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of-cauldrons-and-inkpens · 1 year

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You Missed My Heart: PART 2

PART 1 LINK | PART 2 LINK | PART 3 LINK

Description: Miguel had died months ago. At least, my universe’s Miguel had died. Maybe I should have noticed when I could feel him touching me in my dreams, but grief is a hell of a thing. That is, until I woke up in a house that looked just like mine, but somehow different.

Miguel had taken me from my universe and put me in one where he could relive his past, whether I liked it or not.

Word Count: 11,305

Author’s Note: I swear I re-wrote this three different times and all of them were drastically different. I checked for typos, but I’m posting this at four in the morning so there may be a few.

Content Warning: smut, mild breeding kink, reader is being held against their will, dub-con (if you squint), piv, oral, unprotected sex; Miguel gets injured at one point; Miguel being manipulative and an ass, bit of angst (I mean his wife and child are dead so yeah)

Minors DNI! Story is below the cut

I groaned as I opened my eyes. My face was pressed in the crook between where Miguel’s ribs and arms would normally meet. He had moved me there in the middle of the night when I had managed to drift too far away from him. I had tried to squirm and protest, but I ended up caving before he would let go. I knew he was stubborn enough to pin me there out of spite and it wasn’t worth it.

Miguel was still awake somehow. It was dark in the room, save for the faint light that drifted through the curtains. Whatever time it was, it was either too late or too early for him to be up.

“Go back to sleep.” Miguel said. His voice was stern but gentle. I slid my hands down and grabbed onto the edge of the blanket. I hauled it upward, pulling it over my head. He let out a low chuckle as he watched me try to disappear.

“What time is it?” I asked.

“Just after three.” He leaned down and pressed a quick peck against the blanket that covered the top of my head. “Get some sleep.”

I glanced up at the gap between his chest and the blanket. Moonlight streamed through the window, painting his features in soft lines and shadows. He looked angelic. He was focusing on something in front of him, frowning and furrowing his eyebrows every so often.

What was he doing?

I gently pulled down the blanket so that I could see what he was up to.

Miguel was propped up on a pillow that leaned against the headboard. His eyes were focused on his hands, which were held out in front of him, spaced apart by about six inches, palm facing palm. Threads glistened between his fingers in the moonlight. His fingers were twisting and weaving new threads around the ones that lay between his fingers. The thin webs had been pulled from his spinnerets in his upper wrists. It was like watching someone play cat’s cradle.

One of his arms rested on my back. It didn’t hurt; it wasn’t even uncomfortable, but it did hold me in place, only allowing me the bare minimum of space for my chest to move as I breathed.

“You should go to sleep, too.” I said. I turned my head back and buried my face in his chest. He smiled, continuing to work.

“I’m not tired.”

I glanced up at him. His dark eyes were beautiful like this. His face looked peaceful. I was too tired to see if he was lying or not.

“Have you gotten any sleep yet? Any at all?” I asked. He shook his head.

“I’ll be alright. Just close your eyes.”

I nodded, too tired to argue with him. I started to say something, but the words slurred together until I fell silent. Sleep pulled me in, welcoming me warmly.

“I know, sweetheart.” He whispered, never faltering in his work.

Something clattered to the floor downstairs, ripping me from my dream.

I winced, feeling the sun burn my eyes as it streamed in through the window. I tried to push myself upward, but I was overtaken with a dull ache in all of my muscles.

Fucking hell.

It felt like I had been in a car crash. Every part of my body hurt. But, the most noticeable ache was between my legs. I swallowed hard as I pushed myself upward. I needed aspirin.

As I moved, I couldn’t help but notice a divot in the bed on Miguel’s side. It was lined with sheets that had been ripped through. The hole was a decent size; roughly the size of a fist and a couple of inches deep.

It hadn’t been there last night. At least, I hadn’t seen it there.

I slid my right hand over to touch the edges of the divot. It was the perfect size to accommodate Miguel’s hand. But why was it there?

I winced, feeling a sharp pain shoot through my body. If he was in a decent mood, I could ask him about it. If not, it didn’t really matter.

I leaned over and grabbed the bottle of aspirin. As I moved, a faint twinkle caught my eye. I flipped my hand over. In the middle of the night, Miguel had slipped something around my ring finger. It was a thin band that had been braided from webbing and then tied off on the front of my finger with a small knot.

Huh.

I tapped my thumb against the material, expecting it to stick to my finger in the same way that the web had stuck to my ankle last night. But this one didn’t. It had been worn smooth by his fingertips. The material looked almost silver in the early morning light. When I pulled my hand into the shadows, it looked almost like braided moonstone.

I wasn’t sure whether to feel violated by the fact that he had placed a wedding ring on me in the middle of the night, or impressed by the precision it had taken to make it.

I turned my hand back and forth, inspecting the thing from all angles. If I had known him for any meaningful amount of time, it would have been a sweet and loving gesture.

I groaned. It was a gift from the man who had basically kidnapped me from my home, but still, I needed to take whatever nice gestures I could get, no matter how presumptuous.

I unscrewed the cap and dropped several pills into the palm of my hand. I pushed the first pill into my mouth. As I went to swallow, I couldn’t help but notice the faint numbness that lingered on my bottom lip. It was in the exact spot that his fangs had nipped, either on purpose or mistake.

That’s… weird.

I swallowed the pill and then leaned down to touch my thighs. Bright red marks covered my legs, showing off his handy-work. I quickly slid my fingers along the skin… only to meet the same result.

The skin was numb. It was almost impossible to move the half centimeters of flesh that had been ever so gently nicked. He hadn’t bit me; not really. Just a graze was enough to do that.

Jesus.

I winced as I downed the second pill. Then I pushed myself up from the bed and made my way to the dresser. I needed something to wear. But, I wasn’t wearing more lingerie. It already hurt to walk; I needed time to heal before I wore anything close to that again. I sighed as I stepped across the room, looking for something to wear. Miguel had laid his sweatshirt from last night on the dresser. I was sure that he had left it for me after my complaint last night.

Maybe it was a peace offering. Or maybe the sex had been the peace offering and this was just him being nice.

I quickly pulled it on. It was long enough to cover my hips and a good part of my thighs. I quickly snagged a pair of underwear from the dresser and pulled them on, as well.

Downstairs, something else clattered to the floor. What the hell was he doing?

As I stepped into the hallway, I noticed the boxes that had been piled up outside of the yellow door. I flipped open one of the cardboard tabs. Inside lay my things. At the bottom of the box, I noticed the sleeve of one of my sweaters. He had brought me my things, just as he had said he would. Did he ever go to sleep last night?

I padded down the stairs, making my way to the kitchen with every step. I figured that that was where he was. He didn’t seem like the kind to just linger around the house, looking for some kind of mindless activity to fill his time. He seemed too serious for that.

I stepped into the kitchen and was immediately greeted by an unexpected sight. He was standing in front of the stove, pushing around eggs in a skillet. The downstairs was cold from the winter air but he was still wearing only a thin t-shirt and a pair of boxers.

He was a portrait of domesticity.

I watched him closely as I stepped into the room.

“I made breakfast.” He said.

“Did you get any sleep?” I asked. I couldn’t help but notice that the shattered plate had been picked out of the sink and had been thrown into the trash. He turned to meet my gaze. The dark circles under his eyes told me everything that I needed to know.

“Miguel, you need to go back to bed.”

“I’ll be fine.” He frowned as he pushed the spatula around in the skillet. “I made coffee.”

“Thank you.” I made my way toward the coffee pot that rested on the counter beside him. As I did, his eyes never left the stove. I reached for one of the coffee cups that had been laid out for me. As I did, I glanced back at Miguel. God, he looked tired. “Do you always have trouble sleeping?” I asked.

He scoffed. “I sleep perfectly fine.”

“Okay then.” I muttered. Guess that was a touchy subject for him. I rolled my eyes as I grabbed the coffee pot. I filled the mug with the dark liquid. As I leaned forward to slide it back into its original spot, Miguel stepped to the side and pulled open the door to the fridge. Without missing a beat, he pulled out a container of creamer and handed it to me, then slinked back to the stove before the eggs had the chance to begin to brown.

“Thank you.” I said. Warm light from the kitchen caught the ring, making it twinkle again. I considered asking him about it, but I decided not to. Surely he would bring it up if it was something that he wanted to talk about.

A dark strand of hair fell across his forehead as he focused on the skillet. “Do you need any help?” I asked.

He quickly shook his head. “What’s on your mind?” I wanted to get even a scrap of conversation from him; I needed some idea as to what he was thinking about. Maybe I should just leave him alone. Maybe he liked to exist in silence. I mean, if nothing else, he seemed used to it.

“Work. How did you sleep?” He asked.

“Okay, I guess.” I added the creamer to my coffee and then returned the container to the spot where he had pulled it from. I carried my mug back to the counter, watching as he lifted the skillet off of the stovetop. I lifted the mug to my lips but then suddenly jerked it back. The glass was hot; it burned the skin of my lower lip everywhere except for the small spot in the center of my mouth.

“Fuck!” I touched the skin and was met with a familiar numbness.

Miguel dropped the skillet onto the stove and rushed forward. Within seconds he had cleared the area between the stove and the counter, moving so that he was standing directly in front of me. He towered over me, wasting no time to invade my personal space. “Sorry, I’m fine.” I said. I brushed my fingers along my lip, grazing the burned flesh and then the numbed skin. It felt weird and I didn’t like it.

“Okay, sweetheart. Let me see.”

“It’s fine. I just burned myself.” He shook his head before reaching down and gently grabbing onto my chin. He pulled my head upward. My eyes met his for a moment before he turned his attention down to the mark on my mouth.

“Move your hand.” He instructed. I did as I was told and dropped my hand down to the cold stone of the counter.

“Miguel, I’m fine. I promise.” He didn’t believe me; I could tell from the deep line that had formed between his eyebrows.

“Open wide.” He instructed. His thumb slid across my lower lip. The touch was feather-light; almost too gentle, too caring.

“Your face is red.” He remarked.

“This is demeaning.” The words slurred together as he inspected my mouth.

“Is your lip numb?” His perfected vision could see the minute scrapes against my skin; tiny cuts that had been collateral damage in the excitement of the previous night.

“A little bit.” He winced, but quickly fixed his expression before I could comment on it.

“It should wear off in a couple of hours. You weren’t actually bit so the effects shouldn’t be too bad. Just be careful not to hurt yourself.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

“What if you had bitten me?” I asked. He released my jaw from his hold.

“That’s not something you need to worry about.”

“But if it had… let’s say I’m someone else and you bit me, what would happen.” His face twitched. Something flickered behind his eyes as if he was considering it. His eyes didn’t leave my face.

“That’s not… no.”

“Miguel, it’s a basic question. I barely know anything about you. If you’re planning on keeping me here, then I want to know-” he cut me off.

“And I said no. Damn it, why isn’t that enough for you? What are you wanting from me?” His voice was sharp and cold, like metal. Suddenly, the device on his wrist let out a low chirp. He glanced downward.

He gave a low sigh. “I’ll get you a plate. You didn’t eat anything last night.” He turned and quickly began to mess with the thing on his wrist.

I glanced down at the counter. A chorus of beeps came from his wrist as he worked. I gently slid my teeth against my bottom lip; the numbness was strangely fascinating.

Without a word, Miguel sat the plate down in front of me. Steam drifted off the fresh eggs that covered the plate.

“Thank you.” He didn’t answer me. His eyes lingered on my face for a long moment before he leaned back against the countertop.

He rolled his hand around his wrist, moving his eyes between me and the device. “I have work to do today. But I restocked the fridge so there’s plenty for you to eat. Feel free to help yourself to anything you like. The TV in the living room works, as does the stereo. Most of your books should be upstairs, so you should have plenty to occupy your time.”

“Thank you.” I said. I stabbed a bright yellow piece of egg with my fork. “How long are you going to be gone?” I asked.

“Are you going to miss me?” He paused, waiting for a response. I nodded, partly because I knew it was the right answer and partly because I thought I would, even if just a little bit. He smiled, proud of my answer. “It shouldn’t be too long. Just a couple of things to correct, then I’ll be right back.” There was something about the way that he said the word ‘correct’ that made me wince. He meant kill; I thought of the blood on his face and knew what he meant when he said he fixed things.

“Is there anything you think you’re going to do today?” Miguel asked. He wanted to know my plans for the day. Well, gee, Miguel, I’ll probably stay trapped here.

Then something occurred to me. I was the only person here and I knew more of what was going on now. There was no reason I shouldn’t be allowed to explore.

“Can I leave the house?” I asked.

“And where would you go?” It seemed ridiculous to him to even ask. Why would I ever want to leave when I could sit in an empty house all by myself and pretend I wasn’t his prisoner?

“Out.” I said. “Maybe walk around the block. Is there another block or does it stop after what I can see from the front stoop?”

“There’s other blocks. But I don’t understand why you would want to leave the house.”

“Fucking hell, Miguel.” I hadn’t meant to say it out loud. I turned my attention to the plate. He ground his teeth together for a moment. He was choosing to ignore what I had said.

“If you need something to occupy your time when I’m gone, I’ll get you a pet.” That doesn’t replace the fact that I wanted to leave the house. I wanted to pretend that my life was normal, even if there was nobody in Nueva York anymore. I could still act as if things hadn’t changed.

“Ah, a pet for your pet. Doesn’t that seem a bit redundant?” I muttered. That jab had been entirely intentional.

It was true, though. I was a pet to him; maybe I received different forms of affection than the standard house cat, but the same rules seemed to apply. He would come and go as he needed; I was to stay where I had been placed, always ready and willing to entertain when he came back.

He rolled his eyes as he leaned against the counter. He continued to poke at the device on his wrist. “I’m ignoring you.” I rolled my eyes as I continued to eat.

“It isn’t fair to lock me inside of a house and never let me leave. You ever heard of cabin fever? I’m going to end up going insane in here.”

“I highly doubt that.” His hair bounced as he spoke. He was shaking his head at me while he messed with his device.

“Miguel.”

“You’ll be fine.” He said it like it was the end of the discussion. Hell, it wasn’t even a discussion; he just kept saying no.

“Come on!”

“Is there something you’re wanting to say to me?” His tone was harsh.

“Yeah, you’re really pissing me off.”

“You’ll get over it. You always do.”

“Just tell me why. If you think I’m going to run away then where would I even go? There’s nothing out there. So why?”

“It’s for your own good. Just stay in the damn house.” I rolled my eyes as I took a sip of the cooled coffee.

“You never fucking tell me anything and then you get pissy when I ask questions.”

“I am not being pissy.” He shook his head and muttered something under his breath. There was a long moment of silence between us.

“Don’t call me pissy.” He muttered. He sounded more annoyed than actually angry. He almost sounded like an annoyed child. I had to fight back a laugh at how petulant he sounded.

A weird silence hung in the air. I began to eat, ignoring how he fixed his eyes on me. Though, any time I would look up to catch his stare, he would glance back down and fiddle with his wrist.

"I really do believe that you could start to like it here. I think you just need time. Then, you'll start to warm up to me."

He brushed his hair off of his forehead and let out a low sigh. "You do love me. You just need time." He said the first part for me. He repeated the second part for himself.

I did love him, at least a little bit. Even if just for the fact that he looked so much like another version of himself; a sweeter version… a softer one.

Maybe he was capable of being that way. Or, maybe he was too far gone.

His eyes moved upward to meet mine and I felt a sudden wave of shame wash over me.

"You look beautiful this morning." He said.

“Miguel,” I asked. His features softened at the sound of his name. “Is there any chance that I’ll ever get to go home?”

He winced. “If you go back to your timeline, one of two things could happen. Either time will find a way to correct itself and you will die or everything will collapse in on itself. If that happened, it would kill every single person you’ve ever known and billions more.” A bright light shone from his wrist.

It was time for him to go.

He let out a low sigh. “I don’t…” His voice trailed off. He looked down at the ground for a moment. “I can’t send you back to die. I won’t.”

I guess that was my answer.

He stepped toward me. His face had softened. “I want you to be happy and safe. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.” I didn’t reply. He moved closer, stopping only once our bodies were almost touching.

I looked at him, unsure of what he wanted. He leaned down, placing a finger under my chin. It was the gentlest touch he could manage, yet it was backed with unfathomable strength. He lifted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I love you. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Be a good girl for me. Okay?” I nodded. He pushed a quick peck against my lips before he walked off, heading toward the archway that connected the kitchen to the living room. Once he vanished from sight, I heard him begin to speak into his device.

A pink and orange light enveloped the living room; it was so bright that I winced. The light vanished as suddenly as it had appeared.

Then, just like that, he was gone.

I sighed to myself. Well, no time like the present.

I pushed myself up, grabbed my coffee mug, and headed upstairs.

He would be gone for hours. There was no harm in exploring, especially since he wasn’t here to stop me. If he didn’t want to tell me anything, then I would have to find it out for myself. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.

I stared at the yellow door upstairs. Not knowing what was inside was going to eat me alive. I knew it wasn’t an office; Miguel didn’t stay here long enough to do anything but drag me around and then try his idea of a romantic gesture. Maybe it was a storage room, but even then he was entirely too cagey about the whole thing. He didn’t strike me as the kind of person to have some kind of mindless hobby.

Maybe he was living out the story of Bluebeard and there was something macabre inside. Maybe there was something perverse inside.

It didn’t matter; I had to know.

I pushed several of the boxes out of the way. I slid them several feet to the left. I could just move them back when I was done and he would never know. Stepping forward, I reached out and grabbed the door handle. Then, I gave a firm twist.

It was locked.

Damn it.

Who the hell did he think he was, anyway? He’s the one who locked me up. He’s the one who said I couldn’t leave the house. He’s the one that did all of this in the first place.

I couldn’t help but notice that the locks on my door and this door were different. This door was aimed at keeping other people out of the space; mine was aimed at locking me inside, like a princess in a tower.

I needed some way to get the door open. I was sure that I would understand this all a little better if I could just figure out why he was so determined to keep this a secret from me.

Then, I remembered my Miguel fighting with the floorboard in our bedroom. Before he embarked on his noble mission to defeat the squeaking sound, he had bought a case of beer and a new set of screwdrivers. If this version of him was so determined to make a perfect copy of my house, then he would have added the set.

