospec labels for whatever reason. But anyone who does fit that definition, can use those labels. You said you realized you feel sexual attraction under certain conditions, so that would mean you’re not allo, unless you decide you’d rather go by allo.

The more in-depth answer:

Everyone’s journey towards discovering they’re not allo is different. Some people felt broken and alienated. Others discovered that, allos weren’t exaggerating when they made sexual comments about crushes. Some found out they fit in better with aces/aros than allos. Others randomly stumbled across the ace/aro spectrum and something just clicked.

Myself, I always felt like something was "wrong" with me. I'd been sex repulsed for as long as I could remember. Conversations surrounding sex and wanting sex made me feel very uncomfortable and alienated. I didn't know asexuality was a thing. Then, when I was 21, my boyfriend came along, and then I started feeling sexual attraction for the first time. It was weird and confusing, but I figured maybe I had just needed the "right person." A couple years later, I came across a Reddit post about finding strangers sexually attractive and everyone's comments brought back those alienated and confused feelings. Finally saw someone mention demisexuals and I looked that up, discovered the ace spectrum, and it explained everything!

So in my opinion, if you've gone your life feeling like something's off with yourself compared with the rest of the world, and come across the ace labels, and one of those labels brings you comfort and relief and just, explains so much! Then yeah, you're not allosexual.

Of course, not everyone has the journey of feeling alienated from society until coming across a label that Explains Everything. That's when it gets a lot harder to tell, and it sounds like you're more in that category. I'm like that in regards to my romantic orientation.

I'm orchidromantic. I do experience romantic attraction, but I lack an inherent desire to want to act on my feelings. It's been hard for me to figure out which of my past crushes were romantic attraction and which weren't, but never once have I felt "broken" romantically. I enjoy a good romance. I'm not opposed to being in any romantic relationships. On top of that, I grew up in a family where being single-by-choice is seen as a totally normal, not weird thing. So I often feel like I can't even relate to most aros. I have a hard time considering myself arospec because of it all.

However, I'd get so confused whenever alloromantics would talk about wanting to pursue their crushes, and wishing they were in a relationship, and how unrequited love is the Worst Feeling Ever! Meanwhile, I prefer celebrity/fictional crushes over real life person crushes because I fuckin' love admiring from afar!

So, am I arospec, or am I alloromantic? Most would say that comes down to my own personal preference. I prefer just going by orchidromantic. Unfortunately, most people don't know what that is, so I call myself alloromantic because alloromantics confuse me slightly less than aromantics. (And now, whenever alloros do confuse me, I can just kick back and think of how orchidromantic I am! Whereas I can’t even do that in aro spaces because I feel like my experiences with romance are too different from theirs to fit in with them. Though that could change if I ever find myself single again.)

Taking my examples into consideration, whether you're allo really comes down to personal feelings and how you relate to others. If most people are talking about people/attraction in a way that confuses you, then chances are, you're not allo. If you find an aspec label that brings you comfort, sounds accurate, and/or just seems to fit, then you're not allo. If you go into ace/aro spaces, and feel like you fit in there more than you fit in with allos, then you're not allo. If you want to still go by allo regardless, that's fine. But nobody can stop you from using any ace/aro labels.

I hope this long, rambling mess helped some! 💜💚

#asks

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dadzxwa · 2 years

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This blog is multi-ship and multi-verse.

I am 18+, I am fine with writing with younger roleplayers, just please keep it clean if you are under 18.

I ship exclusively mlm.

I am OC friendly.

I am a full time teacher and take care of disabled family members, so there may be some delay between posts and responses. I will check in once a day and try and get at least one thing posted or responded to. If you are worried I have missed something from you, let me know!

Please feel free to hop in my inbox and interact with Aizawa, also feel free to tag me in whatever or suggest blogs for me to follow.

I’m coming back to Tumblr after a 5 year hiatus. I’m having to reteach myself everything. Please be gentle.

I consider myself semi-lit, but will always try to match length.

I have no triggers and am open to writing about any subject matter. I will tag anything I recognize as a common trigger. If I miss something, please let me know. I want my blog to be a safe space for everyone.

