#and rewrite large portions of it

[codgod-moved]

god y’know how i was actually making progress on ch5 of oxygen the other day. yea it’s a bad idea to write while dissociating apparently, i had to delete most of it because it was complete nonsense gjdhgs

#.txt #it’s chill it still gave me a base to work off #i save most large chunks of writing that i have to scrap #in case i can use parts of them later #and/or for reference if i’m rewriting that portion

[colleendoran]

hello!

if the good omens graphic novel receives enough for the expanded version, will that extend to non kickstarter rewards (ie when the book comes out and i go to a bookstore and buy it) or will it only be the ones preordered through kickstarter?

thank you :)

That's such a great question, thank you for asking.

The expanded story page count will now be the ONLY version of the GN. I have finished a large chunk of the book but was working around areas of it waiting to see if I'd be able to expand certain sections. And now I know I can.

I have a lot of new work on my plate now.

I also have to rewrite a portion of the script and renumber a bunch of pages, yay.

Not complaining, but it is ridiculously hard to renumber pages. I have no idea why. It makes my brain melt. I've done it about 4 times already and I make mistakes every time. I hope the editor has an eagle eye.

I have no idea when or what any plans are to release this via traditional publishing house, or if Dunmanifestin will be doing that sort of thing after the Kickstarter is over, as it is an independent publishing house owned by the Terry Pratchett estate.

I'm not running the show, I'm doing the book.

I hope you'll direct any publishing questions to Dunmanifestin.

Thanks so much.

#good omens #good omens graphic novel #neil gaiman #terry pratchett #dunmanifestin #kickstarter

[daycourtofficial]

My love should be celebrated

Pairing: Nesta Archeron x Rhysand’s Sister!reader

Summary: based on this request - you have been trying for months to help Nesta heal, catching feelings for her in the process. One night you decide to bare your feelings for her, only to be callously rejected.

Author’s note: first time writing wlw!! Please lmk how you feel about it. Also this is basically SF but with a different love interest, however I’m rewriting that Nesta lives in a hovel bc like why tf are there slums in Velaris

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“Go away,” Nesta says, closing the door on your face.

“Nesta!” You yell, banging on the door again.

You didn’t hear her steps recede down the hall of her apartment or any other noise from the other side of the brown door, brass letterings spelling ‘4D’ on it.

“I brought soup!” You cringe at the desperation in your voice, but you couldn’t help it. Your thoughts had whirled and swirled of the eldest Archeron sister for months. You have no clue why - she was never close or particularly kind to you, but you always found yourself wondering how she was.

Your thoughts would redirect to her during the day.

Had she eaten?

Was she sleeping?

You could ensure she had access to food, at the very least. So you had spent the afternoon preparing several different meals - soups, dinners, lunches, fresh fruits and vegetables.

You hadn’t let yourself think about actually interacting with Nesta until after you had knocked on her door. Your thoughts weren’t able to linger too long on that as Nesta opened the door, took one look at you, and sneered out a delightful, “go away,” before shutting you out.

You sighed, “I have fruits, cheeses, I made you a ton of food, Nesta. Please at least take it in inside. It’d make me feel better to know you at least had some food available.”

Nesta opens the door, her arms crossed as she fixes an icy glare at you, “do you find me so incompetent I’m incapable of getting groceries?”

Your eyes widen, shocked at how she’d perceive this, “gods, no, Nesta. I just thought-“

“Thought what? I’m too stupid to know how to cook for myself?”

She didn’t move a muscle as she kept you in place with that icy look on her face, blonde hair in a messy braided crown, as if she had slept in it.

“No, I just-I just- I wanted you to have a nice meal,” you stammer out, feeling like an utter fool for how sour this went.

“Then why did you cook it?”

With that, she slammed the door in your face, her footsteps receding on the other side.

-

You knock on Nesta’s door again, the same place you were this time last week. This time the scenario was different.

Your brother had given her a choice: the human lands or the House of Wind.

You found it an incredibly callous choice - certain death or forced isolation, so you asked Rhysand if you could at least be there with her. He reluctantly agreed, asking you and Azriel to stay in the House of Wind, monitoring her progress.

You were at her new bedroom door, letting her know that you were about to make dinner for all three of you. If she wanted to join you and Azriel, she could, or you could bring her a serving.

You received no reply. You could hear her heart beating through the door, it’s rhythm a clear beat through the silence of her room.

You turn, heading down the stairs to prepare dinner. You and Azriel ate in a comfortable silence, discussing the day you two had, swapping notes about the books you were reading. Nesta never showed, and you left a plate for her outside her door.

A plate you saw untouched the next morning.

The next few days took the same form - you go downstairs, prepare a beeakfast for you and Nesta, leaving her serving outside her door. Then you head to the Library to work on your studies, returning to the house for lunch.

Every meal you made a large enough portion for Nesta, plated it, leaving it at her door to go untouched until the next meal was left.

After a week of this cycle, you ask Clotho if there’s any work that can be done in the library.

Yes, I could use some assistance with restocking the shelves, she wrote.

“Fantastic,” you tell her, “I have the perfect female for the job - I’ll let her know.”

And you did, later that night. Through the door you told her about the library, and how “they need someone to help stock the shelves. It’s monotonous work, but at least you’ll move around a good bit. And it’s something to do.”

You don’t hear anything, and that causes you to ramble a bit, “not that you don’t have anything to do. It’s just - the priestesses are nice and the library’s nice and you’d get to be away from me and Az. So, uh, yeah. Bye, Nes.”

After the disastrously embarrassing way you had told Nesta about helping Clotho, you had written off any chance of her doing so. You were doubly shocked to hear it from Azriel, who told you that Nesta actually helped him procure a book he required.

Another week goes by, and Nesta has been working in the library every day, and she even began attending meals with you and Azriel.

She didn’t really acknowledge your existence at them, but you tried nonetheless. Every day you tried - you tried to talk about books, about the theater, about ballets, about the history of Velaris, hell you even began trying to get her to rank the Vanserras in order of most to least fuckable.

She would hardly speak to you, except occasional taunts and jabs. It came to a head at the end of the week when Cassian began staying at the house as well, and began training Nesta and several of the priestesses.

She’d be away for most of the day, between training and her work, so you only saw her at evening meals. She had only just began training, but she seemed lighter, as if she was crawling out of the darkness.

You were proud of her, she was doing the impossible. She was getting stronger, and Cassian and Azriel said she was even making friends with some of the priestesses.

All of her progress did nothing to help the relationship between the two of you. It still stung when she would disregard you. When you’d ask her a question and she’d blatantly ignore you to speak to Azriel.

The weeks of this iciness continue, until one night in the library you’ve had enough.

“Nesta, can I speak with you about something?”

They were the first words you had spoken all day, spending the day trying to plot out this conversation to the best of your abilities.

Nesta sighs, not looking up from her book. “If it’s quick and I don’t have to do anything.”

You sit on the couch she’s sprawled out on, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Um actually I wanted to ask - why do you like Azriel and Cassian much more than you like me?”

Nesta scoffs, eyes going back to her book. “Is that what you wanted to talk about?”

“Well, Nes I actually wanted to tell you I uh-“

Nesta rolls her eyes, waving her hand. “If you truly can’t understand why I prefer their company, perhaps you’d be better off learning how to be less annoying and how to stop following me around like a starved dog.”

Your face heats with embarassment, fists clenching to keep your sob in, but Nesta’s not finished. She blinks her icy gray eyes up at you over her book.

“What? You think I didn’t know you had a pathetic little crush on me? Please. You practically drool every morning when you see me. I’ve seen you up at the training ring watching me.”

Hot tears start streaming down your face.

“Run along, go find someone else to bother. Perhaps they’ll give you a collar and a bone. Maybe even a bed.”

You shoot up, bursting through the library, out the double doors. You push past a confused Azriel before bounding down the stairs, seeking the quiet shelter of your room.

You had been staying here for a few months to help Nesta. She had gotten better, despite your attempts at connecting with her.

There was no reason for you to stay.

You waited until you could stop crying for an hour before darting to Azriel’s room, knocking softly. He opens the door, surprised to find you on the other side of it.

He wants to ask, knowing that your red rimmed eyes are likely because of Nesta. But he doesn’t pry.

He never had.

That’s why you came to him and not Cassian. Cassian would have made you tell him what was wrong, and then he would have yelled at Nesta for being mean to you.

You just wanted to leave. You didn’t want to see her again.

“Can you- uh, can you take me home? I know it’s late, but I’ve stayed here for too long. I should go back to the townhouse.”

You swallow, not able to look him the eye. You felt so… stupid. You knew she didn’t like you, and still your heart couldn’t help beating faster whenever her eyes met yours.

Azriel nods softly, a motion you don’t see, but he surprises you by taking you into his arms, holding you gently, and rubbing your back.

The action makes keeping the tears at bay much harder.

He lets go, not mentioning the tears now lining your face, as he opens his door, letting you in, and walks towards his balcony. He gently lifts you up, and the two of you fly off into the night.

-

Azriel had been conflicted these past few months. He had hoped bringing Cassian into the mix would make Nesta be nicer to you.

He was wrong.

Somehow his presence had made things worse. His heart practically broke in half seeing you rush out of the room, so upset over something Nesta had said.

And then you came to his room in the dead of night, asking to leave only a few hours later.

Azriel wasn’t irrationally confrontational. He preferred to sit in the shadows, observe, let life happen around him.

Not anymore. Not when the life was Nesta being absurdly cruel to you, day in and day out. You, who was so sweet and kind. You, who had tried to convince Rhys to let Nesta stay anywhere else. You, who had painstakingly made every one of Nesta’s meals since her arrival.

She didn’t touch a single one of them.

He stalked into the dining room the next morning, allowing his anger to get the best of him. He wanted to rip Nesta’s throat out after flying you home. Your gentle sobs you tried to hide were still ringing in his ears as he cloaked the room in shadow.

Cassian flinches as his brother stalks in, feet pounding, wings splayed. He walks towards Nesta, who doesn’t give him a second glance.

His gaze stays on her, waiting for her to look at him.

“Let me make myself very clear,” he said, the harsh tones of the shadowsinger coming through. “She is my sister, we grew up together. She is the kindest person I’ve ever known, and none of us deserve her. You do not deserve the kindness she has repeatedly shown you, despite your lack of reciprocity.”

Nesta keeps eating, her fork scraping the plate as she grabs another bite of salad, listening as Azriel continues. “I swear to the mother Nesta, I don’t know what you said to her, but if you ever make the mistake of being so callous and cruel to her again, I will not hesitate to insert myself again into this one-sided feud.”