I dashed to the hall closet and quickly pulled out the black plastic case that rested on the bottom shelf. Bingo! I plucked the screwdriver from the box and then walked over to the yellow door. I knew that with the old style of lock, I just needed to get the metal inside of the keyhole to move. If it moved, then the door would pop open with no issue.

I slotted the screwdriver into place and then twisted hard. At first, it didn’t even flinch. Then, after a moment, the lock groaned and then popped open. I quickly twisted the brass door handle and smiled as the door opened. I pushed the door open wide and then flipped the lightswitch.

What the fuck?

The room was small. Every wall had been painted a soft yellow; it was a step up from the stark white that the original room had been. A small stuffed elephant lay in the middle of a crib that was pushed against the far wall. A framed ultrasound sat on the bookshelf. Little pieces of a life; of hopes and memories, all packed away to be forgotten.

None of this was from my timeline. In my universe, this was just his office. It was where Miguel would disappear to for most of the night after returning from work. After he died, I locked the door and pretended the room didn’t exist. When the men from Alchemax showed up to take the cardboard boxes filled with his work, I didn’t even have the courage to peek inside of the room. The room was the black hole in the house, eating away at any chance of sleep or happiness that I had.

At least that was something this Miguel and I seemed to share.

I stepped into the small room, moving toward the bookshelf that rested against the far wall. The shelf was the only thing that looked familiar.

A box rested on the bottom shelf. I quickly dipped down and pulled it free. I flipped the lid and discarded it onto the floor in front of me. The box was filled with small photos. Some were older than others, each faded and weathered to different degrees. I sunk down to the floor. I moved so that I was sitting criss cross.

I reached inside of the box and pulled out one of the photos. The picture was weathered, but I could still make out a version of me staring up at him with an adoring gaze. She wore a wedding dress and he wore a suit.

Jesus.

I sat the photo on the floor beside me and then reached into the box and fished out a small handful. I started to sift through them, viewing little pieces of Miguel’s life as I went. When I reached the last three photos, I stopped. They were pictures of Miguel holding a little girl. She was small and perfect, with his eyes and his smile.

His child.

I winced as I looked at the pictures. The last photo was of Miguel and I standing behind her. She was sitting in a small plastic highchair with a cake in front of her. On it, there was a glowing candle in the shape of a ‘1’. Miguel’s mouth was open in the process of saying something as I laughed. It was a moment that was frozen, giving him a small slice of time to keep when it all disappeared.

Fucking hell. I leaned forward and put the pictures back in the box. I didn’t want to look at this anymore. I felt my stomach flip as a wave of nausea overtook me.

However, as I leaned over, I spotted several more photos in the bottom of the box. But, I did know these pictures. I just hadn’t known that they had been taken. In two of the pictures, I was inside of the bookstore that I had worked at. They were pictures of me, taken in my universe. But, when did he take them? After my version of him died, I didn’t go back to work. I was lucky if I left bed most days. So these pictures were older than that.

Suddenly, I became aware of the footfalls that came from the stairs.

Miguel was home entirely too early.

And I was still in the nursery. My head was still spinning from the pictures. I tried to make myself get up and frantically put the pictures back, but I couldn’t make my body move.

I heard him begin to make his way toward the bedroom. But, when he saw that the yellow door had been opened, he picked up his pace.

I didn’t look back at him when he stepped into the doorway.

I didn’t want to meet his gaze.

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” His voice was lined with rage. I stared at the wall. I could hear him swearing under his breath, his tone flickering between pissed to sad and then back again. I glanced back to look at him for a moment. His face was tight and his eyes burned red.

“This was your office… I’m sorry, his office.” I lifted my hand upward to point at the wall with the small window. The window had been decorated with pink curtains. “His desk was against that wall.” I glanced to the side of the room and then pointed at the left wall. “He kept all of his boxes against the wall. I only ever went inside of the office once and that was when I heard him and my dad arguing about something. But I never… I never found out what it was.” The screaming had happened two days before Miguel died and I couldn’t help but wonder if the two things had been connected.

“I just wanted to know what was in here. That’s all.” I said. "Are you planning on locking me in my room again?" I asked.

"No."

The man stood in the doorway, lingering like a ghost. His features softened as he watched me. He walked deeper into the room, moving so that he was standing over me. He sat down on the floor beside me. His large frame was only a foot away from me; close enough to touch, but not so close as to scare me. As he sat there, I was once again reminded of how his body had always dwarfed mine. His body was large enough to provide me with either the utmost care or utmost cruelty, depending on which Miguel I got.

“You had a child?” I asked.

He winced. “I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” My voice was little more than a whisper.

“No.” It was a sore spot for him. It was then that I noticed that he was focusing on the far wall, unable to meet my eyes.

I was also a sore spot for him.

I looked down at the floor as he began to speak again.

“All I’ve ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said. His face twitched. His eyes began to fade from red to brown. He was reliving all of his failures, past and present.

“I understand.” I said. He let out a dry laugh.

“But you don’t. You really fucking don’t. Do you know what it’s like to watch you die in every timeline? Every universe? Either before or after me, there you go. Either you burn to death or are crushed or get killed in a car crash or die in some freak fucking accident… and I’ve had to sit and watch.”

He shook his head. Several dark strands of hair fell across his face. “I’m not a good man. I’ve done… horrible things.” I flinched at his words. I couldn’t tell if it was self awareness or just simple self hatred. “I just wanted a part of you that was entirely mine. A piece of you that I can love and… keep.”

He said the last part so casually. It was as if it was all just a part of the daily dysfunction of a man with a savior complex and the full power to act upon it. He had everything a man or god could ever want, except for the power of self control.

What he had done was unfathomably wrong, but the smallest part of me could understand it. The only real difference between us was that he actually could do something about it; when I lost everything, I could only lay in bed and cry.

However, there wasn’t enough money in any timeline to make me admit that to him. Telling him I understood his actions would only feed into the delusion that this was right… that this was inherently good.

I nodded slowly as I took in his words. He leaned back against his arms. He pushed his hands against the hardwood as he looked around the room, as if reliving a memory. His face was crestfallen.

My fingers brushed his. He flinched, but then gave into the touch. I slid my fingers on top of his, pinning his hand between my skin and the cold hardwood. He sat still for a moment, taking in the small crumb of affection. Then, he lifted his pinky, moving it so that it slipped on top of my ring finger.

He glanced down at our hands. His eyes became fixed on the small ring; he was entranced at the fact that I hadn’t taken it off yet.

Miguel opened his mouth to say something, but he quickly changed his mind. He closed his mouth, allowing for the silence to overwhelm us.

We were both kind of pathetic. But, I felt especially so at how I still wanted some kind of closeness with him.

I didn't want to be alone, even if the only option was with the crazy man.

I glanced up. My eyes met his.

I leaned forward, moving so that my face was only inches away from his. The room was cold and I was sure that he could see the hard goosebumps that had formed on my skin. His eyes danced over my face before drifting down to my lips. He looked like he wanted to tell me something, but it was as if it was stuck. Whatever words he wanted to say wouldn't come out.

I filled the last inches of space between us. Slowly, I pressed my lips against his. Our lips moulded together, fitting like puzzle pieces. He let out a low groan.

He pulled his lips away from me, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

He lay his forehead against mine. Then he whispered something that was so faint, I couldn’t hear most of it. But, I could have sworn that the last words were a soft "I’m sorry."

The next few weeks, we existed as ghosts. He barely spoke to me. On the rare occasion that he was home during the daytime, I would often catch him staring at me with a weird mixture of adoration and sadness. He was gone until late most nights. I had taken to crawling onto the couch and falling asleep there most nights. The house was too empty; too quiet. He wouldn’t come back until late and would then, without fail, haul me back to the bedroom. I would awaken every morning to a cup of coffee on the bedside table. He would squeeze my shoulder gently, though he was always gone by the time I opened my eyes.

My head lay against one of the pillows that I had dragged downstairs from the bed. I sighed as I turned over. The couch wasn’t uncomfortable, it was just weird to try and sleep when there was no noise coming from outside. I had gotten so used to the sounds of the city lulling me to sleep. Now, I would toss and turn for hours until I would turn on the TV for some noise.

I pulled one of the blankets higher up on my body. The house was freezing. I glanced up at the clock on the wall.

Just after two.

Where was he? He usually came back around one or so. He was late. Time was ticking on and he was nowhere to be found.

Damn it. I winced, realizing that I was actually worried about him.

Suddenly, a bright light filled the first floor. I jerked upright, turning toward the kitchen. “Miguel?” I asked. I quickly pushed myself up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen.

"Miguel?" I repeated. I flipped on the light to the kitchen and saw him standing there. He was doubled over with one hand grasping the back of a chair. Blood dripped from his nose onto the faded tile below.

"You need to go to bed." His voice was rough. I stepped deeper into the room, ignoring him. He let out a groan as he tried to pull on the back of his suit. He reached for something, but he couldn't grasp it. He dropped his head, trying to catch his breath. I stopped several feet in front of him.

Slowly, he lifted his head. Blood covered his bottom lip. His face was bleeding from a cut on his cheekbone. It was a gash that was slowly oozing dark blood.

"Oh my God. Miguel!" I rushed forward, filling the distance.

"It's not as bad as it looks. They’ll heal, they just need a bit of time.” He said. Blood ran down his jaw as he spoke. He looked bad; bad enough that, if he had been the other version of himself, we would have immediately been on the way to the hospital.

There were several gashes that had managed to cut through his suit, exposing the skin beneath.

Dear God, what the hell happened to him?

"Go away." He said. He waved his hand, motioning for me to do as I had been told. He leaned over the side of the counter. Bruises were blossoming on his tan skin, painting him in shades of blue and black.

"Just let me help you. Are there any bandages in the house?" I asked.

"I don't need help."

"Miguel."

"What?" His voice was harsh; his words lined with actual pain.

"Stop being so damn stubborn and just let me help you." I said. I walked over the lower cabinet and pulled out a hand towel. I stepped back toward him, hoping that he would soften.

Instead, he scowled at me. "Go to bed. You're just working yourself up over nothing."

"This isn't nothing."

He rolled his eyes as he stepped forward. "I'm completely fine." His leg went out from under him. I tried to catch and steady him, but instead, we both tumbled to the ground below.

I watched as several of the more superficial cuts on his body began to close.

"Jesus, Miguel. What happened?" He shook his head as he pushed himself off of the floor.

"It's nothing. That's why I didn't want you to see any of this." He paused. "What the hell are you even doing down here?" He grabbed onto the counter to steady himself. Part of me expected to see him break the counter under his fingers.

I pushed myself off of the floor and rushed to his side. "Is there anything I can do?" I asked. He shook his head.

"I'm going to clean up. Go to bed." He winced as he stepped away from the counter. Based on the way he winced as he touched his side, he probably had a cracked rib.

I couldn't imagine anything that was strong enough to do this to him. Unless it had been something, or several somethings, that were all exactly like him.

"I'm going to help you." I said. I eyed one of the deeper bruises that covered the side of his jaw. He caught me staring at the dark mark.

"They'll heal, I swear. I can heal relatively fast." He said. Fear tore through me. What if he was wrong? What if he was lying? He hadn't meant for me to see him coming home. He had fully intended on keeping this hidden from me, regardless of how badly he was hurt. "The worst ones are the cuts but even those will be fine in an hour or two."

I had already lost him once…

He glanced over at me. Fear swirled in my eyes as I watched him. Based on the way that his face twitched, I knew he could see it.

He glanced down at the floor. Then, he leaned to the side and caught my arm in his gloved hand. His touch was gentle, but commanding.

"Come here." He instructed. I shifted toward him, moving until his chest was almost touching mine. I could hear his steady heartbeat and feel the warmth that was pouring off his skin.

"I love you. I promise I'm okay." His voice was no more than a whisper.

"Just let me help you." I said. He sighed to himself, giving in to my attempt at kindness.

The downstairs bathroom was quiet. Miguel was perched on the edge of the tub, watching as I leaned over the edge of the basin.

I turned the metal handles to the tub. Warm water spurted into the bottom of the tub. I watched as it began to pool at the bottom. Outside, I could hear the thunder boom. Rain beat against the roof of the house, filling it with the soft sound of water hitting

"This isn't necessary. You should go back to sleep." He said. He pressed the towel to his face. Most of the blood had stopped flowing.

"I wasn't asleep."

"Why not?"

"The house is creepy at night. It's too quiet. I'm used to actual sounds from the city and there just aren't any here."

"I'm sorry."

"It's fine."

Soon, the tub was filled three quarters of the way. I leaned over and quickly turned off the flow of water. I straightened my stance and then looked back at Miguel. He offered a soft smile. A bruise blossomed just below his eye, though it immediately began to fade away.

"I was really worried about you." I admitted.

"I'm okay."

"Are you?" I didn't believe him. He looked rough. It was as if he had been dragged through hell. It hurt to look at him too long.

"This is all… purely superficial. I'll be better soon." I crossed my arms. Worry and fear covered my face; it was impossible to hide.

"Sweetheart, there's nothing to worry about." His voice was like warm honey. He lifted his hand upward and motioned for me to come to him. Without question, I did.

One arm gently curled around my waist. The other drifted upward to ghost the side of my face.

"I'm okay. This all just…" he sighed. He leaned his face forward and gently touched his forehead to my stomach. Warm skin pressed into my shirt. I could feel him slowly inhale as he breathed me in. Then, he lifted his face, peering up at me in the dim room. "This is just how it is." His voice was no more than a whisper.

"You look tired." He said. He noticed the dark circles under my eyes.

"You're one to talk." He let out a humorless laugh.

His fingers slid across my cheek, wiping away a dark droplet that had landed on my skin. The material on his fingers was smoother than I had imagined.

"You don't have to take care of me."

"Well, you don't seem to have any sense of self preservation. So if I don't, I don't figure you'll take care of yourself." I said. He looked at my face for a long moment. A soft smile pulled at the corners of his mouth.

"No, that's not it. I think you care about me." Pride bubbled in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

"Strip and get in the tub."

"Yes, Ma'am." He taunted. He winced as he reached backward again, tugging at the neck of the suit. His usual gracefulness was gone. He groaned, pulling at the back of the suit to no avail.

"Are you okay?" I asked. He winced again as he tried to grab onto something that wasn't there.

"I got hit earlier and I think the thing broke. I can't get it to move." His fingers worked over the material but it was no use.

"Here. Let me get it." I said. He stooped downward, moving so that I could actually grab onto the back of the material. He awkwardly leaned over as I pulled at the metal on the back of the suit. It looked like there had once been a zipper, but the tiny handle had been busted. Below it were several small clasps that had been bent down to cover the path of the zipper.

"They really did a number on you." I murmured. I pushed my thumb under one of the clasps. I bent it forward, moving it so that I could see the path of the zipper. I did the same for the other pieces of metal that had become deformed. Then, I pinched what remained of the head of the zipper. I pulled the zipper downward, hearing him sigh softly when I unzipped the material between his shoulder blades. His skin spread out between my fingers, warm and slightly wet from sweat.

"There you go." I said. I released him and stepped backward. He should be good to go now.

I watched as he effortlessly peeled the suit off of his bruised body. The bruises were changing in color, some getting darker as others began to fade before my eyes.

He pulled the suit off of his arms, then down his muscular torso. As he reached his hips, I looked away, suddenly very aware of the fact that he wasn't wearing anything beneath the skin tight material.

My face turned bright red. I looked at the door behind us, waiting for him to climb into the water. "You're blushing."

"No, I'm… just get in the water." I heard him chuckle as he stepped out of the material. He crudely folded the material and then tossed it across the floor. It landed in a pile beside my left foot. I rolled my eyes.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to look away from me." He said. I heard the water move as he stepped into the tub. I turned around, watching as he sank into the bath.

I watched a dark bruise on his bare collarbone fade into his skin before disappearing. It was as if it had never been there to begin with.

He was always full of surprises.

Miguel leaned back against the cold metal of the tub. Outside, lightning shot across the sky. It filled the room with a sudden white light.

“I’ll clean up the floor in a little bit.” He said. The tiles in the kitchen and bathroom were stained and slick. In the dim light, the droplets on the floor looked almost black.

“No, you’re not. You’re going to go to bed after this.” I said. “And you’re actually going to sleep.”

"That's what you think." He muttered.

"Are you always this stubborn?” I asked.

"Only for you, sweetheart."

I grabbed a towel off of the counter and gently dabbed it against his cheek. His eyes focused hard on my face as I tried to tend to his fading wounds. He was attempting to read my features. I sat down beside the bathtub.

“Do I want to know what happened?” I asked. It wasn’t a playful or light question. He could hear the weight in my voice as I cleaned his face.

“You wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you.” It was such an honest comment that I could tell it pained him. If I knew what he did when he was away, then any chance of me loving him would vanish.

Maybe it was best that I didn’t know.

"Are you in any pain?" I asked. He shook his head.

Steam from the tub drifted upward, clinging to his strong chest in thick beads.

"Why have you been ignoring me for the last week?" I asked. His face tensed.

"I haven't been."

I scoffed lightly as I gently wiped his face with a towel. "And you said I was bad at acting."

"I've had a lot on my mind." He said. I nodded slowly.

"You can talk to me." I said. He offered a faint smile. He couldn't, because it was most likely about me.

"Are you mad at me?" I asked. He shook his head.

"No, I promise." I looked down at the tile floor. I didn't know what to say to him. Something weird hung in the space between us.

Suddenly, his voice cut through the cold air.

"Get in with me." He said.

"What? No." I said. He furrowed his brow. He hadn't expected me to refuse.

"Why?" he asked.

"Because you're wounded and I don't want to hurt you."

He let out a low laugh, almost as if he was mocking me. "Believe me, it's impossible for you to hurt me. Now be a good girl and get in the tub."

"You know I'm not your pet, right?" He smirked at my words. A pet was exactly what he considered me to be; maybe a darling pet that he seemed to have a steadfast devotion to, but a pet nonetheless. I rolled my eyes and began to stand up from where I had been perched.

"Come on, sweetheart. Just get in with me. Please?" His voice was warm, much like his eyes. I sighed as I watched him.