Being an adult character that has gone through adult things and involved in stopping crimes, some sensitive subjects may come up. Again, I will tag these.

Possible triggers that may get mentioned: Abuse, Suicide, Self-Harm, Sexual-Assault, Rape

I’m trying to stick to canon as default. I haven’t seen season 5 or the movies yet, I’m trying to catch up in the mangas now. I’m happy to set anytime during the first four seasons.

As far as shipping goes, I’ll generally write Aizawa as single unless we have discussed we want to write a thread with our muses already in a relationship. Most of the time I would rather build chemistry first. But I’m a slut for erasermic and erasermight, so I’m open to just plotting together before jumping into threads if you want to cut to the chase.

When writing with underage muses I am open to him either being chronically single or secretly married. Whatever we think will be funnier at the time

I am open to like…all AUs, just hit me up and talk with me about them.

List of my currently written out AU's and a link to my opens under the cut.

Fantasy AU

Aizawa runs the Ultimate Adventuring Guild in the world of Fulminare. The owner is technically Nedzu, but Aizawa deals with a lot of the front facing aspects of the guild and adventurer and adventure management. UA is largely considered the best adventuring guild with the best benefits on the continent, it's even recognized as such by his majesty Enji Todoroki. Aizawa is more than capable in combat and dungeoneering though he specializes in information gathering. If you want to know where to find a legendary item or a way to kill a monster, you go to him. He doesn't adventure as often as he used to, maintaining the guild and caring for his guildmates takes a lot of time, but if Hizashi is hitting the open road, so is he. ((If you want to play in a less my-headcannon-driven world that is totally fine. ))

Nomu AU

This AU is based around the idea that instead of Oboro dying in school, Aizawa died. Instead of Oboro being turned into a nomu, it was Aizawa. Through the torture and experiments, his mind was broken. Like Kurogiri he has no memories of before his death. Nomu Aizawa is a good soldier for AFO, he follows orders to the letter. He is an efficient spy and assassin, and a doting nurturing figure of protection for Shigaraki. However, he is a monster of few words, selectively mute, he very rarely speaks and if he does it's in as few words as possible. My idea for his twisted version of his quirk comes from this post. Though he does continue to use his capture device as well, he uses his knife much more than he does in canon. Since they couldn't call him Aizawa like they couldn't have called Kurogiri Oboro, nomu!aizawa's name is Tomarume.

Alternatively, when writing with people that play his students, I have him captured by Chisaki. That's where he is tortured and turned into a Nomu.

Vampire AU

In this AU Aizawa was bitten and turned a year before the Vigilantes arc. He never becomes a teacher at UA and is even more of a shut in than he was prior. Obviously, being a member of the undead he does not go out during the day. He lives in a run down apartment under a false name with the windows painted black and tin-foiled. He tends to feed on whoever is easiest when he needs to, even preying on the others that live in his building if he absolutely needs to. He's not much of a hero anymore, but he won't turn a blind eye to particularly heinous crimes he notices while hunting. He still looks the same, just extra pale, golden eyes that reflect light in the dark, and prominent fangs.

I use primarily World of Darkness Vampie rules, with some creative changes.

Harry Potter AU

Shota Aizawa is a pure blood wizard who attended Hogwarts roughly during the same time of Bill Weasley. Shota was an auror during the time period of the Harry Potter novels. By the end of the series, after the final fall of Voldemort and the smoke has cleared and the Death Eaters rounded up; he retires and takes a job teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts.

(He's a Slytherine)

#open

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ashiri · 6 months

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TL;DR: I used to repost artwork from Japanese sites back in middle and high school. You might see art posted by me with links to sites that are gone or broken. I don’t do that anymore and I condemn reposters that post art without permission.

Hi, wanted to leave a note for those that find me through fanart posts.

A LONG time ago, I used to repost artwork from other sites without contacting the author first. This practice was common back in 2013-2015, but obviously it isn’t as accepted as it was back then. I was 14 years old, I wanted to show people cool art that I found online and maybe get a few followers from it. Tumblr clout was valuable back then.

Luckily I had enough brains to leave links to credit the artists in every post. Sometimes these links would be in the caption, and sometimes they would be linked directly on the image when you clicked on it. Unfortunately, due to these links being 7+ years old, a lot of these accounts have been deactivated, or some sites have been taken down all together.