Cassian looks between the two of them, confused. “What happened? What’s going on?”

Azriel keeps his glare on Nesta as he says, “(y/n)’s left. She’s gone back to the townhouse, likely won’t be back for some time.”

He stands up straighter.

“Perhaps Nesta knows why.”

-

The following weeks Nesta continued her new routine - training in the morning, stocking the shelves of the library in the afternoon, dinner with the brothers. She was spending her time with Gwyn and Emyrie, growing closer to the females she considers her friends.

And yet, every night she finds herself searching for you in every room. She looks for you in the halls of the House of Wind, she looks for you in the training ring, off to the side. Some days she swears she can smell you in the shelves of the books, your scent brought to her on a phantom wind.

Nesta knew who she was. She was cruel, callous, and cold. What she said to you was perhaps the worst thing she has ever done.

She couldn’t stop herself. She couldn’t handle speaking with you about why she couldn’t be nice to you. She couldn’t watch your big doe eyes tell her that you had feelings for her.

No matter how much she might return those feelings.

She didn’t deserve your kindness, your gaze, your time. Maybe she deserves more than this loneliness she feels, though. Her nights have grown colder without you in the house, which sounded absolutely absurd.

Perhaps the house was showing Nesta how icy she had been.

It had been three weeks since Azriel took you from the house, Nesta realizes as she stands before the Illyrian, asking him for one last favor.

“No,” he says, about to turn away before Nesta grabs his wrist.

“Please,” she asks, “please just.. tell her to come. Just a place and time. Leave it up to her to decide if she wants to come.”

Azriel looks a bit apprehensive, conflicted between his love for you and his new friendship with Nesta.

“I’ll tell her,” he says, voice stern, “but if she doesn’t come, you won’t bother her about this.”

-

Nesta was a ball of anxiety, impatiently watching the door to see if you would come. She had asked for you to come see her at the House of Wind, and she was unable to focus on anything all day except for the lingering question.

“You came,” Nesta says, as you walk into the room.

“I’m a dog, if I hear a whistle, I can’t help myself.”

Nesta flinches at your words and the harshness of your tone. She deserved it. She deserved your ire. Still, she couldn’t stop looking at your windswept hair, disheveled from the flight with Azriel. She couldn’t stop looking at you, taking in your familiar scent, when it was all but gone everywhere in the house.

Nesta will take it to her grave if anyone asks why her scent lingers in your room.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Nesta says, unable to meet your gaze.

“How to do what?” You ask, sitting down, back stiff.

She takes a shakey breath, “how to be loved, how to - how to accept it. How to let someone be nice to me.”

You look, but she still wants to say more. You keep your gaze on her, watching as her fingers very subtly dance across her thigh, tapping a rhythm to a song you cannot hear.

“I also don’t know how to apologize.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, not expecting that from her. You clear your throat, “well, apologies usually start with uh recognizing what you did as wrong and saying why it was wrong.”

Nesta’s steely gaze meet yours, her grip on her thigh tightening.

“I hurt you, over and over again. I knew I was hurting you, and I kept doing it.”

She pauses, and you let her take the time she needs to get through what she has to say. She closes her eyes, prompting a tear to fall down her cheek.

“I kept hurting you because I didn’t want you to see me. I didn’t-“

She gasps as you reach a hand out, stroking her shoulder. She looks up at the ceiling, trying desperately to get the words out.

“I was scared and angry and I didn’t want to stop feeling those things. I knew if I hurt you enough you’d go away, because I just wanted to let my wounds fester.”

Her voice drops, as if there are other people in the room. As if her words are meant for you and you alone.

“I was scared that if I let you in, let you see me, you’d.. you’d be like them and hate me.”

You let Nesta’s words hang in the air for a moment. It was a little cruel of you, but she was cruel to you. She can wait a moment. You look at her - her usually icy gaze gone warm in your presence.

“I don’t hate you, Nesta,” you say, blowing out a breath, “I actually.. it’s quite the opposite really.”

You take a swig of your drink, “I actually was coming to tell you that I uh-“

You shake your head, feeling so stupid now. Of course Nesta was dealing with her own shit, how could she possibly be in a place to reciprocate your feelings.

“That I couldn’t stop thinking about you or worrying about you. And it’s stupid, and I know my feelings are my own burden to bear but I just-“

Your words are cut off as Nesta grabs your face, leaning in and capturing your lips in a kiss. Your brain stops working momentarily, her lips soft against your own unmoving ones.

When you come back to yourself, you grab the back of her neck, keeping her head in place as you kiss her back with such fervor.

Your head is spinning when her tongue slides into your mouth, and you keep your lips connected as you move your way onto her lap. She groans into your mouth at the new weight atop her, placing her hands on your hips, pulling you down. You lose yourself in kissing her, her citrusy taste making you unable to think, until a thought comes to you and you pull away, causing her to groan.

“Are you going to be nice to me now?” You ask, eyebrows raised.

Nesta rolls her eyes, one of her fingers playing with a strand of your hair, “maybe if you move back in here, I can start making it up to you.”

She moves forward, kissing up your throat, before stopping right in front of your lips.

“I can make us breakfast in the morning.”

#acotar fanfiction #nesta x reader #nesta archeron x reader #nesta archeron

[fizzy-fuzz]

Hi! I saw that your requests are open? I apologize if this request is a bit too uncomfortable for you.

I would like to request some preferably headcanons of SCP-073 and SCP-076-2 when they find out they have feelings for a (preferably male please, there's too many females out there already ;-;, no offense for the women out there) Researcher? Like how do they deal with it, how long it takes for them to confess, etc?

I am desperate for some SCP-073 x Male!Reader, and SCP-076-2 x Male!Reader cause there's too many Female/Gender-Neutral (but still has female traits for some reason) reader ;-;

AN: Hello! Sorry this took awhile... I honestly kept rewriting this because I wasn't sure how to make this feel like it was written for a man, and not just something vague for everyone.

I added a few headcanons for how they'd treat a male lover over a female, So i hope this is okay for you.

if not I'd love to hear some tips on how to make it better, if you're willing to give feedback <3 (just message me, or send in another ask. I can't reply to comments since this isn't my main account)

SCP-073 (Cain)

⁠You both probably ment pretty casually. Maybe during lunch or just passing by in the hallways.

Cain didn't think much of you at first honestly.

Until he was passing by your office and heard you arguing with another researcher about the ethics of using him as an live information vault.

He stopped for a moment and lingered outside of your office, listening to you rant about how it wasn't fair to him.

He was honestly shocked, in a good way.

Cain was used to people being... Decent to him, sure.

But to have someone so passionately argue his happiness?

Unheard of.

Cain is quick to fall for you after that, and boy does he fall hard.

he deals with these new feelings by following his heart blindly.

Often hanging around you and lending hands wherever he can.

When he works up the courage his confession is sickly sweet, filled with stutters and nervous chuckles.

I also feel like he's the type of guy to write a confession poem.

He's just whipped like that.

If you accept, (which honestly, who would reject him?) He'll be overjoyed!

Man or not, Cain takes the lead in the relationship for the most part.

Throwing an arm around your shoulders, holding doors for you, giving you flowers (plastic, of course)

though, I do think he treats a male lover slightly different then a female.

He's slightly less watchful over you, less protective in general.

It's not that he cares less, just that he's less worried about you.

Also, for some reason I feel like he'd play wrestle with a male lover a lot.

Expect to be put in a gentle/playful headlock.

At the end of the day, Cain is still the sweet golden retriever boy he is.

That definitely doesn't change at all.

SCP-076-2 (Able)

He ment you during one of his rampages, when you got separated from the task force that was escorting you to safety.

Left alone with nothing but a small pistol to defend yourself with.

He quickly gained a large portion of respect for you when you held your ground against him despite being just a researcher.

Not once did you look cowardly or frightened, clutching your guns with a rather good poster and stance, despite your minimal combat training.

Truly a respectable sight to behold.

And Able knows a warrior when he sees one.

In fact, you were so ferocious that he paused his pursuit for just a moment to study you.

A moment long enough for you to shove your gun to his chin and blow his brains out.

I would say that's when the first few sparks flew for him.

After that, every other rampage was spent looking for you, and ending with you putting a bullet through his head.

I don't think he's all that in tune with his feelings, so he definitely doesn't get that what he's feeling is attraction, and not just respect/interest

He's got a thick skull, it takes him awhile...

But when he does realize. he's confused, and a little unsure of himself.

He's really never felt this way about a man before.

He's never felt this way about anyone before.

He's felt pretty much nothing but anger and desire for vengeance for such a long time, that this new feeling is as overwhelming as it is relieving.

I imagine he holes himself up within SCP-076-1 for a few days he learns to deal with these new feelings.

Of course you're the one sent in to confront him about his sudden strange behavior.

Since he's somewhat more docile around you.

This is when he takes his opportunity to confess to you.

Don't expect anything heartfelt or romantic, it's more of a spur-of-the-moment decision then anything.

And don't expect any hints beforehand.

He doesn't get a whole lot of privacy, so he thought it'd be a good spot to do so.

You'd probably be pretty confused i'd imagine, considering you thought he had some sort of bloodlust for you.

Turns out it was a different kind of lust

but we're gonna assume you don't reject his sudden confession, and choose to start a relationship with him.

Contrary to Cain, you're going to have to take the lead with this relationship.

I just can't imagine him being a very confident lover.

Confident in battle yes, but in the art of love? Nah, it's just not happening.

I don't think he'd treat a male lover any differently than a female lover.

I just don't think he's aware of typical relationship "gender norms" like that.

He's just as likely to follow you around frothing at the mouth whenever someone gets to close for his liking as he is a woman.

He's very jealous...

But overall, his dreams for you and him stay the same regardless of gender.

To live somewhere remote where it's just you, him, and his herd of sheep.

#scp x reader #scp 073 x reader #scp 076 x reader #scp 076 #scp 073 #Scp x you #male reader #Scp-073 x reader #Scp-076 x reader

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

(While I am here: I have gotten a few comments on the little holiday post like 'posts are back' etc, and while I do appreciate the enthusiasm - the holiday post is just a One-Off Special Post, and please do not expect regular updates for the moment

As mentioned before, the next update is a Big One, and I had to rewrite and redraw a large portion of it and I got burnt out, among other irl things or just simply wanting to focus on something else for a bit

I also think bc the majority of folks wanted longer posts, my brain saw Big Task and got overwhelmed, bc I am Bean Bean the Fool - so I may just split up the Big Post into smaller posts and just post as and when they are ready - but again, please do not expect updates right at this moment

Okay that is all, thank you

#ooc post #we also gotta finish the Fucking Intermission first #I swear it'll be worth it #Fiend will give you guys a hint for the main story #I just need to work on it motivation be damned #also I am sure it was supposed to be taken in a lighthearted way #but someone said they 'can finally be happy again' bc 'posts [were] back' #and I am like please do not put that on me #I barely make enough happy for myself I cannot be responsible for your happiness too jkgfklgf

[torchship-rpg]

Dev Diary 12 - Destructive Testing

Breaking from the usual format for this one, and it’s going to be a bit shorter, but this is important.