A nagging voice told me to just walk off. Just go to bed and ignore him. He was clearly fine. Everything that he said would happen, had actually happened. He was healing up perfectly fine. He didn't need to be babied; he was a kidnapper, not a stray cat that needed to be brought in from the rain. But still, I couldn't make myself leave the small bathroom.

"Please?" He repeated. I groaned before I stepped back from the tub. I grabbed onto the bottom of my shirt and pulled it upward. I hauled it over my head and then discarded it onto the floor. My pajama bottoms and underwear followed close behind.

Stepping forward, I felt the cold air bite into my skin. I winced before casting a leg over the edge of the tub. I had picked the opposite side of the tub to where he was sitting, though something told me he had wanted me to climb on top of him.

I sank into the water across from him. I lifted my hands to my chest and quickly crossed my arms in an attempt at maintaining some sense of modesty. Miguel's eyes traced over me, drinking me in. His gaze was so intense that it made me squirm.

"Stop staring at me." I said.

"You're beautiful." His voice was low and warm. I readjusted my arms to make sure I was covered. I wracked my brain, searching for something to say.

"So, what's the thing about this timeline?" I said.

"What do you mean 'thing'?" He asked.

"What makes it different from my timeline? I mean, there's absolutely no way that everything is the same. And, even with all of the people gone, there's got to be something weird here."

"Firstly, ouch. Bold of you to assume that my work isn't perfect." He lifted his index finger as he playfully chided me.

"What's the second thing?" I asked.

"Secondly, aren't we enough of a 'thing'?" We were both here. That was weird, as far as timelines went. We were both alive and okay, regardless of how we had ended up here.

"Come on. Surely there's something weird here. Maybe they call tuna by some other weird name or maybe the movie Titanic doesn't exist here."

"Well, you're the only person here, so you can call tuna whatever you want. I may mock you if you choose something ridiculous, but that's entirely your choice. Also, I don't think that any movies have ever come out here."

I watched his face as he spoke.

Goosebumps danced across my skin as I sat in the water. "I think I'm about to get out. The house is too cold to be in here." I said.

He leaned forward and reached out his arms. In one smooth movement, he hauled me upward and he pulled me into his lap, making sure that my back was pressing into his chest. He leaned backwards, lifted his right thigh upward, and promptly placed me there. His other leg spread outward. His warm skin pressed into my back. I could feel the hard outline of muscles as I sat there. I squirmed.

"This isn't fair." I murmured.

"Sure it is."

"How do you figure?"

"I dragged you over here, fair and square." He smirked. He pressed a kiss to the back of my shoulder. I rolled my eyes as I turned to look at the window. Rain beat down against the empty city. Clouds drifted across the sky, leaving several patches visible.

"The stars are different here." I said.

"Hmm?"

"The stars." I lifted my hand upward. I pointed toward the window to show him what I meant. "Pegasus is supposed to be right there. It's gone. The only one there is Andromeda."

Andromeda. The chained woman.

The irony was not lost upon me.

My ring was my chain; Miguel my warden. Yet, I couldn't bring myself to take the ring off or to truly push him away.

He pressed another kiss against my back. This time, I could feel the stubble of his jaw scrape against my skin.

"You're warm." I murmured. He smiled against my skin.

"I'm glad." He gently sucked on the soft piece of skin. I gasped, feeling his fangs graze for a moment. Though, by the time the sound had left my lips, he had already pulled back.

"Sorry." He said. He inspected his handiwork on my flesh, making sure that he had not broken the skin.

I glanced over my shoulder, watching him as he slid his fingers along the skin of my back. He was enjoying getting to touch me. He could still see the novelty in how new it was.

When he shifted under me, I felt the hard shape of his erection brush the back of my thigh.

Without thinking, I glanced over my shoulder again. I leaned backward, moving until my back touched his chest. I looked up at him. His eyes were warm and soft.

"What?" He asked. Without a word, I kissed him. He sighed against my mouth, moving slowly and carefully. As he did, I felt a familiar want beginning to stir inside of me. Slowly, I pulled away from him. I then tried to move off of his leg and was mildly surprised when he didn't try to hold me down. Instead, I lifted my hips upward and began to rearrange myself in the water, moving so that one leg sat on either side of his hips.

I slid my legs around his waist and then pushed myself closer to him. The bottom of the cast iron tub was slick beneath us. It was hard to arrange myself in the water, but somehow I managed. Miguel leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against my lips. As he did, I lifted my hands upward and grabbed his shoulders for leverage.

“Careful, careful.” Miguel said. He placed a hand on the curve of my back to make sure that I didn’t slip in the water.

“Aww, so you can be nice.”

I smiled as I slid my hands across his strong shoulders. I could feel all of the muscles flex under my fingertips. A soft smirk painted his lips. God, he was gorgeous. It wasn't fair for one person to look this perfect.

But, looking at him, he looked like he was bone tired.

He leaned in for another kiss, but I bobbed backward. He already looked clean enough; I wanted to tell him to get out of the water and go to bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked. He looked hard at my face, searching for something in my features. But, before I could speak, he followed it up with another question. "Are you scared of me?" He asked.

"What?" It caught me off guard.

"You heard me. Are you?"

A little bit.

"I don't think you would hurt me." I said. It wasn’t a lie.

“I would never hurt you.” His hands drifted to my face. Gently, his traced his fingers along the curve of my jaw, taking in every feature. “But, are you scared of me?”

I knew exactly what he was referring to. The eyes, the fangs, even the sheer size of him was intimidating. But, under all of that, he was still just Miguel. Even if he wasn’t my version of him, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me.

“No.” I said. He offered a faint smile that didn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t believe me, but he seemed grateful that I would be willing to tell him what he wanted.

“I love you.” He said.

“I love you, too.” He smiled at my words. I knew that it would make him happy to hear them. They were only three little words, yet they seemed to mean everything to him.

As I watched his face, I couldn't help but notice how exhausted he looked.

"You look tired. You didn’t sleep last night. You haven’t slept any of the other nights, either. I woke up to go to the bathroom around four and you were still awake. " I said.

“Yes, I did sleep.”

“I saw you… Please just be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“No, you never are.” He rolled his eyes at the accusation. “Why don’t you ever sleep?” I asked. Rain continued its assault on the roof, growing louder as the storm reached its peak.

“I usually can’t.” Thunder rolled so loud that I looked toward the window.

“Bad dreams.” A dark tendril of hair fell across his forehead. I reached forward and gently brushed it out of the way.

“About what?”

He shook his head before he pressed another kiss against my lips. That was his way of changing the conversation. Whatever it was, he didn’t want to talk about it.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered. His hand snaked between our naked bodies. Without hesitation, he grazed my clit with the pad of one of his fingers.

I gasped at the sudden touch. But, I didn’t move away. His index finger swirled over the bundle of nerves, forcing my toes to curl. I inched my body closer to him, begging for him not to stop.

He rubbed faster and faster. I could feel myself getting closer to finishing. Miguel watched me with a burning intensity; his eyes were dark lust as he worked. I ground my hips against his fingers, feeling the pleasure beginning to grow in my lower stomach.

Suddenly, it overtook me. I gasped and almost fell forward from how suddenly a blinding warmth shot through me. Each touch was too much; it felt like I was on fire. Miguel caught me before I could tumble off of his body. He held me as I twitched on top of him, spasming from his gentle touches.

As I began to drift back down from the orgasm, I could feel his cock as it lay against his stomach. He was painfully hard. Every time I would bob a little too far forward in the water, I would brush into it, feeling just how desperate he was.

“I think it’s time to call it a night.” I whispered.

“You don’t want to stay in here with me, sweetheart?” His voice was velvety and sweet; his little nickname for me was lined with lust.

“No, because I’m not on birth control. You’re going to end up knocking me up.” I said it partially as a joke.

He didn’t laugh.

Oh.

“Miguel.”

“We have children in every universe.” He said it so softly and calmly that it was as if he was saying the sun was yellow and the sky was blue. It simply was the way of the universe; it was how things were and always would be.

“We didn’t in mine.” I said.

“Because he died. Besides, it wasn’t for a lack of trying.” My face turned bright red. There was something in the way that he said the last part that raised a suspicion I hadn't had before.

“Were you ever watching?” I asked.

“Not from outside of the window or anything like that, but I did catch… glimpses in your timeline.”

“Miguel!”

“I was working!” He defended himself. “I never watched went out of my way to watch you two when you were… intimate. The only times that I ever spied on you were when you were alone.”

“What do you mean when I was alone?” I remembered the photos of me that I had found in the box.

“When he was at work and I thought something would happen to you; when I was worried about you.”

He was telling the truth, at least as far as I could tell.

“Why didn’t you ever spy on him and I?” I asked. I expected him to say that he respected me too much to do that. Then again, he treated me like a pet, so it was rather questionable how much he respected me.

“Jealousy, mostly.”

“Oh.”

“I’ve been alone for a long time, sweetheart. He had you and he was always working; he was always gone.” He said.

“You’re always gone, too.” He frowned at the statement.

Maybe all of the versions of him truly were the same. Based on how he winced, he seemed to be considering that fact.

“He couldn’t protect you because he was never there.” He said.

“Nothing happened to me. There was nothing to protect me from.”

“But there could have been.” He was obsessed with the idea that I was fragile. Which, I mean, compared to him, I was. But he still didn’t have to be this worried.

He was haunted by the idea of me dying and obsessed with the idea of saving me. Maybe it was to make up for his past failures.

“I’ve lost you in countless timelines. I could never risk it.” He winced. “But, you’re here now and you’re safe. You’ll always be mine and I’ll always be yours.” He said. We belonged to each other, whenever or wherever we were. The notion both charmed and chilled me. But, one of those feelings quickly won over the other. Or maybe it was just the lingering effects of the previous orgasm.

“Do you want me?” I asked. I was hoping to sound sexy; I just sounded pathetic.

“More than anything.”

I leaned forward and gently grabbed his cock. He groaned, lifting his hips upward so that I could have better access. I slid my hand up and down several times before I moved my body closer to him. As I moved, he held onto me, making sure that I didn’t slip in the tub. I carefully lined him up with my entrance, feeling another wave of want wash through me. I curled one arm around his shoulder.

“Ready?” He asked. I nodded quickly as I clung to him.

I whimpered when he slid inside. My fingers dug into his shoulders. He groaned as he sunk all the way in. I felt my body stretch, trying to accommodate him.

After a moment, I pushed my legs into the tub and lifted myself upward. He curled one arm around my waist, watching me in wonder and awe as I slid down again, making us both groan.

I lifted one hand off of his shoulder. His body had been through enough tonight. I didn't want to risk the one-in-a-million chance that I grabbed onto a sore spot. I gripped the cold edge of the tub to balance myself. But, just as suddenly as I had placed it there, it was pulled off. Miguel pulled my hand into his, lacing our fingers together.

He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against my lips. I smiled, giving into his mouth. The kiss was brief; it was broken when I gasped against him mouth, feeling a warm pleasure begin to grow inside of me.

I bounced my hips, feeling him hit deep with every movement. I moaned. My stomach was beginning to tighten.

He tightened his hold on my hand. One of his fingers brushed over the ring that I was still wearing.

I was his. I belonged to him.

As if he could read my mind, he pressed his lips against mine again.

When he pulled away, he said "Open your eyes."

I did as told. My eyes met his as I slid downward on his cock. Then, before my body could meet his, he thrusted upward, making me gasp.

"Keep looking at me." He said. I nodded as I lifted my hips upward. He groaned, quickly burying himself deep inside of me. He wanted to watch the way my face twitched with pleasure when he fucked me. He wanted to see what he did to me; what power he had over me.

I tightened my hold on his hand. If he was a normal man, I was sure I would have accidentally broken one of his fingers from how hard I was gripping him.

I lifted my hips, then brought them down on him just as he slammed inside of me. We did it over and over again, forcing out gasps and moans from each other.

“Miguel, I’m close! Don’t stop!” I moaned. I was so damn close. I could feel the tightening in my lower stomach every time he sheathed himself inside of me.

Then, all at once, I felt a wave of heat wash over me.

I gasped, clenching around him as I came undone. Pleasure coursed through my body, making my toes curl and my head fall back. Miguel pressed a kiss to the base of my throat as he hammered inside of me, not stopping his pace.

After a moment, he let out a low groan. He moaned my name and I was suddenly very aware of the warm fluid that filled me. It was leaking down my upper thighs and into the water around us.

The pleasure began to fade away. I gasped, trying to catch the breath that I had been holding. Miguel smiled and leaned back against the tub, his body tired and spent. A mixture of sweat and water glistened against his skin.

It was around three in the morning. I could feel the exhaustion beginning to sink into my bones.

I moved to climb off of him, but just as he had last time, he held me in place. One hand held my hips in place, pinning me on top of him. I sighed, giving up any notion of fighting. It was useless; his grip was ironclad.

"Let me hold you... just for a little while." His voice was soft. His other hand drifted to the curve of my back. He pulled me forward, moving me until my chest lay against his.

"I'm tired." I murmured.

"I know, sweetheart."

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes. I could hear his heart in my ear. Its strumming was low and steady. His skin was warm. "I missed you." he said.

I wasn't sure if he was talking to me directly, or some distant memory of me. But I would take what I could get.

"I missed you, too."

He pressed a gentle kiss against my damp hair. Outside, lightning cut across the sky.

@levisbebe @amplsblog @spider-biter @taleiak @ladyfairenvale (I tried to tag everyone who asked! I’m sorry if I missed you!)

#miguel o'hara #Miguel Ohara smut #Miguel o'hara smut #Miguel O'Hara x reader #miguel ohara x reader #Miguel ohara x you #Miguel o'hara x you #Miguel ohara imagines #Miguel ohara fan-fiction #Miguel ohara fanfiction #spiderman99 smut

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ohnoitstbskyen · 2 years

Text

The overwhelming misery of going viral on YouTube

In April of 2021, I posted a short to YouTube - a 60 second video in the format of their TikTok competitor. In the nature of shorts, it was a one-minute, necessarily un-nuanced hot take about a subject I like to talk about: character design. Specifically I made the mistake of lamenting that the character design of female heroes in major games tend to prioritize attractiveness rather than using their body shape to do storytelling about their lives or capabilities.

It did okay, garnering about 38k views in its first month. Didn't set the world on fire, but I got my point out there, and while there were some crappy comments, for the most part people seemed to understand what I was driving at.

The short had eventually climbed to about 100.000 views after a full year of being online, which is respectable, but in the world of YouTube Shorts a fairly middle-of-the-road level of success (these are extremely short videos being served extremely quickly to a huge base of users). Fast forward to November 8th of this year, and... something happens. More than a year after it was originally published, it starts gaining traction.

Slowly at first, a few thousand views, but by the 14th it's gained 80.000 views in a day. On the 16th, 400.000, on the 17th, 680.000. I have no idea why this is happening, there's no influx of viewers from any outside source, there's no topical news event that would make the video suddenly relevant.

I tweet about it, bemused by the sudden jump, but also hinting a bit at the other side of this story.

"There Is No Such Thing As Negative Press"

On YouTube, there is on the systemic level very little difference between positive attention and negative attention. If you create excellent work that brings joy into people's lives, they engage with your video and the algorithm reads that as success. And if you create miserable, hateful content that makes people angry and stokes them to responses of outrage, disgust or jeering, the algorithm reads that as a kind of success, too.

Hate-bait and rage-bait YouTubers operate in that latter space, churning out inflammatory or distressing content, hoping to elicit either reactions of horror, or gleeful cheering from people who like it when their favourite online personality trolls the Other.

But there's another way to garner negative attention, and that is to create content which is not at all designed to bait or elicit a negative response, but whose subject matter nonetheless produces a negative response from a certain kind of person.

That is the unfortunate slip-and-slide I have found myself on.

At the time of writing, the short sits at 6.8 million views, has been gaining on average 2 million views per day, and it still seems to be accelerating. Despite those skyrocketing numbers, however, it only ("only") has around 1300 published comments underneath it.

That is because, after the first couple of million views, I told YouTube to automatically hold all comments for review. That is, YouTube allows users to comment on the video, but those comments are not published until I manually approve them.

The reason I did this is... well, it's easier to show you with some pictures. Content warning, these are unfiltered YouTube comments, so expect casual bigotries.

These are screenshots from the "held for review" tab of my YouTube Studio backend. YouTube in recent years has gotten good at filtering out content like overt racial slurs and the worst of the worst insults, which is nice, but the filtered comments tab is still not a particularly pleasant place to read through right now.

Most of the comments are like what you see above: casually rude, fatphobic, homophobic, transphobic or otherwise unpleasant. Some of the comments are more intense, threatening me with violence, insulting me personally, "I hope your mom gets raped by a [racial slur]," and worse. The worst comments are a small percentage, but as you can imagine, they do stand out in the mind, and a small percentage of a huge number can still be a lot of comments.

And that's the thing. There are hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds, and hundreds of comments. I scrolled for fifteen minutes and did not see the end of it. YouTube doesn't keep a visible count on how many comments are held for review, but I'd not be surprised if the 1300 comments count would have been doubled if I hadn't stopped it when I did. And since the video is still accelerating, that number is likely to skyrocket as well.

This provides me with the best theory I have as to why the video took off: the YouTube algorithm started showing it not to people who it thought would like it, but to people it thought would dislike it enough to react, to comment. And the more people did comment, the more the algorithm showed it to other people just like those who commented, who were also likely to dislike it.

This causes a feedback loop of negative attention, which the YouTube algorithm (horrifyingly) interprets as a success and an incentive to keep pushing the video.

Moderating this comments section is now physically impossible - I would need a staff of a dozen to handle it, which I can't afford and who I wouldn't want to expose to it, and while this deluge is going on, moderating the comments of other videos becomes next to impossible as well, since the "held for review" tab is utterly monopolized.

One fix for this problem, of course, is to simply disable the comments. But in my experience, doing that only encourages the worst of the commenters to seek out your other content and leave even worse comments there instead. In fact, a couple of dozen particularly irate people have already sought out my other channels to post insults there, adding to the stress and workload of dealing with all this viral "success."