Pixiv and Tegaki were the primary sites I scrubbed, both of which had primarily Japanese and Chinese artists. Pixiv experienced a mass deactivation some years after I was reposting due to the amount of people reposting their art without credit on other sites. Despite crediting the artists, I can’t deny that I feel guilty for partaking in that. Tegaki, on the other hand, was completely deleted. Nothing was archived, and though there is a new version available online, those initial posts were never preserved.

Part of me is happy that I was able to help with preserving and archiving old fanart. I still see people reblogging these posts to this day, and it makes me happy that many others see the value in the artwork like I did back then. But I also know many of you assume that I am the artist, or those wise enough to it think that I reposted that art to claim it as my own.

I have not and never will do that. My goal back then was to showcase the work of non-English speaking artists, and I did my best to link to their pages so that all of their work was easily accessible. Now though, almost all of those links are broken, and the effort I put into providing credit is basically useless in the modern day. I know I myself am not the sole reason that those accounts were deleted or that an entire site was deleted. But, as an artist myself, I feel incredibly guilty for trying to gain followers and reblogs using other people’s work. And I myself contributed to the reposting, which was inevitably what caused sites like Pixiv to undergo mass account deletion.

If you were one of those artists, I am sorry that I contributed to your hatred for reposters. I thought that I was one of the “better” ones by leaving links to social accounts, but I recognize that reposting another person’s artwork without permission is just as intolerable.

And for all of you that found me through that fanart reposting, I apologize if I lead you to thinking I owned or had permission to post it. I condemn reposters of any kind unless they have explicit permission to post to a different site. And even then, be skeptical! There is a reason some artists prefer to stick to one or few platforms. That is the preferred community where they want to share their work and we must respect that.

Sometimes reposting can be beneficial to the artist and give them more followers and attention. But more often than not, it gives more recognition to the reposter than the artist. Most people don’t bother clicking the link or redirecting to the artist’s page— and obviously, most of them can’t even reach those sites anymore. I am STILL getting reblogs and comments on artwork that I reposted 7 YEARS AGO. I can’t say the same for those artists.

With all this being said, recognize that posts you see of mine that are old and have artwork that looks nothing like my own are not my work. I reposted that artwork without the artist’s permission. Whether or not you reblog these posts are up to you, but I personally do my best to avoid reposters. Reblog directly from the artists. If you see they have other socials, like their posts and share them on their respective platforms. Art is not a commodity that should be passed around, it is a piece of work that someone made and chose to share. Please respect the artist’s wishes to share their work on whatever sites they choose to share it.

#artists on tumblr #text post

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subtletruamadumping · 1 year

Text

A Pitch Black Room, A Velvet Ribbon, A Secret Box

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This was my first year doing NaNoWriMo. It started as a writing prompt (the title is literally just the prompt) and it's a collection of short stories from many different peoples' perspectives linked by various objects. I won this year but never looked back at it. In fact, I am kind of embarrassed by it but I try to remind myself I was literally a child. Instead of being broken up into chapters, it's broken into characters.

Written in November 2016

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Part 3, Charlotte

Elise was living and at home. She was doing much better than she had been for the past few months. The recent death of their grandmother had taken a toll on the entire family, health-wise on Elise. Charlotte spent a lot of time with her sister and the rest of it sewing. She made all kinds of things, including hair clips. She spent a lot of time in the pitch black room and soon found the secret box. She emptied it of its contents, but left it in the closet in case she decided to use it. She did, soon.

Elise’s birthday was coming up soon, so Charlotte planned a surprise for her. Elise’s hair had steadily been growing back and she now she had something of a pixie cut. Charlotte had been making her skirts and dresses, but she decided to do something different for her birthday. She made her two nice hair clips. One was a soft blue color that would look nice with Elise’s favorite dress. It had a butterfly body in the center to look like the two ends of the bow was its wings. She even got some antennae to place on the top. The second one was made from a fabric that had vines and leaves as the design. It was mostly green and Charlotte attached an achorn to this one, just to add a touch of whimsy. She re-found the secret box, then safely stored them inside. She left the box in plain sight and attached a note reading “For Elise” on the top. She tucked a note reading “Happy Birthday” inside. She closed the closet and got ready to go to school.