At the beginning of November was Metatopia, a convention dedicated to playtesting roleplaying games. It’s an excellent place to go to break games in order to fix them stronger than ever, and in that respect Torchship did not disappoint. While its parts all worked beautifully, there were some issues with the connective tissue tying it; the game needed a stronger mechanical framework to put these pieces into.

With that in mind, we’ve started a new draft of Torchship designed to be rapidly playtested and iterated, into which all the other stuff we’ve built up can be plugged back. This new draft focuses particularly hard on making sure the game’s fundamental tablefeel is strong, that you always know what to do and where to go next.

Which is to say, fans of my games having big circles in them somewhere? There’s a big circle in this one now too. Torchship now has two distinct modes; an Action mode where you go out and gather information, and a Reflection portion where that information is managed, damage gets fixed, and plans are made. Action takes the form of ongoing narrative play, dropping into turn-based combat when needed, where Reflection takes place in a series of special scenes called Vignettes to represent timeskips, with more impactful ‘Resupply’ Vignettes acting in some ways as bridges between episodes or story arcs.

While it may sound similar to some of our previous games, this isn’t like in Flying Circus where each part of the Routine is a commitment to a certain kind of gameplay before you can go back. You’re able to switch between the two pretty readily; so long as there’s nothing bearing down on you this minute, you can go into Reflection and play out Vignettes, with the number available before you need to go back into Action depending on the in-universe time until the next important thing.

This structure imitates the back and forth you see in many episodes of Star Trek. To use Devil in the Dark as an example, the Action scenes are things like arriving at the planet to meet with the staff, or going out into the cave to track down what’s killing the miners. When they go back to talk about their findings, prep security crews, or bring in new resources, that’s Reflection. It covers your beloved TNG meeting room scenes, the cut to sickbay as we find out what happened to the redshirt, and the montages of inventing or building the tools that’ll solve this week’s problems.

As part of these rewrites, some parts of the game have been modified from previous dev diaries. We’ve simplified the way Harm works; you now have two Harm tracks, Injury and Panic, and a new accumulating penalty called Strain which builds up quickly as you make checks or use medicine to manage the other tracks or boost your abilities. Strain is easy to clear so long as you have supplies available, so it acts to pace out scenes and give less-skilled characters a reason to roll; if you know there’s a lot of a certain kind of work ahead, you might want to save your expert for the rolls which really matter!

(Radiation no longer uses a whole track, but instead consists of a small card the GM can hand you entitled “Congratulations, you’ve been irradiated!” with a list of dosage effects.)

A variety of changes large and small have emerged from these changes. Relationships act as an excellent starting point for Vignettes, while access to meetings have let us place restrictions on the number of checklists out on the field at a time, as you can always call meetings to retire checklists, propose others, and figure out what your next Big Question is about the mission. We’ve created a new XP system where you train skills directly by using them, with the pace of advancement limited on a per-episode basis to encourage you to play wide and learn new things.

Finally, we’ve come up with a neat solution to one of the longstanding problems that original sci-fi games often run into, where players are unsure what their technology can do, resulting in decision paralysis. We’ve added a very distinct CAN & CAN’T field on the info cards which lists exactly what everything does and what their limitations are so you can jump straight in without slowing the game to ask the GM where the boundaries are. 

Things are bound to change more over time as the game is refined and tested, but that’s a good thing. Good games take time, revision, and a willingness to recognize and rewrite when things aren’t working as well as they could.

#torchship #dev diary #ttrpg #torchship ttrpg #rpg #oops game broke

[taones]

If You Can Hold On (3) - A.A, S.K, S.D

rewrite of the third part of the series (first and second parts here and here, original series on my masterlist) enjoy <3

pairing ~ poly asadaisuga x gn!reader

warnings ~ pining, angst, arguments, swearing, general stress tbh, my horrible attempt at writing purposefully cringe flirting, mildly suggestive, very brief editing and spellcheck so

You sniffed as you stirred, pulling the soft fabric underneath your cheek further into you. It smelt like sandalwood with a hint of coffee and you were instantly reminded of Daichi. The man’s coffee addiction had become serious during his final year. You supposed yours would too, if you were in charge of Hinata. His scent was a big reason why you enjoyed stealing Daichi’s clothes so much. Gripping the fabric in your fingers, the underneath was oddly warm. The further you returned to your sleepy state, the less you found yourself caring about the odd warmth of your cushion, or the slow rise and fall of it under your head. 

“Still sleepy, huh?”

Jolting, you snapped your eyes open. A strong heat flooded under the skin of your cheeks, you shot up. An action that brought the blanket that was covering you tumbling down your form, settling at your waist and exposing not only your body, but Daichi’s. You had heard several times from his partners that the man likes forgoing shirts when he sleeps, but observing it was a whole other story. Usually, when you stayed around, he was up and dressed before any of you and you never saw him without a shirt. It soon became clear why this was a good thing. The man was laying in the bed, under where you just laid, dressed in nothing but pajama pants and an unzipped hoodie. Honey coloured skin peaked out from the gap between the zipper, a toned and yet perfectly soft stomach just begging for you to reach out and run your fingers down it. 

Shuffling from the other side of the bed alerted you to the other two presences in the room. Asahi was sitting against the headboard, the other side of where you had evidently slept last night. His curly hair was piled on top of his head and he had those damn reading glasses on, the ones that made him look just as intelligent as you knew he was. He smiled closed mouthed, obviously bemused at your shock, and waved with the hand that was currently holding his book. Sugawara was curled under his arm, on the far side of the bed - still snoring, of course. Koushi was the sleepiest of all three of you. Hyper, undeniably, but once he was asleep, he was down for the count. 

Asahi slid a hand onto the thigh that was closest to him. His hands were large and calloused against the soft skin of your exposed thigh. Why you decided to pack shorts was a mystery to you. Especially now as you flexed the muscles, trying desperately to not squirm and pay attention to what he was about to say. 

“We were gonna grab some breakfast” he explained, in an unfairly attractive morning voice, 

“We passed a diner last night, probably swinging back ‘round to that”

“Once sleeping beauty wakes up, that is”

You smiled, biting your lip in an attempt not to laugh. The three of you would have an easier time herding cats. Asahi’s hand slipped off of your thigh. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran up your spine and desperately ignored the way you missed his touch as soon as it left. Getting breakfast together was a routine you were all well versed in. You had all spent the majority of weekends before your exams meeting in a small cafe near your homes to get waffles together. Simpler times, you guessed. You knew each others orders like the back of your hands, and you always got fed portions of their individual orders no matter how many times you went. The contrast between each order was evident and matched perfectly with each of them. 

“I’m up for waffles”

---

The diner was relatively busy when you got there. Of course, with Daichi’s team dad skills and Asahi’s somewhat intimidating stature, you had managed to secure a booth just fine. As tradition went, it was you and Asahi on one side, Daichi and Koushi on the other. Asahi trapped you against the wall with his broad shoulders, but you liked the security of it and this is something the others had very clearly noticed. You were almost 100% certain that the seating was done this way so you and Asahi wouldn’t comment on the obnoxious amount of chocolate and cream the other two piled onto their waffles. 

Conversation flowed easily. You were too sleepy to even entertain the thought of your wallowing that morning, much rather preferring the simple reminiscing and idle chatter the boys filled the silence with. At one point you had said something that made Daichi laugh so hard that he had snorted his milkshake out of his nose. There was some hope that they didn’t notice the way you preened like a cat at getting the usually stoic man to laugh that hard. It was a beautiful noise, but his true laugh was rare. The dad-like chortle making way for wheezing towards the end of his laughing fits was enough to get even the most stone-faced of people to crack a smile. 

You handed him a wad of napkins. He took them with both hands, lifting one to wipe his face and keeping the other firmly grasping yours. Your breath hitched. 

Eventually, after the fifth time of Daichi wiping the wrong spot, Koushi grasped a few more napkins from your hands and wiped the remaining chocolate off of Daichi’s face. You held out another napkin for the silver-haired man's fingers, being met by his signature dazzling smile. 

“What would we do without you, huh gorgeous?”

The bliss was interrupted by all of their phones pinging a notification simultaneously. Suga read the text and visibly grimaced. In an effort to protect yourself from the hurt, you cast your gaze towards the table. It was very obviously a group chat you were not on. The little bubble of joy you had experienced just moments prior popped sharply and it was if the room had dimmed under the morning sun. That was fine, they were allowed to be in chats without you, it wasn’t a big deal, it might not be their new addition, right? You repeated the question in your head like a mantra to calm yourself as you tapped on Asahi to let you out.

“I’m gonna order another drink” you mumbled, smiling brightly at the boys.

The last couple of seconds replayed in your head over and over, even while stammering out your drink order. It was slightly easier to hide your scorned feelings when you weren’t facing the cause. Your back was aimed towards the table of boys, even as you reached the coffee station and made a grab at a few paper packets of sugar. 

The paper was flimsy in your hands, not aiding the clumsiness that was already plaguing you. The coffee was intended for Suga and the man liked his coffee in a very particular way. You counted out exactly two packets of white sugar, and one packet of brown sugar. E preferred the wooden stirrers, even when spoons were available, said they reached the sugar in the bottom of the cup easier. Of course, this was most likely complete nonsense but you couldn’t help but entertain the thought as you took yourself through the motions. You smiled gently at the routine and just how absurd it would look to anyone else. How were you supposed to explain the oddity that was Sugawara Koushi and his fantastical coffee routine?

A hand settled next to you on the coffee counter. 

“That’s a lot of sugar for someone already so sweet looking”

Turning, you came face to face with a man a little bit taller than you, he had dark hair and a decently attractive smile. He was cute, sure. But he wasn’t quite as tall as Asahi, he didn’t have Daichi’s warm smell and his flirting was kind of wooden to anyone who was familiar with Koushi’s cheekier flirting. In your peripherals, you could see the inquisitive glances from your friends and you really couldn’t help yourself after that. Was it kind to lead someone on? Maybe not but you were tired of morality and interested to see how this would play out. 