How YouTube Makes YouTubers Worse

This situation is stressful, because humans are monkey creatures with monkey brains that do not like being exposed to a constant stream of rudeness, cruelty and casual bigotry. However rational you try to be about it, however detached and cold, it wears on you. It chips away at your mental defenses and becomes a constant source of low-level stress and misery.

But as far as YouTube is concerned, it's a huge success.

YouTube's systems are all set up this way. They celebrate increases in numbers with cheerful messages and positive green arrows and "helpful" statistics showing just how much things are growing - meanwhile, if you post otherwise positively received work that doesn't attract as much attention, it will give you dour "your content received fewer views due to lower interest this month" messages and greyed-out downward arrows. If you have a video that does really well on the numbers, YouTube will even play a little fireworks animation on its statistics to celebrate.

It's a form of not-so-subtle psychological manipulation. As a YouTuber you are dependent on your statistics to inform your work - if your rent depends on making those numbers go up, you essentially have no choice but to pay attention to them and let them guide your decision making. And so YouTube designs its systems to push its creators towards the behaviour that the platform finds most beneficial: numbers optimizing.

And the thing is, if I went only by the numbers, I would look at the success of this short and go "oh, there's a viable content strategy here!"

I could try and replicate its "success" by creating more content around the same topic, by targeting the same kind of outrage-baiting, by identifying the contentious subjects and trigger points brought up by the angry people in the comments and hitting them repeatedly, hoping to make engagement fall out.

YouTube would reward me for that, quite handsomely, in fact, even as mental health and professional happiness would absolutely crater. I don't have the personality for that kind of content creation, it's not what I want to do with my work, it's not the kind of person I want to be.

But I am not immune to propaganda. I have already changed as a person from doing this job, I know this for a fact. My priorities have shifted, my wants and needs have changed. Not for the worse, I believe, not yet, but the platform is constantly, constantly pushing on me.

It's unpleasant and it's stressful. It's hostile design, coupled with primitive and insufficient moderation tools, coupled with an aggressive algorithm which will go out of its way to ensure your relationship with your audience is toxic, if that toxicity produces better numbers for the platform.

Viral success is often thought of as a desirable thing, something which can launch a career or skyrocket an unknown to success. The reality is, it is mostly just overwhelming. I'm a grown man and I have done online content creation for a long time, and I have learned strategies to manage toxic comments sections over years of experience.

But imagine if something like this happened to a sixteen year old. Imagine if it happened to a teenage girl just starting out making videos. Or a trans person. Or, hell, any person from a marginalized community. I am sheltered by my privileges, but I have seen how dark it gets and how fast it gets dark for people who don't have those extra protections.

Well, it does happen to them, and no matter how rancid, bigoted and horrible the abuse they receive, they will log in to YouTube Studio to see happy fireworks and "Nice! Your video got 20 million views!" with a little green upwards pointing arrow right next to it.

You might have seen articles and thinkpieces around "creator burnout," and I want you to know that a huge part of what burns creators out is the primitive, profit-optimizing, hostile systems that power these platforms and monetize our worst experiences on them as "engagement."

In case you're wondering how much money I've earned from those 6.8 million views, by the way, it's about $20.

YouTube says they're rolling out full Shorts monetization next year, so I guess I just picked the wrong month to go viral.

---

If this story resonated with you at all, do me a favor and leave a nice comment under the work of an online creator you enjoy. It helps more than you might think.

You can tip me on Patreon or Ko-fi if you want to.

#tb essay #youtube #hostile design #burnout

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cjlinton · 7 months

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Defining spaces, work-play separation, and avoiding TTRPG burnout.

I’ve seen a lot of folks in indie TTRPGs talk about overlapping issues and experiences around feeling burned out, not being able to keep up with new games, playing games starting to feel—or actually being—always for work rather than for fun.

I have begun to think of this issue as a game is never just a game. Not in the sense that it can’t be, but that many people working in TTRPGs in some capacity don’t allow it to be. Play has become the secondary function, because the game's primary function is no longer play, but something else. Be that a playtest, an Actual Play (AP) recording, a charity stream, content creation fodder (a review, a blog post, a video essay), a self-imposed obligation to stay on top of industry trends, etc. Because it is for work rather than play, the game is no longer play.

My firmly held litany against that is twofold:

1. Name the purpose of the game.

A playtest or AP can be fun, but you can't trick yourself into believing that that instance of play is for the sake of it. There’s a book I love called The Art of Gathering: How We Meet and Why It Matters by Priya Parker. One of the key takeaways is to be deeply intentional, for yourself and for the people joining you, in defining why you have gathered together. What does this do?

It frees you from the mismatched expectations that inevitably emerge when intentions are not set. The rules and expectations for a playtest are not the same as they are for play’s sake, so get everyone on the same page.

It allows you to fully take advantage of this instance of play for its primary function. Letting go of the notion that you’re “just” playing a game lets you set expectations different from those in a space where you’re playing for play’s sake.

Whenever I playtest, be that for one hour or an intended campaign, I am extremely candid with my playtesters about what I need from them. That the expectations of the space are different than when we play together for fun.

I ran a six-hour playtest of The Prince of Nothing Good a few weekends ago. If I was just running a game for fun, I would consider that a nightmare of a game length! I would never do that to my players!

But everyone had a blast with this playtest. Because we had set aside the entire day for that purpose, and said we’d play until it was done. Everyone came in with the goal of helping me iron out some kinks in the game, and was excited to do it. And that wouldn’t have been possible without defining why we were gathering at that moment, and what we were doing to make mode of gathering work for us (dedicated time, many short breaks, blanket permission to get up from the table to meet movement/food/bio needs, I bought everyone lunch).

2. Protect your time to play for the sake of play.

I believe the quickest way to kill your enjoyment of something is by making every instance of partaking in it work.

I’m aware there are Actual Play professionals who only play games as part of their jobs and not in their personal lives. That’s great for them, if they’ve figured out how to enjoy it (or earn enough money doing so that it doesn’t matter if they do), but the overwhelming majority of people in the game industry are simply not earning “only doing it for work” money. And until you are—and for most people in games, that will be never—you need to allow yourself time to just play games.

I’ve run a weekly home game since I got into TTRPGs, and I consider that space is sacred. Some of the players help me playtest outside of that game, but that weekly meeting is just for play, not work. Dedicating time for play to just be play makes it possible for it to be other things, too.

I’ve never experienced anything consider close to the TTRPG burnout, exhaustion, and frustration that I’ve heard many people talk about. I’ve done it to myself with other things! I used to read and evaluate theatre scripts for work. I’ve read literally hundreds of plays. And there was a whole chunk of time where I was still doing that and I absolutely dreaded reading plays. A friend invited me to a play reading group during the pandemic and I had to decline because reading plays was synonymous with evaluating them for what was honestly not enough money to do it.

So I just stopped. I don’t read scripts for pay anymore, and I stopped reading them for fun too, because I was at a place of deficit where even doing it “just” for fun was not appealing. I’m only now getting to a place where I am interested in reading theatrical work again. It is much harder to get back to a place of enjoyment than it is to never depart in the first place.

#ttrpg #indie ttrpg #everyone should read the art of gathering imo

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mrghostrat · 6 months

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I remember you posting a blurred gif of the outline of atws, so if you don't mind me asking, how do you do that? Like, get the outline onto paper and not just scenes in your head. That's something I've always struggled with, because it's hard to write without an outline, but hard to do the outline when I don't have a first draft? I'm not sure how to explain it so I hope this makes any sense at all lmao

ahh so fair! some people just don't operate that way and you gotta do what's best for your brain. no point exhausting all your energy trying to squeeze into a "standard writing process" that'll make writing even more difficult for yourself.

under the cut, i'm going to explain my writing process every step of the way, using scenes of ATWS. i hope it helps in some way? i don't think it's anything special, but this is just how i write to appease my adhd.

first, this might help: i once used storyplanner.com when i didn't know how to even start a story and i loved it. it's a great tool that can hold your hand every step of the way, or just prompt you to think on your own. there's over 20 planners that ask different questions like "what's your character's major flaw?" "what's the inciting incident?" "what outside elements hinder the character?" etc that will present you with a complete story structure when you're done with it.

ok, now, how i write:

as for the post in reference, that's the 2nd stage of my writing process. i get carried away with tangents and hone in on details, so i plan in dot points to try and force myself to keep it simple and stay zoomed out.

i just write what happens in chronological order, and if i have an idea for a later scene (or something that i just want to happen, but don't know when/where/how), i note that in a separate document that i can refer to while i plan. this also allows me to gloss over vague sections to keep my writing flow going.

stage 1:

i've started using Notion's "toggle list" feature to minimise the less important parts of a scene and keep myself focused on the overarching plot during this stage. this is what the first point looks like:

i go beat by beat, essentially amounting to an elevator pitch for each stage of my story. "crowley and aziraphale are streamer roommates" + "people start to notice they each live with someone and the speculation starts" + "crowley and aziraphale interact on twitch" + "they attend the edinburgh meetup" etc.

i finish a story before i move on from this stage. i won't start writing something in earnest until i know how it ends.

stage 2:

this is what you saw in my gif, and why that page was so long. that's every scene i'm going to write in the story.

sometimes i jump straight from stage 1 to writing, but ATWS required a lot more figuring out before i started any kind of prose. here i'm basically noting down the details of what each scene is, the brunt of what's happening. this is when i have to figure out those "vague sections" i glossed over earlier.

it's still just intended to be a rough outline so i know where the characters are and what's moving their relationship along. most of these dot points are short because i've already thought about them a thousand times, and may have more details noted down in a different document.

meanwhile some of them i'm planning out the scene as i'm dotting it, making not of dialogue that i want to include.

stage 3: my bracket method

i only use this stage when i'm struggling to write and need to baby step into it. this is my "bracket method" in which i write the scene without, like... caring? some people may consider this "double handling" which may drive you mad, but it's the most helpful thing i've ever done for my process.

i switch tenses, i write how i chat (no capitals etc) and just word vomit the scene without focusing on prose. ATWS came quite easily at first, and i didn't need to use stage 3 until i got to chapter 4 and hadn't written in a few days.

stage 4:

this is writing the actual prose, but i wanted to include it so you can see the differences, to help better understand my notes/planning/outlining stages:

and this is what a scene looks like with stage three bridging the gap:

#i swear this had a point #i think the point is: i literally just write each scene one by one as i think of them #but use all these little methods to keep it clean and tighten my own leash so i dont get carried away or lost #rat writes #ratwips #writing tips #writing process #art process #fan fic #ask a rat

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lotusmi · 1 year

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my success, my failures

honest post about my current life and thoughts on void 💌

Hi angels, this my most personal post and I don't know why, i felt like posting this. This is going to be an honest long post about my loa journey, void journey and whatever how my life went after I realized I was in control.

At first point I would like to recall: I am not a void state blog, I am not a void "master" (I am not assuming this, In 4d I sure AM!). My blog is more about LOA, the Neville Goddard Law, the Edward Art Law. The simple, beautiful Law that I felt in love with. I like the void state method, I have entered it a few times, I'll be talking on this in a while, first I'll tell my story until here on how I left the worst circumstances...

As I was someone like most of people are, I thought I was not the operant power. I have known the law of attraction for 7 years, and I belived I had to "beg" the "universe" to give me things, I would write letters to the "universe" asking for my desires, then I would try to have "good energy", write down million of affirmations in future tense and then wait in hope to be "deserving" of them.

As time passed by, I yes, had manifested some things with this law of attraction thing, but I never changed my state, my mindset, I did not even knew what was those stuff, I would still let myself imagine bad things happening to me, I felt unwanted, ugly, unlucky, with no freedom. I had also lots of limiting beliefs, had to drink water to subs work, listen to then million times, be deserving, be positive, afirm without saying "no/never" etc.

Things were getting worse, I felt always more unwanted, different, unlucky, inferior, all of that. My life was getting shitty, I would imagine me having fights with my parents, me crying, I would see myself as an victim of the world, and I stopped even trying to have optimism and using law of attraction, i literally gave up. At this point I had lost my faith, so I lived all my days complaining and begging God, universe, deities to "save me". In this phase I suffered like never, I was super depressed, my home was toxic and i mean TOXIC. I was anxious, I wanted to kill myself. I wanted to break free.

So at this point I was in the worst months of my life, I was not allowed to even have friends or use internet for more than 7 months straight. The things they did to me... I am even embarassed to tell about those things. I had to decide on persist or give up. So I said to myself I would do my better to ignore my outer-world and stop letting those things affect me, it was not easy. I would hurt myself and have a lot of anxiety crisis, but I found my peace within, I started living in imagination and seeing in my imagination what I most wanted to have, be. I was being delusional, I did not even knew about all of this LOA thing. I just wanted to escape of my reality.

In less than 2 months everything changed. I was more happier, and I was now allowed to do my things again, talk to friends, have my computer and all of this. I did not knew It was me, I thought it was a miracle.

Life went by, I fell in love, my selfconcept was shit, he dumped me. Still, at that time I did not knew about the law. I did not knew he did that because I assumed. I would imagine that he did not loved me, I would imagine him saying "it is over" at the point I would cry imagining, I felt that real, so I manifested. I was the cause. I did not knew.

After all of this I wanted to love myself and take care of me, I started learning about spiritualy, I learned that I am part of God. That I am God experiencing being human. I walked in love, started healing my trauma, I got a lot of it. In a meditation trying to communicate to my "higher self" I entered the void, blue gray, peaceful, beautiful... So still... I there naturally affirmed "I am calm, happy, love, ethereal". After this day everythin changed and I had no more reasons to be sad, I was healed.

But I was still in love with my ex and I only discovered the law because of it, I searched on how to manifest an ex, yea. It did not worked since of I let old story, circumstances, "false free will" let me down. But I discovered the neville subreddit, then the loatumblr, then the void, WHAT WAS, the void. And got to know I had entered it once, I wanted to do it again. I entered more of 3 times maybe until now, and also got some I AM state experiences. (They not the same to me since i feel emptiness from void and wholenesses from I AM + I AM state is golden and I see myself in other people bodies).

I learned about void with Halokisses, but at that point I thought it was some magical place, months passed by, my void concept got better but I still let circumstances bother me. I was not also doing my best to enter it to be honest. I was manifesting my life to be great even while manifesting entering in the void.

♡ What happened by this last months is that I just realized I love my life now, I love myself, my body, my friends, I have time to me, I have enough money to buy my things, I am free to do a lot of things. I never am bothered by circumstances + senses since I am in control of my states. and this made me feel like I don't even need the void altrough I still am going to enter it again, my void concept is beyond perfect right now that I fully know WHO I AM. At this point I am just so saturated about void that I relaxed about WHEN entering again because I am full convicted that I can do this and that I don't "NEED" it.

What I am trying to say is, circumstances does not matter, and you all don't need the void! You all need yourselves. I also want you to know that I AM not a "void master blog" all of that. I am someone who won the circumstances and manifested things, I am someone in love with Neville that want to help people, I am someone that did some subs for helping other people.

I know how it feels to be in a toxic home, feel ugly, be unwanted, have no friends, no money, be depressed, be anxious. I only told you the last 3 years of my life. I know how the void seems to be the only "way" and all of that. I know how it is like to just have someone to say "I am entering it for you" or wonder "When is my time?", I know how is like to think "you are the only exception" I know the void for about 8 months and I did not gave up. I manifested lots of things even while manifesting entering it. ♡ ALL I did was to change the story I was telling myself, the assumptions I held about me. I understood that 3d reflects 4d and so no matter what, everything is possible.

So please, stop begging me to "enter the void" for you or say "I can't do x so do for me". I am doing ALL I NOW can do to help you, I do posts, I reply asks, I make audios, I assume you all can do it. As soon as I enter the void I am of course affirming for you there. But until now I NEED, no, YOU need to save yourself, because even WITHOUT me, you can do this. YOU ARE THE CREATOR.

You don't have to pass by all that I had passed to realize WHO YOU ARE.

♡ My success story is I myself, I saved me. I am not depressed anymore, I am calm, happy, I am free. I never thought I could love myself this way!

₊and as soon I enter the void again, I will post my success, do more challenges, and I am even thinking of entering for it for you.

I hope this had inspired you and cleared things about me and my blog, I hope we all can help ourselves,

with love, Lotus - because I rised from mud. 💌

#success story #about me #motivation #the void state #loa tumblr #loa blog #law of assumption #neville goddard #healing

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louroth · 11 months

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Hello everyone :>

It's been a month! it's incredible how much my life has changed- while I'm still adjusting I'm just...still walking on clouds. it feels unreal. the patreon took off and I can almost make a living wage on it which is frankly fucking insane, and the discord is so vibrant it scared me for a moment (not anymore- shooting the shit with the people there is the favorite part of my day, even if I sometimes just leave a trail of emotes lskjdhajksdhkjasd.) I couldn't have asked for a better community. YES I am crying about it. Thank you, so, so much. I am cradling your face in my hands. crying.

But as always, enough of my bleeding heart. Let's get to it!

The first two weeks after posting the update, I took a sort of quasi vacation and only wrote a handful of story-words each day, and spent some time fooling around in the discord + brushed off my smut archive to refine for Patreon. There are already 4 stories up, and a new one coming tomorrow- though I haven't decided yet whether it will be possessive/jealous L sfw short or one very nasty short where you come across a particularly insistent species of vines while trekking the forest. hehe. we'll see. >:3

But, even though I had to rest not to combust after work, I am very pleased to say that the next chapter is coming along great, with the skeleton finished for its entirety, and about 45% and some change already written (it's very hard to gauge because I jump around a lot when I write.) This is the final chapter before the forest, filled with action and the heart wrenching drama of offering tenderness to a certain someone, and deciding for your hunter when enough is truly enough. I have teared up writing certain scenes and I genuinely cannot wait for you to experience this next part yourselves.

It is so funny reading things I wrote for this chapter six months ago, or longer, because I knew exactly what emotions I wanted to bake in and couldn't really nail it, but now it is coming together beautifully! Sure, it will still be wonky first draft writing, but the core is there and that is all that matters for now. I'm saying soon™ for the update for now, because I am allowing myself to adapt to writing full time- I didn't quit my job to become my own nightmare boss, and I truly want to enjoy this process. I think, in the long run, it will result in a better story. Patience is my mantra. All in due time- I cannot force quality creative work. But by everything wretched and sinful, I cannot wait to share this next part with you!!! I'm frothing at the mouth!!!