“Hey, Elise?” She called just as she was about to walk out of the door. Elise’s head and shoulders appeared from around the corner.

“Can you get some yellow fabric out of the closet and put it on the table for me?” Charlotte asked as she opened the front door “I’m going to be working on something when I get home from school.” Elise raised an eyebrow.

“Alright...” She said suspiciously. Charlotte quickly exited the house, knowing she’d be curious enough to look in the box without any further encouragement. Elise had always been the one to find her presents early and ruin the surprise. It wouldn’t be strange is she already knew about most of her birthday presents. Charlotte had made the bows last night, though, so Elise shouldn’t have been able to find them, yet. Unless she had been sneaking around at night, but that wasn’t like Elise. This might have been the first time in a long time that Elise would be surprised by a present. Charlotte smiled to herself as s he walked to school. She hoped that would be Elise’s best birthday ever.

~*~

“I’m home!” Charlotte called as she pushed open the front door.

“Hello!” George shouted, running up to her “We’re going to sing Happy Birthday now that you’re home!”

“Oh, how fun!” Charlotte said, setting her backpack on the ground.

“Mom said we couldn’t have cake until you came home.” George informed her.

“Good.” Charlotte replied “You would have eaten the entire thing and not saved any for me.”

“I would not have!” George cried “I would have saved you a little piece.”

“Oh, how thoughtful.” Charlotte laughed “But you would have eaten the rest?”

“Of course.”

“What about Dad?”

“Oh, he doesn’t like cake, anyway.”

“Yes, he does.” Charlotte laughed.

“He does?”

“Yes.”

“Then, I guess you two could’ve split the last piece.”

“You little troll.” Charlotte said, fluffing his hair. He laughed and ran off. Charlotte when to the dining room and saw the yellow fabric on the table. So, Elise had been in the closet. Wonderful. Odds were, she had gotten her surprise, then. Charlotte began to clean up the table to make room for the cake. She kept the yellow fabric out, though. She would be using it later to make a shirt for George. He was starting to get jealous that Charlotte was always making things for her mom and Elise and nothing for him. She decided that he would like her to make him something. She put the fabric, the sewing machine, and the patterns she was going to use at the far end of the table and put away the rest of the supplies in the closet. She took this opportunity to take a peek inside the box. It was empty. Charlotte smiled to herself and peeled off the notes.

“Where’s Charlotte?” She heard her mother saying from the kitchen.

“In the closet.” Charlotte called, closing the box and finishing putting the scraps of fabric away. Her mom appeared at the door.

“We’re going to do the cake, now.” She said.

“Okay,” Charlotte replied, putting the last of the things away “Where’s Elise?”

“She’s in the dining room, already.” Her mother answered. Charlotte closed the closet and they both walked to the dining room, flicking out lights as they went. When they entered, almost the whole house was dark. Elise was sitting at the head of the table, opposite the sewing machine. She was wearing both the bows in her hair, holding back her bags from getting in her eyes. She smiled at Charlotte, who smiled back. George was sitting next to her, anxiously wiggling in his seat.

“Can I light the candles?” He asked.

“Of course not.” His mom replied “You’re too little.”

“Aww. When will I be big enough, Momma?”

“Eventually. Here, I’ll light them, this time.” Her mom slowly lit the candles one by one, then turned off the dining room light. Elise’s smile was lit up by the candles and everyone began to sing to her. Once the song was finished, she blew out the candles and everyone cheered. The lights were turned back on and Charlotte and her mom took the candles out of the cake. It was then cut up and passed around the table.

“Mm, this cake is really good, Mom.” Elise said with her mouth full.

“Thanks.” Her mom replied “There’s not too much coconut or anything?”

“It’s perfect.” Elise answered.

“Can I have another piece?” George asked, holding out his plate to his mom.

“No,” She replied with a laugh “you’ve already had two pieces and we should really save some for your dad.”

“Aww, just a small piece?”

“No. Now, go do your homework.” George ran off and their mother went to put the dishes in the sink, leaving the girls alone.