Giggling, you looked up at him through your lashes. Screw it, if you couldn’t have who you wanted, you were at least gonna have fun. 

“Maybe I like sweet things, don’t judge” you mused, taking the wooden stirrer between your teeth.

The man leaned his other arm on the coffee counter, effectively trapping you against the cart. It was a move you assumed was meant to come across as sexy. However it just made you feel like you were a caged animal, cornered and ready to claw your way out of the situation. His hand retracted, holding more napkins than any one man could possibly need. The dark haired man shot you a wink and you forced out a smile in return, shooting a glance at your now empty table. The brilliant smile of the man in front of you began to fade, causing you to snap your head towards him.

“I’m so sorry, what was that?” you questioned politely, putting the clueless act on once again. 

A throat was cleared next to you. There was really no denying how intimidating the boys were when they wanted to be. Daichi’s arms bulged from where they were crossed over his chest. It was a display that would usually make your mouth water, but only proved to further fuel your anxiety in the given moment. They weren’t scary to you of course, but the sharp glare Suga was sending the man as well as Asahi’s unimpressed look caused a flush of anxiety to run through you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Suga hissed at the poor man, who was now looking about ready to run.

“Sorry” the man stuttered, “I didn’t realise they were taken, know when i'm not welcome”

He put his hands up in a mock surrender and turned to leave. 

“Wait, no i’m not-” you started, but he was gone.

They had, not for the first time, rendered you speechless. Embarrassment curled in your gut, bubbling up into something more volatile when you saw the satisfied looks they sported, eyes following the man back to his table. Disbelief didn’t even begin to cover the cocktail of emotions that were currently mixing within you. 

If you didn’t leave, you were going to lose your temper very quickly. Chest heaving, you recentred yourself and spun on your heel, pulling your wallet out. 

The lady behind the counter looked only mildly intrigued at the odd display that had just occurred in front of her. She curled a perfectly manicured eyebrow at you as if to ask if you needed a hand. It filled you with a certain sense of irony, that this random woman was more concerned as to your feelings at that moment than your actual friends, who had known you for years. You stuttered out an apology and slammed some cash on the counter, probably harder than intended. Then you promptly turned and marched out of the diner. 

The mad scramble behind you was ignored in your attempt to walk to the car without bursting into tears, punching something, or both. You heard the protests in the background but they were muffled by the buzzing of rage in your ears. Fists curling and uncurling, you tried to think back to the last time you had gotten this angry. You had been plenty angry in the past, school was a difficult time for everyone, but the three men you had left in the diner were usually the first ones to calm you down. This was one of the only times they were the cause of your wrath. Most likely, they would also be on the receiving end of said wrath soon enough. 

Kicking the dust of the car park, you watched as stones and dirt scattered away from you. You wanted to scream, hit things, throw yourself in the dirt and cry - anything that would take some pressure off of the crushing weight in your torso. The flame twisted and gnashed at your insides, growling and clawing its way up your oesophagus until it released itself in a small scream of frustration. Would things ever be simple for you?

Telepathy had never been a skill you particularly craved until that moment. There was no way of understanding what those three idiots were thinking. Even if you did know, you were doubtful it would soothe your frustration. You threw yourself on the ground behind the trunk of the car, yanking your phone out of the pocket of your jeans. 

“Kiyoko” you seethed down the phone, “will you please come and pick me up”

She gave you the affirmative and set the loose time limit to her arrival. No doubt Yachi would be with her. You weren’t sure whether you would be able to deal with their romance in your face at that moment, but anything was better than being stuck in a car with Asahi, Daichi and Sugawara. 

Jangling alerted you to the three men in question. They had obviously paid and were frantically looking around the cars to locate you. With any luck a sinkhole would open in the earth and swallow you whole before they spotted you. 

Luck was never your thing.

The sky had opened up once again. It was almost beginning to grate on your nerves how much it had been raining this trip. The irony had been entertaining in the beginning, bordering on humorous how cliche it was. Now the weather you usually took so much pleasure in indulging in was maddening. You wanted to be angry with them for once, yell even. But the rain was washing your frustration away, leaving an empty feeling. A feeling that made you want to give up. 

Your prayers went unanswered, the three men walking up to you in due time. 

“What was that?” you questioned, voice resigned. 

“What do you mean? He was flirting with you”

The sound of genuine confusion in Asahi’s voice made your food feel like it was curdling inside of you. You breathed out in disbelief, brows knitting together tightly. 

“And just what does that have to do with any of you?”

None of them replied, taken back by your outburst. You stood abruptly and continued. 

“You’re all dating! You literally have two boyfriends and I know you’re talking to another person. So really” you paused, “why the fuck does it matter if i don’t want to be alone anymore? Do I not deserve to be wanted? You evidently don’t want me”

Your voice cracked towards the end of your rant. Three pairs of eyes stared at you in disbelief. The hints of hurt mixed into all three was evident, but you felt like a bottle that had been shaken and the lid was off. You erupted once again.  there was nothing more that you wanted than to be loved on purpose. it was inexplicably unfair that even unconnected attempts at finding a relationship had to be ruined by the three men in front of you.

“God it hurts, can you not see that? It hurts so bad. You won’t ever understand how much it pains me to be around you and see just how happy this new person is going to make you, knowing that’s not me? That hurts” you spat the last sentences, vitriol coating your words.

The storming sea inside you had calmed somewhat, leaving you to assess the damage your words had done. It wasn’t the most ideal way to confess your feelings but the weight that was lifted off your shoulders felt tremendous. The pain you were feeling was paralysing, stopping you from running like you desperately wanted to. It knocked the wind out of you, reducing your last statement to a pathetic whisper. 

“I get you don’t want me around, but other people will. It’s not okay to take that away from me”

As if some God had heard your plea, Kiyoko’s tiny blue car sped into the car park just as you broke down crying. The womans tiny blonde girlfriend sped out of the car, catching you before your knees could meet the wet sand beneath you. Yachi cooed at you softly, placing her entire body in front of you as if to form a shield between you and the cause of your heart ache. Her eyebrows furrowed in concern, eyes filling with sympathy at your curled up figure. 

It was truly humiliating. 

Kiyoki motioned for her to pull you into the car, stepping out of the driver's side herself and towards you. The dainty hands of the younger girl were soft and comforting, her rose scent filled your stuffy nose while she led your stumbling form to the welcome shelter of her girlfriend's car. The difference in posture between the two of you was like night and day. You were hunched over, protecting yourself from outside view. Your wounds were gaping, horrible open pits with your rawest emotions in the middle for everyone to gaze at and laugh. She wrapped a soft blanket around you, bandaging you up and keeping you safe in the backseat of the car. 

There were muffled voices from the outside of the car, but the sound of the heater being cranked full blast muffled them. There was a lot of angry words, not quite yelling but scolding certainly. You whimpered at the noise, not being able to distinguish who it was. You were certain they would never want to see you again, let alone speak to you, after your outburst. If only there was a way to scoop all of your words off of the floor and shove them back down into your mouth. Daichi, Asahi and Sugawara had never been in love with you, you could deal with that fact. Them cutting ties completely would surely kill you. 

A polaroid of Yachi and Kiyoko, perched on a wall and smiling at each other, was stuck to the centre of the car, directly above the stereo. It hung there, mocking you. You stared and tried not to think about how you would never be able to achieve that, not where it counted. In the end, it was easier to avert your gaze than confront what you couldn’t have.

Fuming, Kiyoko wrenched the door open and threw herself into the driver's seat. It was a miracle she managed to make even that look graceful. Her face was unnaturally contorted by an anger that was uncommon for her. It marred her beautiful features viciously. In staring at her, you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. It was a distressing look to say the least. Your hair was messy from your own grip and the bags under your eyes had only gotten worse. What little effort you had put into your looks this morning had all gone to waste, either washes away or dampened under the rain. 

Yachi stroked her hand over your shoulder and climbed into the passenger's seat. 

Staring out of the back window as the car pulled away, you caught sight of the three you had left behind. Koushi was patting Azumane’s back from where he crouched on the ground, dragging large hands across his face. Daichi was beside them, head buried in his arms on top of the car. You blinked. They had no right to be upset, you thought. You tried to block it all from your mind as their figures turned into tiny dots in the distance. All the years of friendship, the lives you had built together and the dreams you had created - they were buried in the dust where you left them.

me: says I'll post part three the next day, also me: takes a week to post it. I'm not sure when I'll get around to posting part 4 but hopefully I'll remember to actually post it

#asadaisuga #asadaisuga x reader #haikyuu imagine #daichi x reader #daichi sawamura x reader #asahi x reader #asahi azumane x reader #sugawara x reader #sugawara koushi x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu hurt/comfort #poly haikyuu

[maglors-anion-gap]

I've been mulling something over lately. It's almost a given that one will find questionable elements to older texts; some are overt and some sneaky even to the modern eye. There are, undeniably, many such elements in Tolkien's work, and they cause a lot of trouble for marginalized readers and for fan creators grappling with it in relation to meta and fic.

That the Silmarillion is a largely-omniscient myth-text narrative, composed from a variety of drafts, the discarded versions of which we also have access to, further compounds the issue. Who has read what? Who samples from what? How deeply do some themes pervade both the text and the fandom? There are discarded portions that raise eyebrows (and thankfully, were edited out at some point). However, there are moments where those discarded portions shine through the cracks in exposition, dialogue and reasoning left in the official composite text by the sweeping style of the narrative. The composite can be seen to still rest on certain narrative and valuational presuppositions of Tolkien's - presuppositions he assumes the reader to share.

In the text, of course some have value or more of it, some have honor or more of it, some overcome darkness while some naturally succumb to it. The narrative certainty in these characterizations rests on these lurking (racist, antisemitic, ableist) presuppositions, and in some cases handwaves any deeper exploration or explanation.

There seem to be two fan solutions to reckoning with a cross-draft-consistent bigoted theme. 1) Write meta that explores its traits and manifestations in the text and syncretizes canon assertions with authorial biases, and/or fic that directly addresses the in-text impact of these biases. 2) With an awareness of the bigoted themes, create headcanons, new verses, and fic that subverts, rewrites, or negates the original theme. The former refuses to allow the presuppositions of the text to become the presuppositions of the fandom. The latter allows (particularly marginalized) fans generative space, fodder to create anew, breathing room, and expanded perspectives. Different functions, parallel purposes, both important.