In other news, y'all. I need to get organized. I get heartburn thinking about all the different variations of files and notes and notebooks and scraps of paper and variables and branches of plot and just generally, the things to keep track of is getting to the point of a dragon hoard of scary 'oh no I forgot about that part'. I'm gritting my teeth through it until this chapter is out, but after it, I am going to spend some time to

1) get my shit together in gorgeous, beautiful spreadsheets

2) get serious about finding beta- and proofreaders. (me @ u: 🥺)

But that's it, my friends! I scrapped an entire progress report because I started sounded corporate and listing points which was just... sad. I really hope I evolve into writing these in a more fun way, which would make them more fun for you to read too! But for now, I think this will do. I hope you have a beautiful day/night, and if you would like to see more in depth dev-logs of my writing life, or random sneak peeks, I post those weekly on patreon!

Or join our discord, which. It's just the nicest place, I can't even come up with words that do it justice. It's my favorite daily newspaper.

Until next time! x

#OUROBOROS #ouroboros-if #interactive fiction #dev log #progress report #im scuttling off to finish character moodboards now like a gremlin #i am wholly soaked and immersed in the world of ouro and that just feels... so nice. I never want to leave #on asks: sorry they have taken low priority while I adapt to everything happening. I read every single one and smile and laugh and ponder #but when it comes to actually answering my words just stop working. its a soup up there #send thots and prayers 😔#(or come join the discord where I answer questions with gusto on the daily)

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charon-cries · 3 months

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how do you determine your color palette...? color is something i have a lot of difficulty with and i really want to learn how to at least figure out a color palette 😅

i guess another way to phrase it is how did you go about learning color theory?

the number one most helpful thing i did for myself when teaching myself to color was to realize that every artist colors differently.

i already knew color theory in advance, i memorized every word i had been told throughout every highschool art class i had taken, but knowing the actual facts and knowing how to apply them are very different skills!

if you haven't learned the facts of color theory, i highly suggest these two videos (thing 1) (thing 2). <- the most important part of watching those videos is to hold them in your head as facts. if watching them doesn't make you necessarily understand how to apply them, that's okay! these videos are to give you the skills to be able to study color.

for a simple example, when it comes to picking colors based off the mood of your piece, pretty much everyone knows that blue will make an image feel more sad and emotional. yellow feels happy, red feels angry, pink feels affectionate.

a great way to teach yourself how to APPLY mood through color is to go back to a drawing you're already very proud of, and just mess around recoloring it. pick one thing you want to work on and try to use your color choices change the emotional effect of the piece.

it's incredibly helpful to use a piece that you have already colored, preferably one you're the most proud of. this is so that you aren't stressing yourself thinking about things like proportion or composition, and allows you to think solely about your color choices.

here's my example! for this example, my goal was to make this one feel far more bleak than my original finished piece.

i achieved this change by shifting the colors to all be more cold and desaturated, as well as making the blacks of his undershirt and tie look more washed out. most people associate cool colors with sadness, and dull colors with defeat. mixing those two makes the mood more bleak. color placement can also change a lot— for this version, i placed a lot of the blush color (which i desaturated significantly) higher up his face, which gives him a more horrified and thoughtful expression

once you've done exercises like this once or twice, a great way to decide how you want to color is to find out how other people pick their colors. one way to do this is color picking studies, and another is to watch youtube videos like this one where an artist explains their personal thought process while choosing colors.

if you'd like to know how i, personally, go about picking my colors, i would be happy to make a separate post outlining my process! it would take a pretty long time, though, because a lot of my process is to not leave things alone until i'm satisfied with how they look

the thing about being a self-taught artist is that everyone tells you that the way to get better is to "just practice," but that's not the whole story! art is a skill you have to build, and i've found the most effective ways to improve are to do studies, and to learn how to spot your mistakes and problem-solve until you can fix them.

i hope this was a good way to get you started on learning how to internalize and apply color theory! the more you study, and the more you learn, the better your results will be

youtube

#color theory #echolocating #art tutorial #art tips #artists on tumblr #digital artist #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #how to color

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ninadove · 11 months

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watching character ai lukadrien create the most heart wrenching debilitatingly angsty love story to ever love story ever

Hey, I can tell there’s no malice behind your ask, but — don’t do that.

I write fanfiction myself, and a lot goes into it:

1. Unreasonable amounts of ✨ Time and Effort ✨

Just the other day, my WIP kept me up until 2 AM, because I wanted it to be neatly polished before even sending it to my beta readers (@paracosmicfawn and @dragongutsixofficial). The first thing I did the following morning was re-read it again, to correct any typos and inconsistencies my tired brain might have missed the night prior.

2. Research and analysis

For a cute little Lukadrien scene I wrote with my ✨ awesome girlfriend ✨ — something that was never even going to be published — I went through a dozen different sources trying to get a better understanding of what meditation actually is and to capture the philosophy behind it accurately. This does not make me special — all authors do it out of dedication and love for their craft, but it’s energy that could be spent doing literally anything else, especially when you consider how horrifyingly lonely the writing process can be (see point 1).

Also, there’s a reason I spend so much time making analysis posts on Silly Little Blorbos who do not exist! It gets my brain running and allows me to sharpen my understanding of the characters, so I can write them properly in my works.

3. A unique perspective on the characters, the source media, and life in general

Which gives all the flavour to my favourite AO3 works out there.

Like, yes, that extract you sent in your follow-up ask is cute, I guess, but it’s also incredibly generic:

When actual living breathing human (or Senti) beings share their work with you, they’re inviting you to a special part of their brain that they’ve decorated with their own experiences, references and visuals — things that they love and passed onto their favourite characters, so they can hopefully reach you. For instance, Character AI would never have had the genius idea to compare Felix’s eyes to an aurora borealis; this could have only sparked from @wackus-bonkus-maximus’ brain. Similarly, my version of Felix will often reference works of art and literature that left a strong impact on me as a child — an impact I’m sure can also be sensed in my approach to storytelling and even in the way I structure sentences and paragraphs.

Which leads me to my final and most important point:

4. EMOTIONAL BAGGAGE™

Because let’s be real — there’s a reason our brains latch onto certain characters, and said reasons aren’t always sunshine and rainbows. I’ve cried more writing about the Senticousins than over the loss of certain people or relationships in my own life. Long before that, I latched onto Clive and gave him everything I felt was missing from my life as a teenager, so I could live vicariously through him. And of course, I always make my characters some flavour of queer, because for a long time this was the only outlet I got for my own feelings and identity.

It takes a lot of vulnerability to put all of this on the Internet for others to read and judge, and it’s very disheartening to see that people would rather ask a machine to spit out some easily digestible but impersonal interactions than give your work a chance.

I can guarantee there are beautiful pieces of fanwork out there that will cater to your tastes and haunt you for years in a way Character AI or Chat GPT never could. And the good news is — if you don’t find anything, it means it’s time to write it yourself!

And of course, I cannot end this post without encouraging everyone to read about the writers’ and actors’ strike currently unfolding in the US.

#miraculous ladybug #adrien agreste #luka couffaine #lukadrien #felix graham de vanily #senticousins #kagami tsurugi #feligami #professor layton #clive dove #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #writers’ strike #actors’ strike #anon asks #random ramblings

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senkusphone · 6 months

Text

Dr. Stone chapter 3D trivia post

Hello, um. I hope yall had a pleasant solstice celebration of your choice- I've been pondering whether what we just saw merits a triva post, but let's try to squeeze some for the sake of completion, shall we?

Check out also my trivia posts for chapters 1D and 2D.

They're the same picture.

It took me way too long to notice what was off in this cover, it seems to be nothing but an aesthetic choice. Other than these off colors, this specific suika melon design first appeared during the Treasure island arc, right after Ryusui punted her off the Perseus.

To directly quote what I wrote at one time on the wiki:

Too bad, the ship Chelsea shows up in is not the Perseus D. Monkey from chapter 214 (which itself is a One Piece reference, as Boichi is a big fan).

Interesting that we get a nearly identical shot, instead of Kohaku standing behind her, it's Ruri and Matsukaze.

This posture done my Matsukaze is called Namaste (with other names such as Namaskar), which is used both as a greeting and as an indication of reverence all over the southern parts of Asia, along with other similar gestures. I know this is familiar to many myself included but I had never looked into the deeper details until now.

Figurines showing this pose have been excavated from the Indus valley civilization dating to between 2700 and 2100 BCE, making this piece of cultural heritage at least 7800 years old by the time of this panel.

Xeno has clearly had his hand in the architecture of the Japan side of the KoS, with some new constructions resembling his own Evil Disneyland back home.

Hold back yer tears

Kaseki has lived well. It's hard to tell how old he is now, he lived longer than the timeline's consistency thats for sure, I blame time travel.

At the time Taiju got wed, he was around 70 years old.

Kaseki and Chrome go back way further than the KoS, the fanbook tells us that Kaseki helped Chrome build his shed when he was just a boy.

Feel your heart a bit shakey? hang on there, we now get to talk about whyman's sorrow, and a small observation that I've made

Whyman can have emotions, the circuits that process that can be switched on and off, but the fact that a message can, or needs to be "left" for themselves, as well as his farewell for all eternity, has an interesting implication: once switched off, whyman loses the recollection of any experience they had in the meantime. These circuits allow whyman to feel, and also to then forget. This is useful, as emotions help them survive, but forgetting prevents the emotional baggage from growing infinitely over a virtually immortal life.

"If we remembered every single parting person, it would only be a few generations before the sorrow would pile up to the point it became unbearable. Maybe it is a blessing to forget. Forgetting allows us to get even. Forget sorrows as new ones replace them. Life can go on, if tragically. No accumulating loss that would one day make everyone struggle to survive and eventually pass on; though that last thing does also sound very much like today."

(10B points to the ~2 people who know where this quote is from, I digress)

So that's cool, and heartbreaking, but so what, does it connect to anything we've seen before?

Well...

In ch. 232 we see that Whyman does not know what created them.

How could that be, if they can remember things over deep time?

Maybe it is that Whyman chose to forget their creators, and everything they felt about them. Beings that they may even have loved in the deep deep past, and could not cope with yearning for.

The blonde, bangs & ponytail lineage.

The village graveyard. Last time we saw it, Byakuya's gravestone was opened to reveal the glass record.

A lot of recognizable headstones are still up now, some appear to have moved.

Other headstones might be gone or be different... The one with four dots that was there originally can't be seen in this new shot but it can be seen later in the chapter.

Also, I hate to break this to you, but there's more headstones now than there were before.

I counted 45 in the original shot, 50 in the new one, not including any that Chelsea and Senku may be covering. Granted this is likely just an oversight.

(I should mention that in order for them to match bottom to bottom, the top image is flipped horizontally).

(omg look at the babiesss)

What Xeno is telling Chrome is that if whyman went and altered their own past, then what they are seeing currently is the result of that, since whatever changes they made, are in the past after all.

They already happened and they are part of the timeline that leads them to where they are now.

Assuming they actually found Byakuya (or a petrified time traveler) means that either whyman created some sort of causal loop that is self sustaining (ie, the ramifications of the changes in the past include whyman going back to do them in the first place), or more in line with the many worlds hypothesis, that going back to the past and changing it creates a new parallel timeline where the repercussions of that happen, with no effect in the first one.

In the latter case it means the timeline we see now was altered by the whyman from a parallel universe.

The stone axe is a bit dissonant with where they are, technologically speaking, yes? Thing is, that's the one Senku took to the moon with him.

He's had it since chapter 1.

A few people I've seen mystified about this structure they unearthed at the cementery:

This is a collapsed building just like the structures that the Tsukasa empire occupied.

(shoutout to that guy about to die in the back)

Interestingly, this means that Ishigami Village is established on top of a once urban area.

I am always pumped for any extra bits of village lore I can get.

Did Suika's handwriting trigger your AI generated image senses? it did for me.

We were bamboozled again. If it ends up happening it's gonna be like the tale of the wolf. The moment we stop taking it seriously, Inagaki is gonna smack us across the head with it.

We were actually preparing for the poop on a stick to hit the f.a.a.n on discord. What do I make about the ending? I don't know, I got no big analysis this time around but I believe it's very likely we'll see more at some point.

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

A Hard Day's Night - Part Six (Fin)

Summary: Your weekend plans with August threaten to fall apart when it turns out he's been under quite a lot of stress...

Series warnings: SMUT - NSFW, 18+ - Minors DNI! ,

througout - D/s, Male!Dom, Fem!sub, praise kink, use of pet names

part specific - Masturbation (f), fingering, oral (m+f receiving), deepthroating, p in v sex, unprotected sex (be smarter, y'all), slight voyeurism, size kink? if you squint when the planets are aligned..., some angst, use of safeword (Part 4: see A/N for info)

Pairing: August Walker x Fem!Reader (no y/n)

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

Word count: 800

Part Five warnings: It's just aftercare

A/N: Now this... Final part. It's aftercare, it's important, it's probably the worst thing I've written. It doesn't feel all the way right, I might be going too hard on myself, idk. @keanureevesisbae There we go, the fic originally posted in honor of your birthday (almost two months ago...), finally finished lmfao.

@peaches1958 @summersong69 @dedicated-to-mr-cavill

When he let go of you, you made yourself small in the corner of the couch, hiding your face in your arms as you tried to figure out what had just happened.

“Sweetheart?” August’s hands gently attempted to pry your arms away from your face, but you resisted him hard. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You wanted to respond, but you were tired, sore and unable to articulate either of those feelings. It was all too much; the sound of the rain outside, the chilly air of the living room, the dark and musky scent of August’s cologne mixed with the smell of sex and sweat, the feeling of your heartbeat in your chest, rapid and uncontrolled and loud, so incredibly loud. Breathing was difficult; as if you’d suddenly forgotten how, and keeping your eyes open was a chore as everything you saw was a new assault on your senses and altogether just too much to take in, yet there was no way to shut it out. The cold pulled at your skin, raising goosebumps and the accompanying uncomfortable feeling of tightness. A voice - his voice, it had to be his voice, there was no one else with you - snaked its way into your consciousness; battled the other sensations for a place at the forefront of your mind but was ultimately drowned out by the fiercer invaders of your other senses. Until warmth overtook all of it. You didn’t open your eyes, you didn’t speak, you didn’t hear. All you did was allow yourself to be enveloped with this warmth, to let it wash over you and seep into every cell of your body, until it was the only sensation present in the entire universe. You moved. It was all you registered; the fact that your muscles contorted your body into different positions, and that you did it yourself, but you had no clue whatsoever as to where you moved or what pose you ended up in. Slowly, you became aware of the pressure around you; like arms squeezing - or perhaps that’s exactly what this feeling was, perhaps it was August, slowly, carefully but sternly wrapped his arms around you and crushed your soul back into your body. Whatever this pressure was, it worked. Your breathing slowed, your heart once again found itself content with its residence inside your chest and stopped pounding your ribcage in an attempt to relocate itself, you returned to yourself.

After touch, it was smell - this time only the cologne of your August and the now faint smell of liquor on his breath. Then sound: gentle breathing near your ear, the rain outside, unrelenting yet, unlike before, reminiscent of coziness, proximity and safety rather than the cold, damp desperation of an unwelcome and unforeseen storm. When sight came back, you saw yourself curled up in August’s lap, wrapped tightly in a blanket and his strong arms - you’d been right before, it had been him. A surge of guilt tore through you when you realized that once again he was taking care of you, when you wanted to be the one to do that for him.

“Let me…” you whispered weakly against his neck, but he cut you off.

“You are taking care of me, darling,” he said softly. One hand slowly traced up your arm, shoulder, neck and finally your jaw to cup your face. You leaned into the touch; it was heavenly. “More than you can ever imagine.” Those words were mostly lost in your hair.

The sense of taste had begun to wriggle its way back to you when you had opened your mouth to speak, and when it came, you noticed how dry your mouth was. You attempted to remedy the situation by licking your lips almost feverishly, which didn’t go unnoticed; August reached for something on the end table by the couch - a glass of water, no doubt.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” August asked with the gentlest tone to his voice after you’d finished your drink.

It took a while for you to find your words, and when you finally did recover your voice, you spoke softly: “I’m sorry, August, it just slipped out. I didn’t mean to…” Your voice trailed off again. The blanket fell to the side when you raised your arms to touch August’s cheek, absentmindedly running your fingers along his stubbled jaw.

“Didn’t mean to do what, kitten?” He said as he softly stroked your hair. You leaned into his touch, allowed yourself to be shrouded in the sense of safety he provided.

“Call you ‘daddy’,” you sighed as you tried to raise your arms in front of your face again. This time, he really wouldn’t let you hide yourself away. Instead, he took your face in between his hands and locked his piercing blue eyes on yours. The softness in them was remarkable, not a trace of anything but love and affection could be found anywhere in that steely gaze.

“Actually, darling, I’ve been waiting to hear you say that.” The way he said it warmed your heart; so tenderly and kind, with so much warmth to the dark timbre of his voice.

“Oh,” was all you could manage.

#august walker x female reader #august walker x reader #august walker fanfiction #august walker smut #august walker #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill #henry cavill filth #henry cavill smut

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pencil-for-a-dog · 2 years

Text

I heard some rumors about him (because heroes are good at gossiping)

Summary: Valerie Gray is in her twenties, goes to university, is an established superhero known as Red Huntress and has a boyfriend but, apparently, no one really noticed it until she mentioned it.

The first time someone heard of him in the hero-world was on the edge of a roof, during a casual conversation among two vigilantes of different cities.

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Wow, you don’t have to be that impressed, Spoiler”

Or: 5 times someone hearded of Red Huntress' boyfriend and 1 time they get to met him

Relationships: Danny Fenton/Valerie Gray, Stephanie Brown & Valerie Gray, Zatanna Zatara & Valerie Gray, Kara Danvers & Valerie Gray, Bruce Wayne & Valerie Gray

Characters: Valerie Gray, Danny Fenton, Stephanie Brown, Zatanna Zatara, Kara Danvers, Tim Drake, Bruce Wayne, a lot more.