“Thank you for the bows, Charlotte.” Elise said “They’re really nice.”

“No problem.” Charlotte said, finishing off her cake.

“Where did you get that box from?” Elise asked.

“It’s always been in there.” Charlotte replied “Grandma must have gotten it. I don’t really know what she used it for.”

“So, it’s like a secret box?”

“Sure, it that’s what you want to call it. I’m thinking about making George a shirt. Got any suggestions?”

~*~

Christmas had just passed. Charlotte had made Elise a new set of bows. One was red with a bell in the middle. One was light blue and Charlotte sewed white lace on the top of it to look like snowflakes. There was also a green one that was made to look like the bows that go on top of presents. She had gotten them to Elise the same way as she had on her birthday. Again, she made them the night before, so Elise couldn't get a sneak peek. Like before, Elise wore them all day long after finding them.

Then Easter had come and more bows were made. A purple one with an egg, a yellow one that looked like a chick, and a hair clip that looked like a lily. Once again, these were hidden in the secret box in the pitch black room. Once again, she had made them the night before. Once again, Charlotte left a little not on the top. Once again, Elise wore them the whole day. She was beginning to have a collection of hair pins.

The tradition grew even more, though. Charlotte stated to make them at random, leaving them in the box overnight, then asking Elise to get her things from the closet in the morning. These occurrences grew closer and closer together until, finally, Charlotte was making a bow every night. Elise soon caught on to the trend and began going directly to the box every morning to see what Charlotte had made for her. She even started planning her outfits after she got her bow for the morning. Charlotte was happy to stay up every night and make bows for her sister. She had started selling the things she was sewing, too, so it was also technically her job to sew all day. At night, she could make things fun and whimsical. She could make things she could put her heart into. She continued to make things for the other family members, too, but it was most enjoyable for her to make the hair pins.

Sadly, Elise had to go through another chemotherapy treatment. She had suddenly taken a turn for the worse and Charlotte had been trying to do all that she could to make her feel better. But, now she couldn’t make her hair clips. They would be useless. Elise assured her that she would be able to wear them again when her hair grew back. Though Charlotte agreed with this, she still wanted Elise to be able to find something in the secret box every morning. She wanted something Elise could wear now and not have to wait to use. Charlotte finally decided what to do. She went to the store and bought lots and lots of ribbon.

~*~

It was Elise’s first morning home from the hospital. Charlotte had been up for a while and was putting together a green dress. She heard footsteps on the stairs and looked up. Elise had gotten up and was beginning to make her way to the kitchen for breakfast.

“Elise?” Charlotte called out. Thee footsteps paused, then came into the dining room.

“Yeah?” Elise asked, leaning on the door-frame.

“Can you get me some pins out of the closet?” Charlotte asked innocently. Elise glanced at the pincushion full of pins right next to Charlotte’s hand.

“Alright…” She said suspiciously, making her way out of the room. Charlotte heard the closet door open. There was silence for a while. Charlotte waited. Soon, she heard the closet door close again and her sister’s footsteps coming back to the dining room. Elise came in, wearing the new headband. It was a deep red with a rose sewn on top. It would go nicely with some of Elise’s favorite shirts. She walked over to Charlotte and gave her a hug.

“Thank you so much.” She whispered.

“It’s nothing.” Charlotte replied “I love you.”

~*~

Elise got worse and worse until she had to stay in the hospital all the time. To say the least, everyone was worried about her. There seemed to be nothing that could be done for her. Charlotte would argue that she took it the hardest, but so would everyone else in the family. Except for Elise. They went regularly to visit her in the hospital.

Charlotte wanted to keep the tradition of the secret box going. She knew how happy it made Elise. She wanted her sister to be happy every time she want to see her. So, Charlotte continued to stay up every night and make her things. She would put them in the box, like always. Then, she would take the box with her whenever she went to go visit Elise. She would give the box to Elise, who would open it with delight. She told Charlotte that the box always made her day better. Charlotte worked hard every night, balancing her job, school work, and making things for Elise. The last was truly her top priority, but she knew the others were still necessary. She would have rather stayed and sat with Elise, but she made herself go to school and continue working.