Because it's fandom, and it's large, and our idea of on-the-side fun and not our job or our marriage, we do not have the same preferences for how we go about dealing with these textual issues or the cohesive pressure to be like minded (even as we recognize the need to deal with them). One person's way of reckoning with textual biases or gaps may strike another as reaching too far from canon to be of appeal. This is a common reaction to headcanons, canon divergences and alternate universes, and crack or humor, particularly in the tolkien fandom. However, personal preference is not a basis for asserting that someone is reading the text wrong, especially when the issue at hand is one of reparative analysis and creation.

I am drawn to the issue of the Petty Dwarves. Most information on them comes in pieces from disparate drafts and satellite texts. Some information was erased entirely from the published Silmarillion. However, many people have noted the continual issues in Tolkien's treatment of the Dwarves, the iterative issues with his treatment of the Petty Dwarves, and rightly begin to link the two, plumb them down to their connecting factor, and begin excavating the silences in the narrative which Tolkien allows to be filled by presupposition.

I have found that people who cite personal preference may bring up canon elements to excuse or disprove certain readings; I would argue that the canon elements cited are less often exculpatory of our faves and more often proof of deeper biases, proof of biased presupposition as a stand in for rich characterization. Let me explain. We hear from the Sindar that the Petty Dwarves are reclusive, aggressive, and territorial (on this they base their initial assessment that the Petty Dwarves are two-legged animals for hunting). We hear from the Dwarves who cross the Blue Mountains later that the Petty Dwarves descend from expelled Dwarves who were the smallest, weakest, most conniving and self-serving, and violent persons. At one point, Tolkien describes the Petty Dwarves as older residents in Beleriand than both the Sindar and the eastern Dwarves, and the original inhabitants of Nargothrond, and it is them who Finrod hires to finish its construction. Tolkien describes the Petty Dwarves as agreeing to do this under false and duplicitous pretenses (for what reason, he doesn't say); later, Mim tries to kill Finrod (again, the narrative is sparse on motive), and Finrod alternately outs the Petty Dwarves from Nargothrond or pays the other Dwarves to turn them out. Tolkien evidently means for this to paint a picture of a group of people who are inherently wicked, cannot help but be so, are hated and pitied (for one does not preclude the other, and all good people should pity bad people, after all), and bring about their own diminishment. There's the in-universe justification for it.

I mean to explore why it is not satisfactory to leave the matter alone at "the Petty Dwarves brought about their own downfall." To begin, why does Tolkien rely on the characteristics he does when describing both the Petty Dwarves and Dwarves in general? These are multiple pieces of bigotry at play, chiefly some old antisemitic stereotypes (which have already been unpacked at length and by Jewish fans who are more knowledgable than I; if other have more to add, please do so). But I will give it a try.

First, Tolkien never pins down why the Petty Dwarves are expelled westward, only vaguely pinning it on their inborn characteristics. One old piece of antisemitism held that Jewish people were smaller and weaker than gentiles; Jewish men are still held to be less masculine, which can be traced from a medieval supposition that Jewish men menstruated. Coupled with the ableism of expelling the stunted and the inutile, Tolkien describes here a sort of itinerant and pitiful scrounger who does not belong in a society to which it cannot contribute and into which it cannot assimilate. The concept of vagrancy and the homelandlessness (consider the antisemitism in the concept of the cosmopolitan Jew, and Tolkien's deliberate linkage of Dwarves and losing their homes), is further connected to antisemitism by the Petty Dwarves being duplicitous, self-serving backstabbers toward Finrod, who Tolkien sets up as innocent and trusting enough to sleep unguarded near Mim, further juxtaposing the two. Furthermore, the gentile assertion that Jewish people are violent is escalated to accusations of blood libel and sorcery. Tolkien may not go that far, but he ties this predisposition for violence into the passage about Nargothrond, and their territorial defensiveness and their aggression toward the Sindar. Jewish people have long been stereotyped as insular, traditional, and cold to outsiders (consider the gentile furor over "goy"). All of this passes under the surface of the text - where Tolkien does not elaborate, this rises to the surface to color the reading.

When fans identify these elements in the text (and realize they are very similar to Tolkien's handling of the Dwarvish sacking of Doriath, or gold sickness, or Dwarvish isolationism as a whole), they begin to investigate the places they show up in text. The meta they write must try to syncretize the canon of what is said with the authorial context applied in the characterization. The fic they write must try to fill in lazy gaps left, and to imagine and then confront the missing exigence to the conflict while refuting the antisemitic presuppositions upon which the text relies in place of characterization.

Because it's fanwork, some people may have concepts that you think miss the mark or push further with assertions than you think is logical. However, no one who is in good faith creating, exploring, or trying to remedy the issues of the text, can be accused of using their ideas as a cudgel against canon or against others. Discussion is welcome, when it is conducted in good faith as well.

Relying too heavily on the surface-level assertions of canon to shoot down these musings at times verges upon what I have described above: leaning into the in-world justifications of hierarchy and subjugation to excuse the real-world hierarchies upon which these presuppositions are built. It is not so important how or when the Sindar realized the Petty Dwarves were people: what matters is that Tolkien created a character group, designed to be hated and pitied but never respected, onto whom he mapped real world stereotypes, and set them up in events where these stereotypes lead. It's highly worth considering why we are defending portions of text that are inherently bigoted. The whole broth here is the issue, but people are quibbling over whether they've fished out a potato versus a turnip.

#long post #meta #petty dwarves #I talked this over with a good friend of mine before posting. #readers - feel free to chime in #this got very long in the interest of clarity and at the expense of brevity

[monkie-keebs]

TF[RiD’15]: Steeljaw X G/N canine/wolf-bot reader

•Fandom: Transformers: Robots In Disguise [2015]

•Theme: Steeljaw x G/N Canine-bot reader

•Title: "Freedom Awaits"

•Rating: PG; [mentions of clawing and typical Steeljaw behaviors] pretty sfw

•Notes: A rewrite of an old fanfic. Comrade used for G/N comfort. Steeljaw is just being a desperate loner looking for pack mates. Might be a part two of this if there is any interest. [fic below the cut]

"Most would say that fate whispers to the wolf; you cannot withstand the storm, but this wolf whispered back....I am the storm," Rushing through soon-to-be clawed up trees with talons lashing and frantic panting, you recited the quotation within your troubled and frantic mind, having learned it somewhere in the past but unaware of the real source. You strode on hind and front paws, then on two legs after exhaustion began to kick in. You'd been on the run from the autobot, "Bee" for what seemed hours. You only knew a portion of his name because the ignorant, red painted, flamboyant bot with him was obnoxious and crude when obviously and simultaneously failing to follow orders.

You soon stopped behind an aged, large tree, panting, and yet, as You tried to muster up the fuel supplies to get up and attempted to run...to no avail. Your joints and coils trembled in your exhausted frame, which resulted in a dramatic collapse before miles and miles of more forest. Your pointed, lupine audial gave a sudden twitch and swiveled around when you picked up the slightest sound of moving debris: a twig or branch snapped beneath what sounded like a large, robotic life-form, "A possible ally?" You whispered with glistening fangs readily apparent to snap as you heaved and panted for air. Your glossa hung from your lower jaw like that of an over-exhausted canine, "Show yourself..." You spoke within raspy breaths. Your optics glowed within the dim lit low lights of the sun falling beneath the trees.

Your audials fell back and your muzzle formed into that of an almost crooked smile with fangs exposed. A fearful gesture, and yet when you were ready to ward whatever it was off with a fear-inducing growl, you were suddenly whacked across your chassis with something sharp and searing. Instead of the growling, all you could muster up was a soft whimper of sudden shocked pain and discomfort, "Who are you? Why would you do that??" You continued to pant and bare your fangs as you backed yourself further into the tree. Your assailant's optics became visible in the impending darkness provided by the clustered trees and their foliage. Claws dug holes into the Earth and rake-marks into the tree's tender hide. You became so frightened that you hadn't noticed your own tail between your trembling knees.

After several moments of taunting from the intruder amidst the shadows, it finally spoke aloud, "Fear makes the wolf bigger than he is, you know," The seductive, almost soothing tone seemed quite eerie and disturbing behind the darkened visage of the night. The sudden sound of raking against the bark of another innocent tree struck your audio receptors enough to create a small spark of static and disruption, "Dear...comrade, what are you doing so exhausted and lost in the wilderness of this...backwater planet? Have you endured the same torture? The rude welcoming committee, and worst of all...the Autobots?" The figure stepped toward the small patch of light before you and revealed himself. His appearance was familiar, but you knew not his scent.

"Who are you?" You asked as your voice cracked under anxious pressure, "I will not fall prey to another-" Your words were cut short as a clawed digit pressed itself up against your maw.

"-Trap? No need to fear dear comrade, I bear the same marking as you. We are both-I assume-two cons' trying to make a living on a new planet. A new home to call our own without being treated as...criminals... and morseo...equals," He nodded his head as you glanced down at the deep claw marks through your chestplate. You winced at the still-lingering pain, "I'm sorry about that, loner. I was merely covering your tracks. You'd have probably been caught by now and stuffed back into one of those...stasis pods, again,"

"Thanks....I guess," You crossed your servos over your chassis and glanced away from your assailant, but you glanced back without hesitation, "Who are you?" You raised an eyebrow and rose off of the ground slowly-the tree supporting your still-weakened knees, "I would like to know the name of my...savior," You faltered at that final term, but kept the same, almost blank expression as their optics met.

"My name is, SteelJaw, and no need to thank me, comrade...all I ask is that you join me..on the hunt for more comrades; brothers and sisters...just like us," He clenched a fist and thrusted it to his chassis, showing confidence with every fluid motion of his being, "Again, will you join me, co-"

"My name, call me by my name," He glanced at You, seemingly startled by your retort, with a raised brow and leaned against the tree in which he clawed into shambles, as if he awaited your reply, "It's, (Y/N; first part)" You cut yourself short momentarily, not wanting the devious wolf-mech to catch your full name. You were an extremely cautious Decepticon/Autobot as odd as it seemed, and you were so tired of the rash betrayal or being hunted down by other Decepticons or even being turned in by undercover Autobots.

"...what? You seem to have...come off a bit short?" A sly grin formed on the maw of the wolf-like muzzle sported by SteelJaw. His razor-sharp fangs were visible to you as you shifted and swallowed hard before offering a reply...

"(Y/N; last part)," With defeat in your chords, you lowered your audials and glanced over at the wolf’con, who seemed to be rather amused by your strange behavior and body language, "Don't tell anybody else about my name....or me," Your pointed a claw at least inches away from Steeljaw's chin as he chuckled with utter amusement at your newly delivered threat.