Tags: Established Relationship, Grey Ghost, Not Phantom Planet Compliant (Danny Phantom), Aged-Up Character(s), Valerie Gray-centric, Badass Valerie Gray, Valerie Gray Knows Danny Fenton is Danny Phantom, Valerie Gray is Red Huntress, Valerie Gray is a hero, valerie Gray is part of the justice league, whatever is going on between Batman and Red Huntress, Danny Fenton is in college, Danny Fenton is not a full-time hero, Danny Phantom's Identity Is A Secret, Danny appears at the very end, Almost no one knows Danny Fenton is Phantom, cultist, There are like 2 bad words and are censored, Mistakes were made, I do have a beta for this, this idea born at 3 a.m, It was supposed to be a crack fic but I don't know what is this, Tim Drake needs a nap, Tim Drake Needs a Break, I don't know how to write in spanish I know less english, definitely ooc here.

[AO3]

First of all! I'm not a native speaker of english but I did my best, and so di my beta! I really appreciate them for beta-ing for me <3

Second, I edited some things just now (sorry beta!) and my knowledge of comic's characters are more from the fandom than the comics, but I tried to look for the most accepted ways!

Tell me if there's any mistakes! Edit: My laptop/PC almost explode when I tried to post this before xddd

The first time someone heard of him in the hero-world was on the edge of a roof, during a casual conversation among two vigilantes of different cities.

“It’s… kinda quieter than I expected,” said the distorted voice of a woman.

“There’re less screams than what you expected?” Asked the one by her side in a joking tone.

“Not… Not exactly,” she mumbled “I expected more movement and… yeah, more noise.” she admitted in a low volume, a little ashamed of her first assumptions.

“Don’t worry.” She said after a little giggle “Tonight is particularly calm for Gotham”

And she was right. it was an unusually quiet night in Gotham; well, as much as it can be in the cradle of crime without becoming suspicious.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, it’s a slow night Red, even though the crime won’t stop I can allow myself a little break.” She said calmly, moving her legs in the air. There were more bats tonight than the normal, a little break won't hurt… Probably.

The black helmet turned towards her, almost like doing a second take, creating a silence between them.

“Huh.”

“What?” She asked after a few seconds.

“You just sounded a little like my boyfriend.” The other answered after a little pause.

“What?”

“It just took me by surprise, it’s not that weird.”

“You have a boyfriend?”

“Wow, you don’t have to be that impressed, Spoiler” Red replied, clearly annoyed by her tone of disbelief.

“It’s not… It’s not that I’m impressed by you having a boyfriend-”

“Wow”

“-It just took me out off guard.” She said nervously and, without a pause, she took a breath to recover herself and talk again “Sooooo, tell me, what kind of man was capable of winning your heart?”

The Red Huntress laughed a little bit to calm herself and keep talking. She knew Spoiler wouldn’t do that on purpose but her temper was always strong, and more if someone is messing with her loved ones.

She took a breath and started to speak “Well, at first sight you wouldn’t know, because he's kind of lanky but he’s totally a fighter, even if he doesn't know how to pick his fights, or just doesn't choose them at all-."

The sound of a gunshot interrupted her talk and their break in general but, hey, they expected too much for a quiet night in Gotham.

The second time someone heard about him was later that week, not because Steph talked, not even because her comms were online and she didn't notice. Is just that they asked for some help and Danny is way better in that area.

That didn't stop the big bat from getting on her nerves.

To be fair, Batman didn't like her improvised girls night with Spoiler, but there was nothing she could do. The ghosts didn't appear near enough of Amity and she chased them to Gotham city, and after she finally caught them Spoiler asked for a girls night and she was free, so she accepted - even with the knowledge that Bats had something against her and the people who break into his city without permission, because it is his territory.

Nevertheless, he asked for her to come to the cave after patrolling with Spoiler, and Val, like a sweet, poor and innocent child, didn't think about it too much. Batman may have wanted to talk about the incident, it was near enough to become their problem and it wouldn't hurt to talk about it, after all, the natural portals had been becoming more common and they surely want to be prepared for ghosts.

Spoiler alert: it did.

Before anything, Val wasn't wrong at all, the bats were working with some new technology because of the last ghost incident out of amity, not this one, the one before this, and something wasn't working at all with the new ecto-weapons, and they wanted her opinion about this because Red Huntress' suit is made of this technology.

But she can't stand Batman.

Don't take her wrong, she always admired him, since her earliest childhood and she still does. The day when they offered her a place in the justice league was a dream, meeting all of them, Superman, Batman and The Wonder Woman, it was everything she ever wanted as a kid.

That day still feels like a vivid dream for her.

But once she met him in person he was all growls and grunts and cold looks, especially with her. But she got used to it, now he was just a little annoying. However, the look he gave to her was worse today, was more intense and started in the second she arrived, it's getting under her skin.

"Let me see the problem." She said without losing a single second of time, she might like Spoiler, and Red Hood in a minor level, but it is not enough to make want to stay in the cave longer than necessary.

Batman didn't make a single sound while he guides her to the station where they were working to modify some of their gadgets to make them effective against ghosts.

After some time analyzing and looking for an error she couldn't find what's wrong with the process they're making, it seemed right for her in every step, but something is wrong with it and she can't understand what and she's not going to stay any more time under the big bat sight.

She sighed, it's time to bring a specialist on this.

"I don't know what's wrong," She admitted looking at all of them at once, without having a visible reaction from them. "I'm gonna to call an expert, this is not my field anyways"

"It isn't?" Nightwing asked with clear confusion in his voice.

"Nope, it's more my boyfriend's area." Now, that had a reaction.

"Your boyfriend's area?" Batman asked slowly.

The implied question was right there, almost screaming at her.

'You have a boyfriend?'

And Val smiled, it's not like the polarized glass would betray her.

Whatever the ghost things made to her technology was very appreciated because it allowed her to keep her identity a secret from everyone, even from Batman and his crew.

Especially from Batman.

And she knew because of that he would take every piece of information she drops as if it was a drop of water to a thirsty man in the desert.

And, if it didn't give her all the satisfaction she could get then she doesn't know what the feeling was, but it was a really good feeling.

And this is probably the main reason why Batman has something against her, because he hates not knowing enough and she enjoys his lack of knowledge on her, and Val is not going to please him, not if it isn’t necessary.

And this little piece of information might not be necessary but she's tired and doesn't really want to stay longer in the same room as Bats or in this city at this point.

"Yes, my boyfriend might be the biggest space nerd ever but he's really talented in this area, let me call him to know what's happening here."

She didn't want to stop and think about how much information she just gave to them with that single comment, it's too late, she's tired and dealing with the bats, she doesn't care at all right now, she just wants to get home as soon as possible, and whatever happens is a problem for future Val.

Future Val has hope that ghost things may be able to help her in this situation and hide everything, even if it makes Bat's glare worse for her.

"Isn't it too late to wake him up?" Spoiler asked. "It's like 3:00 a.m."

Val did a double take.

She forgot they must think Danny is just another civilian.

She also forgot he is, technically, just another civilian now. And he must be sleeping like most people.

"Oh, right. I'm gonna text him, just to make sure he's awake."

Val loves the pockets of her suit, it shouldn't have them, not in the strange way it does, but Technus practically did her a favor modifying the original one and his ghostly abilities helped her a lot, like keeping her phone safe and undetectable.

It's always nice to see the surprise in the face of anyone who watches her take her phone from the weird pocket.

Are you awake?>

Luckily for her and her mood, she didn't have to wait too much time to get an answer

Danny 💕

yeah, just finished studying

She frowned looking at the text. She may be glad for not having to wait too long, but Danny shouldn't be neglectful with his necessities. He might be not all human but he's still part human, and sometimes he forgets it.

It's too late to study, why aren't you sleeping?>

Danny 💕

couldn't sleep

do u need smth Val?

Yeah, a little bit of help with some ecto things>

Can I call you?>

Danny 💕

of course

"Fortunately for us all, he's awake and able to help, I'm gonna call him." She said and, before anyone could interrupt it one more time, she called him with her helmet.

She loves her suit, it allows her to make calls, turn them into video calls and doesn't let anyone else hear or see them.

After 25 minutes, a lot of pressure and an awkward silence, during which they probably tried to hack her suit to find out who’s on the other side of the call, the diagnostic was "probably corrupted ectoplasm" because "it's harder to make it work and it's more probable it corrupts something, than work" and "It may hurt the ghosts, but it’s way less effective then using pure ectoplasm against them."

And she repeated everything Danny said word by word and then asked from where they got that corrupted ectoplasm just to get the awkwardest silence of all the night. Once it was clear they wouldn't say a word about that, Val didn't think twice and ran away before anyone could question anything.

On her long way to go home she couldn't stop thinking about sleeping the rest of the night in the arms of Danny. She deserves all the hugs, especially after this night.

The next time someone else heard of him was months after the last time and, unlike the first two times it happened, it wasn't from Red Huntress' mouth.

"Are you telling me that the Red Huntress has a boyfriend?" A blond girl said without believing it.

"And that's the reason why you couldn't go out with us before?" A black haired teen asked just after her

"That sounds stupid,"

It was from Tim's mouth.

On a video call.

"Yeah, B had been acting like a maniac trying to discover her identity." He said, drinking a sip of his coffee.

"Why?" Bart asked in a curious tone.

"Because the last time she came, she said something pretty specific about this boyfriend, and B thought he could use it to get more information, but, somehow, we couldn't find anything," Tim said, frustrated by the situation. He knows there’s not many people that can manage themselves in any ecto-related field, and even less who are experts on weapons against specters.

A space-nerd who knows enough should be weirder, and it means that it should be easy to find Red Huntress’ boyfriend, everyone knows that. And yet they couldn’t do it because somehow, somehow, they're still unable to find any information about any of them.

Tim doesn’t want to cry or scream until there's no more oxygen in the air, his vocal cords break, or his mind goes blank, no, that stage was two weeks ago and now is over. He wants to throw the towel away yelling “F*ck you!” with some tears and never seeing it again, he wants to quit, but he runs with coffee and spite and they’re his new target. He wants to curse Bruce, his name, Red Huntress and her mysterious boyfriend for getting them, for getting him, in this mess.

It's not like Tim or the bats knew this but Val was very glad about the ghost things that hid her identity, and Tucker who helps with the things that escape from them, like Danny’s link with any ecto-thing. She's not glad about other ghost things.

"But you told us it happened, like, months ago" Bart said with a certain level of disbelief.

"Yup." He drank another sip of coffee with a dead-look in his eyes. It makes a perfect match with his eye bags.

"... You can't be serious," Kon said this time

"I'm very serious… and so is he" Tim said in a sight, contemplating to drink a long sip of his coffee, he frowned after realizing he’d drank all of it, took a long and disappointed breath, and keep talking "Guys, you already knew she and B have this strange "rivalry" because we still don’t know her identity, this must be the most awkward pissing contest that we’ve all seen and everyone is getting tired of it. Even Jason is getting tired of it and you know how much he loves when B is that pissed." Another sigh, he hasn’t had a real sleep with all the increase of ghost activity where there was zero before. He doesn't have energy for anything.

"...That sounds even more stupid." Kon commented after a while.

"I know, right?" Tim said, making eye contact with him through the screen, he looked a little like a maniac himself for the validation, Kon noticed. "It's even worse when you have to watch them in their not-so-passive-and-more-aggressive fight-"

"How much time have you been into this?" Cassie asked, interrupting Tim.

"Too much," A femenine voice answered from somewhere behind Tim, scaring him and surprising the rest of them. "Are you talking about B's latest project, right?"

"What are you doing here, Steph?" Tim asked, turning himself towards her.

"Alf asked me to tell you that dinner is ready" She said, walking to Tim and getting in the camera area. "Anyways, what were you talking about?"

"Hey Steph!" Cassie started before Tim could say anything "Did you know Red has a boyfriend?"

"Yeah, he sounds like a nice guy from what Red Huntress says."

"What?" Everyone asked at the same time, creating a weird sound. Tim in particular was looking Steph at her eyes with some mix of unbelief, surprise, betrayal and despair.

"I mean, it's not like she talks a lot about him but she drops a comment or two when we talk, she doesn't even seem to notice it and she gets really soft when it happens, it was a little scary at the beginning but you get use to it." Steph threw like if it wasn't the bomb that it is. Maybe on purpose. Probably on purpose.

"Soft? Red Huntress gets soft when she talks about him?" Someone asked as if the information strangled them. But Tim didn’t care, because Steph knew things, she was learning about the guy who was the doom of his existence right now behind his back, the reason why he racked his brains day and night for the last two months.

And she didn’t said a word.

"Huh? Yeah, amazing I know, but not as amazing as the dinner, Tim-"

"Why didn't you say something?" His voice sounded like strangled by all the betrayal he felt. He was drowning in that feeling and coffee right now, maybe too much coffee, and Steph should be drowning in shame, not him in betrayal, just she in shame.

"Because she never dropped anything that important, just some comments of stupid, nerd, sweet and nice he is." She replied rolling her eyes "And I'm Team Red Huntress, I wasn't going to give any advantage to Bruce, duh,"

“Red Huntress being soft?”

"Steph." Tim groaned with a mix of feelings he couldn't even identify. It was more than what his sleep deprived brain could process and now it had melted, was nothing more than mashed potatoes with some ketchup and a half cooked egg in the cleanest pot you could find at 2 a.m after touching the bottom of your life two days ago and still being in the midst of a crisis. He hadn't slept enough for this amount of sh*t and the coffee can't replace sleep anymore. He wants to get in his bed and forget all this situation as he slips slowly into unconsciousness and falls to the earth's-

"Nuh-uh, Timmy, sleep can wait, dinner can't."

Yes, eating sounds good for him right now.

After that time it became difficult to say when next someone found out that Red Huntress has a boyfriend, because the Bats can be a bunch of dirty gossipmongers like any old lady at tea time. By the end of the month, everyone knew about her mysterious boyfriend.

Well, almost everyone.

"’Sorry guys, I can't go with you because it's date night’? What, is she seeing someone?"

"Her boyfriend, duh, she's been all busy because of all of the ghosts in the natural portals that are becoming more common."

"Ugh, don't say a thing, they have been my new headache for the last month or two."

"Well, you have this free night to get rid of it." The other replied, "However, it's nice to know that it hasn't affected her relationship, the guy seems nice from what she said."

The one who read the message wasn't following this conversation.

"What do you mean?"

"That she has a boyfriend?" And the silence arrived. "Seriously, you didn't know?"

The next time someone found out that Red Huntress has a boyfriend because she told them was this time. Kinda. A text still counts, I guess.

"No! I was out for ages!" Kara exclaimed, making a huge move of arms to express how unexpected the information was for her.

"It was like, a month," Katana said without paying a real attention to the conversation behind her.

Kara shrugged "Ages. A month. Same thing." And then sighed a little bit "The world is changing."

"I know I said something similar but now I know how weird it was for her." Cassie muttered as she watches Kara and Zatanna's talk

"I know, right?" Steph didn't do better when she found out, neither did Zatanna or Katana or most of them. The only exception is Black Canary, but only because she was able to hide it better.

"What do you mean?" Kara asked.

"She mentions him a lot," Zatanna said, getting closer to the blond one.

"No," Kara knows how reserved Red Huntress is, everyone knows that! It's hard to not know what is happening between her and the bats. They all assumed it is some kind of fight because Batman doesn't know her identity.

They think nobody notices how she ignores the strange Bat's question or how Red Huntress will look in his direction every time someone says something like "privacy".

"She does." Zatanna is smiling as she watches Kara's face fall in some mix of unbelief, despair, oh-my-lord-this-is-a-so-weird-dream, hope? And betrayal.

"You are lying," was said in that exact same tone "I can't believe you."

"You’d better," Zatanna chuckles, "I'm not lying about how much she talks about him, it may be like two or three comments per talk, which are not that much but definitely more than what anyone expects."

"She's not lying though," Steph gets in the conversation, "She makes some comments like "I know someone who dance better than you, criminal" or "I would say a joke but that would mean he won, ugh" You really won't notice unless you know it, and once you do it's really obvious."

""Even he makes better decisions than you"," Kara was mortified as the words got out of her mouth.

"Just like that."

"How didn't I know?"At this point, Kara already questionated all her life decisions and everything she knew. She knows nothing now and Red was the biggest liar. It doesn't matter that she actually never told any of this theme to them but still a liar.

"To be honest, you need to know where to look to find the clues." Zatanna finally had mercy, Kara wouldn't forgive her right now, this all happened all of sudden, but she is grateful for her mercy.

"Bats almost went crazy because of that" Steph said happily as it wasn't the understatement of the year.

Kara can see that. She feels better now, not even the big bat noticed it at the beginning.

She could live with that.

"So, are we having our girl's night with questionable legality or what?"

The last time they heard of her mysterious boyfriend before they finally met him, was after a year of knowing about him, just after a catastrophe.

A ghost related catastrophe.

In retrospect, it was obvious, the natural portals were becoming more common, the ghost attacks were more and more frequent, something felt wrong and it was only a matter of time until this happened.

A big mess in red and green that happened just because a crazy man thought he had enough power to control all this entities to take over the world.

Key word: thought. He couldn't control them.

Ghosts are chaotic and have some very specific obsessions. Sometimes they opposed and they had to solve it with the best method they knew.

Fights.

It was a mess from the beginning.

Luckily for them, Batman's paranoia does something good, and prepared a lot of weapons and gadgets that works on them.

They were, at least, a little prepared.

The most worrying part of this was the crazy man screaming "You haven't seen the real power! If I don't show you they will!" Because after that he escaped from the biggest heroes in the world, somehow. Probably because of all the destruction.

They hope he won't become a real problem, but knowing their luck, he will.

But it doesn't matter right now, because this story isn't about crazy people and ghosts against the justice league, no. This story is about what the people know about Red Huntress' boyfriend.

So, the last time they heard of her mysterious boyfriend before they finally met him, was in the Atalaya after a year of knowing about him, just after the catastrophe that I just mentioned.

They all were getting some rest after that exhausting fight.

Val was grateful that this place has some kind of living rooms and got the good couches in them, even if now she was part of some pile.

To be honest, she doesn't think she would like to get a break in the meeting room.