Charlotte made things for Elise no matter how sick she got. To her, the worse Elise was feeling, the more important it was to make her something special. Charlotte hoped that these gifts would make Elise just a little bit better; a little bit happier. Elise always told her how much she loved the gifts. She began to smile every time she saw the box.

Charlotte made things and put them in the box every night. She probably felt like everything would be okay if she just kept the tradition going. It was a sign that there would be a tomorrow. As long as she kept putting things in the box, Elise wouldn’t…

Elise would be alright.

She had to be.

~*~

The day finally came. Charlotte had stayed up late the night before, like she always did. She made another headband, this time braiding three different ribbons together, then sewing them in place. She added the customary elastic, then tried to decide what to add to the top. She had practically exhausted all of her creative outlet. By making a new and different thing every night, she was running out of ideas. She wanted it to be interesting, exciting, but not obnoxious. She had used charms and beads before. She needed something that would light up Elise’s face. Something special.

Charlotte had an idea. It would be difficult, she knew, but she also knew Elise would love it. She rushed to the closet and got out some scrap fabrics. She carefully cut out two Es, and I, an L, and an S. She had to carefully size them to make sure they wouldn’t be too big or little. Then, she stitched the sides of the letters to keep them from fraying. After that, she hand-stitched the letters carefully onto the braided ribbons. She went slowly and carefully, making sure the letters weren't too spread out or too close to each other. They had to be perfect. It had to be perfect for Elise. Charlotte smiled at her completed project. It was probably her best work. The letters were firmly attached, but not wrinkled. The braid was a smooth, continuous pattern. The stitching was as straight as an arrow. It was practically flawless. Charlotte put it in the secret box in the pitch black room and went to bed content.

She was not content, however, later on that night when her mom woke her up. She was not content when she was tearfully told Elise had passed away that night.

~*~

Charlotte had not enjoyed the funeral. Then again, who does enjoy a funeral? She felt so small and unimportant, surrounded by so many family members that she didn’t even know. Everyone else knew each other, though. She wondered how many of the people who had come actually knew who Elise was. Not that it mattered, though. At least, they were paying their respects. It was a nice gesture.

Charlotte had gazed at her sister in the open casket. She didn’t look like she had been sick at all. Even though she still didn’t have her hair back, she didn’t look like she had been sick. Charlotte knew it was because of all the stuff the people do to embalm the body, but it still made her feel a little better. They had even put the first headband that Charlotte had ever made her on her head. Charlotte was glad her mom had insisted upon that. It reminded her of how happy Elise was when she got it. So happy she had cried. It seemed so long ago, now.

The funeral seemed to last forever. It dragged on and on. There seemed to be so many things that were deemed necessary to do that they were going to take the whole day. The whole world seemed so quiet. People felt ashamed when they so much as whispered to one another. Everyone in black, looking down at the ground. It seemed more like a movie than real life. The only bit of dramatic effect missing was rain. No one needed an umbrella as they watched Elise’s casket being lowered into the deep hole in the ground. There were a few sniffles, the sound of dirt hitting the coffin, then people started home. The furthest relatives from Charlotte left first. Then, one after the other, the people began to leave, always the ones who were the furthest in relation from Charlotte and company. After a while, it was just the immediate family and a few aunts and uncles. More words were whispered, then it was time for everyone to leave. The car was silent on the way home. The house was mostly silent that night. The next day, they went back again.

They stood before the freshly replaced earth and mourned silently, this time in the comforts of being alone. It seemed hard to properly mourn in the presence of so many people, like there had been at the funeral. Their dad had bought flowers and George and their mom put them against the tombstone. They seemed to cast their color onto the cool grey of the stone. George and their dad went back to the car. Mom soon followed after. Charlotte was alone.

She stood there. Alone. She looked down at the dirt. She looked at Elise’s name etched into the stone. She looked at the flowers, already wilting from being out of water for so long. She sighed. She wanted Elise to be happy.

She knelt down next to the stone and gently placed the secret box in front of it. The box still held the last headband. It was Charlotte’s last gift for Elise. The last thing she would make for her. She had no need for the secret box, anymore. She affectionately gave the stone a pat, then rose and met the others at the car.

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