“(Y/N), my dear, why would I do that...Join me. Join my...pack as it would seem I am but one..." He seemed to be playing a rather pitiful card as You saw through his pack of lies rather confidently, "I just might accidentally alert the nearest autobot of your whereabouts...unless you stick with me to...avoid that scenario, don't you think?" The sly lupine con bore his fangs in a gnarled grin as he knew he'd won. He approached you much closer, almost muzzle to muzzle, "I take that as a...yes?"

"....Yes,"

End Part

#kdrabs[✏️] #steeljaw rid #steeljaw x reader #transformers x reader #rid15 x reader #tf x reader #steeljaw #steeljaw tf #x reader #x reader fanfiction #reader insert #self insert #transformers #tf rid 2015

[throughtrialbyfire]

𝑾𝑰𝑷 𝑾𝒆𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒅𝒂𝒚!! ♥

wow! i'm on time this week!!

thank you to the lovely @dirty-bosmer @your-talos-is-problematic and @skyrim-forever for the tags!!

tagging the amazing @archangelsunited @orfeoarte @thana-topsy @gilgamish @saltymaplesyrup @thequeenofthewinter @viss-and-pinegar and @changelingsandothernonsense !

this week i'm cheating a little and posting a large portion of the (now published) rewrite of chapter 4 from Cycle of the Serpent! i've posted up to chapter 6's rewrites thus far, and should have 7 and 8 rewritten and updated soon. this chapter features the trio heading to Bleak Falls Barrow, from Emeros' point of view <3

  The road twisted narrowly from the bridge, angled and sloping, lined with strange stones. Some appeared intentionally arranged and stuck in their ways, watching the young elves through every crack in their worn surfaces. Some were more incidental, shrugging off the weather. Some appeared to be severed off from old pillars, smoothed by the many years gone by and wondering where their extra heights had gone. Emeros kept an eye on the greenery, on the land that gradually grew more and more distant, the town that faded from view as the three marched up the pathway.    The gradual drop in temperature intensified itself the further they got from Riverwood, the dusting of snow that cropped up at the tops of new and unfamiliar trees still preserved this far into Last Seed, and by the looks of the powdery texture, had fallen not too long ago. The pathway in its drastic angles took on more danger, as ice collected at the bases of the evergreens. Meticulous with their footing, the three carried themselves up the path to the barrow, careful to examine each stone they pressed their boots against.   Emeros had been in various ruins for any number of purposes over the years. He'd adventured into Ayleid ruins in his earliest days in Cyrodiil, never leaving the first chamber if he could help it, collecting samples of the mosses and fungi that grew within. Sometimes, he'd find an interesting vine, or a plant he hadn't recognized from the surface world. He'd take great pains to preserve them until he could examine them safely, testing new potions and properties, inspiration his guide in every experiment. If he combined this amount of imported trama root with this amount of the unidentified fungi, placed it in an already known potion recipe, how would it change the effects? Would it create something to heal, or to harm?    What new concoctions could he make with the native flora of Skyrim? And maybe, if luck was on his side, would he find something previously unknown in this ancient place?

  The trio trudged onward, the wind whipping at their faces, brushing flakes of snow like tiny spears against their skin. The cold was one factor all of them wished they'd prepared more thoroughly for, but if they were going to explore this place and bring back the claw, then they had to keep going. Day had long since crest the mountains, rising above them in a lustrous sheen of blue, light bleaching the landscape before them a harsh, eye-pulsing white.    As they turned their eyes to the top of the mountain, a strange stone tower came into view. Weathered by the ages and capped with snow, the sight alone sent shivers through the Bosmer. Emeros hissed for the others to get down, snagging the other two by their tunics, hidden behind a massive stone. When Wyndrelis was about to quietly protest, Emeros pressed a finger to his own lips and then gestured to the tower. The other two Mer looked.    A figure marched the slim, dreadful bridge from the tower to the mountain, back and forth at an easy pace. Bandits. And they'd almost walked right into their line of sight.    "What do we do?" Athenath asked in a hushed tone, partially unsheathing their newly acquired sword. Wyndrelis pressed his spine to the rock they huddled behind, with the spare, occasional glance to the figure.   "Emeros, you have a bow. Can you use it?" Wyndrelis asked in a hush, Emeros already nocking an arrow.   "I've been hunting in Valenwood since my childhood," he answered, taking aim. He shut one eye, lined up his shot, and stilled his breaths.   "Not yet!" 

  Emeros startled at Athenath's hard whisper, grip on the arrow tighter. He slid it forward, letting the string go slack. He cursed under his breath as he turned to Athenath, brow quirked and eyes narrow. The Altmer pressed palms to the sides of Emeros' head, and as the alchemist was about to protest, his eyes landed on a detail he'd missed.   Up the incline, pacing back and forth before them, a bandit that no one else had seen.    Two targets, then.   He looked to his companions, then to the bandit. This would come down to timing, by his own analysis. If he took one out without the other noticing at first, it would give him a few seconds to get another arrow and put the last one down. Then, they could safely traverse the mountainside. He gave Athenath one last look, this time the slightest gleam of a grin on his lip, not daring to speak too much. He knelt in the snow, nocked his arrow, and waited.   When the bandit at the fortress had their back turned, he fired. This arrow pierced through a weak spot in the incline-bandit's armor, injuring them, stunning for a moment before Emeros got another arrow through their neck. He shifted his attentions to the fortress-bandit, who dashed to the crumpled body of their companion. He fired, and this shot went clean through the torso, spearing the upper chest, likely a lung, if he guessed from here.   "I think that's all of them." Wyndrelis rose from behind the stone, wiping the snow from his trousers as he grabbed his belongings. The three rushed to the bodies, and as they confirmed that the bandits were dead, Athenath began to rifle through the pockets of the corpses. Emeros sputtered protests, but as the Altmer produced some gold, some new arrows, and a set of leather gauntlets, he found himself complaining much less. They handed the leather gauntlets to Emeros, then stood and stretched.   Wyndrelis thought something over for a moment. Then, he knelt, slowly undoing the fastens and buckles of the much warmer-looking armor the bandits wore.

  "What in Oblivion are you doing?" Emeros hissed, Wyndrelis looking up at the other momentarily before returning to his task. Athenath joined in, helping Wyndrelis lift the fur-lined piece from the first body before they descended on the second.   "It's not like they need it, and we can't run around looking like soldiers forever," Athenath retorted.    Wyndrelis agreed, pulling the first set of armor to himself. He shifted his gaze to Athenath, brow knit. "Tell me, why did he get the gauntlets?"   Athenath shrugged as they looked up to Emeros momentarily, before handing over a soul gem they'd dug out of a bandits pack Dunmer, who tucked it into his pocket. "Archers usually need them, right? Something about the string?"    Emeros gave a small, apprehensive nod, and even though his features were marred with the shock of the pair descending upon the dead like carrion birds, he figured that they had a point. It wasn't like any of them could afford to buy armor right now, and none of them needed to run around dressed as Imperial soldiers in potentially-hostile land.   He donned the gauntlets. The leather fit well over his fingers, and most importantly, they were warm. The other two bundled up fur and leather armors, before they stepped into the tower, nudging their steps with extra caution over the frail bridge. Rifling through drawers gave them more gold and a place to toss the Imperial armor without much worry. They'd have to hurry, though. Taking too much time here meant that they were both wasting time they could be using to get in and out of the barrow, and meant that it gave the bandits more time to come find them, and the bodies of their compatriots.    Once Athenath and Wyndrelis had donned the bandit armor - "Well, you didn't seem to want it," Wyndrelis shuffled the explanation awkwardly out - the three inched back to the stability of the mountain, the wind whipping furiously around them. The steep pathway lead further upwards, to the enormous stone arches and sharp angles of the ancient ruins. Stairs slick with ice rose up to a gigantic platform, the air thick with worry. Something innate gnawed at Emeros, the warnings of old friends from northern High Rock not to head into similar structures rumored to line the furthest reaches of the province murmuring in the back of his mind. He shook them away. This was not the same. This was something he'd said he'd do, and he would bloody do it. 

  "We should be on our guard. Two bandits means there's probably more, and if we're not careful, we'll walk right into a trap."   "Or another ambush." Wyndrelis joked dryly. Emeros rolled his eyes, but still, he laughed.   "Or another ambush." He repeated, grinning.   The dark, snow-covered stone gathered in points towards the sky. They made a calculated approach, the three in a line as they focused on any potential movement from the structure. When bandits emerged from the shadows of the ancient, high-arched ruins, the caution came in handy. One of them fired arrows down at the three, barking at them to leave with their lives or they'd gut them like a purse. Athenath flinched and dodged the barrage, Wyndrelis holding up a ward, magicka pouring into his fingertips, collected in arching light. He pushed forward, Emeros using the ward's cover as a shield to fire his own arrows behind. This time, it took several shots, moving as he fired at a simultaneously moving target. He cursed and hissed as he fired at the figure until he saw them kneel, then another, then down.    A second bandit charged with a war axe, Wyndrelis using his other hand to fire a bolt of lightning that struck through the middle, jarring the bandit enough to give Athenath an opening. The Altmer charged, bashing the hilt of their sword into the back of the bandits head, hoping they'd only knocked them out.    The final bandit rushed Emeros, nearly swiping their blade into him. The Bosmer ducked down by an inch, bringing his own sword from its hilt and striking them through the chest, pushing it as deep as he could muster in the moment. The armor gave way as the bandit struggled to block, a fight that lasted mere seconds and ended just as quickly. The three caught their breaths, snow now pelting down at them from the pale clouds above their heads. Whatever world they'd just ambled into gave them one hell of a welcome.   Better than the one they'd all received at the border, Emeros thought as he tugged his cowl tighter, thefurious winds knocking the fabric off his head every time he attempted to right it. Grumbling, he left it around his neck as a scarf, and trudged up the final stairs to the doorway of Bleak Falls Barrow.    Adrenaline throttled their veins. The Mer looked between one another. Then, Emeros slowly pushed open the door to the barrow, into the dim chamber that would seal their decision. No going back from here, the decision decreed. No turning back. 

#tesblr #wip wednesday #skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes fic #skyrim fic #tes v fanfic #bishop.txt #writeblr #ficblr #cycle of the serpent #oc ; emeros #oc ; wyndrelis #oc ; athenath #my writing

[mr-gabriel-ultrakill]

alright its HUMAN time baybee, wanna talk about these rapscallions in ultrakill, the biggest pieces in a game continuing without them.