Because yes, there's a reason why the most of them are here and it's because they need to close this case as soon as it's possible and, even though they just fought, there's a crazy man who has been learning things he shouldn't know and started to using them, and that, that's a real big problem.

But not Valerie's biggest problem right now.

"Huh," she said as she frowned, breaking their comfortable silence. There was this tone in her voice that said something feels bad, and that's very important when you just fought with a horde of ghosts and some maniac screamed "You haven't seen the end of me! You'll regret this!" Or something like that.

And that's exactly why it called everyone's attention.

"What happened? " Zatanna broke from her position, sitting on the floor with one of her legs close to her chest, her back on the couch and her head in Red Huntress' stomach now.

"My boyfriend hasn't called yet." Red Huntress said with clear confusion in her tone.

"And?" There wasn't anything really bad, it may be just that it collapsed because of a lot of people must have called their loved ones to check on them after the situation.

"Not even a message." She started to sound a little frustrated. "He was in Amity Park visiting family."

And the silence arrived. Everyone knew the problem with that.

Amity has the door to the other side. The portal, the bridge, the hole among the live and the dead.

Ghosts aren't unusual there, even before this.

That city would have been a hell on earth.

"But… Wasn't Phantom there?" Spoiler was a little worried. She may have not met the guy but he sounds strong enough to protect the city and its habitants. She hopes he could be able to protect The boyfriend™. He sounds nice and makes Red Huntress happy. It would be a lame if something happened to him. She moves a little uncomfortable in the puff because her position didn't allow her to look at the Red huntress's head and her neck wasn't happy.

"Uh… I mean, yes, but this is still being a little strange," Red Huntress said in a weird voice. "No one has texted anything to me and he has the costume to get in weird and bad situations" She mumbled, clearly worried.

"... Phantom?"

"No, D- my boyfriend."

"... He could be tired," Kara offered from her position upside down on the couch, Red Huntress’ legs above her stomach and Steph's head was close to her own.

"... It wouldn't be the first time," She accepted, a little ashamed, a little more worried.

They all fell in a silence more uncomfortable than the last one, the expectation was growing as the time ran and it was suddenly broken by the sound of a message notification.

Valerie took and turned on her phone so fast she could, and unlocked it. The name wasn't Danny's but it would work.

Sam

He's fine

They weren't really powerful but were a lot, but nothing he couldn't manage, he just got tired lol

He arrived to his house and fell asleep before even touch his bed

The relief washed over her as she couldn't be more grateful for that. Sam and her aren't the best friends but Valerie knows she can trust her with Danny's safety, at least, now that they're young adults. Teenage her wouldn't trust Sam after knowing why the accident happened, especially not with Danny's safety, but as an adult she knows that she grew up and is worthy of trust… Most of the time anyways.

"He's fine, just fell asleep." She said, visibly relieved, bringing calm to the atmosphere in the room.

"Good to know." Kara said a little sleepy "I'm feelin' sleepy too."

"Yeah, me too," Zatanna agreed as she closes her eyes.

"A nap sounds nice." Valerie was already falling.

"Yay, sleepover in the Atalaya." Steph barely mumbled before anyone fell asleep.

After some seconds, none of them were awake.

The day they met him was just the day after that. And it was in the weirdest but precise way it could be.

"Danny?!"

"Uh, hi V- I mean, Red" He laughs nervously "I'm so grateful you're here because I couldn't text you to warn you and-,"

"What are you doing here?" She asked in some mix of surprise, anger, exasperation and resignation.

"Uh, well, you'll see-,"

"He is the chosen one to bring the ghost king to this realm!" Said the main cultist

"- I'm the sacrifice." Danny chuckles, clearly nervous.

The silence would have fulfilled the entire place if it wasn't for the little laughs of Danny.

"W-What happened?" Kara asked, feeling out

The first time they met Red Huntress' boyfriend is 24 hours after the end of the ghost catastrophe.

They made a meeting just 6 hours after because everyone was tired but there was a menace running away to only-gods-above-knows-where. In the same meeting they agreed to make an assault group to face this menace, it was small but powerful because it was conformed by a Green Lantern, Supergirl, Batman, Flash, Zatanna and Red Huntress. Half of them were there because they were less tired.

Once they were ready, they chased the track of the crazy man™, which was way more difficult than what they expected. But they finally found his lair, a just abandoned building, and they, somehow, were able to get in the middle of, and interrupting, a ritual to summon the most powerful ghost, the ghost king, in which, Danny, Red Huntress' boyfriend, was the main sacrifice.

It was certainly a shock when they arrived just to watch a bunch of people, in some big odd clothes that hide their entire figure, singing in a dead language around a lanky guy, with messy clothes, tied to a table in the center of a summon circle.

Which leads to this situation.

Red trusted Sam one time. Just one time and THIS happens.

She is concerned and impressed.

(Okay, she trusted Sam a lot of times before but how did this keep happening its a real mystery).

"How?" The impulse to cover her face with her hands was surprisingly big. She would like this to stop happening.

"That's not of YOUR concern!" One of the cultists said, he sounded suspiciously like the crazy man™.

"To be honest" Danny interrupted, calling everyone's attention "It's kinda funny, I just woke up and saw that my parents didn't have milk, which is normal, so, I went to buy it and in the middle of my walk someone screamed "You!" But I was really tired to pay attention to it, and I didn't stop, the next thing I knew it's that I'm here." The more of them looked at him with incredulity as he spoke, it sounds just ridiculous.

"... I can't believe you" Valerie really wished she could mean it but, sadly for her, she totally believes it. Dating Danny is a way to find out that Danny doesn't look for problems, problems look for him in the weirdest ways.

"It happened, though." Danny sounded exhausted, maybe of his luck, maybe of his life.

Red Huntress sighed under the watchful and expectant gaze of everyone else.

"So, let me get this straight," Valerie started. "You went to buy milk, alone."

"Yes"

"And someone screamed "You!", and you ignored it?"

"Yup."

"And that was a kind of warning before getting kidnapped."

"... In retrospective, yes, it was," Someone snorted, she didn't care enough, this was ridiculous anyways.

"Why, Danny, I- just-" Valerie sighed, Sam may differ but she didn't sign up for this "Why?"

"Because I just knew he was the perfect offering the moment I saw him walking on the streets." The man answered the question proudly. His capacity to feel the power in a human being should not be underestimated.

"Thank you man, I really appreciate that, but I'm not… I don’t look like one." Danny was tense and he was right, he was in his clothes from yesterday because he slept with them. A big age-worn green sweater with a white shirt, that Val just knows is that one parodying NASA's logo with a UFO, peeking out, his oldest and ripped jeans and just one, single, and untied, shoe. Everything was wrinkly and his hair was practically a nest because of the mess that it is. To be honest, he looks like a lanky and sleep deprived nerd that goes to college. Maybe one step from death from the chaos in his life but not like the perfect offering.

It created a silence, a big silence that was just broken by Red Huntress' voice.

"That's it, I'm done." She said in an inexpressible tone "You all are doomed, I'm done with this".

"But V- Reeeeed" Her boyfriend groaned in a miserable voice. "I'm scared and unable to do anything."

It was the way he said "unable" that impacted Valerie, because it means: "I can't go ghost or use my powers, I'm out of ecto-sauce."

She breathes, magnificent, Danny is powerless right now, it means like she wasn't stressed enough for all this situation.

"Okay, okay," Red Huntress says, lowering her voice and entering a more serious mood. "I can work with that." Her voice was silent and sent shivers down everyone’s spine.

She moved her body into a better position to fight.

"We can work with that."

And it took just one (1) little move to start the fight.

It was chaotic, half of the cultists went to fight and distract the heros meanwhile the other half started the ritual to summon the ghost king again, just at a lower speed, because, apparently, the amount of people was important to define it.

And they were just six (6) heros against a lot of cultists, but they were four (4) with superpowers or similar, one (1) with a super-suit, and Batman.

The fight was messy and exhausting, the number of cultists never seemed to end, but, luckily for Danny, they didn't know how to fight, so the heros were able to end it in time.

And now, with a worrying amount of unconscious people and the six of them, well, exhausted, Danny was finally safe, tired and safe.

Valerie went to free him once for all, and when she had her arms under his knees and back, his arms around her neck, she finally felt the relief of knowing he is safe in her arms.

"You-" She said with all her mixed feelings in her voice, trying to explain how she felt. After struggling for some seconds she kept it in silence.

"You didn't have to carry me, you know?" He broke the silence in a low and playful tone under the gaze of the other five heros, looking to Val's eyes behind the polarized glass.

"I know," she mumbled in a breath looking at his eyes, keeping it for a time. Her tone had a little of shame and Danny knew she was worried enough to need this.

Not all the days someone manages to get you when you're vulnerable just to sacrifice you to summon you. He was a little scared too.

"Kiss me." He said after just a few seconds, taking by surprise most of the room.

"In this place? Under everyone's eyes?" She asked without being really surprised but a little doubtful

His eyes softened as he saw the doubt on his girlfriend, "Can I?" was asked in a whisper looking for permission.

"Yes." She said in a silence but sure of what it implied right now

And with that simple word, Danny moved his hands to her helmet, pressed some buttons and cradled her face in his hands to give her a soft and long kiss, after which he brought their foreheads together to have a moment of intimacy.

"I'm so grateful you saved me, my hero," Danny said in a playful voice, mocking his girlfriend.

"You are welcome, damsel in distress," She replied with a smile on her face.

Danny laughed, surprising the rest of the heroes, who kept looking at the moment.

"That was so baaaad," Danny laughed a little bit more. "I love you." he said when he finally stopped the giggles.

"I love you too, but put the glass on," And Danny did it.

Batman, finally, interrupts the moment by cleaning his throat. "Let's go." he said looking at Red Huntress, and then, her boyfriend. "You can bring him too." And he started to walk out of the place

"Thank you Batman." Red Huntress said.

“Are we going to THE Atalaya?! To SPACE?!" Danny asked.

After the mysterious medical check (Valerie did it alone because neither she or Danny would let anyone else to check Danny's health), they finally had another meeting, mainly because Red Huntress asked for it.

The report wasn't immediately necessary but Red insisted, so there they are. Sitting in their respective chairs with the obvious exception of Red Huntress’ famous boyfriend, Danny, who sat in her lap.

"I called you all here because I wanted to make some presentations now that the cat is out of the bag," Red Huntress said with his boyfriend giggling a little bit because of the last part.

She breathes and presses the buttons on the side of her helmet, revealing her face.

"I am Valerie Gray and he," Danny turns his face to see everyone in the room, avoiding the eyes of Constantine and Zatanna "is my boyfriend, Danny Fenton".

"Nice to meet you". He said with a large grin that allowed them to see his fangs.

#ghost king danny #danny fenton #danny phantom #danny phantom x dc #Valerie Gray #Fanfiction #My writing #Stephanie Brown #justice league #grey ghost #bruce wayne #batman #this tags are a mess #aged up characters

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athena-xox · 3 months

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Hi! I've been wanting to send asks for a while but couldn't think of a good question until recently.

I have three questions (or perhaps I should say headers).

One: How's your rewrite progressing? At what stages is cannon altered? Are there going to be concepts/characters ignored entirely?

Two: I've seen your (humorous) plea for long/multi chapter eah fics what are some of the favorite's you've read already? Any chance you have an idea of your own outside the rewrite? long or short (chances are yes, for literally anyone in this fandom but it bears asking).

Three: What fairytale(s) would you

A: Like to repeat

B: Could functionally thwart if you had to live through it.

C: Die in, or flee the land to avoid at all cost's.

Omg love the questions. I will admit I’m a bit to brain dead to fully comprehend all the questions so if I answer I different question that what you intended feel free to correct me.

With that being said, the first chapter of my rewrite is done and basically fully edited I believe it’s around 6000/7000 words. Chapter two hadn’t been edited but it’s kinda a weird one so it doesn’t really need to be edited and it’s only around 2000 words.

Chapter 3 I’ve written a bit of it and it’s also a short and I have a layout for it. And chapter 4 is going to be on the longer side probably 6000-10000 words. But after those are done and edited hopefully I’ll publish the fic!!

So that’s the progress, for what parts of canon are being altered, I think a lot of characterization. Bunny, Alistair, Crystal, Milton Grimm, Snow White & EQ are all characters who were either portrayed as good or morally grey that I’m going to make evil (whoops spoilers) and then also kitty isn’t really going to have a redemption arc like she did in spring unsprung, she’s just going to continue to chaotically be herself.

And then just every plotline / character will just be slightly more mature and in depth. And it depends on how you see canon because the rewrite is going to be a mix the tv series + the books which vary a bit on canon. And then obviously a lot more queer representation.

I wouldn’t necessarily say that the epic winter arc is being disgraced but it’s going througu many changes. I’ll probably get ride of the whole through the woods concept because it doesn’t really add anything to the plot (although I am adding a musical that doesn’t really do anything for the plot except allow be to geek (theatre kid) out and give us some cute dizzie moments).

I really want to include her but I don’t think there’s going to be any room for Bella sister. Other things from canon that I’m not including is darise, Meeshell being a horrible singer, DARABELLA, Maddie having visions, the snow king, cupids crush on dexter, the revealer rays, probably lots more but I can’t think of them.

Onto the next question I definitely have some fic recs. I’ll probably make a separate post for it but my top 2 are rewrite ignite restart and a legacy of brambles and thorns.

I think the reason why I’m actually commuting to the rewrite is because it’s really the only eah fic I want to write since I plan to hopefully cover all the characters and ships I like. In my past fandoms I’ve had like 20 different fics I wanted to write but I never got a around to all or them.

Oh wait actually I guess I have one idea but I doubt I’ll ever write it since I want to focus on the rewrite. But during my transition stage from the mlb fandom to the eah I was thinking about an au. Either the eah characters with miraculous’s in the real world or mlb characters at ever after.

Okay and for the last questions im assuming you’re asking which fairytales I’d like to 1. Be a part of 2. Don’t want to be a part of and I could stop it 3. Would have to run away from ?

1. When I was little I had the yearbook thing that had you create your own eah character and I always wanted to be a princess so I made myself goose girl

2. Definitely wouldn’t want to be like Jack in the beanstalk so I just wouldn’t take the beans

3. Sleeping beauty was my fav when I was younger so I definitely wouldn’t want to have Faybelles destiny. Or be an ugly sister, that would kill my self esteem (no wonder Bella and Brutta ran away)

For the last 3 questions I wasn’t sure if you were asking all abt me or if any were for my rewrite.

Anyways tysm for the ask !!

#ever after high #eah #lizzie hearts #apple white #daring charming #raven queen #kitty cheshire #darling charming #Bella sister #eah ask #dizzie #eah rewrite #ever after high rewrite

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a-teacup-of-golden-cracks · 8 months

Text

tw this is a trauma post but it's also a narrative I'm proud of. Suicide and self harm (mental and physical) will be mentioned.

To help those who aren't me understand, I think in part in references since it is both easier and more fun than creating original thoughts.

(1): reference to the videogame Omori

(2): reference to the movie The Dark Knight (take a guess as to why I like and relate to the joker)

(3): reference to a song I like (in order, HOPE by NF, Somewhere I Belong by Linkin Park, Love the Subhuman Self by AISHA, Arc System Works, and Jamison Boaz)

(4): a random saying I heard and enjoyed

“No one knows what it's like to be the bad man, to be the sad man behind blue eyes. No one knows what it's like to be hated, to be fated to telling only lies”

“Behind blue eyes” by The Who

Welcome to the nonsensical abyss of my mind, you've been here as long as you can remember (1). By reading this you're getting to see my thoughts without translation. Nothing here makes sense to anyone except me, I make references others rarely understand. But allow me to tell the story of how what you see now came to be. You wanna know how I got these scars (2)? “I spent years of my life holdin’ on to things I never should've kept, full of hatred, years of my life wishin I was someone different looking for some validation.” (3)

Middle school was a special sort of subtle hell for me, it stole things without me noticing. First it was my feeling of impervious safety when a kid laughed at a genuine heartfelt remark I made. Then it was my trust that friends would never betray me and always respect me when they wouldn't stop making jokes at my expense. Slowly, steadily I descended into paranoia and loneliness, and thus my contentedness with life was stolen. The ax forgets yet the tree never does(4).

A secret hidden issue that I only found out this year was that the ADHD meds I needed to take to function may have been causing the paranoia to start with. I still don't know how to feel about that, that all my issues and trauma might stem from something that's not even real.

Once I started high school it became more and more apparent that nobody liked me. At least not for very long. I never learned to function in middle school so I was still struggling with what everyone else already knew and mastered. Giving a compliment and sexual harassment, would you like to know the difference? I would've but nobody told me until after I'd been punished.

Intent vs impact, I never intended to hurt anyone yet my impact was that I did more often than not. So I cut off the things that hurt people, removed them from my mind. Who needs humor? Not me if I can't use it right. Who needs to give compliments? Not me if I can't say it right. Who needs to hug people to show affection because it's your primary love language and you want to show everyone how much you like and appreciate them? …… not me…. if I must…. to not hurt them…

You see where my inner pain starts now? Where the scars in my mind begin? There were two things I could never bear to cut and slice away, my name and my kindness. Most trans people change their names to align more with their gender but I decided no. I am done changing things for other people to accept me more, they never do. My name is Daniel and it's the sum of my entire being. If I am non-binary, or a woman, or some eldritch horror that everyone fears and that has lost every shred of humanity because of the things I've endured, then my name represents all of that. It's not my issue if people make a poor assumption about my name because of what they think it should be.

Maybe I don't even want to be human anymore if all that humans have shown me is hate. All throughout high school it was nothing but hate or dislike shown to me, barely any kindness outside of my family. So I isolated myself from everyone, to avoid those who hated and to not burden my family with my issues. I'd handle it by myself like I always had in the past and I'd be ok.

I was not ok.

I was rageful. I was tearing myself apart more and more and more internally, only my desire to never hurt anyone kept me from tearing the school down brick by brick with all the students inside it. But maybe… could it be I was the exception and the problem? Could it be I'm the one who deserves to hurt for the pain I've caused? Should I hurt myself? And so I tried once, a good solid punch to the forehead that didn't make me feel any better and never tried again.

The pain I deserved wasn't physical, it was mental and so I gave myself infinite mental pain. What an idiot I was for giving that compliment when clearly in retrospect it was sexual harassment, what a dumbass I was for saying that joke, looking back I deserve to lose my entire friend group over it. Maybe I'd be better off if I didn't exist anymore if I caused more harm than good and could never seem to learn or improve. The thoughts I had then… and sometimes still now… it's so hard to remember that looking into the past makes everything obvious in the worst ways possible…

But there was a light eventually, someone who told me all that was wrong. Someone I met online and will never see in person, someone I messed up horribly with and yet she still forgave me. Thank you infinitely June. You showed me that monsters can be good.

So I steeled my resolve and used my rage at myself to look inward and outward and found that I was being mistreated and misunderstood. I shouldn't kill myself to not exist or hurt people because I would improve and I could make others improve. So I stood at the very last meeting in front of the whole school and spoke the truth of my mind with as much respect and rage as I could muster. So much pain and anger and hate and sadness I'd endured and I showed all of it to the entire high school of 300 people.

I've never felt more satisfied in my life than when the headmaster of the school himself asked if there was anything he could do for me and I said no. I've never felt more proud when I met with him two days later and asked for a neurodivergent support group to be created for the middle and high school, and he said yes. Half a year later my brother told me that the headmaster stuck to his word and did more than I asked. I never felt more vindicated than when I was told by my only friend that he'd heard people making school shooter jokes after I stood up and told my story.

And so I started to heal. My humor, I did need that. How could I be happy if I could never make myself laugh? My desire to give joy and be kind, I needed that. How could I not fulfill the purpose in life I'd made for myself? My ability to hug and love and be happy with others, I needed that. Desperately. “I want to heal, I want to feel what I thought was never real, like there was somewhere I belong.”(3) I just needed to find better people who understood. I reconnected with my family and told my pain and tried in every possible way to show how sorry and sad I was for cutting them off. I couldn't stitch the old bits back onto me but maybe I could grow something new. Something I wanted and I loved, for me.

I can never fully heal, that's why you see the holes in my form, but I've incorporated them now, so that they help me as much as they hurt. I carry on and love my subhuman self, accept me for me and go back to being with humans (3). I give them the kindnesses I can but only after I do that for myself. This is the kindness and respect I give to me, the biggest change I made, because I deserve it as much as everyone else. Now close your eyes and you'll leave this dream (1).

“But my dreams, they aren't as empty as my conscience seems to be.”

Behind Blue Eyes by the Who

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nogenrealldrama · 5 months

Note

Hi! Love the excerpts of your work that you've shared here. Do you have any advice for someone just starting to dip their toes into writing? Fanfic, or just generally? Thanks! :)

First of all thank you for reading and I'm so, so happy you liked my snippets :D

Second of all: Ummm giant disclaimer that I have almost nothing actually published to my name, so altogether I also consider myself a new writer. But I love to rant about writing anyway so here goes:

Don't listen too much to writing advice. When I first tried writing, I would spend way too much time on writing advice blogs. Many of them aren't that good, to be quite honest. And even for the good ones, there is such a thing as right advice given at the wrong time, or at the wrong place in your writing journey. If you're an overthinker, reading too much advice can make you start worrying about small things, and/or not have the confidence to try something wild but important on your own. Frankly, all it really comes down to is: 1) Having a vision, 2) Writing the vision down, 3) Noticing the ways your writing falls short of the vision, and 4) Tweaking things until they reach the level of imperfection you can personally live with. For me, writing advice is best searched for to apply to the specific issues I have in Steps 3 and 4. I apply any advice only in so far as it helps me get closer to the vision in my head. putting the rest under a cut because it got long - sorry!

2. Be uncompromising about writing things that bring you joy.

Kind of similar to #1, but it's doubly important when you're really just starting out. Or when you've been writing a while but always find it hard to begin. Double that importance again when what you're writing is fanfiction, because then you really have no genre definitions or deadlines or publishers or any other actual reason to compromise your vision. You already have some amazing ideas, and for each idea there is probably a feeling or a vibe or a message that you want to capture. Give yourself time to get lost in that feeling, to really indulge in it. And then write it down in its full glory, even the parts that might make you cringe a little from how dramatic or vulnerable they are. If there is a way to make your story more indulgent, do it. Because it will keep you writing. And if you really think it's too much, you can always edit stuff out before publication. You know, after you've actually written the story down. The thing that made me start writing in the first place was a giant longfic/possibly trilogy Canon Divergence rarepair plot idea that is still not finished, and on paper that's pretty much the last thing one should start their writing journey with. But if I stopped myself from writing that in favour of forcing out some oneshots, I never would've written anything at all. Give yourself permission to write exactly and only the ideas that make you excited to write.

3. Bonus advice that might or might not be useful to you, but it was ground-breaking in helping me write the way I want to write - in this excellent post, @little-hermit-crab56 makes a point that dialogue is a dance. I'd take it further/in a slightly different direction and say that storytelling as a whole is a dance. Juts like a dance, dialogue feels most dynamic when you allow it to go back and forth a little, to have short breaks and pauses here and there. I think the same can apply to an action sequence, or a bit of internal monologue, or an emotional trajectory of a whole scene. Just like a dance, it's less about the exact movements (e.g. describing precisely what happens in an action scene) and more about the rhythm of the back and forth (e.g. describing just enough to let the reader know that the protagonist is winning, but then - oh no! - the villain has the upper hand, but then the protagonist gets lucky and they're winning again). I swear that with enough skill to set up the right back-and-forth, even a character tying their shoelaces for a page and a half will feel dynamic. You can alter that rhythm, make it faster or slower, more dominated by "ups" or "downs", but even a little contrast can elevate a plot beat or an emotion more than I had initially thought possible. Of course, there is no need to simplify the "ups" to being good and "downs" to being bad - the back and the forth can both be morally grey or both similarly convenient/inconvenient to the protagonist. They just need to be meaningfully different. You can zoom this out even more and apply the back-and-forth to character arcs, or dynamics between characters, or entire plots. (The three act plot structure is, IMO, simply a choreography for a satisfying back-and-forth). In a longer work, you can have many "dancers" doing their own back-and-forth simultaneously, at multiple levels of the story structure. In a oneshot, you can have one or several backs-and-forths distilled to the most dramatic steps of the dance. In my experience, the whole thing gets quite addictive once you start seeing it.

#ah the irony of writing advice that advises you to disregard writing advice #ah the way how every time a writer gives this advice they must make a joke about how ironic it is #ah the way that writers make fun of other writers through the ever-escalating layers of excessively self-aware irony #i'll shut up now #I'm so sorry this ask got so long and lecture-like #hope some of it is helpful #asks #writing #writeblr #writing tips #writing advice #fanfiction

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reptileofdoom · 1 year

Text

Public PSA and Callout Of Hawkshadow/Luna: A Continued Pattern of Hurt and Manipulation Part 1 of 2

Hello, my name is Autumn aka reptileofdoom on Twitter & Tumblr. I debated whether to make this post for a long time and continually questioned myself; however, I've realized that if I don't, that guilt will sit with me for a long time. This post is directed toward Luna; known on AO3 as hawkshadow, on Twitter as @/dage_mingjue and on Tumblr as @/petesbubblebutt and @/hawkshadowwrites.

I am extremely concerned that Luna continues to be a big name in the community; her "big name" status gives her credibility that is, frankly, undeserved, and it makes people lower their guard, which allows her to take advantage of them better. Please, please be on your guard around her.

This isn't just my story. Other people have given me permission to use their names and testimonies as part of this post. I have done my best to provide proof and evidence of everything mentioned, and when unavailable, I encourage readers to question. Please reply if you would like additional information regarding any of the points in this post.

Since I will most definitely be accused of clout-chasing, let me be clear: if you follow me just because of this post, I am going to shatter your kneecaps. Do not follow me for this, I repeat.

Some screenshots have had information covered solely for the sake of privacy. I think she's dangerous, but I don't want to give her personal information to the internet, or involve unrelated people. That being said, due to the nature of the issue, sometimes it's impossible to cover without removing relevant information.

Additionally, due to who she is and how she operates, I have opted for the safety of posting conversations IN FULL; which means 5-10 screenshots for each conversation. I would rather be safe than sorry, because I WOULD otherwise be accused of concealing. So this will be a long read, which is why I am using a "read more" break.

So, here are the basic details, presented first from my own point of view:

Luna and I used to be quite close fandom friends, in the period of August 2022 - January 2023, when our big "breakup" happened. During that time, Luna created an extremely uneven dynamic within our friendship: constantly talking about her own problems, trauma-dumping, and complaining about various things. My own personal issues, when brought up, were either never addressed or I would be outright berated for bringing them up.

Additionally, and I am using this word with its full intended meaning: she would intentionally gaslight me, making me question the reality of our friendship, claiming that I was "emotionally manipulating" her, all the while trampling over my own boundaries and not being able to give even basic courtesies expected in friendship. She blatantly took advantage of my autism, gaslighting me by telling me that social norms didn't work the way I thought.

For full context: I am autistic. At the time of our friendship, I lived with my parents, who have for years emotionally abused me for said autism. There were many unsafe things about the environment I was in. On top of that, there is an 8 year age difference between myself and Luna. (She is older.)

I bring up my own age not as a "gotcha", but as important context to keep in mind for the conversations you are about to read as we get into the meat of this. I am aware that Luna is also neurodivergent but 1) that is not the same thing as autistic and 2) I gave her many, many benefits of the doubt throughout our friendship. Please keep in mind neurotypes are not an excuse for continued horrible behavior.

(About my own age: I am 20 years old. When entering Kinnporsche & Vegaspete fandom, I was under the impression the show is merely 18+ and it is labelled as such in most places. I did not even hear of it supposedly being 21+ until a few months ago. Nevertheless, I do my best to respect everyone's comfort and leave spaces not intended for me.)

One last disclaimer: I am not trying to frame this as a "cancellation post." Most of all, I intend for this to be a warning for anyone in a similar position to myself, easily taken advantage of. If, on the other hand, you read everything and see no issue with any of Luna's behavior, then I will not argue with you. I am not asking people to abandon their friendships with this person - merely to guard themselves from being hurt the way I was, over and over again.

Timeline of event (summary):

Luna and I first started talking in August or so. Unfortunately, due to the mutual blocks, a lot of our Twitter history is inaccessible to me; but I know the rough timeframe because at the end of August is when Luna and I sent each other our first DMs on Discord. Most of the events happened there; some others happened in her server, which I left after our breakup and have no interest in returning to.

In October is when the first concerning behavior popped up; on the 31st of October I attempted to pull away from the friendship, not quite realizing what was happening but becoming aware that every interaction I had with Luna left me feeling anxious and panicky. I was guilted into staying and feeling bad for ever trying to do that. Our worst interaction happened in November. After this things calmed down throughout December, precipitating again in January when we made the decision to work on and post fanfiction together. The posting of this fanfic became the straw that broke the camel's back.

A deeper dive into these events:

A lot of this is going to seem like very personal drama. Unfortunately, it is only through showing all this that I can show the horrible manipulative tactics she would use. Please bear with me.

As mentioned previously, the beginning of our friendship was on Twitter, where we have now blocked each other. As such, I have lost access to our DM history. I have tried downloading my Twitter archive and various other methods, but nothing I have tried has allowed me to regain access.

Proof that I can't message and/or look at DMs from her:

Proof that our DM conversation did, at one point, exist (yes, unfortunately I have to use vegetable porn here to prove my point):

Since we were not too close during the Twitter era, there thankfully isn't much that needs to be brought up from those days. However, there is one extremely critical fact in those conversations: It was there that I told Luna about my living situation and trouble with parents. Most of all, I very specifically told her I would get called "emotionally manipulative" just for having meltdowns.

It is now impossible to retrieve that conversation, unless by some miracle she unblocks me. I do not have high hopes for this happening. For now I ask: please just believe this happened and keep it in mind.

With that established, we get into when the manipulation started blatantly showing. It first came about as a result of... a GC, of all things. That Luna would frequently post screenshots of and I felt envious of. Perhaps it was my own mistake to not resort to clear communication immediately, but here is a conversation where I first brought up the topic, implying I would really like to join.

Her responses aren't.. bad, per say. Obtuse, more like. There is nothing incriminating here, but look at what she focuses on, what specific things she does not address - and where the conversation ends up, with who comforting whom.

(From now on, passages of interest will be circled in yellow.)

So Attempt #1 was a bust, right? Okay, no biggie, we commiserated a little over mutual insecurities, I just have to ask my friend outright so she knows what I mean-

Right. I am not quite sure how to commentate this entire exchange, even half a year later, but let me give it my best shot.

At this point, you're probably still giving her benefit of the doubt. "She is just really, really bad at knowing how to communicate" you might say. That is what I told myself at the time. (Note: I am hyper empathetic so please know that at every point I was primed to believe her and empathize.)

It's really, really awkward to have to make this point through conversation about people essentially unrelated to this, but this unfortunately became our driving issue. For context, this famed GC had all of.. 5? 6? people apart from her. So if you are imagining a massive server with strict rules? Nope.

Next, notice how instead of just. Admitting she can ask her own friends a question, she tries to make me seem unreasonable. "What, you want me to stop mentioning my friends?" basically. She then also, specifically, makes a point of saying "You are not being rejected." This will become important later.

At around this time, I came to realize: this friendship wasn't good for me. I did not have the words for it, nor could I believe any of the blame was on her, but I knew a few things:

I was always the first one to start conversations.

It would take Luna long amounts of time to reply.

When she did reply, it still ended up being an unbalanced conversation, with me doing about 70-80% of the talking.

Every time I talked to Luna or was waiting for a reply, I would feel horrible, anxious and, in short, like shit.

Now, I turned all these issues inward and looked for the root of the problem inside myself. Having been blamed for my autism all my life, it ended up being my justification for many of these things, sometimes in creative ways.

This is the message I sent Luna on October 31st and the ensuing conversation:

My first message doesn't fit the screenshot; full text is in image description.

She then proceeded to post MULTIPLE screenshots of her latest conversations with not only fandom friends, but real life people including HER ROOMMATES. As proof of her lowered capacity for responding to people. I will save my commentary for the end; Let us continue:

A screenshot of her Twitter DMs to show who she has responded to and when.

Interjecting that at this point she still had not done the extremely basic thing of just. Asking her friends if she could invite someone. And notice the use of the word "manipulative."

Let's take a pause here because I shit you not, that was the end of the conversation.

Did you see the immediate guilt-tripping? The language implying I am to blame for everything? "If YOU think our friendship is toxic" "if YOU think this is best for you"

There are many things she says here that are, in hindsight, INSANE. But chief among which is her insistence on hierarchy and social dynamics.

Do you see why I wrote that she took advantage of my autism?

"I'm not the one at fault, YOU are the one who is fundamentally misunderstanding how group dynamics work."

I talked to my friends about this. I vented to them about being so dumb and stupid I couldn't even understand a basic thing, without showing them the conversation of course. I felt immense self-hatred because she convinced me it wasn't her being weird and unreasonable - it was just me being dumb and disabled!

And a necessary reminder: She was very clear about the fact that she WASN'T rejecting me. She really DID want me there! It's just she had no options :(

Why did I make myself seem so pathetic as to practically beg her to let me join her group? Because at the same time, she'd tell me shit like I was her favorite person and encouraging me to go make friends with the other people and surely THEY would want to then invite me.

Last of all, please notice how the conversation ends. Two apologies and no response. But a prompt idea? Something fandom-y? Yeah, she'll engage with that and make no acknowledgement of anything before.

A lot of these conversations are so frustrating to look back on in hindsight. Obviously, she had no interest in me and did not actually care for a proper friendship. I was somebody to conveniently vent to and get fanfic ideas from; otherwise, I don't think she had much interest in me as a person. (Something further supported by the things we're gonna be getting into next.)

Now, where we last left off I was guilted into continuing this friendship. A friendship, I emphasize again: I had multiple times stated was unhealthy for me and was actively causing me frequent breakdowns.

The following conversation happened as a result of something in the server. As mentioned: I no longer have access to those records. In short, however: Luna and I had a short disagreement where she stated she didn't like something I was saying. Which was fine! I felt very apologetic and apologized. To which she responded "okay" and... nothing else.

So I sent a few message in the server chat. Waited. No response for hours. My anxiety went through the roof - I started having an anxiety attack and, in desperation, DM'd Luna multiple times privately because I had no idea what was happening: whether our disagreement was resolved, or if she was still mad, or what. I would like to make it clear the only thing I was looking for was just a confirmation of: "are we good?" If the answer had been "oh, yeah, I accepted your apology" there would have been zero problem. Instead, this is what happened:

This is the conversation, in its entirety.

Do you see why I used the term gaslighting? In its full, actual definition as an abuse tactic?

It is hard to write a commentary for this. Look at how many times she twists what I say and mean. To be clear; I am fully aware of how passive aggressive my language in this conversation becomes. I am not proud of it. But as mentioned, I had been worn down by months of constant anxiety; in a weird way, I do feel proud looking back, that I was able to stand up for myself in this moment. In the end, I put all the blame on myself again, which led to a.. small concession from her.

I hope it is clear from these images that I was never looking for more than 5 seconds of her time, whenever she was able to check her messages. The expectation with messages, in general, is that the person will get to them when they get to them. Her insistence that I was being selfish, messaging her while she was at work, comes out of nowhere and is especially strange because.. she would message at work all the time. It was not a boundary she had ever enforced before.

I am not coming here from a position of "we argued once and now I hate her." I am coming from a position of "this is a person who messed me up for months in a way that has required extensive therapy." THIS is why I am making a post like this, about how dangerous she is and how much I want people to be aware so that they can please, please protect themselves.

She would constantly come to me with more intense problems, all the time. She had me talk her down from panic attacks at work. (Not shown because 1 - image limit, 2 - it is very personal, and I still feel bad exposing her personal stuff.) But when I had a single time it got bad, when all I needed was "yeah, I'm not mad, don't worry"? This was the response.

There is more. It gets worse. Unfortunately, I have hit the 30-image tumblr limit: this will be continued in a second post, that is linked:

PART 2

#hawkshadow #vegaspete #kinnporsche the series #fandom stuff #fandom drama

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