Firstly; the war

Now it's said that the war was most likely the first world war, which doesn't really mean *much* other than the wars origins (if they even are the same)

What I wanna talk about is what they DID

Humans, the humans of ultrakill put EVERYTHING, into this war, even their very souls, powering the machines with the very thing that powered them, blood.

They gave their own blood for this war, a war they chose to fight unmanned, so the choice of blood for fuel is very interesting.

In All honesty I believe we only see a small portion of the war, with alot of it being fought traditionally, and only when it escalated so much was the need for blood fuel introduced.

Because there was nothing left.

This war had gone on so long that the earth was done before the war was. Stripped of resources, or at the very least traditional fuel.

But they weren't done. So they gave up the only thing left to give to create new technology, themselves.

This had a drastic change, rewriting the entire war with the new arms race of guttermen into guttertank. And so forth until we get to the earthmovers. But then the war was over, the earthmovers blotted out the sun, and being such large beasts of war, required solar panels, they had snuffed out their own life sources, and upon falling silent, the great peace began.

Now this will be speculation, so go into this assuming the machines wiped out humanity

With all that blood and violence embedded into the very machines code, the humans programmed them with something I believe they never intended too, will, the ability to think, to feel, to WANT, and that is what doomed them. The machines WANTED to live, and with that desire, turned on the humans who brought them to life In the first place, and did so with the one job they were programmed to do.

Mankind is dead

Blood is fuel

And with the will to live, there was only one place they could go.

The humans they'd slaughtered would reap what they had sown, once again.

#ultrakill #v1 #v2 #earthmover #rant #ultrakill machines #ultrakill humans #headcanon #speculation

[laf-outloud]

D*stiel shippers would swear that their ship is canon yet still be crying about it three years later. What is funny is them not connecting the dots between having 100K fanfictions and the ship not being canon lol. Do they see actual slow burn like Delena (TVD) or Chair (GG) shippers still crying about their ship being canon or sending anon to blogs trying to prove everyone about it? Off course not because their ship is canon and they get to enjoy every epic scenes, foreshadowing, heartbreaks and reunion ONSCREEN. I was in the TVD fandom and I know for a fact that people go crazy with fanfictions, manips, fan arts and edits when the ship is NOT canon. People try to make up for what they don’t have onscreen/canon and once it become canon the desire for fafics and all decreases because people are satisfied. It’s must suck to always purposely delude themselves and desperately find blogs/panderers/cult who would constantly validate their delusion.  

Exactly! You only ever need to "fix" something that doesn't exist. Don't mind me, but I'm going to venture into the math portion of my response, lol! Obviously, this is a small sampling off of one tag, but I imagine it's a decent representation of SPN works.

If you sort by the Fix-it tag in AO3, there are 7600 total works. Based on that number, 66% have the Destiel tag. And that Dean and Sam number? 413 of those also have the Destiel tag. Remove that and Sam & Dean Fix-it fics only equal 4.6%.

(Oh, and that number for Eileen/Sam fics? All but 48 have the Destiel tag.)

Sam and Dean fans have 327 glorious episodes of brotherly love and codependency that, in large part, requires no fixing. Hellers have to rewrite the entire show in order to make their ship work, and they're too idiotic to see it.

#ask box #anti hellers #idiot hellers #anti destiel #also... leave sam & dean out of your destiel fics #and don't insult eileen and sam like that #ao3 statistics #spn fan fiction stats

[steamberrystudio]

04/06/2023

Halloo~oo everyone! Just popping in for a quick tumblr update on GS (trying to be more consistent over on this site! 🤔 ).

In my last update, here, I was incredibly close to finishing the rough draft for Yuu's route. that is complete now. And I've been working on editing. I got sick mid-way through this week (feeling better now) so that slowed me down.

But I am about halfway through with the edit. A little less. Like...45% done editing. Yuu's route is coming in at 115,000 words uncoded at the moment. We'll see where it ends up when the revision is done.

Unlike some other routes I don't think Yuu is going to need to really heavy revision passes. I think it'll need one heavy revision, then a mild line edit and proofreading.

Most of my editing so far has been really focused on continuity and smoothing out character development. I haven't had to do any major shifting around of events.

I have sketched out one CG and have started compiling references for sprite variations (new outfits/hairstyles for Morgan and Yuu). So yeah, that's about where the route is currently. Drafting complete, revising underway! When the revision and proofreading is done, I'll start coding the route in and move to art!

A quick WSC update:

At my last update, I had finished up with Daaz's content for the shared part of the route and was getting ready to move into his exclusive chapters. I'd had a new idea and was considering if it was possible and how it would work.

I did a lot of brainstorming for this idea and have decided to move forward with it. It's added in some new (and cool, imo) lore elements that I'm excited to explore.

Something else I did for this project was start solidifying revision concepts.

For anyone who has not followed me or been with me for my previous projects, my revision process tends to be pretty extensive. I rewrite huge portions, delete massive sections, and inject large amounts of new content. (I don't think this is abnormal but for people not familiar with the development process of a VN it might seem weird to focus so much on revisions.)

I have been essentially plotting out some necessary changes (some of which are substantial) for that part of the process. I have a whole new timeline of edits and everything.

So yeah, that's kind of where WSC is at the moment. Now that I've done a lot of prep work for the end of Daaz's route I'll draft that and move on to finishing up Noel's content!

Anyway, that's all for now. I'm hoping that by my next post here I'll be in the middle of coding Yuu's route!

That's all for this update. See you in a couple of weeks!

#gilded shadows #whenstarscollide #updates #indie otome #amare game

[trashlama]

How would. Rise! Raph react to kiddnaping reader as a little sibling and they stay silent almost always they don't resist anything and sleeps almost all day? (platonic)

Thank you for the request!

This is my first one so please, bare with me.

I wasn't a hundred percent sure if you meant like a one shot/drabble/headcanons or somethin' so I just winged it. It's basically a combination of the three.

Honestly I literally wrote this in one night as soon as I got home from my errands. Probably could been proof read some more but, say-la-vee

Sorry everyone for it taking so long for the Future!Yan!Rise!Raph fic a lot of stuff happened the last few weeks. I had an idea, wrote a good portion, accidentally pressed the wrong button and it didn't save. So I tried to rewrite it but, I've just decided to go another direction with it. Then also of course work/famila obligations.

Sorry for all the blabber, let's get on with the show!

The meme in this fic is not mine I just found it on Pinterest and it twas too good.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Raph at first would just roll with it. You weren't escaping and not technically defying him in anyway. Actually you were very compliant, non-combative nor aggressive towards him and his hovering. Just quiet and lethargic. Routinely sleeping away days and nights despite the abundance of rest you've received. Only waking when the eldest Hamato sibling came to feed you or smuggling you between the washroom and the large dog cage he kept you in his chambers. Dude literally gives you the same vibes as Toma from the otome game/anime Amnesia. Like brah. Tell me nah.

TBH— I wouldn't be as compliant by any means necessary. Personally when I'm in a dangerous situation like that thanks to my formative years I'm very prone to fighting. It was survival for the fittest when my mother was at work and my older siblings didn't play nice. But, for fics sake I would see the reader tryinna' play it safe.

Like for real, tell me if you were say fifteen, young teenage kid walking down a random cruddy block in NYC just tryinna' to get home so you decide to take a short cut through some alleys. I mean I can't be the only one to take the backways to get around faster. Anyways—

Your just takin' the short cut you usually do when you're tryinna' get home and of course you get cornered by a trio of mixed species thugs. A duo of armed shabby dressed homosapiens backing up a fella who looked like a cross between a pig and a dog. A fugly mix breed who despite his fluffy brown wagging tail was definitely not a good boy. Proven by the mutant freak of nature's thumb claw hovering above your jugular.

The pickering between the three revealed that someone was paying them to do this. Because apparently you were close to somebody. An individual who he and his brother's pissed off the wrong eight-legged hotel boss. A political mystic city power with plenty of connections who was paying for blood.

The reason you my lucky reader are in the middle of this?

Because according to the barking accusations from the mutant mutt that threatened you. You knew one of the people in the targeted group.

The hell you did!

Finding this shit out literally leaves you speechless at first unsure how to deny such claims of comradity. Especially when they reveal when you try to reject the prosecution that their intel describes a red clad ninja being in your vicinity numerous occasions. Following you, watching you, inside your home.

The last one shook you. Unsure how to describe the feeling of the information your brain was processing. The pointed tip of the pig-dog thug's claw keeping you aware of the position you were in.

You were gonna die just because some creeper ninja dude who apparently has been by definition stalking you. And worse of all you didn't even know who you curse for your pending execution.

Ooonnnlllyyy for edged stars to start flying, successfully spooking the two humans. Only further shocking you by their reveal. Flipping forwards revealing two chunky tanukis. Leaf and all perched proudly on their foreheads. The cross breed mutant who had pinned you kept his grasp around your neck. Releasing you upon the arrival of their snaggle toothed party crasher.

Mama Bear vibes to the max. The teenage snapping turtle was quick to dispose of the twin yokais with his tonfuas. Slamming the ends of the wooden defensive tools into the crown of one demon and the under jaw of the other. Effectively K.O.ing the yokai duo.

Upon his backups' defeat the canine swine pounced. Squealing as he charged the alligator snapping turtle.

Which provided the chance for you to flee. Not caring to look back. You don't see what ends up going down. Grunts and growls echoing in the disappearing distance.

Like the final girl in the horror movie you stop for some reason. Feeling that the coast was clear just because you were some distance away from the bizarre scene you had been wrapped up in. In shock of the combination of school yard rumors of mutants being proven true and the knowledge that out there you had a stalker.

2.5 seconds later Raph is back on your ass. You had been about to scream when the turtle's large three fingered grip quickly covered your mouth. Well more like the bottom half of your face.

In a jumble of words the eldest Hamato tried to communicate. Fumbling as he apologized for the rough treatment you had received. Wide ash colored orbs appearing to scan you for any signs injuries.

Unsure of what was happening you began to back pedaled slowly. Thanked the towering spikey shelled mutant for his deed as you mentioned how late it was. Cutting the thank yous short with a excuse of needing to head home. Only to be stopped by the Mad Dog crew leader stepping into your path. Raphael easily blocking you into the alleyway with nothing more than just his domineering stature.

"Sorry little bud but,.... I don't think you can go back to that place...." Raph spoke softly. Carefully creeping forward. Three digit hands at his sides ready to snatch you up. Approaching in the same manner you would to try to catch a hare.

"Though don'tcha go worrin'! Yer-a gonna be livin' with yer real family now!" Raph quipped happily. Closing in faster than you would give a mutant his size credit for.

And like that the turtle had you.

So yeah I can see why in captivity the reader would choose this tactic. Though again personally— wouldn't be my default.

Obviously there is no way you can out run nor beat a six foot nothin' mutant ninja turtle. Literally bein' a smart cookie you just play the game.

The requester didn't specify if the reader is defeated or anything. So I'm just rollin' with the idea that the reader is being passive aggressive. Choosing to "sleep" all day and not bothering to dignify your mutated "elder brother's" questions/comments.

You rather ignore the snapping turtle's presence than give him the satisfaction of playing out his delusional game of house. You weren't his long lost relative. You nor your mother knew any man named Lou Jitsu. He was wrong. But, despite your retorts, the eldest refused. Somethin' about how DNA doesn't lie and Donnie told him so.

If you ever got to meet this Donnie you might kill him for the hell you've been wrung through.

For a minute this method works. You refused to perform. Rejecting the role the eldest Hamato sibling deemed you fit to play.

But, after a month Raph had enough.

He wasn't playing your game anymore.

At first the red clad leader just thought you were being grumpy. Being a little bratty about being told no about something so this was your tantrum. Your punishment for him.

You wouldn't talk, wouldn't acknowledge him even when he knew you were awake and not asleep. Only responding in shakes and nods of your head whenever prompted. May it be about preference of food or if you needed to use the restroom. You were just so difficult. Choosing to be an ungrateful child instead of the caring younger sibling he knows you could be.

Eventually his patience wore thin. He had tried to be the cool patient understanding older sibling that you could rely on and look up too. But you just wouldn't! You wouldn't even give him a moment of your time.

That's why he does what he does.

Fed up Raph would definitely decide to give you a taste of your own medicine.

For the next few weeks Raph ignores you. Fulfilling the bare minimum necessities for your survival before throwing a blanket over your cage. Like an owner tired of their squawking aviary friend.

You didn't think much of this but, after awhile the constant darkness and the lack of other sentient contact your unwavering will started to squirm.

Little over a week later you began to call out to the world past the blanket that kept you apart. You knew your voice wouldn't reach the other inhabitants of the lair— having already tried that in the beginning— but, you still tried to make contact. Even if it was your red clad capture who responded.

But there was no answered.

By week two you began trying to make conversation with Raph whenever he had shuttled you between his room and the facilities. But he wouldn't react. Not even sparing you a glance as he restrained your dominant arm uncomfortably behind your back as he ushered you along to and fro destinations.

By the end of the month you've finally become antsy. Rattling the metal structure of the canine confinement that Raph DIYed. Using your knees and back trying again to break out of the cage.

You couldn't keep doing this isolation business anymore. Angry hot tears slid down flustered red (skin tone) cheeks sloping over the frown that allowed your heaving chest to catch small breaths. Choking on frustrated sobs as you banged your back into the top of the cage. Hoping to make it break apart.

You just needed to be free. This was worse than any grounding or detention you had ever faced before. Twas torture.

Minutes passed and you had given up. Sweat mingling with tears as they dropped down your skin. Taking a pause on the jailbreak due to the shaky ache of your depleted strength. Two months sitting crunched up in the large dog kennel cause your unused muscles to deflate. Muscle atrophy taking its toll. Evident of the new development based on your newly acquired set of string bean arms and legs. If the current conditions you were kept in continued soon enough you wouldn't even have enough strength to walk, let alone even stand. You weren't interested in crawling everywhere to get around.

At this point when you finally give in and start calling for just Raph. Begging him to not leave you here. Those were the magic words to return the snapping turtle to your side.

Though his chest ached upon revealing your sniffling expression. Raph would be proud of himself for holding out and not ending the punishment. Despite the many times he was tempted to.

He needed you to learn he can throw a fit too.

Upon seeing your teary weakened state the red clad bandana wearing turtle would definitely be quick to pull you into his arms.

Big Brother/Mother Hen mode activated.

Cooing Raph swayed you both side to side. Rubbing circles into your back as you cried into the kidnapping snapping turtle's plastron. Your feeble body held up solely by the eldest Hamato's arm. If he chose to let go you would without a doubt tumble to the floor. Like a puppet snipped of it's strings.

" I'ma sorry ya' had to go through that but, ya' needed to learn that you can't just ignore someone without exceptin' the same results back... " Raph explained as he felt your blunt nails dig into the leaf green muscle of his biceps. Sobs racking your chest as he continued.

" Ya' needed to learn to treat da' people around you how ya' wanna be treated. "

With a small fanged smile the turtle observed your smaller trembling figure. At the newest teary-eyed addition to his family. Maybe soon if your lesson truly does stick maybe you could finally meet the rest of the fam.

Though Raph shouldn't assume. He would have to wait. Couldn't rush into this anymore than he already has. He just wanted to tell the rest of the gang already. But, he had to wait. Like his father says patience is a virtue. He will see the fruits of his efforts as long as he stays diligent at helping you with the transition.

Staring into bleary pools of (e/c) that rose to meet his pondering smoke colored gaze Raph was certain.

With just a little more tough love you'll become the perfect little sibling.

He just knew it.

∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

¶¶CREATOR'S NOTES¶¶

Thank you guys for reading this!

I will have that Future!Yan!Rise! Raph done eventually. It's just I want to make sure I like it and it feels appropriate for the eldest Hamato brother. So please bear with me!

Thank you again for the request it was interesting to write! I'm always open for requests so unless specifically stated otherwise. They shall be ooppeeennn!

I hope you guys enjoy your weekends!

#male yandere #yandere #yandere x reader #male yandere x reader #yandere rottmnt x reader #rottmnt x reader #yandere rottmnt #yandere rottmnt x y/n #yandere rottmnt x you #yandere rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #yandere x you #male yandere x y/n #platonic #yandere platonic #platonic yandere #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x y/n #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles x reader #rise of the turtles #rise raph #rise rapheal #rottmnt #yandere raphael #platonic reader #x reader #yandere tmnt x reader #tmnt x y/n #tmnt raphael #yandere tmnt #rise of the tmnt #tmnt x you

[bedlamsbard]

this whole thing about the Ahsoka show just makes me existentially sad in a way that's hard to articulate without sounding like a lunatic, and I think it's also the reason that I eventually had to leave Star Wars.

like, yeah, Star Wars had been making me angry for years and I hadn't been having a good time for a very long time by that point (June 2021), but NOTHING fucked me up like the way they were just aggressively rewriting canon while openly pretending they weren't. I could deal with it when it was just the films, because those teams weren't really related and that sort of thing is normal anyway, not to mention that I came out of the PT-era EU when TCW was just treading gleefully over the EU. that's fine. the books and comics doing things? not great, but like. the EU's always been that way. (though even before 2021 it was messing me up because Lucasfilm was swearing -- and is still swearing -- that everything is equal levels of canon. it is blatantly untrue.) Mando made me feel like I was being gaslit, made worse by the fact that it was a lot of the same team that had done TCW/Rebels, but there was still the live action/animation distinction. TCW S7 and then finally TBB was the thing that finally made me snap, because then that live action/animation distinction had collapsed and they were still doing it, and it was worse. it made me feel like I was going insane.

I'm aggressively avoiding everything about the Ahsoka show because it brings all of that up again, only worse and more hurtful, because it's just...this thing I really loved chopped up and made palatable for someone else because ~it wasn't good enough. look, I don't know what's going on in this show, I don't want to know, I won't watch it, I don't want to hear about it, but everything about it, the overwriting of everything that came before on every level, MESSES ME UP. it's wildly destabilizing. it's not a logical reaction, I'm well aware of that, I'm not having fun with it either.

(I have everything related to That Show blacklisted, but things about it sneak through on various socials, so I still know a fair amount and I've seen stills and such-like.)

there is something existentially horrifying and destabilizing, and downright cruel, about the canon itself, the cast and crew, telling you that the story they told, the thing you loved, isn't good enough as it is. I can't get over that.

(this is about Star Wars but the MCU isn't immune to it, it's just honestly better at handling it. it's one of the reasons I find the Time Heist in Endgame and portions of Phases 3-5 unbearably sloppy, but by and large it doesn't feel as abjectly cruel as Star Wars does. there are exceptions, of course.)

#went on this rant over on twitter and thought I should c&p it here because I get asked about this sort of thing occasionally #bedlam watches star wars #star wars critical

[diddyshadow]

WINGS OF FIRE: REIMAGINED (Part One: SkyWings)

Okay heyyyy guys ik I disappeared off the face of the Earth for like a solid 3 months but I finally remembered this blog exists and I promised y'all a rewrite...so here goes nothing!

Tonight I've cooked up some basic ideas for how I imagine the Skywing Kingdom to appear in my reimagining. I WILL be doing the other tribes so don't worry!! Also these ideas are nowhere near finished cooking but uh oh well

sO without further ado, I present...

SKYWINGS

Armistal (Skywing capital) 

“Mining Country”

War prisoner gladiator style arena 

Violent games held to entertain the Queen 

High in the mountains and cliff sides

Cities and homes carved into sides of mountains and valleys 

Armistal is surrounded by a range of jagged mountains  

A professional, dangerous army filled with trainees who have practiced since they came out of the egg (reasoning: in the OG series Queen Scarlet mentions a breeding program, and if there’s a breeding program, why not a military one too?)

Militaristic

One of the wealthiest kingdoms

War profiteers!

Incredible blacksmiths and jewelers (lightweight durable armor, beautiful necklaces, etc.)

A large portion of the community surrounding Armistal works as stonecutters

The Skywings sound like a formidable and dangerous tribe with a strong emphasis on military might and combat prowess. They also seem to have a rich culture of blacksmithing and jewelry-making, which adds to their overall allure. It would be interesting to explore their society and the social dynamics within the tribe, particularly among the fighters and other groups such as the blacksmiths and jewelers. I imagine there is a GREAT disparity between the stonecutter class and the military upper class

Aqueducts?

It would also be fascinating to explore how the Skywings' military might have affected their relationships with other tribes and the political landscape of the world. Do their neighbors fear them, or do they see them as valuable allies? How has their wealth and influence shaped their relationships with other kingdoms?

The farther away from the central kingdom, the less focused on stone cutting and mining dragons probably are

ALSO ALSO ALSO what are your guys' thoughts on feathery/avian Skywings because I've been wanting fluffy sky dragons for so long like pls hear me out imagine a fluffy Peril (IMAGINE THE PHOENIX IMAGERY/MYTHOLOGY WE COULD GET INTO WITH HER)

#wings of fire #wof #wof au #rewritten #i didn't think this through #please don't flame me #be nice #skywings